#Strife is literally right there Death your little brother wants to help

[spookyheaad]

Haphephobia talk

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of rape/coercion, mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm, physical and mental abuse, as well as dehumanization. This one is kinda heavy.

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Hi again! Currently horizontal on my couch because I have full body aches from the second covid shot and my head is killing me, but I expected this to happen as it’s normal for the second vaccine to knock you out for a day or two.

Anyway, I had a realization earlier that I write both Gild Tesoro of “One Piece”, as well as Death from “Darksiders” with Haphephobia - which is “a fear of touching or being touched”. While I write them with this phobia, it manifests within them differently, and I figured I would share some differences, and headcanons for both characters (it’s been so long since I’ve talked about my sassy depressed Nephilim husband; I miss you, Death ❤️❤️). Also with Death, I ship him with an OC I created, named Zemira. I don’t think I’ve shared a lot about her on tumblr, but I’ll be making a whole post about her another time; just know I’ll be mentioning her occasionally.

So I’ll be talking about Death’s haphephobia first, it’s a little more heavy (deadass trigger warning here for the brief mentions of rape. Skip this part if you need to):

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So I must start out with the obligatory mentioning of that accursed chapter from The Abomination Vault:

Death and War have to seek out Lilith and gain information from her. Death is viciously adamant for War to stay outside & away from that woman, but war protests and wishes to come in with him. Death, nearly resorting to beating his brother into submission, demands him to stay outside, and War finally relents.

When the eldest Horseman goes in to see Lilith, one of the first things she says to him is something along the lines of “this isn’t a social call, is it?”. I truly forget what else is mentioned, but there are a few times where Lilith tries to mention things of a (supposed) sexual nature towards Death, and he abruptly and angrily cuts her off. The one thing I remember Lilith saying to Death was her saying that Death was always a “sensitive boy” which makes my stomach fucking churn.

What is heavily implied in this scene, to me, is that Death and Lilith at some point in the past, had sexual encounters with one another that Death is very much extremely embarrassed and ashamed of, and with Lilith’s ability to seduce any being regardless if they want to partake or not, it’s safe to say that Death could have possibly been coerced into said sexual activity. Lilith’s ability to seduce is described almost like a date-rape drug to me, it causes people to fall under some kind of spell or go into a trance; what is a big uh-oh to me is when Death describes that War would be weak to Lilith’s wiles, or her tricks. So she is definitely capable of coercing people in any way to get what she wants. Also fucking keep in mind that Lilith refers to Death as her SON, which adds a whole new level of “what the fuck” to that situation; it’s just icky.

I feel that Death, because of this run in (or run-ins) with Lilith, developed a massive fear of being touched, which is backed up in canon in Darksiders 2. He does not allow anyone to physically touch him under any circumstance; when Death arrived in the Makers’ realm, Eideard touched his chest where the amulet pieces are embedded. Death recoils quickly and with a venomous growl, states: “Don’t touch me!”

Then of course when he goes to visit Lilith, she touches his chest as well, and he physically pushes her hand away from his body. She also refers to herself as Death’s mother, and Death angrily states: “You are not my mother!” Also from the moment Death sets foot in Lilith’s domain, he is not thrilled to be there, and acts very different towards her; more defensive, more on guard it seems.

So this headcanon stems from all of that; he will not let anyone touch him, it’s just that severe. Where my OC comes in, I actually have a story on AO3 titled “Haphephobia” and it shows how Death & Zemira try to get past this aversion to touch, so 1.) Zemira can give him affection and 2.) Death can allow himself to be loved. I’ll link it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860320/chapters/73476759

Death cannot even bring himself to hold her hand in the very beginning. So Zemira started there, holding his hand, physical closeness, and very slowly, started working to larger forms of touch. Obviously this gave Death massive amounts of anxiety, so this is why the process is extremely slow. It makes it even more important to go slow because Death tries to hide any weak emotions, so the physical and mental stress he puts himself under is tenfold.

I think that’s all for Death. His Haphephobia is extremely severe, from the specific traumas he has experienced, possibly being forced into sexual activity with his god damn “”mother””, as well as hiding his sensitivity and kindness (my headcanons for why he does that is a whole other post waiting to be written) and just not believing he is deserving of such love and care.

Ok, now for Tesoro (specific Trigger warnings here for mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, physical/mental abuse)

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So I just recently realized that I wrote Tesoro with symptoms of Haphephobia; also compared to Death, it isn’t as severe or debilitating, but no less harmful to the person going through it.

For Tesoro I think it was sparked by a mix of guilt and insecurity, obviously as well as his past abuse from both his mother and the Celestial Dragons. But in Film Gold it’s obvious that he doesn’t have an issue with being touched, I’m referencing the scene with the pool girls. I think in canon, he’s on high alert when someone goes to touch him, especially if it’s someone he is not familiar with, or does not like. It’s more of an automatic thing that he learned to suppress over time, especially because he absolutely craves attention and affection, and his fear of touch gets in the way of that.

So in a way, he did learn how to work through it, but it wasn’t proper or healthy, and because of that it’s still there in the back of his mind. I also believe that he doesn’t like people pinning him by the wrists/hands/arms or holding him down in any way, or being bound (sexual or non sexual, he does not like it). It triggers severe panic and flashbacks, so, it’s a big no.

In terms of if he were to be around Stella, it becomes heightened. It’s not that he’s afraid of her; he knows her well. He is afraid for her sake, that he would hurt her in some way simply by allowing her to touch him. All through his life, Tesoro was made to feel like he wasn’t worth the space he took up in his existence. His mother did not love him, the one person that could have given him some form of gentle gesture. She instead hurt him, screamed at him, made him feel worthless. Then we all know about the celestial dragons; they didn’t even see Tesoro as a human, and that mixed with the beatings from both the celestial dragons and his mother, he is weary to allow others to get close.

After Stella died, In his heart of hearts Tesoro genuinely thought that he was unloveable, mainly because of his mother. The one woman who brought him into this world didn’t care about his dreams or his well-being, so then how can anyone else? Then, when he found the single person that cared about him, she was whisked away from him without a second thought. Tesoro feels doomed to observe yet never experience the love and kindness that the world had to offer.

That mixed with Haphephobia makes him very cautious of others, and in the case of Stella, vehemently afraid. He loves her, and she loves him in return; Tesoro knows this full well, (we’re headed to the “if Stella survived” AU) after they reunite he is so afraid to touch her and it’s painful to him when she touches his body. It’s another source of frustration and anger because he knows that he is still in love with her, but his own body is trying to push her away. He would tear open his body for the apprehension to leave, to finally feel the comfort he yearned for within Stella’s embrace. No more fear, no more being brought to tears because he felt he didn’t deserve her kindness, no more guilt.

Both he & Death feel unloveable but for different reasons:

Death feels unloveable because of the atrocities he has committed, specifically the Nephilim Genocide & the creation of the Grand Abominations. He feels knee-crushing amounts of guilt for taking part in such events, and he puts up a facade of being an uncaring monster, when he is very much the opposite. He has kindness to give, yet is afraid to show it because of that idea that he is to be seen as nothing but an attack dog for the Charred Council. But this is also the same Nephilim who was so tired of making things that took life, and chose to make something that gave life instead, and gifted said item to his sister, Fury. This is the same Nephilim who took his own life to prove that his youngest brother War did not start the apocalypse. He cares so deeply, has insurmountable love to give, yet feels incapable of doing so.

Tesoro thinks he is unloveable because the world conditioned him to view himself as such. The extreme abuse he suffered told him that he is trash; an afterthought whose only use is as a punching bag or a wasted body to rend flesh from. Ants had more worth in this world than he, and Tesoro knew it. All it took was Stella, one person, for him to see that he is worthy of such a thing, that nothing that went on in their pasts was his fault, and that he does deserve to be given gentle touches, soft reassuring hugs, feather-light kisses, and that he is able to be loved.

#IN THIS HOUSE WE HATE LILITH DARKSIDERS #Death & Tesoro bring your asses to therapy right now #Strife is literally right there Death your little brother wants to help #fanfiction #headcanons #darksiders #one piece #anime #manga #artists on tumblr #one piece anime #one piece manga #darksiders death #Darksiders headcanons #one piece film gold #gild tesoro #fanart #artist #writing #art

[darksiderssin]

How's this for sinning? Mating season for the Horsemen, NSFW style! There's literally gonna be blood, sweat, and tears!

I gotchu boo. Merry Christmas sweeties ;3

War: Hates this time of year. Normally he'd just kill some stuff and it would have the same effect through Chaoseater's eternal thirst for blood and violence, but this time you were here. And oh, he loved your body and the heart that beat within it that loved him in turn- he knew he would hurt you if he just jumped on you out of nowhere, but this heat and longing he felt, the urge to just take you up against the nearest surface, it was almost choking, and War's face was redder than his cowl knowing that you could tell something was wrong with him. You had asked, and he tried to explain what he felt, how this worked, and though he was glad you understood, your smell was driving the poor Rider to near madness. He managed to hold back the urges as he brought you close, holding you so his face was against your belly. War didn't like to beg, but his need was too obvious to hide, a noise between a grumble and a whine slipping out before he told you that he didn't want to hurt you, but he wasn't sure how long he could control his need before he caved.

You'll need to set some ground rules before you both start, sure, and it's endearing how he shows so much restraint while he takes you, not wanting to break something but needing his release so badly, but he doesn't stop at one round. It will take a few rounds before War is satisfied, and you are going to be very, very full with his seed. He's very cuddly afterwards, pulling you into his arms and curling around you protectively. He might need more later, but for now, his very tired brain is telling him that you need to be hidden away from everything and that he is not letting you go for a very long while. 

Fury: She's a lot angrier than usual. That's the first thing you notice. Then the fact that she's hot to the touch and less willing to let you get up in the morning. You ask her what's wrong, and she growls and explains that it's mating season, and she sadly can't do anything about it other than maybe rub a few orgasms out or taking her frustrations out on things by killing them. Of course you offer to help, which is met with a laugh and a remark of "Dear Heart, you could lose a limb or something more dear trying to do that." Still, you persist, and Fury concedes with a warning that whatever happens, you brought it on herself. As long as she doesn't use the handle of her whip as a tool to help with her insatiable need. Thankfully, due to her being more sensitive, her skin reacts to your touch like a livewire and you can't get the two of you undressed fast enough. You try to be sweet, rubbing her clit in lazy circles while latching your mouth to her neck, kissing, biting, sucking at her lovely olive skin. Fury keeps you close to her as you work her, purring her encouragements into your ear despite her wanting to pin you down and use you up until this damned heat subsides. 

Having something to penetrate her with is ideal, be it your own equipment, a strap on, or even your arm if you can get it in there and you're both good with it, but you'll be there for a long time. Eating her out will only do so much for so long, so make sure you have some water and snacks on hand because she is insatiable. You will literally go until one of you drops, but at least you'll both be asleep for a while.

Strife: He gets very squirmy during his heat, can't sit still and is mega clingy, always nuzzling you so he can breathe your scent. It's not until your shirt goes missing, only to be found in his hand being held up to his nose while he's jerking it, does he tell you what's wrong. Strife apologises for taking your shirt,  but he's so needy and horny that he just couldn't help himself, he doesn't want to make this seem like something you have to do. It's all very hard to listen when his dick is painfully hard and literally right in your face, so to shut him up, you take hold of his length and start to stroke him, encouraging him to let you take care of it.

Strife will be twice as loud as he usually is, babbling his pleas and praises and cursing through gasps and moans. He will take you if you let him, or receive if you ask if he wants you to fuck him or asks you to use your mouth. Don't be nice, ride or rail him hard and make him see stars- though he's as insatiable as his sister, keep some water on hand. You'll both be a well-fucked mess by the end of that romp, but he'll be extra cuddly while you're both sleeping it off. He loves you so, so much. He might want to go again after you wake up, though, so make sure you remind him that you need to hydrate.

Death: Oblivion and Abyss, not again. Death still gets his heats, albeit not as frequently, and he hates it. He's grumpy when it kicks in, and though his obvious need is too clear to you, he hesitates in explaining or accepting your help. He will hurt you if you want to offer your own body to remedy the situation, and it's not going to be the usual kind of pain you enjoy, and he warns you as such. He has the mental fortitude to wait this out, it's not going to be as debilitating as it can be for his brothers, but none the less you still insist that you'll help if Death is consenting. And he consents, provided you understand the risk.

You are very much going to be on the receiving end of all this. There's little to no foreplay like his brothers, Death is going to use you up and it's not going to be gentle or sensual, it's just a rough fuck with little regard to whether you cum or not, but in those moments you do hit your climax, stars explode behind your eyes and it feels like he's succeeded in fucking your brains out. Feels like he did, too, when it all finally stops. You end up a limp mess beneath the Rider, barely conscious as he bundles you up in blankets and tucks you in. There'll be an apology meal after you wake up, but for now he'll stay curled up around you until he's got his strength back.

#ask #answered #anonymous #darksiders sin #mating season #war #death #fury #strife #happy holidays ya filthy animals #Anonymous

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 30: Rose Petals Falling

Death only sighed, "Fuzzball being in your pipes...was no coincidence."

"So that's why he was in there. You asked him to spy on me?" Aleyn inquired sounding a bit pissed off.

Death remained calm however, "You're angry, and you've every right to be. It's an old habit I never truly got rid of. When I'm suspicious of someone, part of me wants to investigate further. Usually I follow my instincts to do so and seldom am I wrong. But in this case it seems I was. I imagine such an affliction has always been private for a reason, if not for many. If it makes you feel any better about me, I can reveal something to you later. That seems only fair given my violation of your privacy."

Strife and War both looked his way in bewilderment, "Who are you and what have you done with my big bro?"

"Death, this is....unlike you."

Fury just facepalms, "Boys, you're ruining it. Besides I doubt he'll do this again for some time. In my opinion, it's about time he started recognizing and ADMITTING when he's fucked something up."

Death just coughed, "Ahem, thank you Fury."

"Thank you for attempting. It's somewhat comforting." Aleyn replies.

"Great a violation of privacy. Yet another reason why I don't trust him being around you people." Achiron says in affirmation.

