#just getting up cracks all my bones at once like if i was an elder

[stalkiwi]

Wym '' life used to be simple'' are you okay???

nah. life sucks bro. those moving png on my screen are all that keeps me alive. dont fall at my level. 'tis my last advice

#its very heartlighted im ok for the most part i guess #life just hasnt been good to me lately #my header is just because i thought it sounded good and relatable #and i mean. life USED to be simple #now i gotta make money and pay taxes and think about my (checks notes) future #just getting up cracks all my bones at once like if i was an elder #IM NOT EVEN 20 #why cant i play video games all day long #anyway. dont worry im just complaining about life #askiwi

[blackjackkent]

So. That all definitely escalated quickly. o.o;

The githyanki attackers appear to all be monks, as they are doing all the cool things that Hector can also do, which is not fair. I'm the player character, not them. >:| They also hit like fucking trucks, able to bring some of our team down to a quarter health in a single turn.

I think possibly they were also listening when @zenjestrr explained to me how to do a good monk build. XD

We only have three turns to play with so my original plan was just to have everyone book it straight for the portal. Dash actions for everyone. \o/ (Spoiler: it was not that easy.)

It actually turned out to be much more challenging than anticipated. Gale kept getting absolutely rocked before I could even start moving; on my first attempt he got hit so hard he straight up died immediately, no saving throws. Also the portal spawns a new githyanki every round. And ALSO also that "Her Voice: Commanding" condition starts escalating with every turn:

This seems good and normal.

I'm not actually sure what the intended solution here, but ultimately I realized I don't have to get everyone to the portal, just one person, which then brings everyone through in the cutscene. This was actually much easier with Hector than it might have been in many other cases, since due to both rogue and monk traits he can disengage and dash on the same turn, letting him avoid the (terrifying) AoOs the githyanki were capable of.

After that the main struggle was to make sure everyone stayed conscious long enough to be able to participate in the following cutscene. This was challenging in its own right; these people are TERRIFYING.

But eventually I managed it!

The view inside the Astral Plane is startling.

The strange formation of bone and rock, like a crowned skull, that he has seen in his visions of the guardian in the past. It has now come to rest against one of the islands of the Astral Sea, and the flashes of rainbow colored light, like a shield within and around it, are beginning to flicker with dangerous agitation.

"That thing's about to blow," Karlach says grimly.

Hector suspects she's probably right. But what is that thing? The guardian showed it to him once, as a representation of some aspect of the greater war being fought, but to be honest, given its imposing aspect he always assumed it was an avatar of the enemy, not of the guardian's side.

But it is under attack now - by the same githyanki that attacked the camp.

There's a crowd of some six or seven of them - lithe, muscular, terrifying fighters, all closing on the skull. Their powerful fists crash into the shield of energy and light, sending further cracks through it, further destabilizing it, until finally...

The shield bursts, an explosion of blinding light blasting through the skull and knocking the combatants back. Hector can hear a distant whoop of victory from the githyanki attackers.

"Where's our dream guardian?" Hector mutters hoarsely. She can't have died. She can't be dead. If she's dead, there is nothing left. They cannot stand against the elder brain without her...

But she is not dead. And in his mind he can hear her calling, faintly, much more faintly than before...

"I'm here - help me! I'm under attack!"

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #wellp act 3 def starting off with a bang #literally

[wardenred]

Whumptember 8: "Don't Come Home"

I wanted whump with dragons, I somehow ended up with a dark fairytale and a new fantasy world I want to play in, RIP.

Once upon a time, I used to have a home. It was a beautiful place hidden away in the tall, wintry mountains. Ice glistened on the rocks. Blood-red flowers broke through heaps of snow. Endless pine-trees tickled the sky. The sun didn't come out every month, but when it was there, it would linger about for days, casting a golden glow over the wild streams that never froze over.

What made my home all the more beautiful were its people. Our community was small but tight-knit. Everybody knew everyone else, and everyone was there for each other, through thick and thin. Whenever a child got sick or an old woman got lost in the woods, the entire village banded together to solve the problem. No one ever went unfed or unclothed, even if they couldn't work.

There was only one thing the community asked of each other, one rule for everyone to abide. If the dragon steers under the Gruesomest Rock, the elders will cast the holy stones and call out a name. Then, a person shall walk to the dragon's cave with a single promise: "Don't come back."

I had a home, once. Then the dragon steered, and the stones spelled my name.

* * *

The last flames crackled over the ashes. Deep in the cave, water dripped, dripped, dripped down the stone, the kind of sound that could drive a man insane. The bone-chilling cold seeped in through the cracks in the stone.

"Is this some kind of joke?" the villager asked, willing their voice not to shake. "Are you trying to mess with my mind on purpose? There's no need to tell me my story. I know it."

The dragon laughed, drowning out the incessant drip, drip, drip. It emerged from the darkness, uncoiling, and its scales burned just like the dying coals: no brighter, no dimmer. 

"Do you think," it asked, "that your story is so unique? There are seventy-seven souls steering in my gut, little one. All of them came here from the same place, to the same end."

The villager swallowed, or tried to. Their throat was as dry as the great serpent's voice.

"Worry not, though," the dragon continued. "This is the last time this story gets told. For you shall be the seventy-eighth; a full deck. The spell shall not hold anymore, and the village will get what's coming. Now, stay still."

It advanced, and the villager wanted to run, but couldn't.

#warden's random scribbles #whumptember2023 #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writblr #original fiction #whump writing #just barely #not really tbh #fantasy #dark fairytale #dragons #flash fiction #snippet

[mcki]

hello! same anon that asked for sns fics<3 thank you so much for being so open!

i really have no preference for length but i think it looking for (heavy) angst…. i don’t mind crying!!!

i also don’t mind fics that don’t involve canon storylines so long as the characters are in character if that makes sense? unfortunately i can’t continue fics if the characters’ dialogue don’t sound like smth their canon characters would say😭

i hope this isn’t too picky! thank you so much again for your recs!!!<33

hey sorry it took me this long to get back to you. i started going through the fics, got distracted and compeltely forgot why i was even doing that in the first place.

but anyways! here's the list. (put under read more cause it's... well you'll see)

everything is tagged ao3 style so you know what you'll be getting into and i even added some personal comments at the bottom.

happy reading!

Long Lost by CanineKitten | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Brief Uzumaki Naruto/Hyuuga Hinata | Post-Canon, Canon Divergence | 90k

“Sasuke wanted Naruto to catch the drift for once and leave him alone, but instead he leaned closer. Maybe Sasuke should have caught on when he saw the determination in Naruto's eyes. Maybe he should have realized that Naruto was about to do something stupid. But he didn’t. So when Naruto kissed him, he was too shocked to even be indignant.”In which Naruto and Sasuke skirt around their feelings for each other until they run out of excuses.

Can't go wrong with a CanineKitten fic. You're gonna see a lot more of them in this list. This one's a perfect blend of angst, fluff and smut.

Unburied & Examined by furorem | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Post-Canon | 16k

"I asked you…" Sasuke muttered, quietly, his eyes averted as if to hide something. "I asked you, what I am to you. And you said a friend. Over and over…" Finally, his eyes snapped up to meet Naruto’s. He was devastating, all hard angles and splintered bones, sharp edges Naruto could and would cut himself on. He wanted him. He wanted him so fucking much it made his heart ache.Realising you’re irrevocably in love with your best friend is one thing, confessing your love is quite another.

Idiots in love. Idiots pining. Idiots learning how to communicate.

the sins you pay for by kayeeyooblue | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Post-Canon, Canon Divergence | +100k

the walls of sasuke uchiha's apartment are dripping with layers of paint. it seems the only colors he knows how to use are red and black. sometimes, naruto wonders if sasuke has ever known any other color, or if his life has only ever consisted of blood and death. but he can't ask, and there is no answer, so he sits and watches the paint dry and waits for sasuke to begin again.

ANGST. Goes into very heavy stuff (depression, bpd, suicidal thoughts etc). If you get uncomfortable with this kind of thing please don’t read it. But I hope you do cause oh my god this fic is so good. Cried a lot.

Kizuna Hikari by YoungAndOverIntelligent | M | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Post-Canon, Canon Divergence | +200k

The only reason Sasuke keeps coming back to Konoha is because of that mattress. The bed is his only respite. And perhaps the dumbass who owns said bed might be worth it, too.Or, another canon divergence 699 that showers Sasuke with too much (deserved) love and attention that we all need for these unprecedented times.

One of my all time favorite sns fics. A must read for everyone in the fandom.

should I tear my eyes out now? by weeb_grass | M | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | idek what this'd count as? post canon ig | +3k

The battle against the Elders is lost. Sasuke is locked away for life. After twelve years of fighting the system, Naruto frees the man he loves in the only way he knows how: "Just to reiterate: how long will it take for the cyanide to stop my heart?" Naruto keeps his face blank as he replies with: "Three minutes. Four at the most."

PURE ANGST. HURT/ NO FUCKING COMFORT. HEED THE TAGS.

Free Falling by CanineKitten | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Post-Canon, Canon Divergence | +45k

After being reinstated as a shinobi, Sasuke takes on what is supposed to be a standard mission together with Naruto. But the mission soon spirals out of control when they get involved in a conflict that isn't theirs. Eventually they end up in the wilderness, lost and without any other help but a strange map that lives its own life, and it only gets weirder from there on... At least they get to spend a lot of time together and learn to know each other better than they ever could have dreamed of.

Great plot. Great smut. Great characterization. Just great.

Soup's On by OfFansAndFlames | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Side Pairing: Suigetsu/Karin | Modern Setting | +350k

After a bloody altercation at school, the courts sentence Sasuke to one hundred hours of community service. Sasuke takes employment at Saint Magdalene's soup kitchen, where he meets a headstrong vagrant who will change the course of his life.

Another one of my favorites. This was reccomended to me by a friend a while ago and OH BOY. I don't ever really read Modern AUs but this fic DELIVERED. Angst, smut, fluff, crack, it literally has everything. 10/10 would reccomend.

If You Let Me by roguelovers | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Post-Canon, Canon Divergence | +11k

Naruto leaves with Sasuke after the war. There are knots to untangle.

Pretty much what the summary says. Sasuke's characterization is on point. Some angst.

Something To Remember Me By by heimai | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Modern Setting | +82k

Every summer, Naruto visits the sleepy beach town of Oceanview. Easily the best part of the trip is the carnival, set up for three days at the end of August. As summers pass, Naruto finds himself coming back again and again to see the boy at the end of the boardwalk. First, he wants to win the game the boy runs, but it turns into wanting to win Sasuke's heart instead. For some reason, Naruto just can't get him out of his head.

Really cute fic. But SAD. You've been warned.

A World of Truth by luchia | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito/Rin | Canon Divergence | 23k

The world is trapped in an illusion which removes anger, hate, and death. It's paradise, giving everyone everything they've ever wanted and reviving anyone they've ever lost. Nearly two years into the illusion, Sasuke snaps back to his senses and must decide whether to keep the world in false bliss, or return it to war-torn reality.

This one is a lot more AU than a regular canon divergence fic i'd say.

Restore My Faith by onepieceofharry | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Genin-Era, Canon Divergence | +100k and cont.

Sasuke was consumed with hatred because his family was killed. His entire family, not a single person left alive except him and their killer. It was enough to drive someone insane, or into the arms of the first maniac promising him enough power for revenge. Instead Sasuke finds a little baby Uchiha on a meaningless mission and leaves Konoha for a vastly different reason.

The plot is really interesting, very different than what you usually read. onepieceofharry is always so creative with their fics tho, so no surprises here. All in all great fic, can't wait to see where it goes.

btw since it's not an sns fic i didn't include it in the list but if you end up enjoying this, you have to read a theory of justice by the same author cause it's insanely good.

A Crown of Peonies and Primrose by shinigami714 | M | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Canon Divergence | 85k

Sasuke had never excelled when it came to handling his emotions. All his life he’d tried to push them aside. They made him weak, or so he thought. But all it took was one man to ignite such strange feelings within him, to force him to come to terms with them, accept them, and acknowledge that sometimes emotions weren’t a weakness at all, but rather one’s greatest strength. Sometimes the greatest happiness was found simply by following your heart.

Nice fic. Not much else to say about it. Classic SNS.

So I Can Stay With You by saucekays | M | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Canon Divergence | 67K

After the War, Sasuke is struggling: with the past, with Konoha, and with himself. He decides to go on a journey, one he hopes will bring him redemption and maybe some peace of mind.Naruto isn't willing to let him go so easily, so he does the obvious: invite himself along.While traveling across the lands, Naruto and Sasuke are forced to confront what lies between them. They make a lot of discoveries about themselves, their past, and their true feelings for each other.

Very slow burn but the wait is so worth it. The pining, the yearning... Love it.

Aftermath by CanineKitten | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Canon Divergence | +58k

Naruto is tired of seeing Sasuke leave again and again. This time he’s going with him.

Another travel fic! A very good one too.

+ The rest of the list is not angsty but i stil included them cause they're favorites and it's good to read some light crack after so much heavy stuff.

Collecting Memories by venussnow | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Boruto Era-ish | +180k and continuing

One minute Sasuke was sleeping outside and the next he's waking up in a comfortable bed in a world where there is no chakra. Only Naruto can help him find his way back home, but Naruto's convinced that a demon has possessed Sasuke's body. Meanwhile, another dimension's Sasuke woke up in a panic, without chakra, in a world where every nightmare he has ever had came to life and where everyone he loves is either dead, smelly, or downright terrifying. And don't even get him started on having a kid.

The Sasuke we know stuck in the modern world and ModernAu Sasuke is stuck in Konoha. Really funny and incredibly clever. I love this one a lot. No angst whatsoever (i mean there is drama but it's nothing compared to some of the fics in this list). I really hope you'll give this one a go cause, man, I had(still have) a blast reading this.

We Deserved A Better Ending, My Love by narutophobia | M | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Modern AU but not really, Reincarnation i guess? | +100k

Ever since Naruto was little, he has been plagued by memories from a life that was not his own.And then he sees Sasuke.

Kinda angsty, kinda fluffy. Again a really fun fic to read but a little more serious than the other 'fun' ones on the list.

Mirror, Mirror by sowell | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Canon Divergence | 16k

A jutsu gone wrong brings Sasuke home in a way Naruto never expected.

Really funny. Had a blast reading this. Kinda crack but not really? 'Crack treated seriously' i guess.

That's What Best Friends Are For by heimai | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Modern Setting | 26k

In the same way Icarus had flown too close to the sun and plummeted to his death, Sasuke Uchiha now had a vibrator stuck in his ass.

Might be the funniest shit i've ever read. But also really sexy? With fluff? Idk how the author managed to keep the boys so in character while writing about, you know, a vibrator getting stuck in one of them. 10/10.

No Different by Asuka Kureru (Askerian) | E | Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto | Canon Divergence | +2k

The boys compare the size of their curse seals. Amongst other things.

Pure smut. Enjoy.

#feel free to add to the list #long post #answered

[sunset-peril]

The Sound of Our Silence - Prologue - Memento Mori

~~~~

December 19th, 2027

6:35pm 

Ruins of Courtroom Number Four 

~~~~

No one will stay me now. 

A ginger blur stormed up the stairs to the courthouse, blazing through the halls towards the marked double doors.

You may have had your way until now, but the beast is free.

“Legali!” The doors blew open. 

Monarchs fluttered from older ears as eyes gleamed upwards towards the cold sapphires in the doorway. “Ah, if it isn’t Wright’s newest pity project.” 

The monarchs and their wearer were brunted over the defense bench. 

"Mrs. Legali! Are you alright?" A fresh-faced man, around Mr. Justice’s age, began to jog over with clipboard in hand. 

"Outside!" Newfound Chords of Steel roared while eyes flooded white, and he scattered. 

Meanwhile, Legali had just pulled herself from the ground, clutching to her left shoulder and the bench. "What… the hell was that?" 

"Oh… you know very well why I'm here." She sneered. "And if you like what you have, you'll keep your mouth shut and this courtroom empty of guards." 

A singular scoff echoed through the ruins. "What am I, your hostage?" 

She laughed once. "Oh, I don't have to do a thing, do I? All I do is exist… and everything you love is in danger." Even closer she drew, until the ginger's breath was upon the elder attorney's throat. "Oh, it would be so easy… so so easy… but it would leave such a mark." She cackled then, forsaking the professionalism of a single laugh. 

"I warned Wright about you. But that foolish man trusted sentimentality over reason."

"Of course you would." The small LED display on her necklace glitched. 

Bribery! Briber in the house! Its glitchy little face sputtered without remorse.

Its victim sputtered too. “My pardon?! Who are you to throw out an accusation like that?!”  

Legali’s assailant chuckled softly, mellow after the psychotic outburst. She turned her back to the elder, but not her head; no, never her head, as she meandered to the prosecution’s bench and slid an arm over its polished wood. “I will keep quiet, you won't even know I'm here.” She smirked. “You won't suspect a thing, you won't see me in the mirror.” A hand gestured out to the attorney. “But I’ve crept into your heart and you can't make me disappear… 'Til I make you.” 

“I’m sorry, are you singing?”

No chuckle was heard. “I made myself at home in the cobwebs and the lies, I'm learning all your tricks and I can hurt you from inside.” A grimace on her face? “I made myself a promise. You would never. See. Me. Cry. 'Til I make you.” The ginger’s desk slam rattled the ruins. “You'll never know what hit you. Won't see me closing in. Oh, I'm gonna make you suffer, this hell you put me in, and I'm underneath your skin.” A cackle rose once more and she leaned over the bench with her back turned. “The devil within…”

Now the victim seemed angry. “Who even are you?”

Her eyes were empty and no shred of emotion was found on her face. “I will be here when you think you're all alone; seeping through the cracks, I'm the poison in your bones. My love is your disease, I won't let it set you free, 'Til I break you.”

Realization tore through Zegali’s face. “No… It can’t be…”

Victory glowed on the other and a scarred neck was displayed in a show of victory. “Finally! You really think I would just forget everything?! Everything you did to me. Look what you made of me!”

“None of that was me! I know you’re just a scared little child looking for a scapegoat, but I am not the cause of your life.” 

“Oh, really, now? You’re sure that you’ll get out of this unscathed, without ever having to even fight? You’re certain no blood runs down your hands? Really?” 

“Murdering me will not undo these past seven years! I understand you’re a traumatized little girl looking for control, but please, attorney to attorney, revenge gets you nowhere-” 

“Nowhere but prison, I know. I did nothing wrong, but still ended up in the worst of them, because of you. And I don’t have to raise a finger. Never again.” 

“You… are not that little girl…”

“I may never have been. But that matters. All I have in this world is my memories, and I’ll follow them until this body fails. How many will fall before me… only time will tell.”

Legali turned to flee, and the other allowed her. Instead, she turned to the gleaming emblem of justice, dangling haphazardly to the only object remaining intact: the judge’s bench. But she couldn’t face the symbol of justice. Her head bowed for the first time that evening, and her voice soft and weak. “And now we're here at a standstill, I wonder if you feel the kind of pain that rips your insides out… That's something I know all about. Shocking, ain't it? Is it because I can't be her? Made your mistakes and make me hurt.” Her voice cracked and broke as she desperately fought the thoughts and tears. 