"Like I said, I can reveal something of my own later. I'm willing to make up for this where I can." Death insists to him.

Achiron however isn't too convinced and quickly floats up into his face. From there he circles Death in obvious scrutiny, nothing he wasn't used to. Then upon circling back to his face, Death suddenly felt something pull at the wards over his mind. Carefully he let down what he felt he could. Wanting to be careful about what was revealed. Achiron eventually notices three specific doors of a sort. One looked like it was made in shadow, the middle looked like a simple gray wooden door, the final was so bathed in white light it wasn't able to be seen past that.

"Interesting wards, let's see if I can break through them."

Death then appears before him and sees the Lich in his full bodied form. Semi armored with the same golden color of his skull. "Before you do anything, know that I'll let one of my wards down for you to enter it. Just know that some memories are indeed difficult for me. I only show you them in good faith. And once one ward is down, I'm not letting down the others. Got it?"

"Hmph, let's see how much your wards can hold up." Achiron states calmly before working to break the darker one first.

Death finds himself in pain as he tries to fight back and hold out. But since Achiron is in his mind it's going to be much harder to hold him back. He does his damnest to keep the ward shut. Whilst Achiron cracks at it bit by bit.

Meanwhile Nergal and the Horsemen all look at each other. Then Nergal simply thinks to himself, "*Ok Aleyn you're coming with us.*" Before anyone can stop him, Nergal grabs Aleyn and Baccara. He then shouts to others, "Let's go! Hurry! While the Lich is distracted!"

"What about our brother?!" War shouts.

"Yeah we can't leave him here!" Strife adds on.

"Are you out of your mind Nergal?!" Fury yells in anger.

War isn't so keen on this plan though and leaves Death with a crystal to teleport back if he needs it. From there he then leaves with the others whilst apologizing to Death. And makes a mental note to punch Nergal in the face for this dishonorable handling of the situation. At that moment, Death's first ward is shattered with a single punch. Knocking Death back a ways as he tries catching his breath. Achiron just shakes his head, "Not impressive thus far."

"I told you I'd lower one if you chose it....was that seriously not enough for you?!"

"You want to make up for your transgression in any way possible right? Then you'll allow me to do this. Either take the others down yourself, or I'll break through them too." Death in a moment of anger rushes Achiron, shoving him through the freshly broken ward. Dropping both of them into a dark, swirling blackness. Achiron noticed Death looking on edge as they both got up. "Something troubling you Horseman? You had quite a bit of zeal not two seconds ago."

"This part of my mind...holds my darkest memories. I only shoved you in here to keep you from unlocking my mind further. I am not....in control of what happens...when I venture through here. The memories appear randomly..." Death expresses to him in as little fear as possible.

"Hmm, then let's take them on in a more 'orderly' fashion." Achiron simply says.

"I just told you...I CAN'T CONTROL THIS AREA OF MY MIND! I've tried countless times and....argh....nnnnrrrrrrgh...AAAAAAH" Death repeats before being hit with a sudden pain in his forearms.

Achiron actually looks on in a bit of concern as he sees the bandages around Death's forearms beginning to soak with blood. Death is on his knees in deep pain as it feels like a knife is practically flaying his arms up, excruciatingly slowly at that. Achiron uses his own abilities to freeze the memory in time, then he examines Death. Death at first tries backing away but is grabbed before he can get too far. "Hold still. You could've mentioned you'd end up reliving your memories here." Achiron then decides to leave Death's mind. Only to be met with Aleyn and everyone else being gone. Death slowly wakes up and tries to move but his hands are currently numb. Giving a VERY pissed off Achiron the opportunity to have a Death Knight grab him by the throat. "WHERE. IS. MY. SON?"

Death does his best to answer whilst being choked, "I.....can only...ugh assssume....ack guh....that he's....back at....aaaaah ugh....Titania's."

"WHY TRICK ME SO?"

"That.....huuuuh ahh...wasn't my intent....I don't....egh...know...why they left....aaaaaaaaaaah uuuuugh hurrrr......" Death responds whilst trying to get loose. Unfortunately even he knows the grip of the dead is stronger than most people know. Slowly, due to a mix of blood loss and the choking, Death passes out once more. Before being dropped in an unceremonious way.

Achiron simply whispers to his new prisoner, "Since you took my son, I shall keep you in return."

He then has the knights drag Death into his and Aleyn's home. Bringing him to a Styxian Rose Shamble, an abnormally small one at that. It almost could pass for the grounds' guard dog or house pet with how it behaves. Achiron keeps it calm and under control as he has the Shamble hold Death in place. He then has the Shamble follow him to the lab so that he can examine Death's arms. Can't have his prisoner die of blood loss after all. Carefully he removes the bandages of one arm using telekinesis, and is surprised by the opened and clearly old scars on his arm. As their outlines suggest their age before they reopened. Achiron then makes sure to use blood magic to reclose each scar. He does the same for Death's other arm, then has a Death Knight wrap them in new bandages.

"That should settle it. I'll wait until he's awake again before we continue further. Keep him here, and DO NOT EAT HIM. He's a prisoner,a hostage, NOT FOOD. Understand?" Achiron tells the Shamble. It lifts a single free vine to make a nodding motion with it and Achiron nods back. Satisfied he goes on to prepare things. Gathering various healing potions in case Death needs them, among other implements. He even gets an IV system going for a transfusion.

Death comes to some time later, his head spinning and his body stinging with the lingering pain. "Ugh...where am I?", then when noticing the IV and new bandages, "Wait a minute...what the hell?"

Achiron then surprises Death by bonking himself against his forehead to catch Death's attention, "You will show me all there is to see in that dark pit of your mind. Hold anything back, and I shall ensure you suffer tenfold."

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you I don't know why they took off with Aleyn! What's the meaning of this?!"

"Silence! I'm entering. With or without your consent. But first..."

Meanwhile back at Titania's, Morgen and War are both ripping Nergal a new one for this. Lunara is just embarrassed at not stopping him from doing this. Strife is panicking majorly as he thinks about what the Lich may be doing to their brother. Whilst Fury does her best to think of a new plan through all the yelling. Finally Aleyn grabs Morgen, "Morgen Morgen! Calm down, calm down. Fighting each other won't help. If we want to get Death back we'll need to think of a plan."

"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO!" Fury shouts at him in annoyance and anger.

Aleyn can only sigh before his communication crystal goes off. As expected, he hears his Father's voice, "Aleyn, I trust you can hear me?"

"I can."

"Good, now then Horseman, perhaps you'll greet everyone Aleyn may be with?" Achiron responds in a dark tone as he places the crystal near Death.

"Aleyn...what the hell happened? Why am I being questioned on why you're with everyone?"

Aleyn sighs, "Nergal. You can blame him for this mess. It was a spontaneous idea of his, literally from nowhere."

"DAMN IT NERGAL! SERIOUSLY?!"

Everyone then flinches as they hear Death grunt after something seems to hit him, "That's enough I should think. Now, Aleyn I want you brought home. I could care less about Baccara being here or not. If you do not return, then Death shall remain until you finally do so. Am I clear?"

Aleyn rubs his temple and thinks for a time before replying, "Transparently."

"Good. Just make sure you bring someone, or a few people to retrieve Death when you do come around. He may need help moving when I'm done with him." Achiron tells him before ending the call.

Morgen then immediately speaks up, "Aleyn, let me go with you. If that Lich bastard does anything to him I will give him a piece of my mind in person!"

War also volunteers, "You need someone to carry him, so I shall go with you as well. And to make sure Morgen doesn't jump at anyone's throats."

"He's a floating head, if anything I'll jump at his skull!" Morgen shouts in her anger.

"Morgen I know you're angry with him, but he is still my Father. He's always been overprotective of me." Aleyn informs her.

"THAT'S NO EXCUSE FOR TORTURE ALEYN!" Morgen yells at him.

"Morgen control yourself. At this rate your dream side may react to your emotions." Nergal tells her.

"DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT! YOU LITERALLY CAUSED THIS MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE! PRACTICE WHAT YOU PREACH BEFORE YOU PREACH IT!"

"Morgen enough!" Vortigern shouts at her before holding her in a tight hug, "For your sake, and everyone else's, calm yourself. Death's tougher than most, he'll make it long enough for you to retrieve him."

"Aleyn, if you truly need to return, then know this...I DO NOT CARE, if that Lich is your Father. He nearly took Baccara away from her Mother and I. I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY FURTHER ATTEMPTS ON HER LIFE! Nor will I tolerate any attempts to harm her physically, mentally, or emotionally. He steps out of line with her JUST ONCE, and I will drag his soul down to the Realm of Nightmares. Then I will PURIFY EVERY OUNCE OF HIS BEING UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF WHO HE IS NOW. That is my ONLY warning to both of you." Nergal responds before letting Baccara go to him, against his and Aspen's better judgment.

"Believe me I would do something similar myself." Aleyn expresses as he tries to push Nergal out of his face for breathing room. Then he looks to Morgen and War, "So whenever you two are ready...heheh.."

Morgen simply nods but Vortigern wants her to at least have some tea to cool herself down. She agrees to it, but only because War agrees to wait for that much. Luckily for her Mina already started preparing a few cups of iced tea as everyone got stressed out. Morgen finishes it easily enough and hurries off with War and Aleyn. Fury remains with Strife in the meantime to one calm him down, and two plan ahead. Or at least have the backbones of one for Death and War to play off of. War of course decides he may as well ask Morgen a few questions along the way. Figuring it'd be a good distraction and that he'd learn more about his potential sister-in-law. Not like Death was being terribly secretive about the relationship in front of him and the others.

"So Morgen, what's it like being around my brother? I know how it is for myself and occasionally get slightly exaggerated stories from my older siblings about him. But what of yourself?"

"Hmm, well I'd personally say your elder brother is quite charming for the stubborn ass that he is. And though he can be rude at times, at least he knows when it's not necessary. Well...mostly anyway."

"Yeah that sounds about right." War replies stoicly, though inside he kinda wants to laugh a bit, "Although aside from his personality, what do you see in him?"

"Well I believe he has potential he's yet to tap into."

"In what ways?"

Morgen thinks for a moment, "Potential to be a better man. Granted, I can't be his savior. Not the only one he has anyway. I can help him some, but I can't be all he has."

"I understand what you're saying. I know fully well you are right as well. The problem lies with my brother's need to hide things when it threatens him or my siblings and I."

"I'm guessing opening up is difficult for him?" Morgen inquires.

"More so than you think. It can be...frustrating sometimes. All we want to do is help him. Yet we can't get him to tell us anything hardly. We only ever found out about....one of those 'issues' recently."

"I see. Well perhaps with some extra help and pushing in the right direction, he'll slowly become less closed off."

"I doubt that, but I do hope despite it." War answers her.

Aleyn meanwhile keeps quiet, not reacting at all. He's having a minor heart attack over everything piling up, and naturally is having trouble coming up with the words to say. Finally they reach his home again after finding a proper spot to teleport at. Meanwhile Death has been put through the ringer mentally. Reeling massively and already exhausted by it all. 'Course Achiron isn't finished with him just yet. Unfortunately, he has one more memory he wants to look for. None in particular, just anything he feels like looking at. Death is just lucky Achiron hasn't found anything too traumatizing for him yet. If mainly because his absolute worst memories he's doing his best to hold back.

"You're hiding something from me Horseman. I suggest you show it to me. Or else I shall pry from your mind everything it has to offer."

"Show your worst Lich...it can't be that bad." Death tells him between breaths.

"I guess we're getting cold." Achiron says before prying into Death's mind as promised. Death tries to hold him off but is too worn out to stop him. His skin actually freezes over as Achiron forces him to relive the memory he has. Achiron then decides to switch Death's view of the memory at the last moment. A small shred of mercy after everything he's been combing through. Despite it being far tamer than Death's worst memories out of the bad batch. Death stops shivering, the frost on his skin fleeing as he stands next to Achiron in his mind.

"How are you...doing this?"

"You think your mind is the only one I've seen where people have trouble controlling their worst memories?" Achiron questions him.

Death goes quiet for a moment as he sees what memory is being revealed. Already being a bit uncomfortable, despite knowing now that his daughter did indeed survive. Achiron watches as Death reacts to his lover at the time dying, and how he interacts with his little baby girl.

"Wren? Wren I'm here now, I've got you. I'm right here. Wren....open your eyes please. Please."

Death has to look away as he watches his younger self. Only daring to look back when hearing C's crying. When Achiron sees Death find and scoop up the infant he's stunned.

"Shhhhhhh shhhhh....I'm here. Daddy's here. There there."

Achiron then looks as Death next to him, "You are a Father?"

"I am. Watch on, if you want to see me why this memory bothers me so much." Death replies as he looks on solemnly.

He continues on and recognizes that there's a small thread. One attached to C itself. He grasps the thread, hoping to guide Death to the better parts of his memories of her. He sees Death putting together a makeshift blanket for C, and making a special anklet with her name upon it. Which Death's younger self says loud and clear upon placing it on the little infant's ankle.

"Coventina. My little girl. I promise you just as I promised your Mother, I will keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

The memories continue on with Death holding C close to him as an empty pyre burns. Only for that pyre to attract a hag even Achiron is familiar with.

"Black Annis."

"You knew of her?" Death quietly inquires.

"I did. Once. A spiteful, cannibalistic monster she was, never did like her. Then again who would've?"

They then keep watching on, just in time to see Black Annis defeat the younger Death and make off with C. He does his damnest to keep fighting, to get up, but ultimately cannot. The last memory he sees is Absalom lying to Death about his daughter being found dead and his complete breakdown over it. Death's anger at having been so blinded at that time ends up causing both him and Achiron to be shunted from his mind.

Death takes a moment to compose himself as best he can. His emotions from that memory beginning to overwhelm him despite his efforts, "Are you satisfied Lich? What more...could you possibly want? What else will...you put me through?"

Achiron notices the voice cracks despite Death's attempts to hide them, sighing he tells him, "I'll not search further. Rather, I'll ask you questions about her. Your daughter I mean. Although, I am willing to give you time to process your emotions if needed. I know there's more, I remember seeing the thread continue on."

"I....don't want to go through my memories right now. I'm....already overwhelmed enough as it is." Death responds, wishing he could just get some alone time or simply be free from the place.

"You feel extreme guilt over losing her so soon, don't you?"

"I used to, now the guilt has evolved. I've met her recently...but the guilt is now over the fact that I....failed to protect her. Failed to keep yet ANOTHER promise I made to Wren, and to her. I still feel as though...I failed as a Father. I never got to know the joy of raising her. To see her first steps...hear her first words...train her to fight. I...never got those chances, because I failed her at such...a crucial moment." Death replies fighting back his pain.

"Then you and I are unfortunately much alike. Aleyn throughout most of his childhood was a lively boy. Happy, free, despite certain things. I never intervened with that, until his Mother nearly got him killed. What she did to him behind closed doors, will be forever scorched into my mind. When he got ill, she refused all treatment. I thank whatever forces that allowed me to get close enough to help him, to save him."

"I see. Guess Aleyn is also alike me in some ways. The desire for privacy when it comes to secrets we hold onto. The fact we both have terrible Mothers. Course I got lucky, I have Ale, who I view as my true Mother to this day. For all she's done for me, and my family. I sometimes wonder if I could ever thank her enough."

Achiron glances at him, "From what I noticed in one memory, she is a kind woman. Understanding, gentle, and loving as a Mother ought to be. Perhaps Aleyn would be jealous of you if he ever met her."

"Maybe so. Ale may not have raised me from an infant, as I was never a child but...she did still technically raise me in a way. I owe her so much given how much of who I am now was shaped by her influence on me. But when it comes to you and Aleyn, you're too overbearing. Which is something even I still struggle with. As I was left to raise my younger siblings mostly alone. Strife was....always my responsibility. Absalom wanted him dead and others never took him seriously. I had to be the one protecting him, the one who was there for him, and the only example he had of how one should behave. And in my youth, I unfortunately wasn't always a decent man. Strife was raised during a time when I was....involved with or doing truly dark and horrid things. I may have done my best to be what I knew at the time as a good example but, sometimes I feel it wasn't good enough. Fury came near the tail end of my darkest deeds, it was after then that I began questioning myself and my purpose. But I did my best for her too, no matter what. Again though, I sometimes wonder if I could've done more, been better than I was. War was when I came across Ale. By then Strife was already a teen, and Fury was nearing that milestone. Ale made sure I did more with her guidance, as I often asked her for advice on that. So I do feel accomplished with War and how he turned out at least. Then again, I needed help at that point in time." Death informs him, beginning to calm down slowly.

Achiron seems to reach a few conclusions, his skull landing on the table by Death, "Perhaps....you are right about me Horseman. I only tried to kill that Dryad because....he was forcing himself to keep up with her. Pushing his body for her in ways that were breaking him. I couldn't....let that happen. As for yourself, I believe your siblings being alive, being good fighters like you, following you as an example to this day, means you must've done something right for each of them. Something to ask them about really, as I'm only speculating."

Death nods, "Thank you. And I get it that Aleyn was pushing himself for Baccara, but that's ultimately on him. If he wasn't listening, why not tell her? Sounds like you never once tried, and I've never known any of my friend's children to be entitled. Responsibility is always important to them due to how Aspen raises them all. I doubt Baccara would be any different on that front."

Suddenly War bursts through the lab door revealing a hedge labyrinth outside, "Was it ALWAYS this difficult to navigate through...wait...what are you doing to him?!"

Achiron finds Chaoseater pointed at his skull while Morgen rushes past him to check on Death, "Death are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Fine just...kind of in an awkward position now that I realize it. Can someone please just...get me down a bit?"

Morgen notices he's above a baby Shamble that's acting rather...'friendly' for a Shamble, "Strange that such a critter is so friendly."

"Yes it is, now Morgen can you please help me down from this position?"

"Uhm..." Morgen begins to say before glancing at the skull, "...do you mind?"

Unfortunately something catches up, or rather several things. Achiron knows this and tells them, "If he puts the sword down..."

"Not likely."

"You'll do so anyway." Achiron states simply.

Before War can question that, he's grabbed at the waist by a thick rose vine and pulled back outside. Turns out, the big Shambles they woke up whilst moving through the garden are very much unhappy now. Morgen herself barely avoids being grabbed as well whilst hugging the back wall of the lab. Death meanwhile tries getting loose to help his brother out and protect Morgen. Only for the Shamble reaching at Morgen to suddenly freeze up. The vines then leave the lab as it seemingly leaves. They hear a massive thud of armor outside too, which they can only assume was War being dropped. Aleyn then steps into the lab and pats the baby Shamble some. It gets excited at his being home and drops Death without being told to do so.

Morgen hugs him once he's close to her, "Will you need assistance walking?"

"Uhm...wasn't that high up but..", Death replies before showing her the books on the ground where he landed, "Kinda landed on those so yeah.."

Morgen checks his back gently as Aleyn simply tells his Father, "Well, I'm home. Like you wanted."

Both Morgen and Death note that his tone sounds a bit broken. War is just confused as hell and a little spooked after his encounter. He's remaining outside to watch the Shambles closely. Death motions to the skull, hoping their chat wasn't for nothing.

"The girl is allowed to stay, and you are allowed to go anywhere. But you need to report back every now and then. And please take some of the guard with you." Achiron tells Aleyn.

Aleyn looks at him surprised but nods, "Of course Father. I'll take two of the Shambles, and one Grave Titans as well."

"WAIT WHAT?!", Death shouts whilst looking back at the skull.

"Well I...make things. Regardless, that will do. Somewhat. I hope that girl is capable of some things." Achiron replies.

"Grandkids?" Aleyn asks confused.

"No! No. Magic."

"Eh typical."

From there Aleyn excitedly calls Baccara on his crystal whilst everyone else is told they're free to leave. They happily do so, with Morgen hollering to Aleyn, "Take care. And should anything happen with Uther let us know! Stay safe!"

Once they're gone, Nergal teleports there with Baccara and Aspen, "If she's going to be here. You and I are talking, Father to Father. Aspen, I trust you'll watch over her while I'm at it?"

"Yes dear. Course I'll also let Aleyn do so too. Baccara has been talking you up for some time. I think I can finally believe her when she says you weren't the one trying to kill her that night. Though your Father will need to do FAR MORE to earn my forgiveness and respect." Aspen responds.

Baccara meanwhile rushes into Aleyn's arms, despite his pain he holds her tightly. He then shows her the baby Shamble which greets her as happily as a puppy. He shows her the rest of the garden as well. Delighted to show her the other additions it has gained since she last step foot within it. Nergal and Achiron find a private spot within the house that oversees the garden for their chat. Nergal notices the many bodies within the garden and asks concerned, "Why do I sense so many bodies in the garden?"

"His patients that unfortunately did not make it. He believes he honors them by placing them within the garden." Achiron responds whilst settling on the table by the window.

"Ah. A mini forest of the dead. Although I must inquire of you, do you regret what you did to my daughter? I want to know so I can rest easy whilst knowing she's here in the lion's den." Nergal explains a bit worried.

Achiron thinks carefully, not wanting to screw up his son's chances NOW, "Regret? I regret...the actions I took. The lengths I went to. I do not regret the reasons, only that I did them at all. I'm ashamed, as I now can see just how much being without her destroyed him. And it was my fault. I did however, need help reaching that conclusion. The Horseman is actually pleasant company for a man with his reputation."

"Most of the time he's a sarcastic asshole. But at least he's straight with people, usually." Nergal states simply.

"Indeed. Tell him I'd like to meet his daughter sometime. Something tells me she may be pleasant like her Father."

"Eh, she has a bit too much of him that really shows at points. But she is compassionate and caring from what her adoptive Father Gregory has stated once or twice. Like any Dwarf he's a proud old man, but when it comes to C he can be allowed to express some pride." Nergal tells him.

Death at this point had been placed in bed back at Titania's place to rest. 'Course a particular voice is ringing in his head, albiet quietly, "I could've ended it had you let me out."

"We both know that isn't true." Death says bluntly.

"You only assume it isn't. I wasn't keen on that intrusion either you know."

Death grunts in annoyance and rolls over in his bed. That's when a glint hits his eye. After a moment of squinting he gets up and sees it coming from the box he'd hidden under the cloths. He replaces the cloths carefully, only to feel drawn to reopen the box. Despite the feeling of something crawling up his spine. He feels a hand slowly moving around his body, flinching with each second. As he holds in the urge to scream, a knock suddenly causes everything to cease. He takes a moment to calm down and hurries to the door. Barely opening it at all, "Yes?"

Bardak's voice rang out from beyond the door as his hand grasped the edge of it, "Heya Death. Wanted to check on ya, since ya were kidnapped and all. Not to mention the shit I'm sensing in there with ya."

"Oh I see. But what do you mean by sensing?"

"Don't kid me Death, ya know full well I've got both Spirit Walker and Shaman in me through my parents. I can sense when something ain't right about someone, a place, or a thing." Bardak declares to him.

"Hmm. Well..what exactly did you sense?"

"Very powerful undead, and unrest. You know I can pick up on the emotions of others too. That includes yours, so there's no use hiding it from me. You're spooked to hell, and I think I know why."

Death cocks his head slightly, "And pray tell, what is it?"

"Crom." Bardak says bluntly before inquiring, "Ya still got the little charm from my parents right? It should still be working."

Death takes a moment to respond, signaling to Bardak that he's either going to lie or make up an excuse, "Well I uh....Well I don't..."

"Nah, speak the truth. What happened to it?"

Death sighs before admitting it as a pit in his stomach forms. Fearing what Crom will do if he's paying attention, "I.......I don't know what happened...not exactly. Only that it...broke."

"Ya got the pieces still?"

"Every single one....and I've locked them away....although if you want to...see them I can show you...." Death tells him as Crom begins slowly going to his throat again.

"Hey Crommie boy! Shut up or else I'll send another spirit your way. Heard you had some trouble with the other one some time back. Only this won't exorcize ya, but it'll keep ya all nice and quiet for a bit." Bardak threatens, noticing Crom despite his efforts to remain in the shadows.

Death in response goes to open the box after revealing it. Only from Crom to suddenly scratch at his back, the sudden attack catching him off guard enough to release a scream. Bardak instantly looks him over as he hisses in pain, but not before calling for the spirit he threatened to use on Crom. Death takes a moment to catch his breath whilst the spirit does it's job. He can't see it at the moment but does sense it's presence. "Thank you..."

"After I see those pieces, I think you and I need to talk."

Death only nods, "Understood. Let's get this over with."

Bardak upon seeing just how broken the charm is, looks at Death, "And ya didn't think to tell me about this why?"

"I was threatened Bardak."

"He's in your mind, if you wanted to, ya could kick his ass. Your fear is gonna get you killed one day. Ya can't just sit there and do nothing about this whilst not facing him." Bardak tells him firmly.

"You don't think I've tried to face him before?! That I haven't tried multiple times over the eons to be rid of him?!"

"See? Now that I'm confronting you with this, you're lashing out. If you'd save that for Crom ya'd likely have a better time." Bardak states.

"This feels different from a confrontation. It feels like you're blaming me for what's happening to me."

"Now listen here, I never once said I blamed you for what Crom does to you. Not even in the past. What is on you though, is your reactions and refusal to fight back. And that leads me to your mental state..." Bardak tells him.

"Enough Bardak." Death replies sounding a bit uncomfortable and angered.

"...No, you let me finish damn it. I get it, you're stuck processing grief, and you're stuck in a massive ass pit of guilt. But FOR FUCK'S SAKE DEATH! You just keeping dragging yourself through that mud pit day after day and year after year! The grief I can understand, somewhat. BUT DAMN IT DEATH LET GO OF THE GUILT! You've already attoned for all you could! What are you so afraid of?! Why aren't you reaching out?!"

"I'M AFRAID OF LOSING PEOPLE DAMN YOU! I'VE ALREADY LOST TOO MANY PEOPLE CLOSE TO ME! OR COME TOO CLOSE TO IT FOR COMFORT! OK ?!" Death shouts at him with rage.

Bardak however just cools down some, "Right. And I get that. Everybody's scared of losing people they care about in fact. But you gotta stop hiding this shit from people. If you need help, fucking ask damn it. I know you've got a big mouth so use it."

"Bardak....it's not that simple. Nothing is for me anymore. Hell it likely wasn't ever simple for me."

"Maybe not, but that's what change is for. Change and adaptation. I know you're good at adapting. But that's not enough Death, not this time." Bardak says.

"You can't save everyone, nor can you 'fix' everyone. Some require little time, others need more, and still some cannot ever 'get better'. Some people are just stuck with their inner demons for life."

"Death, I'm only bringing this up for a few reasons. One, is because Crom is using your past against ya. The less ammo he can use, the better off you'll be. Two, I care about ya as a friend, always have. The last thing I want, is for you to lose your way, or worse..your life. Thirdly and finally, because we can't help ya if ya hide stuff from us. I don't expect ya to let everything loose in one day, not even in a few days. But I expect you to at least work on opening up more. To work on telling people when something is wrong, when you need help. Ya get it?" Bardak expresses in a suppressed blow up at Death.

"I just....want to keep everyone safe. Crom he....threatens everyone around me. Hell when I said I was threatened a moment ago, it was because of the charm! Crom was pissed off and after breaking it he threw me around my own house to batter me! He told me if I ever got it fixed or used a new one he'd kill your parents and you! I do what I do to keep everyone safe."

"At what cost Death, your suffering?! You having no voice in your own home because of a violent, dead spirit?! That just ain't right."

"Well what am I supposed to do?! Let him attack people whilst he's possessing me, thus making me responsible for people's deaths by proxy?!"

"TRY ASKING FOR HELP! Me and my parents, we can hold off a spirit! Despite it calling itself a god! Me?! I'VE TOOK ON AN ENTITY THAT COULD CONTROL WENDIGOS! It was tough but I was able to handle it! As for your siblings, I'M PRETTY SURE THEY CAN HANDLE YOU WHILST YOU'RE GOING ROGUE! WAR CAN HOLD YOU DOWN MOST LIKELY! Hell he might even just sit on ya, while Fury and Strife bring ya back. AND I'D HELP OUT TOO! HELL MORGEN PROBABLY WOULD TOO IF SHE KNEW ABOUT CROM!"