“I can't fix you.” 

~~~~

Use of song lyrics encouraged by one @athena-appreciation-page

Songs present -

"The Devil Within" - Digital Daggers

"I Can't Fix You" - The Living Tombstone (ft. Crusher-P)

#ace attorney #athena cykes #fanfiction #booksivewritten #a man named terran #athenacykes #dual destinies #the sound of our silence amnt #the sound of our silence #song lyrics in fic #fics with song lyrics #ace attorney oc #post-turnabout countdown #dang foreshadowing already? #funni tags on the ao3 page

[romiyaro]

💫Clingy Geto Suguru💫

Your phone rings, the alarm blaring for you to get up and get ready for the official mission reporting. But the heavy weight pressing you into the couch isn't budging however you try to shake it off.

When you finally manage to slip a leg from underneath the weight, said weight shifts, rough palm coming over your thigh to pull your leg back under it. "Stop moving, y/n. You're disturbing me." The voice is gravelly and so tired that you feel guilty for waking him up for a whole second.

"Get up, Sugu. We gotta report to the elders." You try reasoning. His head snuggles a little more into the chink between your neck and shoulder, "That can wait five minutes more baby. 'M too tired to move."

You hum, fingers raking through his messy bed hair, "Yeah, you took quite the hit back there," for me. The words remain unsaid, but you know he hears it by the way the corners of his lips curl against your neck.

"Best hit I ever took. I'd take that hit all over again if I could." You chuckle at his little declaration, "Will you also take the hit from the elders?"

He stiffens for a bit and asks, "For you? Absolutely."

Your cheeks heat up at that. That's the first time he showed any acknowledgement to this unspoken thing going on between you. You want to label it. But you don't want to come off as clingy.

Two long fingers snap before your eyes, startling you out of your daze. Your eyes meet a probing gaze. And a childish pout. "Eyes on me when I'm talking to you."

"I— how am I supposed to look at you when you have literally buried yourself in my neck?"

The smug grin is back on his face and it fucking melts your heart. "I don't know. Figure out a way, genius."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Now get up!" You hit his arms surrounding your form, indicating him to let go.

This time he lets go, standing up before pulling you up as well.

You stretch, bones cracking satisfyingly. You yelp as the arms come around you once again, squeezing you tight to his chest. His nose buried in your neck once again. "Suguru!" You admonish him.

"Sorry. You just smell so good." He rocks you both side to side for a minute. "Why? Why do you never ask me to label our relationship?" The question is so soft and muffled against your neck, you wonder if you imagined it.

You croak out anyway, "Uhh, just didn't want to seem clingy I guess? Hahaha..." You trail off.

The bite that comes to your neck next is totally unexpected. "Clingy? You don't want to seem clingy? Is clingy unattractive to you?"

You are dumbstruck, how do you answer it?

"Some people find it annoying?"

"Am I one of those?"

"Uh I don't know?"

"Then how do you know I don't like clinginess?" He tightens his arms around you for emphasis. Your eyes widen at his implication.

You always assumed Geto Suguru was someone who hated baggage and clingy people. But what about now? When he was acting like a big attention-starved puppy? You think back to all of his clingy moments with you.

You dare to ask him, "Then... Would you like to name this," you wave your hand, "whatever this is?"

"Hmm." He nods, "Be my girlfriend?"

You freeze, that was unexpected. Emotions well up inside you. So many suppressed emotions that your eyes tear up when you turn around to face him.

He still dares to smile at you like that. You nod your head, somehow getting a choked 'yes' out.

"Alright! How about we go report to the oldies, girlfriend?"

Tagging: @cuz-like-why-not (here it is hoe hit me)

#yes before u say it— i know. I KNOW ALRIGHT? #its comoletely ooc #butni had to empty my head somewhere #so here it is #jsgekwkksj #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #geto fluff #fem!reader

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Instead of shattering Dad Nie's saber to kill his pride, he shatters Baxia - and thus Nie Mingjue. What better way to punish a man who dared to think anything of his could rival Wen Ruohan? Only, Nie Mingjue survives... and Baxia does too. Of course, sharing Nie Mingjue's body, neither of them is quite the same...

Curse-breaker (Chapter 1/4)

- ao3 -

"I see," Wen Ruohan said, his teeth slightly gritted, his irritation plain and obvious for all to see. "Indeed, I must concede that Sect Leader Nie's saber is finer than the one I own; it is undeniable. Lao Nie, your saber."

He offered it back, plainclothes-wrapped hilt first.

"You do my sect honor," Sect Leader Nie said with a wide grin, accepting the saber. "Our sabers are indeed the finest – and more than that, they get better with each generation. To tell you the truth, my friend: this one isn't mine, but my son's!"

He revealed the hilt, not anything like his own, and laughed, delighted by the joke he had played.

Wen Ruohan’s face contorted, growing pale in what everyone assumed was rage.

It was only later that Lao Nie, at least, recognized that it had been horror.

-

Nie Mingjue was screaming, and had not stopped screaming.

His throat was rent all to pieces, his fingers bloody from clawing at his own flesh, his eyes rolling around in his head as if by some inescapable fit -

"It's a qi deviation," one of the elders said. "Induced by the breaking of his saber. We should take him to the tombs."

"Fuck off," Lao Nie told them, as if saying the words would deny the truth. "He's too young!"

He put himself between them and his son.

"You shouldn't have let him take up the saber so young," the elder persisted, as if it had been Nie Mingjue’s fault that his son’s saber had been shattered by a man a century older than him, and all because of a dispute that had nothing to do with him. "You shouldn't have shown it to others, left it unguarded -"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Lao Nie roared, abruptly pushed beyond his limits. "Do you think that I don't already regret...!"

He regretted. Oh, how he regretted!

He had not regretted a single thing in his life since the day his father had told him that he would one day die, and how. Even back then, he had swallowed down the regret without choking on it: he had accepted it, understood it, and resolved to live the life he had left to him to the utmost. What good, he had reasoned, would regret do? Would it win him a single additional day of life? Would it wring out a single ounce of additional joy from the days he did have?

There was no point in regret.

Whether that was the right decision or not, he didn’t know, but it was the one he made, and he stuck with it.

His whole life, Lao Nie had been reckless and carefree even by the already low standards of his family. He was always indulging in familiar pleasures and searching for new experiences, doing whatever he could to excite a palate already starting to grow jaded. He broke hearts as easily as he won them, and had what even he admitted was the worst taste in partners imaginable, attracted as he was to danger and death as if to an old and much-beloved friend. He laughed at the idea of risk or consequences, taking care only for his sect, which he loved; everything else was negotiable, or so he'd thought. He'd scared the wits out of most of his family time and time again, and - perhaps as recompense - had grown his first grey hair dozens of years too early. To this day, he still didn't know whether the reason everyone called him Lao Nie so often that even he thought of himself that way was because they were genuinely fond of him, because of the premature black-and-white mix of his hair, or perhaps just as some unspoken prayer that he finally get over himself and grow up.

If it was the last, it hadn’t worked. Even as he’d gotten older, he hadn’t changed one bit.

The only thing that had changed was that he’d finally found something he loved more than his sect.

He loved his children.

He loved his children, whether the righteous and too-serious Mingjue with his secret penchant for tears or the flippant and carefree Huaisang who was lazier than a slug in the sun. He loved them and he, unlike his father before him, did not burden them over-early with knowledge that would only be an itch under their skin that slowly drove them mad.

He loved them.

And now one of them was dying – because of him.

"You should take him to the tombs," the elder said, and ignored the crash of the chair Lao Nie threw at their head. "You let him become a man of our sect, Lao Nie. Do him the honor of letting him die as one.”

“You…!”

“Or do you think you are being kind, leaving him like this?"

Lao Nie looked down at his son, his Mingjue, the baby he’d held in his arms and the toddler he’d taught to walk and the child he’d chased and the teenager he’d taught the saber. His boy, who was thrashing wildly on the bed, spitting up foam along with blood and weeping uncontrollably.

"A-die," Nie Mingjue whimpered, just as he had when he'd been younger and caught in the throes of fever or breaking a bone through his own misadventures. Tears streamed endlessly down his eyes, his brave little boy who was not-so-secretly a bit of a crybaby. "A-die, a-die, it hurts..."

Lao Nie closed his eyes in pain.

He regretted.

But it was too late now to regret.

"We'll take him to the tombs," he finally conceded, and for the first time in his life he truly felt old. "Just let me say goodbye."

-

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out.

Nie Mingjue might only be a child, thirteen or fourteen years old – he couldn’t remember clearly any longer which it was – but he had been a good student before that, reading faithfully through his sect’s histories and listening to his teachers. He knew enough to read between the lines, to reckon the subtle indications and the not-so-subtle hints: he knew, even before he’d been officially told, what it was that he faced down at the end of the road that his ancestors had built for him to walk.

The early death – the painful death – the silent tombs –

There had been so many whispers when he’d taken up his Baxia too early. How could he not know?

His father hadn’t wanted him to know, though. So he hadn’t said anything, and pretended he didn’t.

(Huaisang could be ignorant for real, he’d thought to himself. It’d be okay if he didn’t know.)

If you go to the tombs, you will not come out. You cannot go to the tombs!

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He no longer screamed, even though the spiritual energy that had once felt rich and nourishing and strong now felt like corrosive acid scouring his veins, burning him from the inside out – it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, wasn’t still compelled too; it was only that he had screamed too much, wearing out his voice down to nothingness from overuse.

If I go to the tombs, I will not come out, he thought, dimly aware that something wasn’t right. Thinking was hard, and grew ever harder: the qi deviation, for that was what it was, was worsening, not getting better.

Would not ever get better.

His Baxia, his loyal saber filled to the brim with resentful energy, had shattered. Shattered, and now all that resentful energy that she had collected for herself had flooded back into him, drowning his brain in rage and madness.

Flooding him with – Baxia.

I cannot go to the tombs.

You cannot go to the tombs, Baxia agreed – at least, he thought it was Baxia. It might be himself: he could no longer tell the difference.

She’d shattered, and he’d shattered, too. His mind and his body and his meridians and his golden core: everything was in pieces. His spiritual energy was running the wrong way, twisting him up inside, hurting instead of helping – the rage and resentful energy wasn’t going into Baxia but coming back into him, and it was poison.

There was no fixing it. His ancestors had tried everything they could: brought in the finest physicians with their needles and their clever ideas, sought out mysterious techniques and strange geniuses that played games even with their golden cores, even tried out demonic cultivation to see if it would help – with their lives and their children’s lives at stake, was there anything they wouldn’t do?

As if it would be that easy.

As if the road to death taken time and time again over the generations could be so easily evaded.

Nie Mingjue was a Nie. He had had a qi deviation. He was going to die.

But he was young, too.

Too young.

They all said that’d he formed his core at an extraordinary young age, and he had, too, verifiable evidence of his unusual genius for cultivating – only a golden core formed too early wasn’t quite the same as one done in the usual way at the usual time. It’d formed all right, all the spiritual liquid flowing through his meridians condensing into a shining solid sphere in his dantian, but it was still a little gummy in comparison to the normal ones. It had to be. He’d formed the core before he’d reached adolescence, without any of the necessary hormones running through his body; if his golden core was as fully solid as most adults, he’d be stuck at the age and size he was at when the core was first formed.

Normally, all this meant was that his foundation would be a little unstable for the first few years, just until he got old enough, and only when he was finally at his proper age would it truly settle into place along with his body, growing firm and solid and far more powerful than all the rest.

But he’d never gotten the chance to grow that old.

Nie Mingjue’s core had cracked when his saber that had been fundamentally tied to it had shattered, but unlike the steel of the saber it was still more fluid than solid. Even as the corrosive resentful energy burned him, even as the spiritual energy rioted within him, his old instincts were still there, that subconscious genius for cultivating already at work, trying to force the spiritual energy to run through him, trying to put those broken pieces back together. For any normal Nie, the greater his talent, the faster he’d be driven mad, but for Nie Mingjue, those gummy pieces of his core, sticky and still fluid, were instead being soldered together using spiritual energy and resentful energy both, and unlike the stiff and brittle solidity of the golden core of adulthood, they were still flexible enough to stick together – to coalesce into a whole once more.

Only –

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes.

He’d already opened them once, and now he opened them again. The world as he had always recognized it, he saw through his left eye – but through his right, there was a whole new world.

It was a world of black and white, of good and evil, a world of kinetic movement, of steel and rage incarnate…the world through the perception of a saber spirit. A saber spirit who had shattered when her steel was shattered, shattered when her master’s core was shattered, and whose pieces were even now integrating interchangeably with her master’s pieces into a single indissoluble whole.

If we go to the tombs, they thought, and now that was it, that was right, we will not come out.

Well, that was simple enough to fix.

They just wouldn’t go to the tombs.

-

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Nie Huaisang’s father hissed. “He can’t be – he wasn’t in any state – he couldn’t have just gotten up and run away – no, stop, let’s go. I don’t want Huaisang hearing.”

Nie Huaisang hated it when his father remembered to be discreet around him.

His da-ge was never discreet, he thought, pouting. If anything, that was something his father often complained about, even if he would be chuckling all the while: that Nie Mingjue had all the tact of a lady boar in full charge, riled up in defense of her children, and with about as much care for anything that did not meet his stringent expectations of justice and fairness – which was rather a lot.

Where was his da-ge, anyway? Nie Huaisang hadn’t seen him in days, not since he went out on that night hunt with their father. He’d asked his nurse about it, because it was unusual for his brother not to come play with him once he’d returned, and she’d said that he’d gotten sick and couldn’t come to see him just yet. But surely it was long enough that he’d be better already!

Nothing could keep his big brother down for long.

Decided, Nie Huaisang hopped up and headed outside, planning to go find his brother. His brother would explain what was going on, simplifying things down until even a little kid like him could get it, and he wouldn’t make Nie Huaisang feel stupid for needing that simplification.

His brother thought Nie Huaisang was smart.

Nie Huaisang walked along the railing next to his window, teetering back and forth with his hands outstretched for balance – his brother had showed him this pathway long ago, telling him that he could use it when he wanted to sneak out go play or look at birds, or even just come to find him whenever he had nightmares.

His brother wasn’t in his rooms, though.

Nie Huaisang sighed. Maybe he was in the study, or the training field, or something like that, but if Nie Huaisang tried to go there, he’d be dragged into lessons or training as well, and he didn’t want that.

He decided to go look at birds instead.

His brother had come up with a secret path to the outside that only they knew, the two of them, one that led them all the way out into the forest where the really interesting birds were. It was close enough to home that it was still safe, still within the bounds of the Unclean Realm’s protective arrays, but far enough to feel unburdened by the presence of their elders.

Nie Huaisang went to look at birds, but it wasn’t birds he found.

“…who’s there?” he asked, seeing movement in the bushes – something too large to be a bird, too small to be a bear, too two-legged to be a boar or a dog. Whoever it was, they were breathing hard, as if they’d run too far, interspersed with little whines of pain, like they were hurt. “Who are…”

The figure in the bush moved forward.

“…da-ge?”

Nie Huaisang’s big brother didn’t look right. He was crouched down, carrying his body low as if he were trying to support himself and protect his middle at the same time, his fingers digging into the ground for balance – his lips were peeled back from his teeth in something caught between a grimace and a growl. His left eye was normal, but his right was horribly red, shot through with pulsing veins that seemed to bleed into the iris, the color of which had faded from warm golden brown to something more like a slate or steel grey.

He sounded like he was in pain.

His brother was in pain.

Nie Huaisang took a step towards him, deeply concerned, and Nie Mingjue backed away.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, terrified. “Da-ge, it’s me, it’s Huaisang – I won’t hurt you!”

Nie Mingjue whined, a sound deep in the back of his throat, but this time, when Nie Huaisang stepped forward, he didn’t run. He waited until Nie Huaisang was close before darting forward and nuzzling Nie Huaisang’s hand with his cheek, ducking his head down and letting him touch his hair as if he were a dog.

His brother wasn’t just sick, Nie Huaisang realized. He was reallysick.

“What happened?” he asked, and his brother just looked sad. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

His brother nodded. A short jerking motion, barely recognizable, and yet – a nod.

“…do you have to?”

Another nod.

Nie Huaisang’s lip quivered. “Will you be all right?”

His brother nuzzled his palm again. It wasn’t an answer.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath. “I won’t tell anyone.”

His brother seemed almost to smile.

And then he was gone.

Walking all the way back inside before bursting into tears was the hardest thing Nie Huaisang had ever done in his life, but the worst part was knowing that this was only the beginning.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #sect leader nie #nie huaisang #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #curse-breaker

[pitterpatterpot]

Can you please write a prompt when Aedion and Fenrys do something stupid but Gavriel and Vaughan catch them doing it, or shortly after with 114, 115, 116, 148 and 152?

Ah. When a family has the reckless members and the tired members.

114. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

115. “I mean, it could be worse.”

116. “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

148. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to.”

152. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

From a similar ask:

214. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

217. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

~~~

“This is, by far, the best and worse idea you’ve ever had,” Fenrys grumbles, looking down from their perch on the snow-slicked roof of Vaughan’s mountain holiday home.

“I’m a general, I’ve commanded an army,” Aedion reminds him, calculating the distance between them and the ground. “I think some of those decisions were pretty good and bad.”

“If Gavriel finds out about this, we’re dead.”

“Gavriel worries too much.”

“About you? Yes. About me? Only how he’ll kill me when he finds out I went along with this.”

“You bought the sled!”

“For the mountain! To go sledding down the mountain! Not the damn roof!”

And there they are, perched right before the slope of Aelin’s roof, Aedion on the from of the sled with Fenrys on the back. Fresh snow from the night before layers the roof and the ground below.

“I’m telling you, Aelin and I did this as kids. We were always fine. Her father would cheer.”

“I’m taking your word for it.” Fenrys huffs. “We have until the others get back from their hike.”

“You can pretend you’re against this all you want,” Aedion shuffles the sled closer to the slope, “but you were still the one who spent an hour looking for a way to fit the sled through the manhole.”

“I have to at least pretend to be against this,” Fenrys grumbles as a smile tries to fight it’s way through. “I’m supposed to be the elder here. Did you shovel extra snow at the bottom?”

“No, I’m an idiot who wants our bones to break,” Aedion huffs. “Yes, there’s extra snow at the bottom.”

They shuffle close together on the sled, a smaller model meant for winter fun. They stare down at the end of the roof, both grinning maniacally as they contemplate the small drop. Nothing compared to facing an army. Fenrys wraps his arms around Aedion, the younger of the two braced at the front. With one precarious movement the front of the sled is tipping forward.

And they’re off.

They both release a cheer as they fly over the icy surface of the roof, Aedion pulling up on the reins when they reach the edge as to avoid a complete nose dive. Yet the back of the sled catches on gutter, causing both of them to yelp as they fly off the sled in different directions. Both bodies land in the snow, a deafening crack sounding out.

“Aedion?” Fenrys gasps as he hauls himself up, looking in the direction of the sound.

He unwinds at the view of Aedion groaning just next to him. Then he freezes, eyes fixating on where the porch guardrail is cracked and ripped apart. And even worse, the scent of blood perpetuates the air.

“I mean,” Aedion mumbles from beside him, “this could be worse.”

Fenrys says nothing.

“Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to,” Aedion groans, rolling onto his back. “At least, not the first time. We can try again later.”

“Aedion-“

“What?”

“You have a shard of wood sticking out of your leg.”

Aedion looks down where he, indeed, has a wedge of the rail pierced through his calf muscle. He hums.

“Well,” Aedion sits up, “this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Gavriel is going to kill me,” Fenrys hisses, shifting to his knees and immedtaleaning over the injured leg. “Fucking hell, he is going to slaughter me. I can’t heal this! I’m not as good at healing as he is!”

“Just try and we won’t have to tell Gavriel!”

Without warning Fenrys grabs a pile of snow and shives it on top of Aedion’s leg, causing him to hiss and jerk in irritation. Fenrys ensures the small puddle of blood is covered in record time, grateful that the snow helps muffle the scent. Aedion stares at Fenrys in disbelief, annoyance dripping off him in waves.

“What the hell-“

“Aedion! Fenrys!”