"She does know. He's threatened her to her face before." Death admits.

"Then DON'T. LET. HIM. DO THAT. Let him know who's the boss when he does stupid shit like that. Let him know you won't tolerate that crap." Bardak tells him.

"How can I do that? I can only hold him back for so long with my might alone. Meditation barely works anymore. I even tried Astral Projection once, only for it to backfire."

"First off, stop putting yourself down. If he's feeding ya this crap, then ignore him. Or at least don't believe him when he says it. Secondly, there's plenty of stuff I can teach ya to do to help ya keep Crom under control." Bardak informs him.

"What would that be?"

"For one, spiritual journeys can be good for just calming people down and grounding them. Going on one every so often might help ya. Another thing you could try, is maybe weed. Particularly the strong sort for you given your resistance levels, also don't get the fake shit. Hell that Satyr your brother knows may be helpful there. Finally, I hear 'Lunar Mages' or Moon Sages as we call em, have all sorts of ways to remain at ease with a peaceful mind. A peaceful mind that isn't racing, is one that can fight back the best against inner demons. Morgen would definitely be a good help there." Bardak points out to him.

Death thinks on it before asking him, "I suppose I must ask one thing. Despite everything, do you truly believe I can do this? Do you...have faith in me?"

"Brother, I won't give up, so don't give in Death. Ya got this, especially with everybody at your back. Just let us help ya out, ok?"

Death sighs, "Fine. Although, thank you for this. I...needed to hear that, as difficult as it was."

"You're welcome. Now get some sleep and I'll talk with my parents about maybe getting a better charm for ya. One that's better suited for the problem. In the morning though, you're gonna tell your siblings and Morgen about this. You're gonna ask for help. Ok?"

"Got it. I'll...do my best."

With that Bardak was finally able to leave without worry. Death just lay down for a time as he processed everything. He felt a tiny tug at the sheets and heard Fuzzball's little growls as he tried climbing up. He glances at the nearby wall briefly before looking down at the floor absent-mindly. Quietly he says to himself, "Maybe things won't be so bad when they're helping me."

Fuzzball finally makes it onto the bed and slowly walks up to Death. Curling up beside him as Death removed his mask finally. He cracked a small smile before gently petting Fuzzball's head. After a few licks to his hand, his smile widens some and he begins to try falling asleep. Morgen of course heard the yelling, as did her cousins. She's just finished calming them down before confronting Bardak, "Want to explain what all that yelling was about?"

"Death and I needed to talk, nothing more. It's settled now so, no need to worry about it."

"Uh huh sure. Well goodnight then." Morgen replies before walking off. Her robe barely hiding the figure underneath. Finally she reached Death's door, intent on checking on him. She finds it's unlocked and sees him glance up at her, "Forgive my intrusion. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I see. Guessing you heard the 'discussion' Bardak and I had?" Death responds whilst not moving from where he'd laid.

"Yes, as did the girls. They're asleep now. But hopefully they'll stay that way."

Death sighed, "Shit. Sorry about that. Most of the yelling, and the loudest of it came from me."

Morgen however sat down on the opposite side of the bed from him, "I'm sure you had your reasons. If you're up for telling me of them. Bardak wasn't very forthcoming."

"That's because it's my responsibility to let you know what's going on with me. Although I still need some time to process things, to figure out how I want to go about this. Could we speak in the morning, please?"

"Alright then, would you prefer to be alone or...?"

"Actually, since you're here already and I should probably find some way to start breaking my habit of hiding away....you can stay. If you want to that is. I won't force you to." Death tells her a bit nervously.

"Alright, together then. Give me a moment." Morgen replies before removing her robe and laying down after hanging it up on a partition. She's glad to see Death roll over to be face to face with her. From there she places herself on his chest, letting him hold her gently. One arm wraps around her whilst the hand on the other arm drapes over hers loosely. Only then does she see how much bigger his are compared to her dainty hands.

Crom soon FINALLY gets away from the spirit, having beaten it, "I....REALLY HATE THAT ORC!"

"Ah you're still around." Death says sarcastically.

"VERY FUNNY. That THING is still somewhere here."

"Oh yeah? Have fun with that." Death says coldly before instinctively holding Morgen a bit closer in his sleep.

"Heheh...well it isn't here right now. Is it?"

"Maybe not in this room directly, but I'm in no mood and could frankly care less about what you want right now. So, would you kindly shut up for once?" Death responds, baring Bardak's words in mind.

"You wanna follow his advice? Fine. I'll let you...GET AWAY WITH IT. Eheheheheh...but only this once. Otherwise I'll have to get very ANGRY. Neither of us want that now DO WE?"

"Shut UP. SHUT UP." Death growls at him.

"See? It's a lot easier for me to win than you think? YOU MAKE IT SO EASY."

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Death shouts before waking up to a worried Morgen.

"Death? What's wrong?"

Crom then speaks up again, "Look at her, reaching out to you. I wonder how long she'll last. Before you...do your typical move."

Death growls a bit in a mix of anger and annoyance. Leading Morgen to caress his face a bit, "Death, what is it? Are you alright?"

Death then tells her, "If you have anyway to shut him up. Please do so. He's being too vocal, I can't shut him up."

"Steady now, I'll see what I can do. Just stay calm ok?"

As Morgen begins to use her magic, Crom tells him, "You're growing either bolder, or more careless. You do know she's at such a high risk at this very moment, right?"

"I trust her."

Crom actually snorts a bit at that one, "Really now?", then he begins laughing, "HA! Hahahahahaha....ah AH! Ahh HA! Ha ha ha! Just a day ago you'd have kept it in! Now you're actually asking for help from someone as vulnerable as you?! Now THAT is definitely hilarious!"

"Laugh it up as much as you want."

"Oh I damn well am." Crom says slowly sobering up, all of sudden he stops laughing completely and freezes, "Not that DAMN THING again!"

Death then laughs himself, sensing the spirit has returned to the room. Morgen then finishes the spell she was working on before taking in a deep breath. Surprising Death as she begins to kiss him. He feels cooling air go down his throat as she keeps it up. After a moment she finishes it and Death asks her, "What...was that?"

"A sealing spell. One I perfected myself. I've been saving it for some time."

"And it required a kiss because....?"

"I just felt like it at the time, it sounded romantic too. Lastly, and most importantly, I had hoped to find someone who may require it. One who WASN'T trying to force me to use it on him." Morgen replies a bit nervously.

"No need to be embarrassed, I've made a few strange spells in my youth too. Most of em utterly useless aside from one specific use." Death expresses to her.

"Really?"

"Tell you what, I'll show you one of them right now. If you'd like." Morgen then nods a bit excited as Death cast a silent spell. Many lunar magic threads suddenly form together into a circle before Death then told her, "Think of something. Anything at all."

"Hmm, how about....a crescent moon?"

The threads form into just that instantly to her delight and amazement as Death tells her, "Go ahead, keep going. See how fast I can keep up with you." Morgen then began to list off various simple things. A rose, a bird, spider, and even a wolf. She then started listing off more challenging query. Saturn, a whale, a squid, and finally a jellyfish. Which is where she caught him up as the threads were having a hard time forming it.

"Seems you win this round. Shall I show you one last thing as your boone?"

"Just for me? Well then lets see, how about...an aurora?" Morgen questions him.

"That's an ambitious one, but I shall give it a go for you." Death replies slyly before working his magic as best he could. Eventually after a few minutes of meticulous and hard work he got the shape to form. And finally had it move. He couldn't mimic the change in colors, but was glad at seeing Morgen's delight.

"This is amazing. Well done love. I'll bet you could make some interesting illusions with practice! We may find more uses for this yet!"

Death couldn't help but enjoy her sudden enthusiasm, "Well if you really believe so, we can see about that tomorrow. You teach me a few spells and I'll see about making sure you can wield a blade."

"Sounds swell, I'll look forward to it. Pleasant dreams love."

"Goodnight Morgen." Death replies before kissing and laying back down with her.

The night was filled with serenity luckily. Morgen's sealing spell actually worked quite well in ensuring Crom couldn't do much once the spirit was done chasing him again. Death ultimately found himself dreaming of a beautiful lush field. He was currently harvesting a crop before hearing a young voice call out, "Daddy!" Turning around he caught sight of a little white haired boy just as his leg was tackled. Death couldn't help but scoop him up, feeling immense pride and joy. He answered each question the boy asked with sincerity, but care given his age. Then came a really tough question, "Hey Daddy, how come people fight all the time?"

"Hmm...well for many reasons. Some are decent, some not so much." Death responded.

"What's that mean?"

"That while some people have good reasons to fight, others have bad ones. Then there's those who have a mix of both good and bad reasons." Death replies.

"Oh. Why do you fight though Daddy?"

Death pauses a moment before saying, "Well...it depends on what my job is that day. Sometimes I have to protect the balance, other times it's my family, and occasionally I'll protect others if need be."

"Those all sound like good reasons though."

"Daddy doesn't always fight for good reasons. Sometimes I'm just doing my job and people get hurt along the way. I was...much worse when I was younger, but that's not a story for you. Not at your age."

The boy made a pouty face, "Why is that important?"

"You're too young to understand certain things. But one of these days I may tell you more, when you're older."

The boy then hugs him, "Then I wanna be older soon."

Death chuckled, "Not too soon though right? Your Mother would surely want you to stay little for some time."

Speaking of her, a woman's voice then rang out. Death recognizes it as Morgen's. "Dinner's ready boys. Best come get it!"

"Coming!" Death shouts back walking down a hill towards a humble hovel. That's when he wakes up, with Morgen still asleep beside him. The night was still on, but late at this point. Death eventually went back to sleep, until his stomach growled. Sighing he carefully got up to get something in his stomach. He ran into Lunara briefly, who greeted him as she walked by. Finally teleporting the bottle she was to give her Granddaughter with a special message. Baccara woke up upon hearing the bottle land, luckily it didn't shatter. Tenderly she moved off the bed in Aleyn's room to go look at it. Aleyn however had heard the sound too and came up behind her. His arms wrapping around her waist loosely, as he was still half asleep.

"Guessing this Lunara is part of my family. Wonder what this message says, and what this potion is for."

"Well...go ahead and see. But I'd like to ask about the potion first before you drink it. So let's save that for tomorrow, alright?" Aleyn implores of her.

"Ok then." Baccara tells him before reading the message, "Welcome to our wonderful yet messed up family dear. I am Lunara, your Grandmother. This potion was given to me by someone important. I was told it will help you. Your Father will likely be able to tell you more."

"Even so, I'd like to be more alert than this before we try anything. Let's get back to bed for now." Aleyn says simply.

"Very well, let's get back to sleep."

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death #Strife #Fury #War

[granddaughterogg]

Making Noise:War and the reader Go All The Way

This is mostly adult material, so if you happen to be a kid, please read it so that your parents won’t catch you. :D It’s also insanely long for a smut piece, so you can also read it on AO3 if you prefer. Enjoy!

Oh, how he sang.

You’ve never heard a man make so much noise while fucking. His sharp, ragged moans, his guttural groans and hisses sent thrill after thrill through your spine. War set your soul aflame. You never wanted him to shut up.

You started to gyrate your hips harder, to sway back and forth at a quicker pace, your whole upper body arched upwards, fingers dug into your lover’s back in relentless pursuit of pleasure.

Your pleasure – and his.

„I want to explore you."

His words lingered at the back of your mind for days after that. All the ravishing possibilities, packed into one simple statement.

It was the kind of candour you’d never got from Death. The Pale Rider’s way was one of clever self-restraint, either calculated or caused by his internal turmoil.

War was as straightforward as they come. And to be frank - you enjoyed the change.

You enjoyed War himself. Immensely. You yearned for more of him.

What happened between you two was like the first sip of exquisite liquor; just a teaser of way more delicious things to come.

Unfortunately, you had to be content with that for now, because the Four soon left for a mission. They had some important Horseman shit to attend to.

You wished them all luck in their endeavours. Hugged the twins.

(Strife quipped: "Take care and remember to exfoliate daily!” and held you a little too tight, as if he was a kid in distress and you - his beloved plushie).

You got yourself burrowed in Death’s firm embrace for a while. Pressed your forehead to his, covered with this ominous mask that he still wore to work.

Finally you approached War, shifting uneasily from one big leg to another. All decked in his pointy, clunky battle wear. A frightening sight. A cherished one.

You stood on your toes, stretched yourself as far as you could and reached out to his face, hidden under the red hood.

War’s eyes lit up with understanding; he scooped you up. Suddenly you were away from the ground and tantalizingly close to the big Horseman.

He smelled like old leather, like earth and rain and smoke. No wonder – his steed walked shrouded in flames.

„Come back as soon as possible, will you?”, you murmured into his lips. „I’m starting to miss you already.”

War shot you an intense stare and covered your mouth with his. The kiss was rushed and rather sloppy, but boy, was it fervent.

„Ewww, oh, come on, guys!” That must’ve been Strife. The charmer.

You’ve heard a light „smack!” when Fury brought some sense into her brother, although you didn’t give a shit.

Finally you parted, more than a little breathless. You shot a reluctant stare towards Death, about whose opinion you did care.

He nodded slightly. The mask hid almost everything, but his eyes were kind.

The eldest Rider knew what was going on between you and his baby bro. Of course he did. You didn’t try to hide it.

You felt as if a giant boulder has been lifted from your shoulders; a burden you didn’t even realize was there.

You and your most beloved Nephilim talked in abundance about this. About the kind of relationship that you want to have.

About inclusiveness. About monogamy - which Death saw no use for, perceiving it as another wacky local custom.

„You humans like to make simple things complicated” he’d say with a shrug.

But it was one thing to hear him say it and another – to see firsthand that he really doesn’t care.

You stood on the doorstep and waved them goodbye as they rode towards their adventure.

Your heart was full, bursting with relief and joyful expectation.

*

And then one day he came back.

Late summer twilight glimmered at the window, washing the cityscape with rich pinks and violets.

You had a first-rate view of the sunset from where you stood: over the white kitchen counter, making latkes.

Shallow fried stuff has always been your go-to comfort food. And you needed comforting.

The big house seemed so poignantly empty without them. You wondered if this is how the adventure ends for you.

If from now on you’re relegated to the role of team mascot. Loved and appreciated, sure. But ultimately too small and too helpless to be subjected to the heat of real battle.

If you’re always gonna be the one who waits.

The dough sizzled on the frying pan, filling the kitchen with its oily scent. It filled you with a sense of peace, too.

And then you clearly heard a horse neighing.

Your head shot up.

„Is that you, D?”

But it couldn’t have been Death, right? His crow always preceded him.

Should the Pale Rider return home, you’d already have Dust perching at the tap, giving you a sassy glance while trying to scrounge your food.

The door creaked. You’ve heard the thud of heavy steps approaching. At this point you were sure it wasn’t Death.

He’d never made so much noise, not even laden with all that lethal ironmongery of his. When Death was unarmed, he moved like a shadow.

You took the pan away from the fire and barely managed to turn around before two enormous arms closed around you.

There came the scent of earth, well-worn leather and smoke. Mixed with sharp coppery tinge, which you also knew so well.

Blood.

Fluttering strands of silver hair filled your field of vision. Hot lips brushed along your temple, your cheekbone and lower -

A stifled cry escaped your mouth.

„War!” you gasped. „You’re here!”

„I’m here.” The Red Rider held you up but with a palm of his hand, your whole body suspended mid-air.

You should probably get used to his strength by now, but it never ceased to amaze you.

There was something so primarily...enticing about a man who could just scoop you up as if you were a kitten.

His cowl was off, so you could admire the lustrous white mane, the glimmering stare, which held yours.

„I thought about you all the way back”, he said with a timid half-smile; it made your heart aflutter. „I made Ruin fly like the wind.”

„He’s gonna pout at you for working him so hard,” you murmured while leaning into the big Horseman.

Pressing as close to him as possible, even though there were layers of solid metal, leather and fabric between you two.

He must have felt the same. His grasp remained as ironclad, if not more so. The claws of his gauntlet sunk into the curve of your ass. You really didn’t mind.

„Ruin enjoys a challenge as much as I do.” Again, that adorable smirk. Was the most blunt of the Four trying to be cheeky now? You couldn’t tell.

„So you left your siblings in the dust?”

„They’ll be here in two days. Death dispatched me earlier. Said you and I have some catching up to do...”

You let out a surprised titter.

„D actually said that?”

„He did. And Strife said many other things...”

„I can imagine.” You put a finger across his parted lips. „And I don’t want any of it. But isn’t Death amazing?”

„He is.” War’s eyes were full of light, full of joy, all of it aimed at you. It felt like basking in a sunbeam.

„I missed you, Big Guy”, you confessed and moved in for a kiss. He acquiesced; for a while you tasted each other in solemn silence. Until you playfully bit his lower lip.

It was like striking a match.

Your tongues entwined, deep and hard. You submerged both hands in his plumptious hair, fingers caressing the nape of his neck, making him hum lowly in contentment. Something stirred inside you. Something blind and vehement, which craved more.

„I want you.” God, the voice of this man. He was born to say things like this. To moan things like this.

„I want you”, he repeated. That pleading note which quivered in his voice made you soft and pliant on the inside.

„It’s okay”, you breathed. „I want you too.”

You nibbled at his ear, traced the soft skin behind it with your tongue. War gave out a hoarse grunt. The iron hand which have supported you continued to clench around your bum, while the good one abruptly went under your T-shirt.

„Oh. Okay”, you gasped, half thrilled, half taken aback by this fervor. „I enjoy where this is going, but wouldn’t we be more comfortable lying down?..”

You underestimated your literal Horseman. For seconds later you were on your back on the kitchen floor.

War knelt astride your legs, his large frame looming over you, eyes ablaze with arousal, hands already pulling the offending garment over your head.

The T-shirt fell in this unequal battle. For a while you wondered if you’ll ever gonna find it when you’re done. War had one hell of a vicious toss.

You couldn’t help but smile now, seeing his wide eyebrows knit at this unforeseen puzzle.

The Red Rider might’ve traversed otherworldly plains, slain creatures you’ve never heard of - but he never had to deal with a bra.

He traced the curves your breasts, palmed them longingly, making your nips harden and dig into the soft fabric. You let out a small sigh.

„How do I get you out of this thing?” he asked, frustrated.

„Let me. This was made for smaller fingers.”

Stripping before War was...intense. His gaze scalded you.

The moment you let the lingerie fall away - he was all over your chest with his mouth, which greedily covered inch after inch, then closed in on your nip and wouldn’t let go.

„Oh my go-od...” you murmured with a stifled voice, arching into him while he sucked you.

„You like this?”

„Yeah!..”

„Good”, he stated and latched onto the other.

You dug both feet hard into the floor, trying to contain the electricity that linked the tip of your breasts with your sensitive inside.

Quite a few men had seen what you’ve just shown him, but War was by far the most passionate about it.

He sucked and kissed your breasts while giving out low grunts of satisfaction. It reverberated deep within you. You moaned quietly until your nipples went sore.

„Okay, that’s enough...” you huffed, gently pushing him away. „They get raw rather quickly. No more for now, please.”

„Did I hurt you?” War’s wide face turned into a picture of worry.

You lovingly stroke his jaw.

„No, baby. They’re just...easily overstimulated, you know? Let me take care of you for a change.”

War kissed the skin on your cleavage once more before backing off.

„Yes. Touch me.” There was so much yearning in his voice.

God, you loved this guy.

„Oh, I’ll touch you everywhere.” Your small human fingers wandered cravingly up his wide chest, still covered with all that armour.

And also smeared with crusted blood.

It sure as hell wasn’t his own.

„I will...but first we gotta get you out of your gear. It smells like something died.”

War snorted.

„Quite a lot of things died”, he said with a boastful edge to his voice.

„You’ll tell me after.” You flashed him a leery smile. War’s eyes brightened up even more than usual at the delightful implications of the word. After.

„My room?” he asked, already scooping you up.

„Your room.”

„The bed?” He rose to his full height with you held in a bridal carry and proceeded upstairs as if it was nothing.

You felt like you’re never gonna get over this man’s amazing strength.

„The bath.”

„Huh?” The Horseman’s cheeky grin disappeared at once, giving way to a baffled expression.

„War, baby, I’m not going down on a man coated in two weeks worth of sweat and grime. No matter how attractive he might be.”

He stopped abruptly, still holding you tight. Different feelings flickered through his face. Impatience, an essentially War trait that you already knew you’ll have to tame somehow. Bafflement, because he didn’t think of that. Smugness, cause he’s been called attractive; and boyish excitement, because you’ve just as good as made him a promise.

You watched your big guy emoting all this from up close and couldn’t help but remember how he was before.

How those broad features used to bear one of two expressions: a standoffish, dour one that scared people away or sheer rage.

War still wore his Manly Stoic Warrior Face most of the time, in front of enemies and allies alike. But with you, he thawed.

You managed to free this soul from its self-imposed shell, if only a little. That thought alone made you happy.

„But you’ll go down on a man who bathed?” he asked, looking you in the eyes with sudden child-like gravity.

You giggled and traced his cheek.

„Definitely.”

War started pacing again. „Then let’s get this over with.”

He brought you into his room; it was the one next to the stairs, as the Red Rider insisted on sleeping the closest to the house’s entrance in case of enemy invasion. He plopped you onto the mattress, pressed a quick, eager kiss on your lips (you gave it back with gusto) and disappeared into the bathroom.

There were a few candles on the windowsill – the Horsemen seemed really fond of them in spite of electricity at hand. You lighted those on.

Then you lied on your back, watched the dark wooden ceiling and smiled, listening to the clang of various parts of armour being tossed to the ground.

Then the shower babbled.

You smiled wider and got out of your jeans.

*

„What are you doing?” asked War leaning over you. His hair has been gathered up in the messiest of buns, skin glistened from moisture.

There was no towel or anything. Apart from his iron arm, he was naked.

„Touching myself”, you admitted with a lazy smile and reached with your free hand to nick the hard curve of his thigh. „I’m keeping myself warm.”

„Oh.” He got on the bed and nuzzled your neck, both of his mismatched hands already wandering. You got goosebumps from the feel of metal against your skin.

„Can I touch you in there?”

„Of course”, you breathed. „But I’d rather you used your lips.”

War’s urgent kisses kept going down and down until he brushed over your stomach. Then he stopped and shot you a tentative look.

„You want me to kiss you there?”

„Yeah.”

„I never did this before...”, he admitted with a hint of worry.

You ruffled his silver hair, still smiling.

„I guess it’s a day of firsts.”

„I guess”, repeated War rather breathlessly; he positioned himself lower, made a serious face and brushed your soft folds with his mouth.

„Like this?..”

You inhaled.

„You know there is a reason those are too called lips, babe. Kiss them like you would kiss me upstairs. Like you mean it.”

Well, you didn’t have to tell him twice.

War was as clueless as your regular teenager, but he made up for it with eagerness.

Soon you were letting out small groans, and your hips started their own little dance under the supple pressure of his tongue.

He abandoned all restraint and went at your sex as if it was ice cream.

You moaned in a low voice.

„You taste like green apples. But you smell sweet...” he panted.

„Do you like it, War?” You couldn’t help but smile.

„It’s all so new, but...it’s amazing.” He cautiously poked your clit with his finger. You took a swig of air.

„You’re so wet all of a sudden. And your little bud is much bigger now”, he observed with wonder.

You fought back a kindhearted laugh. War truly was such an innocent soul.

„This is where the fun happens. Lick it good and you’ll see.”

War pressed his tongue to the aforementioned place, rubbing up and down until you wiggled so much under his mouth that he had to pin your hips to the bed.

Your newfound fervor must’ve pleased him, cause he hummed under his breath while doing the deed.

The only thing was – the pleasure was going in circles, not mounting. Your big guy still had a lot to learn.

And learn he would. But not necessarily today.

„Ohhh...okay, stop now”, you whispered.

His head darted upwards. Those blue peepers held two question marks.

„It is nice...but I’m not going to come like that”, you explained breathlessly. „Besides, I don’t want to. Not just yet.”

„Why not?”

„Because I promised you something. And promises should be kept.” You watched War’s face lighten up when he remembered.

You sat up and slowly caught your breath. He sidled up close and eyed you with eager tenderness.

„How will you do it?..” he asked softly, embracing you.

He traced the lines of your torso with his good hand, closed your breast in his grasp and fondled it with an expression of a child given an enormous chocolate bar.

„You do like them tits, don’t you?” you chuckled.

„I love them. You’re so soft and beautiful.” His eyes were two small skies, awashed with wonder.

That cynical heart of yours downright melted.

„Just lie down, baby. I’ll take care of the rest.”

War fell on his back with a low sigh. Now you had an excellent view of the whole Horseman, and it was a view to behold.

Of course you knew that he was ripped to the gods. All that battle wear of his only highlighted that fact.

He spent his off-duty hours in simple jeans and a plain black T-shirt, and yet you couldn’t unglue your eyes from him whenever he was passing near.

His sheer physical beauty hit you like a brick.

It did so even more now, when there were no clothes in the way.

You sat back for a while and took it all in.

His broad, manly features. Those eyes the colour of lightning, now half-lidded from anticipation.

The hair, which broke from the flimsy bun and surrounded his face like a silver halo.

The cruel slash, marking those full lips (you’ve never asked where did it came from.)

His strong, wide frame, emanating with immense power even while the Red Rider lied leisurely like that. You’ve never seen a human being with muscles so defined.

Yet this paragon of robustness and life was speckled with scars, large and small, shining pale under the flickering candlelight.

They covered both his arms and the remaining forearm, his chest and his flat, sturdy stomach.

One particularly large gash crossed his inner thigh; you traced it with your fingers.

„That’s where the femoral artery goes”, you said with a stifled voice. „You must’ve bled almost to death...”

„Yes, probably”, said War lightly.

„Probably?...”

He lifted his head and smiled at you.

„It’s not that easy to kill a Horseman. Besides, there were so many battles. To be honest, I don’t remember.”

You took a long, only slightly shaky breath.

„I can’t help but think how much pain each one of those marks must have cost you.”

„Such is warrior’s life”, said War so matter-of-factly, those bombastic words actually rang true.

You palmed his thighs a little longer. Mostly because they were so shapely.

„You’re like an angel of carnage...” you muttered dreamily while sliding your hands upwards until they rested in his pronounced v-cut.

You were slowly approaching the fun area. War knew that. And you knew that he knows.

But he kept his cool somehow – even if his breathing did become a little rushed.

„I’m only half angel”, he pointed out, smile lacing his words.

„Yeah, and you’ve got an absolutely hellish temper to prove it. But you look like the whole package. You’re beautiful.”

„..?” War quietly uttered your name.

„So beautiful, you’re making my head swirl. And I want your beautiful dick”, you stated and went in for the kill. So to speak.

„!” Your name again, louder this time.

You let go and send him a wide grin.

„Do you feel like making noise, War? Let’s hear some noise.”

You wrapped your lips around the crown of his manhood, helping yourself with one hand. War was just...big all over, but you managed somehow. You sucked a few times, then flicked over the frenulum with your tongue. War tossed his head back and gave out a moan.

You sucked harder, still only on his sensitive tip.

And were rewarded with a prolonged, breathy „Ooooh.”

That’s the spirit, you thought to yourself and really went to town.

You were never much of a deep-throat type of girl; a strong gag reflex prevented that. But what you could do with your greedy mouth and flexible tongue – no one else could do. You always got enthusiastic feedback.

And boy, wasn’t War enthusiastic.

You worked your magic on him while your fingers caressed the smooth length of his shaft. It was like fine suede to the touch, only warmer.

Up and down your mouth went, kissing him as you would kiss him upstairs, while War grabbed onto the mattress and continued to make this blessed noise.