Aedion stiffens, turning to see Gavriel and Vaughanwalk towards them from the forest clearing.

“Gavriel! Vaughan,” Aedion clears his throat. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

“We headed back early from the hike,” his father explains, making his way over to them. “By the way, I thought I heard you say you had something to tell me? I heard you as I was arriving.”

“Fae hearing!” Fenrys declares loudly, laughing and sending Aedion a warning glance. “We sure can hear from far away!”

Vaughan and Gavriel share a befuddled look.

“I know? Fenrys, what’s going on, are you- my gods!” Gavriel’s expression turns to one of shock. “The railing! What did-“ he glances at the sleigh, then the roof, his expression turning thunderous.

Both Aedion and Fenrys shrink under his gaze as he turns back to them, golden eyes on fire.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Gavriel asks, voice low and slow.

“Shit,” Vaughan mutters, wincing at Gavriel’s growl, turning away examine the broken rail.

Both males swallow at the gaze and tone. They share a look, silently fighting between themselves as to who will speak.

“Please, don’t rush,” Gavriel crosses his arms. “After all, we can just stay here until someone confesses.”

Fenrys winces and his eyes twitch towards Aedion’s leg. Gavriel catches the action.

“Aedion,” Gavriel says, “stand up.”

“Ah,” Aedion pats his thighs. “I would, but I’m quite comfortable.”

“Really? You’re comfortable?”

“That’s right.”

“Sitting in the snow?”

“Reminds me of my childhood.”

Gavriel inhales a large breath, closing his eyes to steady and calm himself. After counting to three he turns to Fenrys, pinning the younger male with a look. Fenrys begins to squirm. Aedion grits his teeth and sends him a warning glare. Gavriel narrows his eyes. Aedion does the same. Fenrys avoids looking them both in the eye the best he can, sweat gathering on the back of his neck and father and son both send him equally threatening looks.

“Why is Aedion pale?” Gavriel questions Fenrys.

“I’m cold,” Aedion interjects.

“Lies. You were raised in this climate,” Gavriel barks, then turns back to Fenrys. “I want an answer from you.”

Fenrys bites his lip.

“I will call Aelin back,” Gavriel lowers his voice further, “and she will wonder what happened to Aedion. Are you willing to withhold that information from her?”

Fenrys swallows.

“Just tell him,” Vaughan advices from the porch, looking up to where the gutter is cracked.

“And what about me?” Gavriel continues. “I trained you. Will you deny me information of my only precious child?”

“Oh, gods above!” Aedion chokes, reaching out to grasp Fenrys’s shoulder. “We’re fine! There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this! You can stop with the guilt tripping crap.”

Gavriel ignores his son. Instead, he continues to focus on Fenrys.

“Seriously, Gavriel, we’re fi-“

“Aedion and I sled off the roof but tipped forward too much and broke the railing and Aedion has a piece of wood stabbed through his leg!” Fenrys pauses and heaves in a deep breath, finally relaxing from the strain.

“You what?!”

“Well, fuck.”

“You bastard.”

Gavriel whirls on Aedion, immediately crouching and removing the snow on his leg. Aedion grunts as his father accidentally nudges the shard in his leg. Gavriel swears when he sees it.

“I’m fine,” Aedion drawls as Gavriel examines the wound. “If I can handle being stabbed I can handle a bit of wood.”

“You’re lucky this was so thoroughly polished and varnished,” Gavriel braces Aedion leg with a hand on his knee. “Otherwise you’d have to worry about splinters. Take a breath.”

In a swift movement Gavriel yanks the wood free of Aedion’s flesh, his son barking a curse at the splitting pain before Gavriel’s warm magic seeps through him, his father’s cedar and sage scent potent with anger. Aedion goes to thank him but freezes with the way Gavriel’s eyes are already pinned on him, dark with anger and his jaw twitching.

“You’re pissed,” Aedion sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Gavriel says nothing, focusing on the leg. Aedion squirms at the lack of response, Fenrys looking away and choosing to walk up to Vaughan, the two of them awkwardly standing to the side. The last of Aedion’s skin stitches together and Gavriel turns away, picking up the largest section of broken railing and setting it against the wall of the holiday house. He then commences in picking up smaller shards, ensuring they’re all out of the snow and settled on the porch. Fenrys and Aedion watch him do this, the earlier helping the later to his feet.

“Inside,” Gavriel says, not looking at them as he enters the cabin.

They follow after him, standing awkwardly to the side as Gavriel fills the main fireplace with wood and begins striking the flints. Vaughan drags in the sled behind them, scowling as he does so.He jerks his head towards the couch, clearly indicating for Fenrys and Aedion to sit. They both do so.

Once the fire seems steady Gavriel makes his way over to them. He sits on the low table in front of the couch, examining the two of them. Vaughan leans against the fireplace, dark eyes simmering as he takes everything in.

“So,” Gavriel begins, anger still thick, “who wants to explain what happened?”

“It was my idea,” Aedion immediately interjects, ignoring Fenrys’s frantic look. “Aelin and I used to sled off the roof of her old holiday house as kids. I didn’t factor in the issue that this house has a guardrail to avoid or that Fenrys and I would be heavy.”

Silence stretches between them. Fenrys cringes at the way Gavriel pins them both under his stare. Aedion shifts at the silence.

“What I’m thinking,” Gavriel begins slowly, “is that you two must have the combined maturity of two children to have ever thought sledding off the roof would be a good idea.”

Aedion and Fenrys share a concerned look. Gavriel narrows his eyes as they look away.

“Do not,” he growls lowly, “look away from me as I am speaking to you.”

Aedion’s eyes widen, turning back to his father. Fenrys seems less shocked at the severity of the anger and more apprehensive of it.

“Not only did you engage in a completely ridiculous and childish task,” Gavriel begins, “but you damaged the house and Aedion injured himself in the process.”

“I’m fine,” Aedion scowls. “You healed me and there isn’t even a scar.”

Gavriel narrows his eyes. Fenrys winces.

“That is not the point,” Gavriel begins. “And the fact that you don’t realise that isn’t the point is even worse. You shouldn’t put your own health and safety at risk and you, Fenrys, should be mature enough after all these centuries to automatically know that sledding off a roof is a bad idea!”

“You’re right,” Fenrys agrees, sitting straight. “I apologise for indulging in such an immature act.”

Satisfied, Gavriel turns to Aedion.

“I’m sorry for endangering myself,” Aedion admits. “Especially over something so stupid.”

“Good,” Gavriel huffs. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Trust me, it’s not on the list,” Aedion promises.

Gavriel nods. “While you two may be grown males and I can’t ground you, I candemand that you help me with cutting and moving more lumber tomorrow.”

With that Gavriel stands and stalks his way to his room, the door closing decisively behind him. Both males relax at the sound of the click, Fenrys releasing an audible breath.

“My gods,” Fenrys groans, sliding down the couch and rubbing at his face, “I thought for sure he was going to kill us. Cutting up timber is nothing, becoming a father must have softened him.”

Aedion nods. But they both stiffen at a barked laugh, snapping to attention as Vaughan stalks toward them. The look on his face suggests he knows they forgot about him and will regret it.

“He’s not giving you a harsher punishment because he knows you’re going to be working your asses off all night helping me fix this railing,” Vaughan narrows his eyes, jerking a hand towards the door. “I worked hard on this house. Now get off your asses and get ready for some woodwork. Be outside in five minutes.”

Vaughan slams the front door behind him as he exits the house, Aedion and Fenrys still able to hear him grumbling as he trudges his way through the snow to a shed with supplies. They turn at the squeaking of hinges, Gavriel sticking his head out of his bedroom.

“He’s a perfectionist,” Gavriel dryly informs them. “Get ready to redo the whole porch railing.”

With that he closes the door once again, leaving the two males to wince and wilt, dreading the night of work ahead of them.

#tog fic #cadre #family feels #aedion #tog #fenrys moonbeam #vaughan #gavriel

[warcraft-lore-archives]

The Folk & Fairy Tales of Azeroth Lore Facts

Editor’s Note: “Some of the tales you’ll encounter here may be rooted in canon, or they may be another traveler just telling a tall tale.” 

Eyes of the Earth Mother

Though the Earth Mother heard the whispers of the Old Gods, she could not be swayed by them (13).

Pregnant, the Earth Mother sought a place away from the Old Gods’ corruptive influence to give birth to her children. Unable to find such a place, however, she decided to shape the world and, in doing so, create her own safe haven (14). 

All of Azeroth’s lands, waters, and even the elements themselves came forth at this moment. They were suffused with enough of the Earth Mother’s essence so soon after their inception that they kept the Old Gods’ powers at bay (14). 

The Earth Mother gave birth to twins: first An’she, a beacon of life and warmth, then came Mu’sha, who was to bring rest, tranquility, and healing. The elements called them the “sun” and the “moon” (15). 

Eventually, both An’she and Mu’sha developed connections with the elements. An’she found himself able to wield the light and warmth of fire while Mu’sha maintained some control over the tides and winds (15-16). 

The twins even went so far as to use the elements to create weapons to spar with. Mu’sha opted for a bow and arrow, whereas An’she’s weapon of choice was a set of blades (16).

To keep her children safe from the Old Gods’ ever-present influence while she slept, the Earth Mother took both An’she and Mu’sha up into her eyes. Their power was so great that she had to keep one eye open at all times (16).

This, however, meant that Azeroth no longer received An’she’s warmth or Mu’sha’s guidance of the wind while the Earth Mother rested. Cold slowly spread across the land and blizzards raged until she finally woke again (18).

The Earth Mother’s cycle between periods of sleep and awakening would come to form the basis of the seasons as we know them, with her time of work the summer and her time of rest the winter (18).

As the twins grew in power, they developed the ability to bring on the change of seasons at will, though they took care to do it slowly and give the world time to adjust. As the Earth Mother rested, An’she and Mu’sha continued to tend to Azeroth from behind her eyes (19). 

After waking at one point, the Earth Mother found that there was new life walking the earth. Plucking wheat from the plains to sprinkle over them, the Earth Mother called them “Shu’halo,” - the tauren (19).

Just as the Earth Mother taught her children, both An’she and Mu’sha taught the Shu’halo in the ways of the elements and caring for the land (20). 

When the Earth Mother next slept, however, the Old Gods extended their influence to the tauren, causing them to grow violent and turn on their own kind (20).

Saddened to see the tauren fall to such corruption, the Earth Mother shed a single tear. She realized that the land was no longer able to hold the Old Gods’ power at bay, meaning anything it touched could be corrupted (21). 

Knowing that she was not safe for her children anymore because of her own connection to the land, the Earth Mother removed An’she and Mu’sha from her eyes and laid down in despair (21-22). 

The single tear that the Earth Mother had shed became a blue baby, later named “Lo’sho,” or the Blue Child (22, 24). 

Seeking to put an end to the Old Gods after what they had done to the tauren and the despair they instilled in their mother, An’she and Mu’sha fought against some of the eldritch beings’ manifestations. During the battle, An’she was wounded grievously. Though Mu’sha sought to heal him with wind and water, he continued to bleed (24).

The Earth Mother, stirred by her distant children’s dismay, eventually found her way to them. She urged them to take Lo’sho and go to the heavens so they could protect Azeroth from above, while the Earth Mother chose to root herself in the earth and prevent the Old Gods from ever claiming her children (26-27).

Mu’sha, the moon, continues to follow An’she closely across the sky so she can keep tending to his wounds (26). 

One Small Tuskarr

The tuskarr etch their clan and family symbols into their tusks. Though this is customary, some do engrave other symbols - such as marks indicating deeds of great distinction - into their tusks as well (32, 36). 

The catch master, who weighs the tuskarr’s catches, has a counting staff adorned with cords in the colors of each of the clan’s active fishermen. In accordance with how big a tuskarr’s haul of fish is, the catch master ties a single knot or more into their respective cord. These knots can be traded for tools, weapons, and coins, among other things (32-33). 

A single knot is customary for those who meet basic requirements, while additional knots are allotted to those who catch more (33). 

One can also earn knots from other tasks, such as fine embroidery, though they do so at a much slower rate than those who fish (38). 

Food is shared equally among the tuskarr (33).

The tuskarr perform nomadic journeys that take them to various kalu’ak towns. While the fishers take their own boats, most of the mothers, adolescents, and children trek across the ice (34). 

Fishing practices are passed down from parent to child. Though it is unclear if that is “law,” some of the tuskarr refuse to teach others to fish if they are not their own blood, going so far as to withhold information about the currents and places fish gather (36).

Tuskarr sometimes dye their moustaches (36).

It never gets fully dark in Northrend (38).

Oacha’noa is the tuskarr’s deity of both the sea and wisdom. Her symbol is that of a kraken (39). 

The spearhead on most tuskarr weapons is made of sharpened bone (42).

A type of manta ray known as the stargazer can be found in Northrend’s waters (44).

The tuskarr can survive in water so cold it would kill other races native to Azeroth in mere minutes (45).

The tuskarr typically fly kites for fun, though they have been known to use them to send signals to others at great distances (48).

Lay Down My Bones

According to Vulpera beliefs, the first of their kind was born from the magic of the desert. Though they are a nomadic people, an old tale about an artifact called the Wailing Bone claims the desert calls their bodies back to where they began when they die. To ensure they find their way back, the vulpera follow the Wailing Bone (55-56). 

Once one of their own has passed, it is customary for the next of kin to carry the bone at the head of the caravan while the vulpera wander in search of the proper place to bury them. The journey may take anywhere from days to weeks, but when the Wailing Bone begins to cry, the vulpera know they have found their loved one’s final resting place (56, 61). 

A poem is carved into the Wailing Bone: “Wander, roam; bring me home, / Down paths at my behest; / Among the stones, lay down my bones, / So I, at last, may rest”. Few can read the script it is written in, but most all vulpera can recite it from heart (54). 

Two vulpera, frustrated at their inability to find their elder’s final resting place, neglected their duty and left his corpse in a river in the hopes that it would bring him there for them. Refusing to obey the Wailing Bone caused it to crack. From that night on, the vulpera of the caravan found themselves cursed for failing to heed the Wailing Bone (62, 65).

Cracking under the pressure of the curse, the two negligent vulpera ultimately died gruesome deaths at each other’s hands. One of their bones was made into the next Wailing Bone (65).

A caravan always needs a Wailing Bone (65).

The Uninvited Guest

One goblin adage goes like so: “Every great goblin invention was born from necessity, bubble gum, or an accident” (69).

The goblins have a nursery rhyme: “In the dark of night and bright of day, / Keep in your hand a tossaway. / Guard your fortune, mind your greed, / Or else the Uninvited Guest will feed” (70).

The Uninvited Guest is a goblin boogeyman of sorts who is attracted by greed so egregious it offends even the dead. It is incorporeal, invisible, and has the ability to move through walls (76).

The Uninvited Guest feeds off of greed, but it can never be satisfied. It will latch onto its host like an invisible parasite to feed, inciting strange charitable behavior in them until they have given away all of their earthly possessions (76-79). 

A “tossaway” is a shiny gold-painted coin stamped with the face of the very first trade prince. These fake coins get their name from the way goblins quite literally toss them away in a symbolically superstitious act to protect themselves and their fortunes from the Uninvited Guest (70, 74). 

Tossaways were invented by Slixi Boompowder, the wife of one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel, after her own run-in with the Uninvited Guest. She only escaped from it because she distracted it with actual gold galleons, which inspired her to create the tossaways (83).

Legend has it that the Uninvited Guest still roams Azeroth to this day, looking to feed off of hapless greedy goblins (84). 

Klaxz Boompowder was one of the former trade princes of the Steamwheedle Cartel. His rival was Rikter Hogsnozzle, the trade prince of the Bilgewater Cartel (70-71).

Tradition dictates that goblins are buried with their most valuable possessions so they can enjoy them at the Everlasting Party, the goblin afterlife. They are then given burial gifts by other goblins from their own riches, though most goblins are too greedy to truly part with anything important (73).

Once the coffin is sealed, goblins dance on top of it to usher the deceased on to the Everlasting Party (75). 

Prominent goblins typically serve as pallbearers while goblins contractually obligated to serve as pack mules carry the rear (75). 

The goblins used to employ golden galleons as their form of currency, but it fell out of fashion. Nowadays, they are incredibly rare and expensive (74-75). 

Trolls have a tale about an invisible evil that sucks the souls from living beings and leaves them mad. It can only be seen in the light of a full moon (80). 

Sister is Another Word For Always

Vereesa felt Sylvanas’ death at the hands of Arthas the moment it happened (89-90). 

Sylvanas’ eyes were gray as a high elf (91). 

In the midst of her sorrow at her sister’s death, Vereesa sought many escapes. At first she tried to sleep, but when rest and forgetfulness would not come, she embarked on a journey across deserts and forests with little in the way of proper food or nourishment except that which she found (90, 93). 

It is very possible Vereesa perished at some point on this journey, for she came across a spirit healer, though she was told it was not yet her time. The spirit healer offered Vereesa a deal: if she could bring her the willing soul of Sylvanas without ever touching her, the spirit healer would restore her to life (96-97). 

When Sylvanas first died at the hands of Arthas, it seems as though the Arbiter sent her to Ardenweald (98-99). 

After she struggles to locate her sister in Ardenweald, Vereesa is inadvertently pulled into the Maw. There, she still has difficulty finding her, and is told by the Jailer that Sylvanas is not there - at least, not yet. He then urges her to leave, telling her she does not belong there (99, 102-103).

Eventually, Vereesa spots a silver glimmer she knows to be Sylvanas, though it is only a fragment of her soul (103-104). 

Before she can escape with the soul of her sister, the Jailer stops Vereesa and inadvertently tricks her into touching Sylvanas, rendering her deal with the spirit healer null and void (106). 

At the end of this journey, Vereesa awakes at the foot of a statue, her memory of the experience hazy (109). 

The Paladin’s Beast

Uther is originally from Stratholme (117).

Introduced as a fable beloved by the princelings and princesses of Lordaeron, the Paladin’s Beast is a tale that follows a young Uther as he finds himself in a mysterious and unfamiliar land. Determined to prove himself and bring back a prize to his fellow paladins, Uther joins a tournament put on by a foreign kingdom despite the protests of its princess. Though he is a strong warrior, she insists the beast of the tournament kills every knight who challenges it. Still, Uther refuses to back down, confident that his faith in the Light will give him the strength he needs to prevail. However, the princess’ words hold true, as every knight who goes to fight the beast before him perishes. When it is his turn, Uther decides to stay his hammer rather than fight, remembering the princess’ words. The beast withdraws, defeated by his act of compassion. It is revealed afterward as Uther goes for his prize that the princess actually was the beast all along, cursed to fight in the tournament for disobeying her father and breaking the royal lineage. She casts a spell on Uther, making it so that when he returns to Lordaeron, he will not remember anything of who she was or his experience there until the day he finds himself in a fiery field. Though the fable ends there, it is said that Uther dreamt of the silver kingdom and its princess for many years to come. It was not until his final moments, trying to fell a beast with weapons rather than compassion, that he would fully remember the princess and her story (111-127). 

For Lies and Liberty

Most undead do not get all of their memories back immediately once they are raised (or given free will). It takes time and encouragement (133-134). 

On the long-standing issue of whether or not undead have ichor or blood running through their veins, it appears one Jeremiah Pall still has blood in his body, though it has stopped moving on account of his still heart (134).

The story of the “Fearless Flyer” - a man known as Captain Whitney - is famous among some of the Alliance forces. According to the man himself, Whitney and his outfit had been fighting orcs for months to no avail when he hatched a bold plan to launch himself by catapult into their camp and take them by surprise, hence the nickname the “Fearless Flyer”. This story, unfortunately, turned out to be nothing but hyperbole. As it stands, a drunk Whitney accidentally got tangled up in nets, fell in the catapult, and was unceremoniously flung into the orcish camp. Believing themselves to be under attack, the orcs retaliated and killed most of the unsuspecting humans while Captain Whitney hid (136, 142). 

Stones, Moss, and Tears

Though female elves traditionally mark their faces after they have achieved a rite of passage, they can continue to add embellishments to commemorate any further deeds (155).

At least one kaldorei lorekeeper was charged with knowing the name of every Sentinel and recording details of their more noteworthy battles (156).

The Bloomblade druids were one of the oldest, unbroken lines of night elf druids (158). 

A species of insect known as glowmoths migrate through Mount Hyjal every autumn (164). 

The Embrace

The White Lady and the Sun were charged with keeping watch over Azeroth as it dreamed (171, 176). 

Though she loved the people of Azeroth dearly, the White Lady found herself growing lonely and in want of a family (173). 

The moon cycles are thought to be the White Lady turning away and hiding her face in her sorrow, though she would always look back upon Azeroth to watch over it (174).

It is said that the White Lady loved Azeroth and its denizens so much that a child - the Blue Child - was born of that love (174-175).

The Blue Child, ever curious, began asking the White Lady questions about the mortals that weighed on her heart, as she could not answer (176).  

One night the White Lady woke up to find the Blue Child gone. Unable to find her, she swore off her charge until the Blue Child was returned to her (177-178).

Without her guidance, the planet sped up and the tides ceased. The White Lady was only convinced to return to her duty after the Sun urged her, telling her the Blue Child might return if she had the moonlight to guide her (178).

The White Lady began to glow even more brightly over time in the hopes that her child would see, her light quickly growing to rival that of the Sun’s. This, too, caused problems, for crops burned and navigators could not see the stars to travel by (179). 

Upon seeing the terrible effect this was having on Azeroth’s denizens, the White Lady dimmed her light and retreated (181). 

The Blue Child ultimately returned from her long travels to her mother. They embraced in the sky, creating a beautiful eclipse (182).

Ever curious, the Blue Child was bound to grow restless again and leave for the stars, but the White Lady knew she would always return (183). 

When the moon turns red, it is a sign of her anger (177). 

Why the Mermaids Left Boralus

Back when Kul Tiras was still a Gilnean colony, Boralus had hardly any walls or structures protecting it from the wind or sea. More often than not, when the Great Sea churned at the city’s edge, it took houses, ships, and even men down into its depths. So many would drown in these incidents that those remaining covered them with weighted nets, causing them to sink to the seafloor (187-188, 190). 

Many of the roads out of Boralus flooded during great storms, making it deadly to try to leave the city on foot or by ship (198).

The Kul Tirans declined to build a seawall for fear that it would have done nothing and also because repairing it after a storm would have been just as dangerous as the storms themselves (188).

Most of Boralus’ early inhabitants were seamen of some sort, whether fishers, sea priests, sailors, or pearl-divers (188). 

During storms, the tidesages would act as a makeshift seawall and use their power to cut the waves before they made it deeper into the harbor (199).

Mermaids appeared quite openly near Boralus in its early days. Though they lived much deeper than most could naturally dive, they liked to sit on the rocks and watch ships go by, among other things. Most lived in temples beneath the sea that belonged to Kul Tiras’ former inhabitants (189, 191). 

According to superstition, sighting a mermaid was bad luck and presaged many inauspicious things including a doomed voyage, a brutal winter, and poor fishing. They were also seen as the harbingers of storms (189-190). 

Tidesages were (and still are) always the first and last to disembark from a ship. As a result, they usually went down with their ships (191).

The tidesages’ unrivaled dedication, combined with the frequency of drownings and shipwrecks, often meant they died young (191). 

Mermaids are spawned from eggs and leave no corpses when they die (191, 203).

The mermaids had very little understanding of the Kul Tirans’ mistrust towards them (191). 

Mermaids have some power over the rocks and water - granted to them by the Tidemother from birth -, but they use it sparingly because it is finite. Once a mermaid runs out of magic, they die. As a result, mermaids can live up to five hundred years (192). 

Mermaids consider sirens lazy and murlocs deplorable (192).

According to legend, the bubble seaweed in Boralus Harbor is actually discarded pearls. A mermaid by the name of Halia fell in love with a tidesage and kept secretly gifting them to her as a token of her affection. The tidesage, Ery, was far too pragmatic for such a gift and dumped the pearls back in the water every time (195).

The mermaids believe that the Tidemother will give tails to those who slit their feet from toes to heels and walk into the harbor at dawn (197). 

According to legend, Boralus’ great stone seawall was formed through the combined efforts of dozens of mermaids and one lone tidesage. A virulent tempest had come upon Boralus one day, taking men and ships alike with it. Though the city’s tidesages gathered to push back the waves, all but one were lost to the storm over the course of five long days. The last remaining tidesage, Ery, persisted despite her exhaustion while the mermaid Halia, too afraid to watch her lover perish, began using her own magic to craft a seawall. Though the storm repeatedly broke it down, her fellow mermaids joined her, ultimately expending their magic and sacrificing themselves to raise a wall so grand it towered over even the mightiest of ships and waves. Ery herself nearly died after this, though Halia saved her by invoking the Tidemother. She cut Ery’s feet from toes to heels and dragged her into the harbor, performing the ritual necessary for her transformation into a mermaid (198-203).

All but one of the mermaids - Ery notwithstanding - perished to save Boralus, which is why none are seen there today (204-205).

As a result, the sailors of Boralus now see mermaids as a symbol of the highest honor, good luck, and sacrifice (205). 

During calm sunsets when the red of the sky is reflected in the harbor, sailors refer to it as “Ery’s blood,” after the tidesage who fought the storm so valiantly. Ery’s blood is a sign of good weather to come (205). 

The Courageous Kobold and the Wickless Candle

Kobolds tell a sleep-time story (209).

Kobold families live together in caves. They have their own nests, but congregate in common areas for stories, among other things (210).

Some time ago, the Whiskersnoot kobold tunnels crumbled, submerging the Whiskersnoots in total darkness. They lived like that for generations, having decided it was no longer safe to dig higher after the cave-in. This spawned a saying: “Never pick above your snout, else the darkness snuff you out!” (210-211). 

Granny Whiskersnoot, however, dug just a little bit upward every day until one day she broke through to a light above. She intended to lead the other kobolds to it, but could never find her way back through the tunnels again. It wasn’t until her granddaughter persisted in finding it that they made their way back above ground (211, 222). 

The kobolds think of the sun as a “Wickless Candle” (211). 

Visage Day

On a dragon’s Visage Day, they choose what mortal form they will take. This is significant, as it shows the Aspects trust them to adopt the guise of one of the mortal races and walk among them. It is the dragons’ hope that through choosing a form to embody and relate to mortals, the more mortals can understand dragons in turn (228, 234). 

Onyxia, on the other hand, maintains dragons choose visages that allow them to control the mortals (241). 

In accordance with tradition, the Visage Day ceremony occurs on the uppermost level of Wyrmrest Temple. Each of the Aspects are usually present for members of their own dragonflight, though Alexstrasza herself has been known to officiate on occasion. It is also customary for each flight to send emissaries (243). 

During the ceremony, all attendant dragons take their own mortal forms in honor of the dragon whose Visage Day it is (245). 

Before they publicly choose their form, the dragon in question traditionally makes a proclamation (245).

The Visage Day ceremony can be delayed (244). 

Nozdormu has helped many bronze dragons prepare for their own Visage Day (230).

When Nozdormu sits in the sands at the heart of the Bronze Dragonshine, intricate patterns form around him (233). 

Both Kalecgos and Chromie performed a short incantation to assume their mortal forms, though Nozdormu did not appear to need to (234, 236, 246). 

Kalecgos says that he chose a half-elf form - which he calls a “blend of mortal worlds” - in order to symbolize his own attempt to blend together the dragon and human worlds (237). 

Onyxia, on the other hand, opted to take the form of a beautiful human woman to better manipulate mortals (241). 

The dragons often go by nicknames in their mortal forms because they find their full names sound too formal to humans (238). 

The drakonid were fashioned by the dragons to be helpful and loyal (238).

The black dragonflight practices how best to inflict pain (239). 

#world of warcraft #WoW #warcraft #lore #canon lore #world of warcraft lore #uther #dragon lore #chromie #vereesa windrunner #sylvanas #sylvanas windrunner #elune #boralus #kul tiras #night elf #kaldorei #night elf lore #goblin lore #vulpera #vulpera lore #forsaken #forsaken lore #tuskarr #tuskarr lore

[mxvladdy]

Forgotten Affections: Mammon

Here is Part Two of @marymaryroo 's request!

This one used more of my True forms ideas so if you want some more contexts here is Mammon's Link

Hope you like!

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

Part Two of Three: Mammon

TW: Gore and slight body horror

His plans are not stupid. No matter what his brothers thought or said. He was always calculating, always thinking and scheming. Sometimes his plans were fast and spontaneous, some do get the better of him. But risks were always a part of the games he plays. The hazards are just as an addictive high as the rewards he strove for. Mammon knew his plans could go sideways, but he never cared. When he failed he just would try again. Variables changed on a dime and he knew how to handle that. Life moves fast but he always moves faster. Until he couldn’t.

The plan this time was foolproof. Everything had been in place, or so he thought. He ran a tight ship with his informants and an even tighter ship with his court. He anticipated everything. He just can never predict you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Why were you here! You should have been at school!

Of course, the witches saw you as a threat. They thought he was trying to underhand them once again. They weren’t wrong obviously. But he would never put you in harm's way to get what he wanted. Seeing you here startles him, startles all of them. While the shock of your face showing up where it didn’t belong slows his reaction time, it increases the witches. Their spells move with blinding speed, out-pacing him by mere seconds as he tries to get to you. The spells hit you with a wet crunch, flinging you across the room. He watches in horror as your body flops like a marionette cut from it’s strings. He catches you scooping you up to his chest before hitting the concert hard. He skids along the cold warehouse floor hiss when his heat cracks hard on the metal of a stack of crates.

It hurt, but he couldn’t give less of a damn. He didn’t give a shit about the black blood trickling from his brow or the crack in his beloved glasses. He had one thing on his mind, you. You were still and loose in his arms. He saw no blood, but something wasn’t right. His pact is alight with pain, flaring and itching as he panics something wasn’t right with his master and his pact couldn’t locate it.

The next few moments in time freeze around him as he moves faster than he ever has in his life. The city and realm are brief flashes in his mind's eyes as he blinks, he just had to keep you safe. He takes you to the only place he knows you will be safe. It was the safest place in the kingdom for him, and it would be for you too.

The cave is cold. An eternal shadow coats every part of the large cavern, it had been a while since he had visited his hoard. His greatest treasure now sleeps in his bedroom and shines more brightly than even his most precious stones. Yet, now you were as cold as the jewels he once coveted. He doesn’t remember shedding his human skin but he doesn’t care using his many mismatched and uneven wigs to move you to his nest.

He tucks you into the silks and wool sheets lining his bed. Bending closer he nuzzles your arm. His many broken and scarred beaks picked up on the fetid odor of tainted magic seeping from your pores. He can’t place all the damage done to you but it is more than he knew what to do with. He was no practiced healer like Asmodeus or learned in medicine like Satan. No, he didn’t have that, but he was yours, and you were his to protect. So he does what he can through his pact, leeching some of the poison from your body into his. Getting comfortable beside you he shuffles you closer into the remaining soft down feathers on his belly. This close he can feel your frail heartbeat.

The hours move on and you still do not stir. He hates himself for this. How could he be so useless? You trust him, he was your first man he was supposed to be better than this. In this moment Mammon regrets every class he ever ditched and the class he slept through in the Celestial realms. He was never good with magic but perhaps if he had just paid attention he might have been able to help you better right now. Whatever toxins the combination of spells had embedded you rolled in his stomachs mixing with his guilt. He takes it all powering through so you could rest.

You stir sometime in the wee hours of the morning, of what day he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. His many eyes never leave you as you wake. “Mammon?” You slur, mind still groggy with sleep and the residual effects of whatever it was that hit you. He clicks his many beaks asynchronously in delight, the chatter of bone on bone is raucous.

Beside himself, he turns back to his human form in a dizzying blur of feathers and gold light. “Babe!” He snatches you up kissing every bit of your skin he can find. “I am so sorry. I fucked up-you weren’t supposed to be there. How in the hells did you find me?” He pulls back to make eye contact with you. Your eyes are wide with shock. “What’s the matter? Why are ya lookin’ at me like that?”

You looked confused, eyes darting around you as you clutch the furs and blankets closer to your bare chest. “Mammon. What...what’s going on? Where am I?” You glance down at yourself seeing how battered and bruised you were. You look at him, the confusion now replaced with unadulterated terror. “Mammon...what did you do?”

“Ti?” He shakes his head momentarily, losing his grip on your shared tongue. “Babe-I don’t understand.” He tries to touch you. You push away, scrambling back and tumbling from his nest. Mammon hears your heart rate pick up, hammering like a helpless beast when it knows it's cornered. But where was the threat? You were safe here, tucked away with him. He feels numb, disbelief locking his jaw and tightening his shoulders.

You couldn’t think he was the threat...right?

“C-come on,” He blinks back tears. “This ain’t funny. Don’t you remember me?” He reaches out for you beckoning for you to come back to his nest. There is an odd and sharp twinge in his pact and he hisses. You mark weights him down, locking him in place from coming any closer to your trembling form. You were stopping him from comforting you. You were scared of him.

“Mammon.” You shudder holding the blankets close and back away till your back hit the rough stone wall. “You’re scaring me.”

“An’ your scaring me! You promised not to play cruel jokes on me.” His head bobbles inhumanely, sapphire and gold eyes glowing in the low moon light.

He smells the sour tang of sweat blooming on your skin, his sense locking on the bob of your throat. He mimics the dry clicking of it as you try to swallow enough spit to speak. “When did I do that?” You croak. He rears his head back. The words strike him hard. You curl away from his screeching arms raised for a blow that he would never do.

“Date? You, us!” He barks, voice coming sharper and shriller in desperation. “Our late night drives? Us...movie nights alone at the theater. Just last night?” He implores searching your gaze for something. Anything!

You shake your head clutching your brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t...” His caw of rage rattles his chest. His many heads emerge again to echo his cries. He shakes them in disbelief. “Mammon! Listen to me, please! Just-just take us home-”

“No!” You flinch back, spit coating your upraised arms. “You are my human!” Mammon’s eyes flash in warning. If you didn’t remember him then the others could try to take you away from him. He would never let you go. Your scream of terror is swept up in a flurry of wings and plumage as he disappears back into the night.

He doesn’t return home to the House. He takes flight and heads east, the winds and forest coming alive with the sounds of his legion taking to the sky with him. Search. Find. He orders images of the coven and what they did to you flashes in his mind to his murder. Those mages did this, and they would fix this. He travels on the wind ignoring the searing pain of your mark. You are calling him to return, ordering him to. The pain only fuels his desire to hunt.

He will have to be fast, for your sake. While his cave had plenty of fresh water and food for you he knew you. You were that spark in the night, that shock to the system that kept him going. You help him keep his head up high. You would try to get down from his nest, or try the other brothers before long.

His council found the witches one by one, picking off the weaker members while leaving the elder witches to him. He barrels through the punishment of breaking a pacts to extract whatever he could from them before his talons find their throats. The kills got more and more savage as each hunt turns up nothing.

On the fifth day of his hunting, Lucifer finds him. His world turns into a blur of black mist and boney fingers as his brother throws him violently from the gurgling body of his last victim. Empty eye sockets bore into Mammon's dazed faces. “Where…” Lucifer opens his broken maw, jaw creaking as his voice gurgles out. Mammon ignores him screeching and clawing at the hand pinning him to the floor. The fingers begin to close slowly, choking off his air until he is forced to revert to his other form, dark chest gasping for air. “Wheerrree…” Black smoke fills his lungs, the cold radiating off of Lucifer’s exposed bone burns his skin.

Mammon hisses back, throwing caution to the wind and landing a quick kick to his brother’s deteriorating nasal bone. “Mine!” He groans, head filling with static. “They are mine...even if they don’t remember me.” The fingers around his throat loosen before pulling back. Mammon coughs holding his throat as he struggles to his knees. “You can’t have them.” He wipes his face, cleaning off blood and tears. Devil’s when did he start crying?

“Mammon.” Lucifer tries again, flowing closer. “No one wants to take them away. I want to make sure they are safe.” Safe? Of course they were safe! The Great Mammon was watching over them, there was nowhere safer. Right? But there was safety in numbers too, what was a murder of crows or a flock of night creatures if they did not stick together. Mammon pushes his palms hard into his eyes till light spots of color irrupted behind his eyelids.

Clarity and exhaustion caught up to him all at once. “I messed up. I messed up so bad, μέντορας.” He looks at the corpse of the last witch. They were the final witness to what had happened the night he got you hurt. His last chance to help you is gone, splattered across the pavement. “Λυπάμαι. Λυπάμαι, αδελφός.” The dam breaks, all the suffering, and confusion of the past week overwhelms him in that moment, robbing him of coherent thought.

Warm human hands grip his shoulders squeezing him tight to center him. “Calm yourself. Remember how I taught you?” he nods, grimy head bobbing through a hiccup. “Good-good. In through your nose and out your mouth. Yes, just like that. Again.” Once punishing hands now wrap around him surrounding him in a sea of black silk and soft hair. It is of little comfort to him now, but Mammon feels the invisible hands clutching his hearts loosen. Lucifer does too and brings his brother out of the crook of his neck to look him over. “I want to help both of you. But, I need to know what is going on.”

To say Lucifer was displeased was an understatement. He couldn’t fault Mammon for his outburst, while he could not say he would do the same he understood what fragile hearts his sibling has. Mammon would never intentionally harm you, but as he pleads his case Lucifer began to worry more and more for your well-being. Mammon wasn’t going back to check on you, that was very clear by the pattern of violence he had marked around the eastern prefecture. Mammon’s recklessness had the potential to get you hurt, and he could not have that.

“Take me to them.” Lucifer raises, helping Mammon up from his knees.

“Can’t.”

“Mammon.” His patience grows thin.

“I can’t,” Mammon repeats himself, firmer this time. The magic he placed on his nest was the last that he had. Having a demon as strong as his brother coming in would break the barrier beyond his repair. “I swear to you I will bring them back, now, back to the house. Just please...I can’t take you.”

Lucifer sighs but relents. Mammon doesn’t swear often if not at all. With care Lucifer takes the back of Mammon’s head and brings his forehead to touch his. “Promise?” Mammon coos softly showing his neck in submission. “Thank you, now go retrieve them. I will clean up this mess.”

Mammon returns to his nest to find you sleeping again. You were clothed and freshly bathed, bits of food nearby and used cutlery at your side. He doesn’t approach fearful of how you would react after last time. He kicks a pile of gold by the side of you instead. You react immediately, lurching up in bed. Something shiny glints in your hand and he laughs. The silver dagger gleams in his direction. “Mammon?” You blink in the low light squinting hard to make out his form. “Is that you?”

“Of course,” He steps closer, arms relaxed at his side. “No one else can come up here, you know. Or, I guess you did at one point.” You lower the knife but keep your eyes trained on him still hesitant.

“Are you ok?” Getting a better look at him you frown. He was a mess, disheveled and grungy. Dark viscous matter cling to his once vibrant white hair clumping it and sticking to the hard edges of his face. You didn’t want to know what it was, but you had your suspicions.

“Yes.” He said, tone clipped and stressed. “Come on, let’s get you back.” He holds out a grimy hand to you.