There were moans. There were low, rumbling „ooohs...” when you slid down – and sharp, growly „ahhs!” when you went up, your mouth closing in on the tip of his cock.

There was a lot of tight breathing inbetween. This man was thoroughly unable to hold himself back when receiving pleasure. And you adored it when he sang.

His dick swelled up nicely, stretching to the utmost corners of your ability.

It was enticing to have this monster in your mouth...but you had no idea how long you’ll be able to hold on without getting serious jaw cramps.

And then War got silent all of a sudden.

„Wait...” he said, that lovely voice of his now raspy and faint.

„What is is, baby?” you asked after letting go of his very erect manhood.

„If you don’t stop soon, I’m going to burst...” he sounded almost pained. Helpless. It aroused you like nobody’s business.

„Maybe I want to see you burst”, you hummed.

„Oh...” After a beat War continued: „In that case...can I come inside you?”

The sheer vulnerability of that question made your insides twitch.

„Of course you can. Indulge yourself!” you said and cheerfully got back to what you were doing.

War squeezed his eyelids shut and hissed through clenched teeth: „That’s.. ooohh...not...what I mean.”

You set him free again, intrigued. „Yes?”

His eyes flicked back open, large, full of yearning.

„I meant to come as in to get inside you, not finish. You know...”

„Oh!” You arched your upper body upwards, pressing both palms into the mattress and smiled at your Horseman. „You want to go the whole way?”

„Yes”, he breathed. „I want the whole you.”

You crawled up to his face and kissed him with lips still wet from his precum. War didn’t seem to mind.

His hands curled around your frame while you two were still kissing; suddenly you found yourself at eye level with the Horseman who sat ramrod straight on the duvet, legs wide open, while you were straddling his hips.

He was still painfully hard under you.

You splayed your palms across each pectoral and buried your face in the hollow of War’s throat. „Let’s go the whole way”, you murmured.

„Oh, yes. How?..” he breathed into your skin.

You loved this beautiful, clueless lug of a man so much.

„Just like we are now will be fine. Just touch me a little, War. Work me open.”

You’ve never seen such intense focus on his face as when he slowly slid two fingers of his good hand between your folds – and started to move them up and down, peering into your face for confirmation.

He got it.

War had nice, large fingers. They did the job.

You arched slightly when your tender insides loosened up under his touch. A shuddering sigh left your lips.

„Good?” he inquired.

„Good...” you smiled breathlessly at your Horseman. „Now stick them in.”

„Just like that? Are you going to be alright?”

„You’ll be pushing much bigger object inside me really soon, so I’d say that yes, I’m going to be alright.”

You leaned in and kissed him – slowly, with conviction. War’s white eyelashes fluttered while he tasted you.

He put the fingers in and it was like a signal; your whole body lit up.

„Oookaaay...” It was a half-moan, half whisper on your part. „War. Baby. Can you find that roundish spot up top? Feels kinda like a soft button?”

War scrunched his wide eyebrows, making those shiny markings on his forehead ripple. He felt around with the pad of his finger until – aah, bliss – he found it.

„What’s that?..”

„That, my love, is the sweet spot”, you huffed into his ear. „Please try to get to it with your cock.”

War’s eyes went huge.

„You mean that -”

„I mean exactly that”, you smirked, sliding yourself off his fingers. You were pleasantly wet and tender and also in a dire need of an actual dick.

„That was enough. Now let’s fuck.”

The Red Rider’s mouth formed a perfect O while you grabbed at his manhood and lowered yourself on it.

He truly was enormous. You felt pleasantly stretched, filled to the brim.

So you pressed both palms against his shoulders and rode him.

War’s grip curled around your ass with bruising force while he cried out.

It was a piercing cry, so primal it reminded you of a wounded animal.

You ceased to move.

„Something’s wrong, baby?”

War’s mouth desperately covered yours. It was the sloppiest kiss ever, but it was fervent.

„No, it just...feels so strong, that I...oh, don’t you stop, okay?”

His eyes were one big pleading.

You kissed him back. Slowly.

„I won’t from now on”, you said with an impish smile.

And rolled your hips against his.

War moaned.

You went in, you went out, making sure to drag along his whole length every time, and your silver-haired beauty of a man completely lost himself in the sensation.

Oh, how he sang.

You’ve never heard a man make so much noise while fucking.

His sharp, ragged moans, his guttural groans and hisses sent thrill after thrill through your spine.

War set your soul aflame. You never wanted him to shut up.

You started to gyrate your hips harder, to sway back and forth at a quicker pace, your whole upper body arched upwards, fingers dug into your lover’s back in relentless pursuit of pleasure.

Your pleasure – and his.

War held you like his life depended on it and moaned nonstop. Sometimes those were words, mostly just ooohs.

You cherished every cry.

„So good...” it was almost a sob. „You’re so good, I can’t hold it...I’m gonna...ooh! Ooooh!”

And then he cried your name.

„Go for it, baby”, you breathed into his lips. „Have your fun.”

A string of incoherent wails rushed out of War while his whole body clenched - and shuddered powerfully with his release.

You could feel him spill inside you, lather your insides with hot, thick seed that will gush right out of you when you two will part.

Your body still had some way to go. You craved your completion.

„I’m so close...”, you gasped, pressing desperately to his torso, as if he could slide through your grasp. „Just hold out for a moment there. Don’t let go.”

Most men tend to get frustratingly limp and shrivel inside you right after they cum. As it turned out - War was not most men.

He was one beautiful, unyielding sex machine and you loved him, you loved him to bits.

You rode his wet (but still hard) cock until ecstasy ripped you from yourself.

And then he held you, you both plopped gracelessly onto the mattress and stayed like this for a long time.

*

A really long time.

You had no idea for how long exactly you two remained like this; legs entangled, innards clenched around each other and dripping with War’s release.

Both of you were glistening with sweat. None of you felt like breaking the embrace yet.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, half blind from the headrush.

War gently, tentatively stroked your back.

„Are you okay?” he whispered. His beautiful voice was all hoarse from the moaning.

You gave out a weak chuckle. „I think so...”

He held your chin in his palm, looked you in the eyes, worried.

„Was it too intense?”

„I love you.” The words just spilt out of you. Like his cum.

„Huh?”

„I love you.” You leaned in so close your noses touched.

„You’re an animal, a beast. Powered by desire so ferocious that if you weren’t so strong, it would probably tear you apart.”

„…?” That was your name. He spoke it very softly.

„You wanted this so much, didn’t you? And yet you keep making sure that it’s not too much - for me. Not too strong.

You keep worrying that magnificent body of yours, which I also love, by the way, is gonna hurt me. I love you, War, Rider of the Red Horse.”

Your voice broke.

War stroke away the tear that flew down your cheek.

„Please don’t cry”, he implored, those eyes now two small pools of blue sadness. „Please.”

„Babe, I’m not crying because I feel bad.”

„Then why?”

„I cry because the orgasm was so strong.”

You watched War’s face change while he proceeded that revelation. It was quite a feat.

„Really?” He planted a quick your nose and then on your lips, suddenly playful again.

„Really!” You held his face close and kissed him back; on the cheekbone, lower, at the corner of his twitching mouth.

„So...all is good?”

„Yeah, War.” You snorted lightly. Such a cinnamon bun.

The Horseman’s lips curled up with the sassiest grin that has ever graced that face.

It was one of those expressions that Strife wielded on a daily basis. You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it.

„So,” you asked, your mouth still close to his, „How do you rate your first full-on sexual intercourse?”

„It was excellent.” His peepers sparkled. „Let’s do it again.”

„Yes, let’s.”

You underestimated your literal Horseman.

Two strong arms (one made of superpowered flesh, the other cast in iron) lifted you up and flipped you over.

Suddenly you found yourself on all fours, the big guy likewise just behind you, holding your ass in a firm grip and more or less mounting you.

„War!...” you cried out, half surprised at this turn of events, half enticed by such gall.

„What?” he leaned over you; it was easy for him, considering the difference in your height.

He brushed the damp hair away from your neck, planted a kiss there - and then bit it. You gave out a shaky sigh.

„You said yes.”

„Oh, War...” It was really hard not to give in immediately.

„What, you don’t want me to do that?” That playful edge to his voice got you left, right and center.

What the hell happened to the cinnamon bun? When did War learn to be so smug?

„I do,” you breathed. Because that was the truth.

„Than let’s.” The former cinnamon bun bit you again, a little harder – you yelped from this unexpected pleasure.

All this while his good hand sneaked up your backside, slid between your legs and started to work you up.

„But – now?...”you gasped.

„Now. Again.”

You acquiesced. There was no point in trying to subdue this wild beast; not when everything in you yearned for this.

You gasped again, harder - when he impaled you on his shaft and started pounding.

That must have been the most instinctive thing for the Red Rider to do. To take the reins and lead, even though an hour ago he didn’t even know the way.

He did know it now.

This time you didn’t cry.

It was too sweet to cry.

#darksiders #darksiders war #war x reader #war/reader #polyamory as a background setting #sharing is caring! #keeping up with the nephilim

[talpup]

Light In the Darkness:

So I got what I consider good news from my Doctor today.  He wants to make a case study of me.  Yes, I might being a boring introvert that might one day be a bionic woman with all my joints replaced; but at least doctors find me interesting.  LOL.  The study might not mean much for me directly; but it might help other doctors better understand and treat patients with both hEDS and RA, and other illnesses caused by what I call the two big bads. Considering I’ve seen doctors who literally had to look up what hEDS is, this is something I see as a BIG win.  So here I am wanting to celebrate with you all but updating my three main fics.  Apologies to Erase the Shadow readers, I don’t have a lot for you; I promise I’m not drawing out the AizawaxReaderxMic smut scene to tease.  Anyway, here you all go.  I hope these updates can share a portion of my happiness with you.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887595/chapters/55633552

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Taglist: @captncappuccino

23.1

Teris awoke the morning before her birthday to the maids pulling open the drapes and letting in the cursed sunlight.  Squinting, she looked around for Mistress Kleen then remember that the woman had left yesterday afternoon ill.

Just to be certain that the hateful woman hadn’t recovered and returned, Teris questioned trying to keep her hope in check.  “Where’s Mistress?”

“Ill.” A maid said.

“Convalescing in her own home, bed bound.  Another told.

“Yes!” Teris cheered jumping out of bed with an energy she hadn’t felt a second ago.  At the maids startled expressions she sobered, dropping her raised arms.  “I mean, I’m sorry and wish her a full recovery after my departure.”

The maid that had seen to her hair the previous morning fought a smile.

Teris clapped her hands once.  “Thank you ladies, but you are no longer needed.  Accept you.”  She pointed at the tress maid.  “I’d like you to stay if you’re willing.”

With a quick look back at her fellows she turned to Teris pointing to herself.  “Me, my Lady?”

“That’s right.  Unless you don’t wish to stay and help me appear presentable.”

“I’d be honored, my Lady.”

“Teris.” Teris said.

“My Lady Teris.”

“We’ll work on it.  What’s your name?”  Teris asked.

“Celine, my Lady Teris.”

“Everyone out.  Celine and I have work to do.”  She looked at the maid and told in all seriousness.  “I need you to be bold and forceful with me, Celine.  I must show that I am giving my maximum effort these next two days.  It won’t be even half as good as Mistress Kleen could accomplish in me.  But hopefully it will be enough to prove to my brother that I can be relied upon to make the attempt so he won’t ever call upon that horrid woman again.”  She made her way to the vanity and sat.  “Here’s hoping I’m never forced to wear a corset again.”

23.2

Joining the Silva’s and her brothers at the breakfast table in the morning room the four men rose from their seats.

“You’re late.”  Fyntch told.

“I’m glad to see you encouraged our guest to begin without me brother.” Teris smiled lightly as she sat in the chair Julius pulled out for her.  She turned to the Silva’s.  “Lord Nathyn, I hope you and your family can forgive my tardiness.  In all honestly, I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Nozel smiled at her cheery mood and hoped that their time in the wee hours of the morning had played a part in her joy.  While they hadn’t found anything of use, they had looked through quite a bit.  Three of the five remaining shelves.  They probably could have done a fourth shelf if they hadn’t taken the time to get a late night snack and tallied so in the kitchens talking.  It had pleased him greatly to find that not only did they worked well together but when alone, and without a sense of familial pressure, Teris and he got along well and were comfortable just being who they were with each other.

“Your delay is acceptable.”  Nathyn said inclining his head wondering at the change in the girl, but pleased nonetheless.  “You are most becoming in our family’s colors.  Wouldn’t you agree, Nozel? Lady Teris looks lovely this morning.”

“I have yet to find a color the Lady Teris is incapable of making look good, father.”  Nozel told mindful of Teris’ feelings, turned his eyes to his father instead of her; an act, followed by such words would have undoubtedly upset her and ruined what they had achieved last night.

“You gentlemen and your fine words.  You’ll make me blush.”  Teris teased.

Julius’ quirked curiously as he looked at his sister out of the corner of his eye.  While the conversation between Fyntch and Nathyn picked back up, Julius whispered to her.  “You’re in a fine mood.  I take it you found something.”

“Not a even a hint to a clue.”  Teris whispered back keeping her smile in place.

“Then what’s with the proper lady act?”  Julius wondered almost inquiring in jest if the zealots made another attempt at abducting her last night and replaced her with a transformation mage.

“You wound me brother.”  Teris softly said over the rim of her glass of pear cider.  “I am capable of such an act that rivals the finest ladies society has to offer.  I just hate having to preform and so rarely choose to.”

“Very well.”  Julius allowed.  “Then why now?”

“Because,” she said giving Nebra the sweetest smile, “I refuse to have my ribs bruised and knuckles bloodied ever again.”

Julius scowled not understanding her meaning and wanting to demand who hurt her, his eyes flicking over to their brother.  Even if Fyntch hadn’t been the one to harm their sister he would likely have known about it, if not ordered it.