You look at it. “Are we really?” With how he left you you weren’t sure if this was a trap or not. For all his boisterous claims and vibrato you never thought he would actually go through with anything. Now you weren’t sure.

Mammon nods, waiting for you to make up your mind. You take his hand after a few minutes of contemplation. Your touch was so familiar yet foreign all at once. It was as warm and soft as he remembered it to be, but that was it. You were hesitant with your touch, fingers barely resting in his scabbed and scarred over palm. “What happened?” You turn his hand over seeing how the cuts and bruises continued.

“Nothing.” Nothing of worth any way. “Come, Lucifer is waiting for us.” That makes you pick up your pace and it chafes him.

When you both land in the outside garden of the house Mammon let’s you go. Rushing over to Lucifer’s side, you almost use him as a shield between the two of you. You grab at his brother’s pressed suit jacket asking a rapid fire slew of questions. Mammon relaxes only a fraction noting how Lucifer has yet to touch you out of respect for him.

Lucifer let’s you run out of steam before speaking. “I believe I know what has happened but let’s get you checked out first, and Mammon.” He looks over to his hunched brother. “Go wash up. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” Dismissed, Mammon slinks off to his room without a fight and empty handed.

With a clean bill of health, minus the apparent memory loss you sit in Diavolo’s office nursing a cup of tea. You look at your companions on either side of you. You, Solomon, and Lucifer sit on Dia’s large couch while the prince paces in front of you. The latter shaking with rage.

“I’m not mad.” You say again looking at the men around you. Mad wasn’t the right word for the feelings you have right now. You were angry at the situation and how Mammon handled it, yeah. But now you were more confused and fearful for his sake. Even if you didn’t recall the particulars of your relationship, what you did remember was a warm and friendly mix of emotions and companionship. He had always been a good friend and steadfast ally after the initial rocky start. Could you have been more? Something blooms in your chest.

“Irregardless,” Dia turns to you, face grim. “He put you in immediate danger and then abducted you. If Lucifer hadn’t tracked him down you still would be missing.” You nod your mouth closing on a rebuttal. He wasn’t wrong. “And,” He continues. “This matter now has more repercussions then just you and your lost memories I’m afraid.”

“That’s right.” Solomon butts in. “The covens are in an uproar. Seats have been usurped and the power imbalance now is reaching dangerous degrees. They want blood.”

Diavolo scoffs, cursing low in infernal. “Mammon needs to be reprimanded, Lucifer.”

Lucifer stiffens next to you. You hear the soft creaking of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists tight. “Is this not enough?” He leans forward imploringly. “Let me handle his punishment. You know I am fair with it.”

“He wiped out the entire East coven. This will take years for me to handle diplomatically. The council of Magi wants justice, and I cannot blame them. Mammon broke contracts and peace agreements.”

His words go over your head but the implications were very clear. “I’m so sorry.” You bow low in your seat. This was your fault. You should have taken a brother with you to retrieve Mammon that night. While trapped in Mammon’s treasure trove you had plenty of time to go over that night’s events and try to figure out why Mammon had said those things to you.

You remember that day clearly. Going to classes, turning in homework and rounding up the brother’s before they got into mischief. You run down that night the best you can too. You remember texting the group that you would bring Mammon home in time for the last meeting of the day, then the burning sensation of spells hitting you and bright flashes of light before waking up next to him in his nest. You remember him, but those nights he told you about and his feelings he shared with you were gone. Nothing there but black space.

Solomon’s hand on your shoulder breaks your musing. “This isn’t your fault. I’m sure we can settle this out over time.” The two demons in the room nod, faces unreadable. With that Solomon nods, getting to his feet. “I believe the time for humans in the room is over, shall I escort you home, or would you like to stay at Purgatory?”

“Home please.” The week's events land heavy on your shoulders. You wanted to sleep in your bed surrounded by familiar comforts. “I’m over this demon shit.” Solomon doesn’t even try to hide his snort.

“There is never a dull moment with you around, huh?” He chuckles, combing a hand through his hair once he gets to the front door. You shoot him an exasperated look. “Relax. I promise we will get this all set to rights...if that is what you wish.”

“I have a choice?”

Solomon raises a pale brow. “Yes. I do believe I can fix this with enough time and preparation. While Mammon had the right idea going to find the root of the problem and there for the spell, he did it all ass backwards. Once I get in contact with the spirits of those he murdered I believe I can get you back together again. You do want that don’t you?”

Did you?

The question perplexes you while you crawl into bed. Did you want something that you didn’t even know you had? The Mammon that had greeted you when you woke up was like nothing you could remember and had planted a seed of doubt within you. What about him had you fall for him in the first place? Would you remember all of this if Solomon was able to fix it? Could this break in your memory change how you felt for him? Ugh-why was magic always so difficult…

You are left to your own devices for a while allowed to stay in from work and school while you recover. The brothers dote over you in their own ways, all expertly navigating around any question you had about Mammon’s whereabouts. Only Beel gave you any useful information.

“He’s...working off his debt.” Cryptic, but at least you knew he was alive. With the brother’s all being tight lipped you took matters into your own hands. Your phone was gone, no doubt shattered on the floor of the warehouse when you fell. You should have had a new one by now, but Lucifer seemed to be hiding it from you like Mammon.

The door to Mammon’s room is sealed tight, no handle or seam to be found. The loud hum of magic radiates from the door making it impossible for you to open. Even his seat at the council was empty. So much secrecy, you were beginning to believe you were being punished as well.

Good thing you were too pig headed to care.

Cornering Lucifer wasn’t as hard as you expected it to be. He very well could have been waiting for you to jump him by this point. He looked tired and drained, his mark, like Mammon’s, was dark and silent on your skin. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yes. Though, as you can see, I’ve grown tired of it.” He waves at himself leaning on the wall just outside of the kitchens. “What do you want?”

“Why can’t I find anything?”

“Any what?”

“If I was dating Mammon wouldn’t there be, I don’t know evidence of it?” There was nothing in your room, and you couldn’t get into Mammon’s. The other’s had been of no help. It was gone, as if by magic. “Is this your doing?”

Lucifer pinches his brow with a grimace. “Yes, and no. Mammon asked me to.”

“What! Why?”

“He heard what Solomon said to you. That you are unsure if you want those memories back. This is your out.” A gift as Mammon likes to think of it, the last one Mammon can give you. Even if it kills him, his brother still thinks of your comforts.

“Don’t I get a choice?” Lucifer snorts eyeing you.

“It is one of the very few strategic advantages of being human. Have you made one?”

Yes? No? “Well, I would like to make an educated one! I can’t do that if I can’t even see Mammon now can I? I’m clear headed now.”

Lucifer chortles rummaging in his pocket. “Please, the fact that you picked Mammon as the object of your affection clearly shows me you have never thought clearly a day in your life.” He drops something in your hand before turning. “The magic of the door is gone. Just-please be gentle with him. The council has not been kind.” He gives you a final small smile. “You two were happy together, you know.” He leaves you with your new phone in an empty hallway.

You clutch the small device close to your chest, eyes riveted to the screen. Lucifer had backed everything up. Your contacts, calendar dates, assignments, and pictures. You click on your photo gallery. Oh, there were so many pictures of the two of you together. For a moment you hate the you grinning up through the screen. Mammon’s arms wrap around you, his face nestle in your hair as you glow under his attention. He looked serene, eyes closed with a blissful smile peeking out through your locks. The next few photos were very much the same, little dates and windows into a life you wanted to remember. The next few you took were candid photos. Him asleep on his couch stretched out and snoring or in the kitchen trying to do something, and failing.

It was so different from the Mammon you remember and the one you saw so briefly in the cave. Deep down your heart hurts for him, out of sympathy or the echoes of your lost love you weren’t sure, but you wanted that life from the pictures again. You reach his door with a new reinvigorated fire in your belly. You could do this. Mammon would never fall for someone indecisive.

The door opens as quiet as a whisper into a dark room. Stepping in you hold your breath, ears hyper aware of just how dark this place was. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this place without lights on. Mammon didn’t like the dark all that much. The room was quiet too, except for an eerie wet gurgle. “Mammon?”

“Leave.” Deeper into the room a massive black shape moves. “Shouldn’t be here.” You turn to the shape, arms outstretched to guide you through the pitch. “Don’t-” Several large luminous gold eyes lock with you. They are weary and apprehensive. You push forward till your hands touch some feathers and…

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine.” Like hell it was. Ignoring his protest and the slick feel of his blood on your hands you grab for your phone.

“Oh Mammon.” Your stomach twists. In the bright little of your little flashlight you can see only a small bit of his side, but it was shiny with fresh blood, feathers broken and limp from where hands had yanked at them. “Who?”

“The Rite of Equivalency.” A head turns to follow your fingers. He hisses, the feel of your fingers stroking along a raw gash under his upper set of wings burns. “Pound for pound of flesh for that which I took.” His beaks click, sore and irritated, they had not been gentle with their gathering today. His body was worth a lot to witches. His feathers and beak shavings were valuable in potions and on the market. It was the most lenient punishment Lucifer could broker, even if it did literally cost him a limb or two. Your hand goes still on his side, he can feel your small fingers trembling on his hind leg.

“Mammon-this is monstrous.”

The crow chortles swiveling his heads to look at you. “Are we not monsters?” He tries to joke, uncomfortable with your gentle touch now. “Hey- no...please don’t cry.” He sees tears clinging to your eyelashes, your lower lip quivering. He opens a wing to try to wrap it around you but stops gasping in pain. His side was like a live wire, healing bones burning under his thin skin while they mended. He is so tired.

You pick up on his discomfort and move away wiping at your tears. This wasn’t about you right now. “I came to talk about...us and what you overheard between Solomon and I,” His heart rate picks up.

“Lucifer put you up to this.” It wasn’t a question but a simple statement of fact. He had hoped-

You shook your head, brushing his side. “He gave me the option by opening the door, but I wanted to do this. To see you again and talk.” Talk, and get his side of the story, to fill in the pieces of the puzzle until you could get them back yourself. You pull up a few pictures and turn the screen to him. “I want to go back to this. I think I liked being yours.”

#obey me #obey me mammon #tw: body horror #tw: gore #fun request!

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Hope for the future

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )        

The planet Alia near the edge of human territory and had grown from it's species first colony outside of their home system of a sparse few settlers to a thriving metropolis of millions.

The shinning spires of metal and glass of the planet's mega cities pierced the skies like the hand of an angry god reaching out to the heavens and the wealth and prosperity that flowed from it's vast trade network and supported the outlying colonies for further expansion. Yet for all their wealth and prosperity the fate that had been decided for this world was something that could not be changed.

A massive seismic event occurred on Alia shortly after it's new year celebration. The planet's tectonic plates became highly volatile and a series of growing earthquakes began triggering around the globe. Within a week of the events triggering a massive shattering happened and the plates shifted violently without warning.

Oceans swelled and receded, mountains crumbled and volcanos detonated, rivers changed direction and howling winds ripped across the lands so intense it shredded flesh from the bone of any foolish unfortunate enough to be caught in the open. Countless buildings shook and toppled and thousands if not hundreds of thousands died in the ensuing chaos as entire cities were swallowed beneath the cold surface of the planet.    

Communication with Alia was lost and though the rest of the wider galaxy was unable to establish contact their response was already put into motion.

The human governing body organized a massive relief effort and was further bolstered by neighboring alien domains that shared trade with Alia and had heard of the travesty. Before the tectonic plates had even stopped shifting a fleet of relief ships from a dozen worlds was already enroute.

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Dust slid off the toppled column like a waterfall as Uto lifted it. The Vorka's muscles straining and bulging as he used all of his strength hefted the massive concrete pillar. His breathing calm and measured as he breathed in rhythm with his lifting. He lifted the mass over his head and in a single motion cast it aside with a deafening *THUMP!*  

When the dust settled aide workers rushed passed Uto and cleared the rubble that had been underneath the column and in short order a door was revealed. Uto bent down and punched his fist through the metal door and ripped it off it's hinges. A dozen pairs of eyes looked up at him as he removed the door from his arm and dropped it harmlessly to the ground before gently extending a hand down. One of the people in the shelter took his hand and he carefully lifted them out into the open.

"Res ease, hue-mn." Uto struggled with human language, his tongues struggling to form the correct words.

He set the human, a scrawny female Uto wagered, to the ground. She looked up at him with a mixture of emotions dancing across her face before throwing her arms around Uto and hugging him. Uto stood transfixed as the female wept and thanked him over and over as the other rescue workers began lifting the remaining survivors from the shelter.

Unsure how to react Uto stood still for several moments before one of the rescue workers took the still sobbing woman away with the remaining survivors. Uto watched the frail female leave before turning his gaze back across the now ruins of the capital city.

Numerous fires still burned across the entire metropolis; some scattered around the ground while others burned high up in the few remaining sky scrapers that had not toppled during the quake. Roadways were cluttered with thick dunes of debris ranging from metal beams to massive chunks of concrete turning the landscape into some horrid nightmare forest.

Portions of the city's sea wall had broken and sections of the city itself had drifted into the ocean. Sky scrapers that once stood over 300 stories tall now appeared as nothing more than tiny isles just breaking the waterline.  

Though he kept his thoughts to himself, Uto was amazed by the level of devastation nature still could have on modern civilizations.

He stood their for several minutes taking in the catastrophe before heading back and resuming the rescue work. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several long hours passed with further rescue efforts across the entire city before their overseer called for a crew change and Uto's team began heading back to their hospital ship to rest.

If the shattered city was unpleasant to look at at during the day it was terrifying to look at at night. Nearly all of the power grid sections had been destroyed leaving the vast roadways shrouded in a darkness so thick it felt as if Uto could reach out and grab hold of a chunk of it.

His team was murmuring among themselves with Uto only half paying attention to their conversation when he spotted something down a side street between two toppled buildings. A single light was waving back and forth slowly from beyond the darkness like a beacon of old warning wayward travelers.

Uto held up a hand and pointed to the light and his team stopped and followed his direction.

"Another survivor?"

"Out here? Wasn't this area already swept?"

"Maybe they missed one."

The rescue team debated among themselves before Uto sighed and began walking towards life.

"No mazer," Uto spoke, "we help all."

With that the rest of the rescue team began following after Uto.

As the team came closer to the light they were able to better make out the surrounding area. The weak light appeared to be a lantern hanging from a wooden pole hanging from a small building at the end of the side street. A tiny structure with half it's walls caved in but the remaining structure appearing sturdy enough to support the roof.

"You smell something?" one of the rescue workers said quietly.

Uto sniffed the air and realized there was indeed a strange smell in the air that did not belong in such a wasteland.

"I'd recognize that smell anywhere." Another of the rescue workers spoke before pushing their way forward.

Uto made to grab him fearing the way ahead was unstable but they were too fast and they were already making their way inside through the broken wall section before shouting "Everyone, get in here!"

At that Uto and the other rushed forward expecting the worst but were confounded once they entered the building.

Rather than the gutted remains they had expected the inside of the building was semi clean and well lit. The worker who had rushed forward was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room with another human handing him a steaming bowl. At seeing the other workers they raised their hand with the bowl to show them.

"It's a ramen store!"

While the word was unknown to Uto it seemed familiar to the others who then in turn piled in and began sitting down at what tables still stood. The man behind the counter appeared to be an elderly human but moved as if the years had only effected his exterior rather than his reflexes and soon there was a warm bowl of ramen for everyone present.

Uto stepped towards the counter and two of his team members parted to allow him a seat. As he took it the old man handed him a bowl.

"For your hard work." the man said as he smiled.

Uto looked at the bowl then at his team. All of them were eagerly eating and the mood was one of joy and comradery; a steep contrast to the dread they had been dealing with as they sifted through the remains of the city.

"Ssank ou." Uto muttered as he began sampling the contents of his bowl. It was a flush of flavor the likes Uto had not had since he was on his homeworld. Warm and delicious, almost disarming in it's nature to such a degree that when Uto looked up and for a moment felt as if he wasn't in the ruins of a once proud city.

When Uto finished his bowl and set it down the elderly man was ready and handed him another.

"Why ssssay here?" Uto asked the man, now curious about this human living alone.

The elderly man waved a hand around the building as he continued cooking. "This restaurant  has been in my family for three generations now; I could no more leave it than I could chop off my own arm."

Uto looked back at the ruined walls and roof as portions of the shingles slid off and shattered to the ground. "I am sorry is ruined." To his surprise the elder man chuckled.

"It is not ruined, only broken."

The man must have saw the confusion on Uto's face and he continued. "In my culture when something has been broken it is, like a vase or cup, it is not thrown away and discarded but instead mended with gold to heal the wounds and restore it."

Uto shook his head at the man's remarks. "Iz confusing."

"Is it?" The old man pointed to Uto's arms. "You are covered in cracks and scars yourself, yet you did not resign yourself to languish in the trash and be forgotten."

The man handed out several more bowls before fully turning to Uto. "This city has been broken and many have been lost, the wounds are fresh and feel as if they will never heal again; but in time the city will rebuild and the streets will once again be filled with the sounds of joy once more."

"Ruins are only made when those who remain are unwilling to rebuild what was lost."

Uto pondered the man's words and again looked at his team as they mingled. Their faces were filled with joy and hope he did not think any would have after witnessing such devastation first hand.  

"Ou are very wize." Uto tilted his head in acknowledgement to the old man who seemed to blush slightly and laugh.

He sheepishly waved to the store again. "It comes with owning a ramen shop." He leaned in close and whispered "All the best ones have sage advice; it makes the food taste better."

The two laughed and sat the night away, a tiny corner of joy in a city though broken, would never be defeated.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #story

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice Part 9: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: there's one final sacrifice to be had.

wc: 1.2k

tw: none

masterlist

The town is silent as you land in the garden of the General Commissioner and slide off of Gojo’s back with ease. You pat his head tenderly, whispering your thanks to the dragon before approaching the large estate with trepidation.

“Just go in there and get him to come out of the house,” you mumble, clenching and unclenching your fists. The windows are darkened and the house is quiet, you note, trying to ascertain where the General Commissioner is sleeping in the sprawling house. You peek through various windows and doors, glancing upon empty rooms until you finally see him, laying the bed with his eyes closed. At the sound of his snores, you grimace, but slide open the window, letting the cool night air wheeze into the room. Instantly, he awakens, and you duck down as Gakuganji rolls out of bed, his bones cracking with old age.

“I don’t remember opening the window,” he mutters, but as he goes to close it, you raise up and reply,

“You didn’t.” The color drains from his face as he faces you, expecting your specter to waft through the window and assault him.

“Y-y/n,” he breathes, and you raise a brow. “How did you-- are you--what--” As he sputters words out of his mouth, you walk back toward the garden. And in his folly, Gakuganji follows you outside, still demanding to know how you’re on his estate.

When the long shadow passes over you, you wait for Gojo to land, and then climb onto his back with ease.

“What the hell?!”

Before Gakuganji can make it back into the house, Gojo takes off and snatches him up in his claws, and hefts him up into the air. His yells of terror cut through the silence of the night, and for a brief second, you consider laughing at him because, well… he sounds like a terrified young man. Gojo laughs, which sounds more like a rumble than laughter, but as you fly toward the mountain, you realize everything is going smoothly with the plan. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too nerve-wracking after all, you muse as you all land on the hard surface of the mountaintop. Gakuganji is dropped to his feet, whereupon he does a pitiful roll and lands face-first in the moon-illuminated dirt. You unsheath the dagger from your cloak as you slide off of Gojo’s back a second time, and approach the elder with determination, intent on slitting his throat and calling the deed done.

But a cold hand stops you, pressing down on your shoulder with intense pressure and bringing you to your knees.

“Come on, y/n. You really didn’t think it would be that easy.” The second leg of the plan is set in motion. Gojo instantly changes from a white dragon into his human form in a flash of yellow and blue lightning, running up behind Toji and tackling him to the ground.

“Go!” Gojo yells, tousling with the god of death as you recover and bring yourself to a standing position. Gakuganji has gained a few feet of distance, but that’s nothing as you compensate for the loss and charge after him. You’re a hair's breadth away from grabbing the General Commissioner by the neck of his robe, but your hand meets rock hard flesh before it’s twisted painfully.

“Ah!” you gasp, trying to worm out of Toji’s grasp but failing miserably as he brings you to your knees, his green eyes flashing in the moonlight.

“Fucking human,” he spits, twisting your hand even more. “You’re interfering with laws that go beyond your mortal existence.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, dagger still gripped in your other hand. With one arm, you swipe at Toji’s kneecaps, but he disappears in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind you and knocking the dagger out of your hand with his foot. You land face-first in the dirt, and he grinds his foot into the arm pinned beneath it, making you holler out in agony.

“Gojo!” you cry out, turning your head, but your savior is nowhere to be seen.

“He’s over the side of the mountain. It’s easy to break a dragon’s legs,” Toji chuckles, foot pressing down even harder on your arm. You feel the bones in your forearm scream in pain and nearing their breaking point when a very strong gust of wind knocks Toji off of you and onto the ground behind you. As you drag yourself to your feet again, you see streaks of red and blue-green circling the mountain as the God of Wind descends from the skies.

Toji is kept in place on his back with an unforgiving stream of wind, and the high-speed air blows his hair and skin back, ripping his flesh from his muscle and muscle from bone as you fumble for the dagger about a yard away from you. Once you find it and begin to corner a surrounded and terrified Gakuganji, you hear Megumi yell over the torrent,

“That’s enough, father!”

“I would have never suspected my son would betray me like this,” Toji groans, the scattered skeleton bones gathering back together into the shape of a man. Yuji appears from the streaks, removing the blue-green color, and Choso follows behind him, both advancing upon Toji with purpose. “But I suppose you and your friends will have to endure endless torment, too.”

“You’re done for,” you call out to Gakuganji, who is dangerously close to the mountain. “It’s over, Commissioner.” Gakuganji tilts his head at you, brows scrunching together.

The battle between gods is ensuing behind you and effectively distracting Toji, you think. What else could go wrong? You grab Gakuganji by the front of his robe and turn him so his back is to the cold ground. The moonlight above you glints off of your blade as you raise it to the sky, and then as if by magic, everything slows down and you feel drawn out of yourself.

You’re watching yourself from afar as you bring the blade closer to Gakuganji’s neck, and if you turn your head ever so slightly, you can see Yuji and Choso both being brought to their knees under Toji’s grip, then fall to the earth with twin thuds. Megumi is whipping the wind around him to protect himself as he attempts to rush at his father, but--

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for you.”

You’re instantly drawn back into your body in real-time, and right as you nick the flesh of Gakuganji’s throat, you see blood splatter over the front of his clothes. That’s a lot of blood for a nick, you think, but a searing hot pain roars through your flesh and you involuntarily cough, causing more blood to dot Gakuganji’s face and neck. Your hand lets him go and clutches at your neck, blood coating your fingers in thick streams as you sink to your knees.

“I should’ve done this sooner. Would have saved me the trouble of incapacitating so many immortals,” Toji grumbles, and your head lolls back as the air you’re trying to save escapes through the slit in your throat. You’re choking on your own blood, jerking like a fish out of water as your eyesight fades and you’re fading into the darkness with the moon and there’s rain and there’s rain and it’s raining?

It’s raining

It’s rainin

It’s raini

It’s rain--

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious@missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics

#geto suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #geto x reader #choso kamo #toji fushiguro

[xxbangchansidedishxx]

Needy- I.N X Hyunjin

Plot: I.N is curious and opens a fanfiction about him and his best friend. This leads to him getting very flustered and fucking himself... but what happens when Hyunjin overhears?

Jeongin:

Jeongin lay in bed, everything was quiet. Just peaceful. But for some reason no matter how hard he tried he could not fall asleep. The silence around him was interrupted when he heard a loud ping come from his phone. Well since he is already awake he might as well check what it is. After unlocking his phone he comes to see that it's a new post from a tumblr account he follows. Jeongin was no stranger to tumblr, ever since he became an idol he was always interested in what fans had to say about him, so much so that he decided to make undercover social media accounts. But this time the post seemed different, he was greeted with a long page of writing and a title that read ' I.N X Hyunjin fanfiction' . Of course he had heard of fanfiction but he never actually read any. His curiosity got the better of him and his tired eyes began to scan the words on the page, his cheeks flushing red.

The story:

Hyunjin's tongue swirled around the youngers nipple, earning soft whimpers and moans. This only encouraged him more. His hips began to grind against the maknae's clearly hard cock, the friction making him squirm and beg for more.

-

Jeongin:

As story I.N was getting topped by his best friend he could feel his own cock growing. Of course he had thought about this happening. I mean who couldn't? Hyunjin was undeniably attractive, his long soft hair, his sweet voice and plump lips. Everything about him draws you in. But nothing could happen. It's his best friend, he shouldn't be thinking this way. The younger boys imagination was going wild with thoughts of the older man teasing him and making him beg for more, that's when he realised how uncomfortably tight his boxers were. This is so embarrassing. He thought to himself. He had never gotten himself off before. He felt too shameful to even touch himself, even more so now that it was his own best friend making him feel these things.

Soft whimpers left desperate lips as he grinded his erection into his mattress. Ugh fuck it. He couldn't take this anymore. He kicked the restrictive material off and grabbed his sensitive cock that was slick with pre cum. Slowly he moved his hand up and down gasping at the new sensation, he trailed a hand up his chest to toy with his nipples, thoughts about Hyunjin getting dirtier and dirtier by the second. The walls are so thin but he's struggling to keep quiet. He bites onto his pillow desperately trying to muffle the noises that were leaving his mouth.

As hard as he tried to keep the noise down Hyunjin had already heard everything. He lay in his bed next door with his own cock growing hard. He imagined the younger right next door to him with his head thrown back in pleasure. His chest rising heavily and his lips parted and tinted red from biting them so hard to hold back moans. What could have even gotten him so worked up at this time anyway? Then Hyunjin realised. They had spoke about this not so long ago. I.N had never even touched himself before. The week prior the two had been playing never have I ever and they found out that the maknae was even more innocent than they had thought.

This turned the older man on even more. The fact that just next door his best friend is touching himself for the first time. All these new thoughts and feelings rushing through his head.

At this point his cock was achingly hard.

"Ugh mm fuck H-Hyunjinnie."

What was that? Did he seriously moan my name? The man thought to himself.

He couldn't take this anymore. Quietly he made his way to Jeongin's room.

Through a crack in his slightly open door he could see him. His widened eyes fixed on the youngers leaking cock, then to his flushed face with dark hair tossled and stuck to his forehead with sweat. Taking a deep breath he stepped into his room, that's when he noticed him.

But what makes it even worse is that when he opened his eyes a moan of the elders name left his lips.

His face turned crimson with embarrassment before he jumped under his covers trying to hide his exposed body.

"Hyunjin what the fuck!" He yelped in surprise.

The elder just smirked and sat on the edge of his bed.

"What were you doing hm Innie?" His soft voice taunted.

"Isn't it obvious what I was doing?" The younger whined.

"Rather, yes. But I want you to say it with your words Innie."

He smirked as he saw the boy get even redder.

His reply came as a weak whisper.

"I- I was touching myself."

"What were you thinking of?"

Jeongin buried his head in his pillow.

"I was thinking of you"

Hyunjin didn't need to hear anymore.

In one quick motion he took the cover of the shy man causing him to Yelp.

"Ssh baby, I'm gonna help you with your little problem."

He shuddered and bit his lip in anticipation as Hyunjin attached his plump lips to the Youngers sensitive neck leaving soft kisses along the skin.

After a while he began to attack his sweet spot making him pant uncontrollably.

"P-please Hyunjin."

"Patience baby."

Moving down to his chest, Hyunjin trailed bright red hickys leading to his hard nipples before taking one into his mouth and lapping his tongue around the sensitive bud.

Pornographic noises filled the room. Whining, panting, the sound of the elders wet lips hungrily sucking at the youngers nipples.

Gripping the sheets beneath him for some sort of composure Jeongin whined out.

"H-Hyunjin please."

He was too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

"Please what baby?."

Hyunjin looked up at the boy with lust filled eyes.

"Please touch my cock Hyunjinnie."

His face flushed red once again as Hyunjin chuckled and made his way lower down.

Slowly licking across his tip tasting the saltiness and rolling his tongue around it, savouring every whimper that came from the youngers body. At this rate he was going to cum untouched, the noises coming from the man beneath him were almost too much to handle. Trailing hands down to his own cock he began to stoke it at an almost painfully slow pace. Tears left his dark eyes as he took the rest of the boys cock down his throat gagging slightly as it choked him. He began to whimper around his cock in delight as the boy began to buck his hips signalling that he was close.

Just as his cock began to twitch in the elders mouth he pulled off with a loud pop.

"Ugh Jinnie f- what I-" I.N complained between pants.

Hyunjin just chuckled.

"Turn around baby. This will feel even better. Trust me."

Jeongin did as he was told and got onto his hands and knees, arching his back.

His cheeks flushed red as he felt his best friend spread his ass apart admiring his tight hole.

He forced his fingers into the bottoms mouth to cover them with salava before rubbing two slowly against his entrance.

"Have you ever had anything in here before baby boy?"

He asked although he already knew the answer.

He timidly shook his head replying no.

Carefully to not hurt him Hyunjin scissored two fingers slowly into his hole, stretching him out as the boy moaned in pain and pleasure beneath him.

"Does it feel good baby?" He purred, thrusting his fingers at an angle that caused the boy to cry out.

"Hmmm so good Jinnie n-need more."

Hyunjin spat into his own hand and began to stroke his cock, covering it in the slick substance.

Teasingly he rubbed against the entrance before pushing in slowly moaning out at the tightness that surrounded him.

Jeongin whimpered at the size of his best friends cock, the feeling of being filled up made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

His thrusts started slow and steady.

He knew he had to take it easy on him as it was his first time but it took every bone in his body to not just slam into him without any mercy.

"You are taking my cock so well baby. Fuck, feels so good in your tight little ass."

The praise just made Jeongin need more. He grinded his hips down to meet Hyunjin's cock at a faster pace.

"Awe cute, my baby is so needy for daddy's cock."

He picked up the speed wrapping a hand around the younger boys neck as he repeatedly slapped into his prostate.

"Mm f-fuck h-Hyunjin, so good mmh."

He couldn't compose himself anymore.

Profanities left his parted lips as he felt himself reaching his high.

He clenched tightly around the long haired mans cock before releasing with a strangled cry.

The pressure around his cock caused Hyunjin to release inside of the younger man, slowly pulling out as he admired his cum leaking out of the maknae's tight little ass.

The two collapsed panting and whimpering, trying to catch their breath back.

"That was amazing." I.N giggled.

Nuzzling his head against the crook of his best friends neck.

"I never knew our innocent Innie was such a whore in bed!." Hyunjin whispered seductively causing I.N to blush for the hundredth time that night.

"Hey! You are the one that corrupted me."

"Actually if you forgot. You were the one moaning my name and jerking themself off." Hyunjin laughed as a look of horror spread across Jeongin's face.

"I'm tired. Let's sleep idiot."

"Okay whatever you say Innie."

Hyunjin pulled the cover over them before kissing I.N softly on the head.

"Goodnight Innie, I love you."

He whispered. Not long after the two fell asleep in each others embrace.

#skz smut #skz fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #bxb #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

[inknopewetrust]

In Another Universe (Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader) 

Summary: If Thanos’ destruction wasn’t enough, being blipped into another universe was worse. After finding yourself in the universe of We Can Be Heroes, you must maneuver your new life and relationships while trying not to dwell on the one you lost. 

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes) 

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Some descriptions of violence, nothing extreme. 

A/N: *Gif not mine.* Thanks so much for requesting this @jupitersmoon167​ ! I just have to say—not only did I love writing this, but it’s like a whole ass fic in one. Request are currently OPEN, see request guidelines in bio for details!

In an instant, the world you once knew was gone. 

The last thing you remembered was the sensation of fear. But it was ethereal, painless compared to anything you’d ever experienced before. Fighting with Nat was worse than the affects of Thanos’ snap, well, for you anyway. 

It wasn’t until you woke up in a world that felt so incredibly familiar yet so incredibly foreign at the same time that you realized what ever event the snap set off, it wasn’t one that brought peace to anyone. 

“Y/n! Come play with us!” 

The moment of relapsing memory was broken by the sounds of children running and shrieking in the park. The sound was strangely comforting because it reminded you of home, of the little one you had to let go, and the found family you may never see again. But the little girl that screeched your name from across the park on the metal bridge reminded you that there was something good in this world, even if it wasn’t your own. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” 

The voice sounded beside you on the other side of the tree before you even managed to budge from your leaning stature against it. Nothing Missy ever did went over Marcus Moreno’s head. He watched her like a hawk, as if his eyes were glued to her every movement but you couldn’t blame him. Missy was his life. He did everything for her. 

“Don’t approve?” You quirked your head to the side with a smirk that you knew Steve would have said it reminded him of Natasha. Natasha, Steve, Tony... 

“Well she doesn’t know you like we do. I think it’s best if she keeps her distance. Not to mention for the safety of the other kids...” Marcus trailed off as his gaze tracked from your own to the playground and the group of Heroic children that littered the place. It was chaotic, but normal? You didn’t know what was normal or not anymore so in truth, you felt it didn’t even matter. 

“I don’t hurt children. I would never hurt a child.” 

“How are we supposed to know that? What have you done but lie to all of us to make us believe you wouldn’t kill us all right now?” 

“Are you trying to make me angry, Marcus?” 

Your eyes narrowed as you crossed your arms over your chest. You knew they didn’t trust you. You knew they had a hard time believing your story, even after a year but yet they continued to let you go on missions. They continued to invite you to group luncheons and trusted that you wouldn’t sell their secrets to their enemies. 

“Testing your patience.” 

“If you didn’t trust me with your daughter, why did you let her eat the food I brought? Why do you let her come to headquarters-” 

“Because The Heroics are family. This whole thing-” He rose his hand and gestured to heroes and their children gathered and played around them. 

“-is her life as much as it is mine. You came here from some “world” that we’ve never heard of that apparently looks a lot like this one. You are the stranger here, not her and especially not at headquarters.” 

Marcus huffed in aggravation and stalked away from the tree and to Anita who had been set up at a picnic table not far from the playground. Anita watched her son make conversation with the newest Heroic and shook her head in a brief and tiny fashion as her son walked toward her with a plume of invisible smoke coming out of his ears. 

“You shouldn’t be so rude, give the girl a break. She’s lost everything and everyone she’s ever know and I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t a brilliant fighter. The training she could give all of you is worth more money than we spend in a year fighting aliens.” The look on Anita’s face was critical of Marcus. The son she knew, the one she raised was not cynical or mean. He was kind and loving and a father who would have wanted Missy to have strong women in her life. 

“She doesn’t belong here. She isn’t a Heroic and she doesn’t need to talk to Missy any more than she does already.” 

“But does she seek out Missy at headquarters or does Missy seek out her?” Marcus couldn’t recall if Missy’s interactions with you were brought on by his own kin. He found the girl hanging upside down on the monkey bars with Guppy below her jumping up to try and touch the long, black locks of his daughter. She looked so carefree, so full of joy until she flopped back onto her feet and turned her gaze toward the tree, almost ready to yell. Marcus followed her eyes only to notice you had gone, like a ghost, and Missy was seeking you out.

In The Heroic Headquarters, you often wandered the halls aimlessly, minding your own business as your thoughts were filled with the events that happened exactly one year before. It was already your one year anniversary in this new world. But my God, or to whatever God was out there, you missed your old life. Even if life wasn’t exactly the most glamorous before Thanos arrived, you had found a comfortable family in Natasha, Steve, and the others who stayed behind at the Avenger’s Facility in New York. Natasha was your sister in all things but blood and you would do anything to see her again. Steve had been the one to lean on when your memories of Russia, of that room, of the little one you had to give away, came flowing back in waves too ample to deal with alone. They were everything to you, everything. 

And now you sat alone in an office you were sure was once a broom closet and lie in wait for the other heroes to come, visit, to extend a gracious hand to someone who is hurting but it never came. Every day that passed made that more clear. Even the materials they gave you were sub-par to the advanced ones that scattered the offices of the Heroics. You wondered how this world’s technology was so different from your own and no one knew of it. This multiverse, this time continuum that has taken place is far beyond any knowledge you claimed to have. It took nothing to image Tony or Bruce having an absolute field day with all of this. 

“Ms. L/N?” A knock alerted you that a visitor had in fact found your small, grungy door in a vacant hallway. 

“Come in!” Who were you to ignore a visitor when all you could think of was the family you’d never see? 

Anita Moreno cracked the door open and popped her head in with a smile. She quietly closed the door behind her as she took a seat in the broken desk chair situated across from your desk. You wheeled as best as you could from behind the computer to give her a small, welcoming smile. 

“What can I do for you Mrs. Moreno?” 

“Please, it’s Anita. You’re a Heroic now, no need for the formality.” 

“I’m not-” It wasn’t a chuckle that sounded with your denial. It was a stone-cold denial of being a Heroic because it erased what you really were, an Avenger. 

“You are here. You are here.” Her tone wasn’t offended, but re-assuring in her proclamation. Anita could read people like books and you doubt you evaded her abilities by being from another universe. She was far too skilled to let people and their problems fall under a radar. 

“I have a request for you, well two to be exact.” She looked up from her folded hands expectantly waiting for you to nod, allowing her to continue on. 

“First, I have a mission for you with Ms. Vox and Marcus. It’s nothing too concerning but it needs to be taken care of. And for my other request, I’d like you to help train Missy.” You were sure if you had been drinking anything from water to vodka that it would have found itself all over Anita, but you managed to stay mum and concealed. 

“And Marcus approves of this?” 

“He doesn’t know.” 

“Going behind your son’s back and letting his precious daughter train with a woman he sees as a weapon? My, Anita. You have taken me by surprise, I must say.” 

The elder woman smiled slyly as if she were getting away with a far more terrible crime. Missy was just as important to her as she was Marcus. Anita was not going to let Marcus’ prejudice against you prevent Missy from looking up to an accomplished and heroic woman as yourself. 

“As long as Missy comes home with no scrapes or bruises, there should be no problem. You can use one of the rooms here and I’ll make sure his card can’t access it. I’ll bring Missy in when she’s done with school, leaving about an hour for her to work with you.” 

Anita rose to her feet, preparing herself to leave the room but instead, she turned back around, looking you dead in the eyes and for once, looked like someone who cared. 

“I don’t know what your world was like. I don’t know who you were there or the family you left behind, but this is your world as much as it is mine, Missy’s, or Marcus’. He shouldn’t be so cruel. I see how you look at the girl, like she’s special. She is. But I couldn’t help but think it was something more...” She trailed off her speech just as Marcus had that day at the park. Like mother like son you suppose. 

“Did you have a family? A child—I mean?” 

For the first time in your life you were speechless. Was it that obvious? The longing? You never spoke of the child, not even to Natasha or the others because it was far too painful to recall. The Red Room was traumatic enough and by barely escaping to save the life of a child you so desperately wanted only to give it away to protect its life was worse. You didn’t know where she was or who she lived with now. Her life was an illusion to you if you could craft one. That alone broke you, chilled you to the bone. You held her for two minutes before they took her from your arms to give to another and it would be the one thing you would always regret. 