Setting down the glass of cider Teris said.  “Nebra, I know my expulsion and words against the Ladies League won me no favors with you but given that we will one day be sisters I was hoping you would do me the favor of teaching me a dance or two this afternoon.  It doesn’t have to take overly long.  Just enough to get me by so I don’t appear a complete fool during my birthday ball tomorrow.”

Lord Silva stopped speaking with Fyntch and looked over to his daughter. “Nebra.”  He encouraged when she didn’t answer right away.

“But of course.”  Nebra blinked her voice sounding strained.  “I would love to.  Anything for my future sister.”  She turned to her brothers.  “Nozel.  Solid.  You can join us.”

Nozel’s eyes slid to his sister wondering what she was up to.  Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let her ruin his returned closeness with Teris.  “I would be happy to partner with you, Nebra.”

“You won’t be partnering with me silly.  You are far too proficient to require my guidance.  Where as Solid needs whatever help I can give him.  No.”  Nebra said.  “You shall be partnering with your future bride.”  She smiled violet eyes turning to Teris.  “Think of it as practice for the big day.”

Teris’ smile tightened around the edges.  “Lovely.”

23.3

After breakfast Julius, Fyntch, and Lord Silva retired to the study while the other four made their way to the ballroom.

Taking a seat Nathyn said to Julius.  “I hope your father will be well enough to join us for lunch.  He has gotten so thin.”

“He has.”  Julius nodded and looked to his younger brother for answer.

“That’s right,” Nathyn said.  “Forgive me, Julius.  I sometimes forget you left your fathers care to your younger brother along with your heir ship.

“It was a difficult decision.”  Julius said stiffly.  “And though Fyntch undoubtedly faced his share of problems because of my decision, my efforts to become the next Wizard King has certainly afforded him and the family name a significant rise in power and esteem.  I wonder Lord Silva.  Have you noted any benefits due my accomplishments and your name being tied to ours with this intent to see Nozel and Teris wed?”

Choosing not to remind the younger man that he was head of House Silva, the second family of the kingdom, Nathyn smiled coolly.  “None that your sisters actions haven’t undone.”

“If Teris is such an embarrassment why maintain the intent for your heir to be yoked to her?”  Julius asked.

Fyntch glanced quickly at Nathyn.

Nathyn sat back and crossed his legs.  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were attempting to imply something there Julius. Thankfully, for the both of us and your poor sister who’d be hard pressed to find a suitable husband if I wasn’t a man of my word, I do know better.  Since you have a history of showing little care for your family's troubles and well being when pitted against your own it may come as a surprise to you to find not everyone is like that.  I stood by your family after Lady Resa died.  Even when countless other noble and royal family's distanced themselves.  It wasn’t that I never heard the rumors about Lord Jaxon attempting to follow his wife to her death.  I simply chose not to believe them or care about the stigma even a mere rumor of such an act brought with it.  A man such as yourself would, and practically did, cut ties with your family then and there.  But as I said, I am a man of my word.  After you abandoned your family to pursue your dreams I often visited and wrote Fyntch, offering my advice and ear to his troubles.  It may sound strange given the age and general differences in life, him unwed and me a widowed father of four, but your brother and I became friends after a time.  He was there for me during my own strife after Acier died giving us Noelle.”  He soured at the thought of his youngest child.  “Still, even without the bonds that life's trails forged between our families, Jaxon and I made a pledge to unite our houses in wedding his beloved and only daughter to my heir.  In all my life, I have never failed to keep a vow I’ve made.  As aberrant and difficult as your sister may be, I’m not about to let a girl make me start--”

A tinkling, like that of a small wind chime, sounded interrupting Nathyn.  The three men looked about.

“Oh!” Julius cried feeling a warmth in the breast pocket of his jerkin. “It’s me.  Sorry.”  He pulled out a communication crystal. “Magic Knights duties.”  He told Fyntch and Nathyn standing up. “Excuse me.”  Outside the room he answered the call with a short. “Give me a moment.”  With everyone on the first floor he ran up to the second taking two stairs at a time.  Satisfied this would afford him enough privacy he entered his father’s personal receiving room and walked on back to Lord Jaxon’s study.

“Go ahead.”

“Captain,” Jon’s voice sounded from the crystal, “are you alright?  You sound out of breath.”

“Fine.” Julius assured.  “Did Jax get in touch with you?  What did he have to say?  Have Bronn, Yami, and the others returned from their mission?  What did they find?”

“According to Captain Jax’s letter, they returned the same day you left for home.”  Jon informed.

“The same day?  Why are you only now contacting me now?”

“I only today received Captain Jax’s letter,” Jon said.

Julius sighed.  He would have to speak to both his fellow Captain and his Vice Captain about communicating better with one another.  Granted this wasn’t an urgent matter, at least he hoped the news wasn’t, but still with his interest and concern for Teris and Yami’s welfare he wanted to know any and all information as soon as possible.

He paced the room ordering.  “Summarize their report for me.”  He was quickly distracted by the changes to his fathers study that only Fyntch and his style for the ostentatious would make.  So, he thought with distaste, Fyntch had already taken over their father’s seat of power, so to speak, and made it his own.  Shaking his head he focused again on Jon’s voice asking him to repeat what he last said.

When the Vice Captain was finished Julius rubbed his forehead.  “So they managed to make it appear as if the Wild Fire had been another attempt by outlaws to instigate a war between the Clover and Spade kingdoms.”

“Despite Bronn’s adamant words of disbelief in his full report, even he couldn’t skew the evidence they found that pointed to such a conclusion.”  Jon affirmed.

“And Sir Jorah is content to believe that roving bands of criminals suddenly smartened up and began working together?”

“I cannot speak to the Wizard Kings private musing but that is what he has told the other Magic Knight Captains and Head Sentries.”

“Any Captains other then Jax and possibly Pyter find such a quick and seemingly seamless transition from in fighting gangs to formidable force curious?”  Julius asked.

“Curious? Sure.  Curious enough to question the Wizard King or Commander Greywright?  Not in the slightest.”

Julius sighed pushing his ire at the situation aside.  “How’s the squad? Everything well at base?”

“We’re managing without you, Captain.”

“You sure?”

“I think we’ll survive till you return on the fourth.”  Jon said his smile evident in his voice.

“I can return if you need me to.”  Julius offered.

“And leave your sister alone at the mercy of your brother and the Silva’s?”

Julius sighed again, knowing his Vice Captain was right.

“I know it’s not much of a vacation, Sir, but enjoy your time away. You take so little of it.”

23.4

Yami faced Jax in the Captains office and waited for the older man to speak.  As he stood before the Captains desk he wondered if he should take Pilfer out for a run again tonight.  While the ride and hunt only partially succeed in clearing his mind of Teris it had exhausted him enough to the point that after returning to base, he fell into his bed and slept.

“Bronn told me what happened with Iban Halvor and you.”  Jax finally said.

Yami watched and waited.

“Well?” Jax urged after a moment.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear a question in there.”

Jax gave a throaty growl of irritation.  “Iban’s attack on you wasn’t in your report.  Why?”

Yami put his hands in his pockets.  “From my understanding, it wasn’t an attack.  Merely a misunderstanding on his part of where certain lines, that shouldn’t be crossed, were.”

“That’s a rather magnanimous view.  Especially since when Iban previously used his blood magic on your comrades Bronn or I heard about it straight away.  And Iban never demanded they break free of his hold or made them choke themselves to provide encouragement.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed.  He didn’t see Iban providing such details.  He hadn’t even told Olsen all that when he had confronted the Water Mage about his pet friend.  The bastard had been awake, Yami realized cursing Bronn for his inaction if that had, indeed, been the case. Yami shrugged.  “You were a young man once.  We play rough.”

“Iban is twenty-six, five years younger than me.  Far passed the age for such careless rough housing.”

“Are we speaking about the same man?” Yami asked.  “He might be twenty-six but his sense of right and wrong or when to stop is that of a child.”

“So you have no problem with him using his magic on you to make you choke yourself while demanding you break his hold on you?”

“I made it clear that is wasn’t something I found fun and wouldn't enjoy doing again.”  Yami told.  “And so far he has respected that.  As long as he continues to do so.  No.  I don’t have a problem with him.”

“Very well.”  Jax dismissed.

He watched Yami turn and exit the office.  When Bronn had told him that Yami had broken free for Iban’s hold he hadn’t believed it, certain his Vice Captain had seen wrong in the caves darkness.  But now that Yami had confirmed he had Jax was amazed.  Granted the will to live and thinking you would be forced to kill yourself if you didn’t succeed were great motivators, but Jax had seen Iban control Magic Knight Captains with his magic and barely break a sweat.  It wasn’t just Yami’s magical power that made the young man formidable.  It was his physical might and strength of will.  And the boy had only begun to stretch and grow.  Jax found the boys possibilities both exciting and fearsome.

23.5

The music began again, Nozel and Teris bumping into one another.

“Sorry.” Teris apologized again for stepping on his foot.

It had gotten to the point where Nozel was seriously considering cloaking his toes in mana.  It wasn’t that Teris weighed too much, but that her steps were far from light.  If they hadn’t made peace last night he would have thought she was purposely trying to flatten his toes with her heavy tread.

“You’re not trying to kill a bug.”  Nozel said, once again lifting her head up with a finger beneath her chin.  “Looking at your feet won’t help.”

“I’m not looking at my feet.”  Teris said.  “I’m trying to figure out where yours are going so I can follow.”  It was well past lunch and they had been at it since shortly after breakfast.

“That is what the hold is for.”  Nozel told pressing her lower back with one hand and tapping his fingers on the hand he held, grateful Nebra and Solid were long gone.  Nebra had been full of criticism and nothing else making Teris stiff, and if possible worse then she already was at following his lead.  After their departure, Teris had relaxed considerably making instructing her that much easier.  “My feet may move me but it’s my arms that will tell you where we’re headed.”

Teris stepped away frustrated.  “I’m never going to get this.  I’ll fail miserably and my knuckles will pay the price.”

Nozel puzzled at her last words a bit before stepping to her and turning her to face him.  “You will get this.”  He assured.

“At least one of us can still fake such certainty.”  She laughed humorlessly.

“There’s nothing for me to fake.  You forget how well I know you.”

“And what’s that got to do with my succeeding at this?  Other then the fact that you should know better then to have any faith in my success.”

“Because, I’ve never known you to fail at something you put your mind to,” he said.  He was loathed to lower his arms and release her but forced himself to do so when he felt her muscles begin to tense ever so slightly.  Teris wasn’t so unlike a nervous animal you tried to put at ease as you tried to coax it out of it’s den and accept your ministering hand.  Push too hard.  Touch her at the wrong time, in the wrong way, or for too long and you were back to square one.

“Thanks.” She said feeling self conscious.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself is all,” Nozel said.  “Leave us.”  He ordered over his shoulder at the violinist.

“Wait. What.  Nozel.  We need him.”

“No we don’t.”  Nozel said stopping her from following the musician.

“Uh, we kinda do—and now he’s gone.”  Teris said letting an arm fall as the ballroom door closed.

“Trust me.”  Nozel said looking at her.

“Trust isn’t easy for me.”  Teris confessed.

“But we’re friends.”  Nozel reminded.  “You should trust your friends.”

“I knew I would rue the day I admitted that to you.  I just never thought that day would come so soon.”

“Turn around.”  Nozel ordered giving a small smile.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”  Teris played.

Nozel grasped her hand and spun her around in a somewhat dance move. “Right now I am your instructor and can tell you to do as I please.”  It was his turn to tense as the desire and implications of his words struck him.

“Very well.”  She laughed.  “But I must warn you.  I can sometimes be an unruly and awful student.”

He forced a smile trying to shake the battling emotions within him. “Just relax, and trust me to lead you where you need to go.”  He said taking her into his arms in a dance hold.

“Do you think I can look even a quarter as fine as Nebra?”  Teris asked seriously.  She forced a teasing smile and continued.  “Or are you not that great an instructor.”

Nozel stared into her eyes and confessed.  “Even when you think you’re at your worst, you out shine every lady there is.”

Teris pulled away and shook her head.  “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”  Nozel asked feeling the blood drain from his face in fear.

“Don’t flirt.  There’s no reason to.  Even the musician is gone.  Don’t do something neither of us enjoy because your family expects it when they aren’t even present to benefit.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“Don’t lie to me, Nozel.  I’m not stupid.”

You certainly are if you think I only do it because it’s expect, Nozel thought.  “Sorry.”

“For flirting or lying?”  She asked.

Nozel closed his eyes pressing his teeth together as he checked his temper. “For both.”  He said opening them.  “It’s a habit I have trouble turning off.”

Teris tilted her head.

“How else am I to convince my father?  He’s a hard man to fool and keeps a keen eye on me.”

Teris’ expression turned sympathetic.  “I’m sorry.”

Nozel shook his head.  “I don’t want to focus on it.”  He looked at her and continued.  “Not when we got our work cut out making it appear as if you’re dancing and not marching through the mud.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“You want cruel?  Step on my toes one more time and I’ll show you cruel.”

It was nearing time to get ready for dinner when Nozel announced.  “It will suffice.”

“That’s all?”  Teris expressed.  “We spent all day at this and my efforts will suffice?”

He gave her the cool gaze the Silva’s were known for.  “If you wanted your ego petted you should have said so sooner.”  It felt wrong to disparage her so, even if it was in jest, but she seemed to enjoy it.  If all it took for her to relax around him was some good old fashioned razing he should have done it years ago.  Who knows where they would be in their relationship if he had.

“Thank you,” Teris said.

“For not petting your ego or--”

“For taking the time to teach me.”  She told him.  “I still don’t like following but I think I can manage for a dance of two.”

“Just remember to keep your feet light.  A gentleman can gracefully ignore a toe or foot being stepping on, so long as his toe is not flattened or bones crushed.”

Teris couldn’t help but grimace at that as she promised.  “I’ll try.”

“You never told me why the sudden interest.”  Nozel said casually as they made their way to the doors.

“Yes I did.  For my knuckles.”

“You may have mentioned your knuckles in passing.  A rather confusing statement I might add, but didn’t say how they figured into your wanting to learn how to dance.”

“It’s probably best if I don’t,” Teris said.  “Let’s just say.  In the hopes of never seeing someone again I decided to try to prove to my brother that I can and will make an effort.”