“You don’t have to answer-” Anita backed away from the question when she analyzed your reaction. But she was the only one who cared enough to get to know you and that opportunity for connection was slipping away. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes, I did. I don’t know her name or if she’s... if she’s alive anymore but I did. I had to give her away. She would be ten.” 

“Oh I—I am sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“No one does.” 

Anita could only nod and attempt to leave again but was halted by your voice. 

“Thank you for coming here.” She nodded, acknowledging the difficult transition she knew you were having. 

“When is the mission?” 

“Two weeks. I’ll, um, bring Missy tomorrow. I’ll send a message about the room later today.” 

She left with a twist of the door handle, leaving you with the thoughts of the girl who you tried to, but never could forget. But Missy helped to fill that gaping, vacant hole in your heart. After the first week of pure hesitancy, Missy came running in every day after school with a wide smile, bragging about the grades she received, the friends she had, and the way her father always put her perfect grades on the fridge when she got home. 

Missy let you into her life without you asking for it. Even with the distance you tried to give her in order to protect yourself from any kind of unintentional attachment with the girl, she melted it with a look in her kind, young brown eyes and her shining smile. Missy treated you like the adult and role model she wanted, not some foreign alien that the Heroes treated you as. 

“How do you know how to do all this stuff?” 

Missy was stretching on the red mat while you built an obstacle (of sorts) but only half of her attention was on the task you had instructed her to do. It was the second week of your daily training with Missy and she was disappointed to hear that tomorrow, you would be off on a mission, therefore her favorite after school activity would have to wait. 

“I was a spy for many years and I had been in this academy of women fighters.” That’s the only explanation you could give her without truly telling her what happened to you in Russia. The horrible, wicked people who experimented and forced you to become a weapon on behalf of the state. 

“And what about your old team? How did you meet them?” She sat up now on her knees in an anxious, excited inertia. 

There was an initial hesitancy with that question, though you had to ask yourself why. Why, after a year of being in this new world, were you still not willing to be open and voice your story to someone who wanted, someone asking, for it. But what did you have to lose but divulging in this girl’s questions? Nothing. Heck, Nat would probably be proud that you let your guard down enough to make a connection in the first place. 

“I met them through-” 

You didn’t even get passed the fourth word when the door to the training room slid open and a very, very, angry Marcus charged in with Anita on his tail. She looked pleadingly at you as he grabbed his daughter off the mat on the floor and grabbed her bag from the highest stack of mats to his left. 

“Marcus please!” Anita tried to plead with him but he did not listen. 

“No! I told you I don’t want her anywhere near her and what did you do!?” 

Marcus tossed the bag to Missy who barely caught it in her trembling hands. She had never seen her father break the cool façade he wore on the daily. 

“Dad-”

“You go with her. I am not going to have this conversation with you now, but when I get home, you better believe that we will be having a long talk about this.” 

Anita wrapped her arms protectively over Missy and practically dragged the girl out of the room while Marcus stood with his hands splayed on his hips in anger. Maybe if it were another universe you would have found it just a little adorable.

“I had my suspicions that this is where she was. Three days ago when my card denied me access to this room I knew someone was lying to me about it.”

“Marcus, you’re over-“

“I am NOT OVERREACTING!” He shouted with a blazing fury. His eyes were filled with nothing but a fatherly rage.

“I asked you to not go anywhere near my daughter and here she is training with you like some—some prodigy! She is my daughter!”

“You think I don’t know that!? Do you really think I am that stupid to not notice the girl is your daughter? She’s just like you!”

“If she was just like me, then she wouldn’t have run off every afternoon with a deadly stranger.”

You shook your head at him with petty laughter.

“You are the most ridiculous, most annoying, and most PRETENTIOUS PERSON I HAVE EVER MET!”

Rage continued to boil up his body like a pot of water. Had Marcus ever met someone he found as infuriating as you? No. Had he ever met someone like you? No. Had he ever been slightly curious about you? He wouldn’t answer that question. Besides, now he was playing protective dad and he never had been given a reason to trust you.

“If you had a child, I bet you would feel the same.”

You think he meant it as some sick burn but he had no idea, none of them did. So your brows lifted at him as a smirk graced your face knowingly.

“If you cared for a second to get to know me— you would know the answer to that question.”

More than a deadly spy, though none of them ever cared to know more than what your profession suggested.

You left the room in an abrupt haste following the confession. A part of your conscious still wasn’t sure whether or not telling everyone every little detail about your past was a good idea, let alone a safe idea. But every night you thought of the family you disappeared from; how you wished you could have told them everything about your past before they disintegrated into dust around you. If you couldn’t do it then, maybe you could do it now.

The next day happened to be the mission Anita had set up for Marcus, Ms. Vox, and yourself. While Marcus waited in uniform with the singing siren pacing the room, he was sure you weren’t going to walk through those doors. One side of him felt that you were the kind of person who ran away after exposing some deep secret, the other thought maybe you just quit. But when you waltzed in with your weapons and uniform perfectly pressed, he couldn’t make eye contact.

If it weren’t for Missy’s dotting on your character that previous evening, he probably would have still been angry. But there was little doubt in his mind that Missy would lie about someone she trusted, so maybe he could give you a chance. That belief quickly turned when you wouldn’t speak to him or even look him in the eye five hours into the mission that had you all stuck in a building across from an increasingly suspicious studio apartment. According to Anita, this is where technological weapons were being stored and the mission was to identify the weapons and alert headquarters so they could send an extraction team. Unfortunately the view was poor and between the three of you, only three pieces of equipment were identified.

“I think we should try and sneak in.” The suggestion came from Ms. Vox who appeared a bit eager to be on an incredibly serious mission. Marcus tried to look at you for an opinion but you gave him no audience.

“If we go in, someone needs to stay behind to keep guard.”

“Maybe I could keep guard and you both can go in?”

The proposition was most unwelcome. You and Marcus, together, on a mission that was possibly deadly, and you still wouldn’t look each other in the eye.

“Or I can go with one of you?” Ms. Vox’s voice was straining but she walked on egg shells to get an answer. Be the bigger person, be the bigger person.

“Marcus and I will go inside. Vox wait down the hall from the door and you need to press the call button on the watch if you see anyone. If we are not out of the apartment in five minutes, alert headquarters and let them bring in the team.” It was a demand and no questions were asked as Ms. Vox rose first to leave the room, followed by you, then a concerned but unquestioning Marcus. 

To the building across the street and down the hall, no words were exchanged between the two of you. You both kept quiet as the room came closer and all weapons were drawn in protection.

“You take the left and I’ll go right.” Again, he didn’t question it but he did nod, meet your eyes in understanding.

For starters, the apartment was entirely open concept. The floor was lined with rows of computers; all had been wired to one another and their screens were a blinding blue. You looked up at Marcus as he rounded the row nearly three yards in front of you. The look he returned was unsettled by the scene.

“What do you think they’re doing here?”

“Beats me. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And it was true—he truly hadn’t. Most of the time missions were against some alien breed, certainly not old junkie computers from his childhood. You lowered your gun for a brief moment, pressing a key on the closest keyboard and all the computers went black. The light from two sets of comms were the only light in the room until a stream of three, then four, then five lines of green invaded from the window. Slowly they crept on the floor until the met a black boot and trailed up the targets body.

It took no time for you to realize what it was.

“Get down! Marcus get down!”

You practically barreled into him as fast as you could, wrapping your arms around his torso as his swords went flying in the opposite direction. Gunfire erupted around you both as you scrambled to drag his body with yours to a corner away from the windows.

“Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

All you could illicit was a nod in combination with a panic gaze. It would take four minutes for the rest of the Heroes to arrive and find the two of you. But whatever happened in Marcus’ brain the moment he saw you tumbled towards him in his moment of peril, changed the dynamic.

It first began as complete acceptance into the team. No one questioned your actions and your abilities were praised just as much as the others. Marcus didn’t keep his distance, but also allowed Missy to continue lessons after school because he trusted you. You saved his life and if it weren’t for you, he would have never seen Missy again.

After about a year of acceptance, Marcus attempted friendship. He would ask you to do things, outside of work, especially when they involved Missy. Bowling, Pizza nights, ice cream runs, game nights; they all became normal after the first few times of pure hesitancy. Although you weren’t entirely comfortable with the idea because of how he treated you in the past, you could tell it was an honest effort. You also would be lying if you said you didn’t have any fun doing those things.

In your fourth year in this new universe something else happened—something unexpected. Instead of what had become a usual game night, Marcus asked you on a date. Your initial reaction was to say no, laugh at the attempt, and return to the monopoly game (yes, you did find it strange that this universe had many similarities to the other). But the “what if” question lingered after minutes of contemplation so you said yes. And you would be lying again if you said anything other than it was “the best date you had ever been on.”

And somewhere in that fifth year of living, Marcus asked you to move in with Missy and himself, and you said yes. Finally, a family of your own that wouldn’t disappear at the snap of a finger. Every day you thought of what Natasha would say to you if she knew about this. One part of you wanted to believe that she would be surprised but proud, while the other believed she would laugh and call you soft. In reality she would have responded both ways.

Every morning you woke up to a man who looked at you as if you held the world in your hand. How you went from enemies to lovers was beyond your comprehension but you didn’t want to question it further. The way he would hold your hand on difficult days, smile at you from across the table, kiss you goodnight, love you until you believed you couldn’t be loved anymore. It was those things you didn’t have in that other world that you just held onto with a tight grip now.

As Marcus readied lunch in the Kitchen, you helped stack new books on Missy’s bookshelf with her. The girl had grown so much over the years and was making her way into becoming the leader Marcus, and Anita, wanted her to be.

“I left a box out in the hall, do you think you could get it?” Missy asked as she admired the cover of a fantasy book in front of her. She looked up with her big brown eyes that reminded you so much of the man in the other room that you couldn’t deny her anything.

“Sure. Be right back.”

But you never came back.

Because you woke up with a jolt on the dirt ground of a forest you hadn’t seen in years.

Wakanda.

#Pedro pascal #we can be heroes #marcus moreno x reader #marcus Moreno #pedro pascal x reader #marvel #mcu #x reader #x female reader #we can be heroes x reader #ms vox #missy moreno #Anita Moreno #request #answer #answered #Netflix #mcu crossover #mcu x reader #natasha romanoff

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Five- Photograph

“That's the thing about trust. It's like broken glass. You can put it back together, but the cracks are always visible--like scars that never fully heal.” ― Hope Collier,

Aubrey was almost out the door when her mother dropped the bombshell on her. Usually her mom wasn’t even awake when she was leaving for school, she was still sleeping off whatever bender she had gone on the night before. She was up today, in a stained robe with unkempt hair, but she was up.

“We’re going to visit Flora for dinner tonight. Go home on Basil’s bus, I don’t want you trying to skip out on this,” Past Aubrey would have been elated. Not only was her mom up, but they were going to see her best friend for dinner. Now she growled in irritation and rolled her eyes.

“Mom-”

“Aubrey, don’t even think about starting up,” Her mother cut her off with a warning look. Aubrey shut her mouth but hot anger lit up in her veins. She bit her tongue to stop from screaming as her mother continued her lecturing, “That woman is old and her time is coming soon. Respect thy elders, it’s the godly thing to do,”

The hypocrisy of it filled Aubrey’s mouth with poison, and she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Her mom loved to spout religious crap like this all the time, acting like saying scripture somehow equated to being a good person. Aubrey would have loved to ask her what part of her oh so precious book told her that getting drunk every night was godly, but if she started that fight again she would never make it to school on time.

“Whatever,” Aubrey muttered in lieu of her actual thoughts, pushing past her mother and out the front door. Her mother’s little lecture had taken long enough that the bus stop was completely empty, and that only made Aubrey’s mood even worse. She seized her scooter and whipped it around, putting all of her mental frustration into the physical act of riding to school and away from her house as fast as possible.

The ride did nothing to alleviate Aubrey’s anger and a dark storm cloud hung around her through every period. Students gave her a wide berth and teachers looked at her with distrustful eyes. They were all expecting something to happen, and she hated them for it. They always expected the worst of her. Kel had tried approaching her during their shared study hall, and she ignored him till he left. He wasn’t a true friend, he didn’t really care about her. Aubrey had to remember that, or she would fall for his tricks again.

By the end of the day, Aubrey was exhausted. To the rest of the world, she seemed just as bitter and angry as she was when she got to school, but it was just an easy front that she put out to keep them all away. Truthfully, she just wanted to go home, climb the stairs to her room, and curl up with her bunny (). She wanted to block out the world and all of the fake people in it, forget about false friends and the never ending loneliness that threatened to crush her at any point.

She couldn’t. She had to go to Basil’s.

She found Basil waiting outside, off in a corner. He was standing slightly hunched over, like he was trying to disappear right where he stood. Absolutely pathetic, but that was Basil. A weakling who had used Aubrey. Kel was with him, clearly talking at Basil and not to him. Basil wasn’t even paying attention, just staring off at the trees and playing with his fingers the way Aubrey hated. She walked over in long purposeful strides, putting herself in the middle between the two boys.

“Get lost,” Aubrey snapped, hoping that Kel would argue right back with her. It would be a good outlet, something that would get rid of the storm cloud. Basil was no fun to fight with, he just cried and apologized. At least Kel would do it properly.

But luck was not on her side. Kel didn’t fire back with a harsh retort or even give her a glare. He just sighed and rolled his eyes, something that instantly set alarm bells of resentment ringing in her head. She hated when he acted higher and mightier, rising above her like he was too good to fight with her. It was the same as her mother’s religious rambling, just another hypocrite who thought they were better than they were and judged Aubrey for not playing their game.

“I’ll see you later, Basil ,” Kel said, deliberately putting emphasis on ignoring that Aubrey even existed. The urge to kick out his legs and pound him into the dirt was overwhelming, but the sound of the buses starting to rumble cut off that train before it left the station. She growled and yanked Basil along with her by the wrist, walking over to his bus and climbing the high steps. Aubrey practically threw him into an open three seater and launched her bag in after, sitting as close to the aisle as she could and as far away from him as possible.

She didn’t want them, but as she sat on the bus with her former oldest friend, memories of all the times they had done this before came to her one by one. They had always chosen a two seater before, they hadn’t needed the room of three. They would cram close together and read the same book, or chat about all the things they could do when they got to his house. They had almost missed their stop multiple times because they were so lost in their conversation, and oftentimes they had to shout for the bus driver to hold on so they could get off. It was funny, sweet to the point of saccharine.

The thoughts made Aubrey sick now. She tried to pretend it was just the righteous fury she obviously should have felt at their betrayal, but there was something else in there. A thing with dark claws that dug into her chest and made itself known with pain. The word for it sat heavy in her mind, there but unspoken, pushed to some long forgotten corner that she never looked at and never wanted to. Aubrey had enough trouble grieving the dead, she had no need for grieving the living too. The bus reached their stop and she hopped off without looking back. Basil would follow or he wouldn’t, she didn’t care either way.

“Aubrey!” Flora tottered towards them down the sidewalk, her cane clutched firmly in her right hand. Her white hair was pulled up in her signature bun, and her dress was a pretty floral blue that matched her eyes.

She pulled Aubrey into a hug once the young girl was close enough, holding her in a tight squeeze. Aubrey put her hands around Flora, but she didn’t hug her back. Flora was fragile, her bones easily felt through paper dry skin. Aubrey hoped she never got old enough to feel this breakable, but the hug was still warm and comforting. Flora smelled like old lady soap and dried flowers and clean laundry, a smell that Aubrey loved for how safe it made her feel, and hated for how fleetingly often she got to experience it.

When Flora pulled back she kept her hands on Aubrey’s upper arms, looking the girl up and down. Aubrey resisted the urge to squirm, holding her breath as the old woman appraised her. She hadn’t seen Basil’s grandmother since the funeral almost two years ago, and she knew Flora hadn’t seen her shocking pink hair yet, or the new styles she liked to wear. Aubrey began to steel herself for a long winded speech about respecting her body like a temple, the kind her mom liked to preach after her second bottle of wine.

“You got taller,” Flora commented, turning around and leading the way back to the house, “Come inside, I made some snacks for you two,”

Aubrey slowly let out the breath she had been keeping, letting Basil walk in front of her and towards his house. Flora had never been a mean spirited woman or purposefully judgemental, but Aubrey’s threshold for trust was a lot lower than it used to be. Her anger began to bleed out and shame took its place. Aubrey usually thought the worst of people, and that didn’t bother her because she was usually proven right in the end, but there were exceptions. Flora had never done anything to earn her ire, even if her grandson had.

Aubrey followed them into their home, taking her shoes off at the entrance and looking around. Nothing had changed really, flowers and plants still hung in pots all around and the bookshelf was still packed to the brim. There was a pot bubbling on the stove and vegetables half cut on a board next to it. Flora gestured towards the table and slowly made her way to the fridge, pulling out a carton of strawberries and two oranges. She made quick work of the fruits and was soon putting a platter of cut up pieces of fruit between the two children.

“You two can finish your homework here while I finish up the grub. Dinner is going to be in an hour and a half. I know five o’clock is a little early for you youngins, but I like to be in bed by six!” The old woman laughed at her own nonexistent joke, the sound creaky and roughened with age. She had to stop to cough halfway through, but she waved away Basil’s worried gaze and reaching arms, “Please dear I’m fine. Aubrey you have to teach my grandbaby here how to relax more and just enjoy life,”

Aubrey didn’t respond, using digging through her backpack as an excuse to not have to acknowledge what Basil’s grandmother had said. It was less of a hassle to pretend that she hadn’t heard then to lie and act like she cared if Basil was uptight or not. Basil also didn’t say anything, he just started his work in silence. Flora’s genial mood faltered ever so slightly, but she took their dampened mood in stride.

“Okay then, while you two mope, I’ll keep working on dinner,”

Flora went over to the kitchen proper and turned on the radio, listening to some talk show that Aubrey’s mom also liked. The girl settled into her seat and began to flip through her work, picking and choosing which assignments she would do and which ones she would blow off. There was no point to doing some of them, the teacher was going to fail her anyway, so why should she try? At least if she put all her efforts into one or two classes with cool teachers, she might pass. It was almost dinner time when her peace was broken without her permission

“Did you understand the earth science homework?”

Aubrey looked up, shooting Basil a derisive look for even bothering to speak. He flinched away from her, but held firm, waiting for an answer. She didn’t even want to bother, but she knew Flora was nearby and probably listening, and she would have questions if Aubrey ignored her grandson, or worse, told him to shut up.

“It was easy,” Aubrey tersely replied, putting her anger into her pen. Her words started to come out jagged and uneven, but she didn’t care. It felt good, “It’s just identifying minerals,”

“I don’t get it,” Basil murmured, more to himself than to her. He scratched something out on his worksheet and fisted a hand in his hair, “She explained this over and over, I don’t understand why I don’t get it,”

Aubrey watched the display of his anxiety for a few moments before letting out an exaggerated sigh, letting her head flop back against the chair. It wasn’t even fun to watch him get upset, it just made her feel bad, which only made her angrier. She pushed her chair away from the table, enjoying the loud screech it gave and how uncomfortable it made Basil. Then she stood and walked around the table, leaning over him and getting in his space.

“Which one are you confused on?” She demanded, and he pointed to the question with a shaking finger. She looked at the problem and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t even one of the difficult ones. Their teacher had given them a table of potential minerals and then a series of questions with specific properties. They had to correctly pick which mineral went to which list of properties.

“Okay so you already got half of them, so you just have diamond, muscovite, talc, and gypsum left,” Aubrey stated, going over the options, “The mineral cleaves into thin sheets, has a white streak, and a pearly luster. Which out of those ones has those traits?”

Basil didn’t respond, still shaking from their proximity. He stammered out some unintelligible words, his hands clasping together around his middle. Before he could devolve into an entire anxiety attack, and more importantly before Flora noticed what was going on, Aubrey would have to deal with this

“Would you quit that? I’m not gonna bite,” She barked, and he flinched further away. Great. Aubrey forced herself to take a breath and count to ten, the thing that the annoying school counselor had showed her that almost never worked. Aubrey tried again.

“Okay instead of thinking about it that way. Let’s go with which ones don’t have those features. Does diamond have a streak?”

“No it’s harder than the streak plate,” Basil responded, which was what their teacher had said word for word. Aubrey had started off with a question she knew he would know the answer to, because Mrs. Tommen had made Basil repeat her when she thought he wasn’t paying attention earlier that day.

“So then obviously it can’t be diamond.” Aubrey said, unable to take all of the snottiness in her tone. It had to be good enough, besides he should know it was stupid that he needed help with this.

“The rest have a white streak though,” Basil said after a quick check of his notes, “It could be any of them,”

Aubrey briefly considered banging her head against the wall. Anything to get her away from rocks and this idiot. She walked around to her side of the table and went back to her own work, putting her head close to the paper.

“Look at the rest of the traits. They don’t all have the same traits. Just do it that way, and quit bugging me,” She hissed. Basil wilted, but he focused back on his work.

“Thanks for the help,” It came out quiet and timid, but it was there. Aubrey jerked her head in a nod, and the two of them lapsed back into silent solo work until Aubrey’s mother knocked on the door. She was dressed in a purple dress that had seen better days and came bearing store bought cookies that still had a sale sticker on them. Her hair was done, but flyaways surrounded her head like a dust cloud, and her smile was entirely fake.

Flora came over and greeted Aubrey’s mom with enthusiasm, thanking her for  her generosity and guiding her to the table. They made small talk as Basil and Aubrey gathered their things and Basil set the table. How her mom’s job was going, how was Flora’s health, all the usual things Aubrey couldn’t care less about.

The conversation only got more boring when dinner started. When they had done this in the past, Basil and Aubrey easily entertained one another with jokes and teasing jabs and barely noticed the time passing. Now each minute was an hour and Aubrey had achieved levels of boredom previously never reached. Aubrey caught Basil’s eye and nodded towards the doorway to the bedrooms, hoping he caught her hint.

“Um G-Granny?” Basil stuttered, grabbing her attention, “May Aubrey and I be excused?”

Flora looked at both of their plates and nodded, patting Basil on the arm. They gathered up their plates and put them in the sink. As she was about to finally escape, Aubrey’s mother crooked a finger in her direction. She walked to her mom and was pulled down roughly by the arm. It was nothing like the gentle pats that Flora gave Basil, but a clear warning.

“Behave,” Her mother said in a harsh whisper, and Aubrey gritted her teeth.

She hated that word. She hated her mother. She hated this whole stupid dinner. Aubrey didn’t bother to answer as she pulled away from her mom. Her mom didn’t want an answer, she wanted a doll for a daughter. A pretty perfect doll that made small talk and smiled at jokes that weren’t funny and did whatever she asked. Aubrey stole away from the kitchen table, walking into Basil’s room and shutting the door. She didn’t like spending time with him anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to talk to him, but anything was better than being reminded just how much her own mother didn’t like her.

Basil’s room was also in a stasis, unchanged and unevolved from when she last saw it. The only difference was a blooming white orchid, the petals spread around the stem like angel wings. An orchid that was cared for meticulously, surrounded in the dying light of the day with a golden halo. An orchid that stopped Aubrey in her tracks when her eyes landed on it.

Aubrey had only seen orchids like this in one place. She had assumed that the Pastor did it, or some of the church ladies. She knew that the auxiliary had a circulating list of volunteers that went to tend to the graveyard. Aubrey had even considered that the strange man who always seemed to be in the cemetery might put them there next to her.

She knew Hero didn’t visit. He never went anywhere near the church, hadn’t in years. She didn’t know or care what Kel did, and Sunny didn’t even leave the house anymore. Aubrey had thought she was the only one that visited, the last person that even cared. For some reason her brain had completely blocked out the logical idea that Basil, who loved flowers more than anything, would be the one to carefully tend to a difficult to grow bloom.

“You put these by her?” Aubrey asked quietly, tracing a finger over the delicate petals. Neither of them needed Aubrey to say who “her” was, there was only one person left that connected them. Basil nodded, keeping his eyes down and away from his former friend. Aubrey continued to stare down at the flower, her mind racing faster than she could catch up.

“It’s a white egret,” Basil said, sitting on his bed near her and looking at the flower, “It means my thoughts will follow you into your dreams. I thought it was...I thought she might like it,”

She would have. Mari would have thought it was incredibly sweet, and she would have been able to tell Basil so. She wasn’t like Aubrey who spewed hate without a care in the world but who could never manage to say something kind without stuttering. She would have been able to bring them all together so effortlessly, there would have been no issue. None of this would have ever happened in the first place.

Aubrey was adrift, alone in a sea of confusion that sent wave after wave to try and drown her. She wanted to sit on the bed next to Basil, wanted to finally crack open and let everything out. She could trust him to listen, trust him to care. He was the only one besides her who still cared enough to visit. She should do that. That would be good. But she couldn’t get her feet to move.

“Aubrey?” Basil said, hesitant but still reaching out. She pulled away from the orchid, stumbling back and looking around. A thick leather bound book in the middle of his bookshelf caught her eye, and she wandered over to it. She knew this book.

“Aubrey, don’t.” Basil ordered, his words meaning nothing to her. She could hear him say it, she could even be mildly shocked that he even dared to talk to her like that, when he had been so timid before, but none of it really reached her. Aubrey pulled his photo album out from the shelf, holding it in her hands and opening it.

Instead of the soft faded colors of their childhood, there was black. There was black over Sunny’s birthday, black over her pink raincoat. She could barely make out Hero and Kel arm wrestling, and she only knew which pictures were from the beach based on the small bits of yellow that peaked through the marker staining the memory.

He had scribbled over Mari’s picture.

Aubrey had never had an out of body experience like this. She was always solid, always grounded. Even when she had heard what Mari did, there was no part of her that was able to check out of the situation. Now she was high in the sky, somewhere distant and far where she could only watch as her heart was broken all over again.

A rough tug jerked her back into her body. Basil had snatched the album back from her, his eyes wild and blown wide open. She couldn’t even respond, she had no idea what to do first- steal the album back, or kill him.

“Get out!” Basil shrieked, holding the book against his chest and falling to his knees. She didn’t want to. She wanted to hit him, to feel his bones breaking under her fists and hear him crying out in pain. She could hurt him worse than he hurt her, make it so she wasn’t the only one suffering. He did this. He was the one who did this, and she wouldn’t be to blame for that. She wanted to wring his neck, to break down and start sobbing.

She wanted to run.

Aubrey shouted in rage, beyond words and beyond any outward expression of the emotions roiling within. She bodily threw the door open, running past the table and out the door. She heard her mother and Flora calling for her, but she ignored them, slamming the door and continuing to sprint away. She got back to her house in record time, not bothering to close the front door as she climbed up the ladder to her room as quickly as possible.

Aubrey locked the trap door to her room, finally letting out the scream that had been building up within her. No one was there to hear it but her bunny, and she was currently hiding in her hut from Aubrey’s meltdown. Aubrey flung herself onto her bed and buried her face in her pillows, screaming again. She could hear her mother coming into the house now, screeching in rage at Aubrey’s dramatic exit, catapulting insults left and right about Aubrey. The girl wasn’t listening and didn’t care. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. She would get that album back from Basil, whatever it took to do so, and she would never, never, trust him again.

#omotober #omori #omori fic #omori basil #omori kel #omori aubrey #I FORGOT TO POST YESTERDAY #I mean i did on ao3 but NOT HERE #ANYWAYS #so tired

[m0srael]

For @hp-fearfest’s day 2 prompt: From Beyond the Grave. Thanks 4 the beta @corvuscrowned. CW: spooky vibes and graphic depictions of corpses.

(on Ao3 | T | 2.5k)

Making a Family Makes a Home

“Happy anniversary, love,” Harry pants into Draco’s wet, open mouth. He thinks he can make out the chirping of morning birds over their slowing breaths, and the warm lamplight in the room is slowly being suffused with cool grey from the dawning sun. They hadn’t slept at all that night.

Harry has never felt happier. He’s loved Draco for so long, and now, finally, he’s allowed to show him. The fact that Draco loves him back makes him feel incandescent, like he’s flying.

Draco hums tiredly in response, hands stilling in Harry’s hair. “‘Spose we can tell everyone to settle their bets on whether we’d make it to a year or not. I think Longbottom is the only one who went in our favor.”

Harry laughs gently and captures his boyfriend’s kiss-swollen lips in his teeth. “Fancy shocking everyone even more?”

“Always.”

“Let’s move in together…” Harry whispers into the dip between Draco’s collar bones, where sweat has pooled and started to dry. He darts the tip of his tongue out to capture the salty tang.

Draco goes stiff underneath him and says nothing.

Harry pulls back to gauge his expression. It’s firm, unreadable. “It’s just, we’ve been dating for a year and you’re here just as much—if not more—than you’re at home. We don’t have to stay here, we can find a place we both want to live, somewhere new. You talk all the time about how much you hate still living with your parents. We could… We could really start our life. Together. The way we want.”

Draco’s enigmatic expression breaks a little. “Oh, Harry, love. You know I want that. Of course I want to build a life with you. It’s just… I know I complain about mother and father, but they’re getting old. They need me. I’d… I’d worry about leaving them all alone in that big old Manor.”

“Yeah. I get that, I do. But…They have house elves, don’t they? To look after them? It’s not like you couldn’t visit whenever you want.”

“We couldn’t afford to pay the elves, after the trials. We had to let them go.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Well, I don’t want to pressure you into anything, so—”

“Harry. I… Want to. I do. Just. Let me think about it a little?”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course, love. Take all the time you need. I’ve already got more of you than I ever thought possible. I’m happy.”

“Sap.”

*

“You promised you weren’t going to pressure me, Harry,” Draco snaps as he drops their dinner plates into Harry’s sink with a clatter.

“I know, I know, and I don’t mean to. But we’ve been together for nearly three years, Draco, and you still refuse to even stay the night half the time you’re over here. Is it… Do you not love me anymore? Has something changed, have I—”

He watches the shutters fall behind Draco’s eyes, like they always do when they have this conversation. He’s tried so hard to respect Draco’s request for time and space, but lately it’s like a chasm has opened between them, and Harry doesn’t know how to bridge it. His gut reaction to the feeling of impending loss has always been to hold tighter, to grasp and pull. He knows how suffocating that can be for some people, but he can’t help it.

Draco sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harry, no, of course not. I love you more every day, you know that. It’s just... not that easy. My parents—”

“Oh, sod your bloody parents!” Harry bites back, sharper than he intended. “I mean—I’m sorry—but I feel like you’re sacrificing your own happiness for them. Again! I know you love them, but after everything they’ve put you through. Everything they asked of you. You deserve the chance to make your own choices and live your own life, Draco.”

“I… I know that. I do. I just feel so guilty, sometimes…”

“Look. We can look into some care homes, maybe. Neville says his Nan loves her community. Or—” Harry raises a hand to cut off Draco’s interjection, “—we can interview some live-in Healers. I can help you, you won’t have to do it alone.”

Draco’s face twists into an ugly frown. “No. How dare you—I’m not dumping my parents into some disgusting care home to be ignored and overlooked by overworked nurses. And I’m certainly not allowing a stranger into my home, Harry! Haven’t you heard of elder abuse? How could I do something like that to them?”

“Your home…”

“What?”

“You just called the Manor your home. I thought… I’d hoped you considered this your home.”

“Oh...well I—”

“Forget it. Look, I just need some space. I don’t want to say something in anger that I’ll regret later. Your feelings are valid, I just...feel a little hurt right now, to be honest. I’m going to Ron and Hermione’s for the night. Feel free to stay. Or not. Merlin knows you never do.”

“Harry—” Draco pleads as Harry turns toward the Floo.

*

“What do you want, Potter? I’m terribly busy.”

“Pansy, you don’t have a job.”

“And?”

“Nevermind, look. It’s about Draco…”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Please, Pansy. You know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t serious. I...need your help.”

Pansy sighs, settling herself and her glass of scotch on the chaise in front of her fireplace, which Harry had just tumbled out of unannounced several minutes earlier.

“Fine. Make it quick.”

“Right. Well. Draco won’t move in with me.”

“Mm,” she hums, taking a drag on the cigarette in her other hand. “Sounds normal to me. I don’t see why anyone would want to live with you.”

“Fuck’s sake—” Harry hisses, beginning to pace across the hearthrug. “I know you don’t like me, you wish Draco were with someone else, whatever—can you please just take this seriously for like, one second. Please.”

Pansy exhales an exasperated cloud of spicy smoke into Harry’s face and sits up straight.

“Potter. Draco’s relationship with his parents is… complicated.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Pansy eyes him sharply over the rim of her rocks glass for a long moment. “No, I don’t think you do, really. Not the whole of it, at least.”

Harry throws his hands up, frustrated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A series of emotions passes over Pansy’s face as she eyes him. Amusement, then scorn, then sadness, and finally pity.

“Pansy,” Harry says, slumping down onto the chaise next to her and letting his head fall into his hands. “I love him so much. I…want to marry him. But, I can’t if he won’t be honest with me about why he won’t live with me. I’ve done the best I can so far, but I can’t envision a future where my husband won’t even stay the night with me, let alone share a house with me. And I definitely can’t envision a future where we move into the Manor together.” He shivers involuntarily.

“No, I don’t think that would do anybody any good. Harry… I can’t say any more. I know, I’m sorry, but I just can’t. If you really need to know why Draco won’t move in with you, and he won’t explain it himself, you need to go see them. Lucius and Narcissa. I think you’ll find your answers there. I just hope you’re prepared for them.”

“He’s never asked me to go home with him. I haven’t… I haven’t been to the Manor since the War.”

“Mmhm,” Pansy hums, lips pursed condescendingly.

Harry stands and takes a palm full of Floo powder, gut twisting and thoughts racing.

“Harry—” Pansy says, stopping him as the flames flare green. “If you really love him—”

“Pans—”

“—You’ll let this go. You won’t go to the Manor.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can do that, Pansy.”

Pansy draws her worried eyebrows down between her liquor-glassy eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

*

Harry never received a reply to his owl to Lucius and Narcissa asking if it’d be alright to visit that afternoon. He isn’t surprised; he knows there’s no love lost between them even now, even after he’s been with their son for years.

He’d considered sending owl after owl until one of them responded—even if it was just to serve him with a restraining order. In the end, he knew he would never be at peace if he didn’t talk to them face to face. He needs to settle this once and for all, so he can move on. So he and Draco can move on, and move in, together.

After deciding that he’s given them enough warning, he apparates to Wiltshire.

When he lands outside the Manor, he’s confused. For a minute he thinks he’s apparated to the wrong location. The once-gleaming gates are rusted and bent, hanging from their hinges. Ivy creeps across the damp stone pillars and flagstones, eating into every fracture and crevice. The footpath beyond the gates is thickly overgrown with weeds and brambles, as though no one has walked it in years.

He pushes past the gates and begins fighting his way through the underbrush. His breath catches in his throat when he comes around the final bend in the path. There’s no way Draco has been living here for the last six years. There’s no way anyone has been living here in a long time.

The entire house seems to sag. The stone walls are covered in a thick layer of black muck. The same ivy that threads through the front gates has all-but consumed the lower half of the building, making it look as though the Manor is scrabbling up from the depths of the earth. All the windows Harry can see are coated in a thick layer of dusty grime; some are broken and grimace at him like mouths full of jagged, glass teeth. The once-resplendent gardens are now buried under thick snarls of thorns and wild, venomous tentacula that wave menacingly at Harry, welcoming him. To what, he doesn’t know.

Dread settles into the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone. His breathing becomes sharp and ragged, and he knows—beyond the shadow of a doubt—that something is very wrong.

When he finally picks his way up the crumbling front steps, he finds that the stately front door is cracked open. From the look of it, the lock fell from the moist, rotting old wood at some point.

He pushes the door open more fully and is hit with a wave of the thick, sickly-sweet scent of decay. His shocked brain finally jumpstarts into action. He jogs into the foyer, the clacking of his dress shoes muffled in the thick layer of dust on the floor. Despite the blood rushing in his ears and his short, wheezing breaths, he can hear the sounds of voices coming from a door down the hallway to his left. He recognizes one as Draco’s.

He moves quickly but cautiously toward the sound, pausing just outside the open door.

“Mother, I’ve told you a hundred times, you can’t have milk in your tea anymore. It upsets your stomach for days. Here, let me—”

“Oh, stop fussing, Draco. I’m an old lady I can do what I like,” comes Narcissa’s high-pitched, croaky voice.

Draco chuckles warmly, and Harry can hear the clink of teacup on saucer.

“So, Draco, my boy. How is your Mister Potter?” Lucius asks. Harry had forgotten how alike he and Draco sound, though Lucius’s voice is a touch deeper.

“Oh, well. Don’t tell him I told you, but I think he’s going to propose soon!” Draco replies, sounding genuinely pleased.

Harry’s stomach flips, despite his overwhelming unease.

“Oh, my love, that’s wonderful. I know you love him very much. Perhaps now you can invite him to come live with us? We’ve got more than enough room, you know,” Narcissa’s reedy voice cracks a little, and Draco clears his throat.

“Mother. No,” he responds sternly, almost shouting, “We’ve talked about this many times. You know I can’t bring him here. As much as I would love—” Draco sniffs wetly, as though he’s crying, “—to have all of my family together, he would never want that. He could never understand. He’s not...not like us.”

Draco sobs, then, and there’s a clatter of china as though he’s shoved his teacup away from himself.

Harry can’t take it anymore. He takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders, and moves around the doorframe to face them.

Draco glances up from the opposite side of the small table, startled. He looks like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a hungry dog--hunched and shivering, eyes wide and darting erratically. But then a smile cuts across his pale face. His pink lips curve up at the edges, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Harry. We were just talking about you. You’ve come just in time for tea. Sit.”

It’s then that Harry looks to Lucius and Narcissa, seated in chairs on either side of Draco.

Neither of them move, and it takes Harry longer than he’d like to realize that’s because they can’t.

Their bodies are stiff and cold-looking. Their skin is waxy and grey, and both of their skulls are swathed in wisps of white-blonde hair that looks to have been tacked on with a hasty sticking charm. Harry shifts one step to the right, enough to see that Lucius’s eyelids are gone and his eyes have been replaced with shiny, black marbles.

He cuts his eyes frantically over to Narcissa, whose ivory teeth look too huge in her face. Harry realizes on a wave of nausea that her lips have rotted, exposing fleshless gums.

“Yes, Harry dear, Draco has told us so much about you, please sit. There’s so much we need to talk about. To clear the air.”

A manic laugh rips from Harry’s throat as what he thought was Narcissa’s voice drips out of Draco’s mouth like the chime of discordant bells. He takes several stilted steps backward toward the door.

Draco shoots to his feet, a soft, pleading look on his beautiful face. He moves toward Harry carefully, extending pleading hands until he can grasp Harry’s shoulders.

Harry wants to scream. He wants to run away from that place and never look back. But here’s Draco, his Draco, jarringly pretty among all this rot. Draco places a soft kiss on Harry's trembling lips.

“Harry. Please. Join us.”

The snick of the door echoes in his ears as it’s spelled shut behind him.

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