“I hope this someone isn’t me,” Nozel said.  “You’ll be bitterly disappointed when next we have to work together on a mission.”

“It’s not you.”  Teris smiled purposefully bumping him with a shoulder. “You’re not half bad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re certainly not as bad as Mistress.”

“I don’t know who this Mistress is but I’ll take the praise,” he said.

“You shouldn’t.  It’s not very high praise.  Anyone would be a preference to her.”

“Are you going back to the library tonight?”  Nozel questioned.

Teris stopped the change in subject taking her aback a moment.  “Why?” She asked cautiously.

“If I find I have trouble sleeping again I thought I would assist you.” Nozel said trying to sound nonchalant.

“You don’t have to,” Teris said.  “While I appreciate your help, more then I can say, you don’t have to.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you finish looking? What if something’s there and we just haven’t come across it yet?”

“Alright.” Teris allowed.  “But only if you can’t sleep.”

“Of course,” Nozel nodded.  “I wouldn’t keep myself up just to help you.”

23.6

Teris entered the library to find Nozel had already searched half a shelf's worth of books.  “No luck.”  He told her frustrated.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”  He said turning a page.

“Did you even try?”

He stopped and looked up at her blinking.  “What do you think?  I got into my night clothes and slipped on a robe to make it appear as if I had made an attempt should you ask.”

Feeling silly Teris came around beside him.  “Sorry.  I just don’t want to be a burden.”

Nozel released the breath he had been holding grateful his sarcastic tone had convinced her his truthful words were a jest.  Looking at her sideways he muttered.  “You are not a burden.”

“No?”

“There should be no doubt in your mind that you will never be a burden to me.”  He told turning to her.

“Nozel.” Teris shook her head her expression becoming distant and impatient.

Feel him loosing her again he quickly asked, “If Fuegoleon were here instead of me would you worry he felt you were a burden?”

“No,” she said.  “And if he did I’d kick his butt.”

“Then why question if I do?”

“Cause he’s family.”  Teris answered.  “Distant family but family. Besides, we’ve known each other all our lives.  Grew up together.”

“We’ve known each other for all of our lives.  And practically grew up together.”

“It’s not the same,” Teris said.

“Why? Because of our families plans for our future?  Forget about that. You say it’s never going to happen so it should be easy for you to do so.  I’m tired of fighting you, Teris.  I’m tired of trying to have to prove to you time and again that I am indeed your friend. Can you just forget about the rest and accept me as whatever you want me?  If that is, as you said last night, a friend then let’s be friends in truth.  If it is not.  Tell me.  All I ask is that you stop jerking me from friend to enemy to acquaintance or anywhere else.  It’s tiring.  And I don’t like it.”

Teris stared.  She had never seen Nozel angry at her.  Annoyed.  Yes. Displeased.  Certainly.  A whole host of emotions directed at her had crossed his face and echoed in his tone over the years.  But not once had there been anger.

“I’m sorry, Nozel.”  Teris whispered, her mouth feeling dry.  Fuegoleon, Julius, and Mereoleona had been right.  She was too hard on him.  And now, in his moment of anger she found herself afraid to loose his friendship.  “I’ll try to do better.  It’s just that--”  She shook her head firmly.  “No.  I won’t make excuses.  I’m sorry. I’ll do better.  I promise.”

Nozel swallowed, shocked.  Before she had spoken, in that moment of silence, he had been near breaking and was about to apologize to her for his outburst.  He had never been so glad for not doing something before in his life.

Clearing his throat Nozel gave a firm nod.  “That is all I ask.  Thank you.”

#black clover #yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #mereoleona vermillion #light in the darkness

[annoyedfanfiction]

Aquaman x Kryptonian!Amazon!reader (1)

This wasn’t right. You stared at the two side-by-side graves, both torn in half by the pressure of an emerging body. Clark wasn’t meant to die. And you weren’t meant to be back.  “We bring you back, and already you question us.” The voice behind you almost burned as he even spoke, but you turned to him anyway. “Lord Apollo.” You had never been great at honouring the gods, as you met his glowing eyes.  “This is the end of worlds. Use your place in it wisely.” He vanished before you in a blinding blast of yellow light, leaving you muttering about show-off assholes.

“Honestly... I think we're gonna be dead way before that. And you know what? I don't mind. It's an honorable end. But we've gotta shut Steppenwolf down.” You recognised the voice before you saw him. Queen Atlanna’s beloved first born. The man so precious he formed an alliance between an Amazon and an Atlantean just to stop you from ‘corrupting’ him. And look where he ended up, right next to the other golden child. “Superman's a no-show. You've got no powers. No offense. This guy might be working for the enemy. We don't know. You're tripping over your feet, and mine... You're gorgeous. And fierce... And strong–” You tuned his monologue out, as you pulled the mechanical door of the jet open, interrupting the revelation that Arthur had been sitting on Diana’s lasso of Hestia.

“I hate to interrupt the Atlantean so pure he formed a bond between Atlanta and Themyscira, but I’m really not sorry,” you informed them, pulling it shut behind you. “Any fucker care to explain what shit you brought down so hard that the only entities who hate my guts more than his mother just resurrected me?” “(Y/N)!” Diana leapt up to wrap you in her embrace. “You were resurrected by the gods?” “Apollo himself blinded me with his presence,” you answered, carefully avoiding Arthur’s eyes as you looked around the ship, meeting Bruce’s eye. You flicked two fingers between your eyes and his, glaring. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just because I died, Batboy.” “Oof, what did you do?” Barry murmured to the stiffening billionaire. “Who are you?” you asked, curiously, and the boy shrank, mumbling his name. “Sorry, I did not mean to scare you, Barry Allen. I am–” “(Y/N)! I know, you’re amazing.” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean, I mean, you've saved so many lives you probably don’t remember, but I was nine and–” “And almost killed by the same man who killed your mother.” You nodded, solemnly. “I am sorry my testimony did not help your father, Barry.” “It’s not your fault,” he answered, softly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and turned back to Diana. “Hippolyta sends her love,” you offered her, easily. “And the gods, of course, are proud.”

“As touching as all this is,” Arthur piped up, as you finished, bitterness lacing his voice. “Am I not worthy of even a greeting, Ethereum?” You sighed, dropping your head, and turning to him. “Arthur, you must know by now that I did not want to–” He cut you off, roughly, leaping to his feet, even as Diana moved between the two of you, confusion written across her face. “Didn't want to what? Hurt me?” he demanded, angrily. “You did that pretty well when you left! You didn’t even say goodbye!” “She didn’t tell you?” Your voice dropped with your heart.  “Who didn’t tell me what?” The tone faded a little, but anger and hurt still radiated off him. “I never wanted to leave you,” you murmured, holding his gaze, evenly. “Atlanna and Hippolyta, they...Atlanna loved you too much to let me ‘corrupt’ you, put you in danger. Only someone truly special can form a bond between two warring women, Arthur Curry.” “What are you saying, (Y/N)?” Diana questioned, lowering her defensive stance, as the two of you lapped into silence, never looking away from one another.

You sank onto one of the seats, with a sigh. “Arthur and I... have history.” “I loved her,” Arthur admitted, still standing, but turning away from them all. “And I him,” you continued, “But Atlanna and Hippolyta disapproved. For entirely different reasons, of course, yet their goal was enough to bring them together. Atlanna told me he didn’t want to see me, and that if I went near him, on land or sea, I would begin another war between the Amazons and Atlanta. Hippolyta insisted I had betrayed the gods by loving him, and forbade me to leave Themyscira. Eris’ reappearance almost seemed like a blessing until she stabbed me in the fucking ribs. Both of us hated it, but I was the one Apollo destined to kill her.” “You killed Eris?” Barry questioned, awed, “As in, literal goddess of strife?” “She is, as far as creation, a daughter of Persephone,” Diana informed him. “What do you mean ‘creation’?” Bruce grimaced, looking between the two. “I was crafted, well, re-crafted, I suppose, from clay,” you responded, scrunching up your nose. “None of your messy human shenanigans.” “We’re here,” the Cyborg at the helm announced.  “Stick to the plan!” Bruce called, before diving out of the jet in the Batmobile. “What’s the plan?” you asked, immediately, before shaking your head. “Never mind. Diana, who’s saving his ungrateful ass?” “Barry and I,” she answered, peering out at the Batmobile, now entirely encompassed in Parademons. “You and Arthur help Victor get to the Mother Boxes.” You nodded, turning to the Cyborg. “I assume you’re Victor? Hi, I’m (Y/N), I’ll try to keep you alive.”

“I wish I was dead,” you complained, kicking away Parademons as you and Victor pulled at the Mother Boxes. “Any blow-back?” Clark’s familiar voice asked, as his hand grasped the third side of the Mother Boxes. “Big time,” Victor nodded, grimly, “But I think we can take it.” “Good, because I really like being alive,” Clark smiled, as he pulled the boxes apart. “Speak for yourself,” you moaned, as you slammed into a wall, hovering back to the bridge, where Victor and Clark still lay. You collapsed between them, limbs pulsing with dissipating energy and increasing numbness. “I take it back... I wanna die,” Clark agreed, rolling up to a sitting position. “Man, my toes hurt,” Victor answered, still lying flat on his back. “I don't even understand the physics of how my toes hurt.” All three of you chuckled, dully, as Diana grumbled about your immaturity below. “Welcome back, baby brother.” You stood, holding your hand out to Clark to help him up. “And you,” he smiled back, just as Barry raced back into the room. “Have you guys seen what’s going on outside?” he asked, and you leapt forward, pouncing on Steppenwolf’s huge form before he could strike the small human backwards. “I am the end of worlds!” he howled, scooping you up by the scruff of your neck. “Who are you to defy me?” “Half bred clay monster,” you snapped back, your Kryptonian red eyes burning him until he dropped you, unceremoniously, directly onto Arthur. “This world–” He staggered, Clark and Diana both hitting him at once, as Arthur and you disentangled yourselves from the pile he’d slapped you into. “Is my right!” “My right was to a peaceful death, but you screwed that up for me royally,” you snarled, plunging your sword into his side at the same time Arthur embedded his trident in his chest. “You will never...” he trailed off, as the Parademons swarmed closer. “Smell that?” Bruce queried, smugly, even as he held the consequences of Steppenwolf’s blows.  “Fear,” you smirked back, watching Steppenwolf be engulfed by his own creatures, before he vanished back to where he had come from. “Fuck, I only woke up from the dead five hours ago and I am ready for that eternal nap.”

#aquaman x reader #justice league #arthur curry x reader

[zerolympiustrife]

ZOS’ short stories 10

Title: Beat them at their own game, death by blondes, and siblings. (SSBU x DFFNT x RWBY) (But mostly FFVII x RWBY)

*Yang’s walking over to a moody Cloud, who’s sitting on a bench*

Yang: Hey, Cloud! What’s wrong? Did a Squall blow you away or something *Yang points over to Squall in the distance*

Cloud (groaning): (Oh god. Not this again...)

Yang: Or did you struck by a bolt of Lightning? *Points over to Lightning*

*Cloud glares at her, but then notices Chrom in the distance, wearing a flashy rainbow wig, and Yang also notices Chrom*

Yang (smirking): ...Hey, what’s up with Chrom?

Cloud (deadpan): I dunno, maybe he’s feeling Chromatic or something.

*Yang looks at Cloud, eyes widening*

Cloud (sarcastically): Oh, I’m so sorry. 

Yang (smiling): Oh...there’s no need to apologize.

Cloud: Then perhaps we’re getting off on the wrong foot. *Holds up his left foot*

Yang: Hehehehe...Nah, I’d say we’re getting off on the right foot. *Lifts up her right foot* My name is Yang. It’s so nice to...*holds up a meat patty*...meat you.

Cloud: Cloud Strife.

Yang: Is your name Cloud because you rain on everyone’s parade? Is your last name Strife because you’re always getting into fights?

Cloud: Kind of like what we’re doing right now?

Yang: I guess your name rings true then. *Holds up a couple of rings, then suddenly, Cloud’s phone begins to ring*

Cloud (picking up the phone): Hello?

Tifa (on the phone): Is Yang bothering you again with her puns again?

Cloud: No, it’s fine. *Looks over to Yang with a glare* We’re fine. We’re doing just dandy. *Pulls out a dandelion flower and gives it to Yang*

Yang: Ah! How thoughtful!

Tifa (on the phone): Okay, just want to make sure you were doing fine. Good-bye. *Hangs up*

Yang: Was that one of your many girlfriends? Tifa? Lucina? Terra?

Cloud: Maybe it was. Besides, I don’t need another one when I already have three.

Yang: Ah, good. Because I’m...*in a monotone voice*...Not interested.

*Cloud’s ears begin to bleed due to Yang’s painful puns, let alone using his own catchphrase against him*

Cloud (touching below his ears): Are my ears bleeding?

Yang: No, your ears aren’t bleating. Your ears aren’t goats.

Cloud (annoyed): Man, I gotta hand it ya. *Holds up his hand* You really know how irritate a person. So you know what? I’m so Belladone with this. *Points over to Blake, who’s trying to get away from Adam*

Yang (shocked): Oh goddamnit. Not this again.

*Both blondes run over to the scene*

Adam: Return to me or I’ll kill all your friends. Including those who aren’t from our world.

Blake: Never! Besides, you’ll just kill them anyway regardless of my answer!

Adam: Then you leave me no choice.

*Cloud and Yang come flying at Adam in a DBFZ-styled clash, with Yang launching a punch towards Adam’s waist.*

Yang: Man, what a waist of time!

Adam: Gaack!

Cloud: Then allow me take to a stab then. *Cloud stabs his sword towards Adam’s chest*

Adam: Aaaggghhh!

Yang: We’re a better team for Blake than you, bull man! Especially me!

Cloud: I guess you could say she knows how to rub that pussy real good.

*Adams glares at the blonde for that comment, while Blake slightly blushes from that comment*

Adam: ENOUGH! *Pushes Yang and Cloud away, pulls the Buster Sword out of his chest, then looks over to the spiky-haired man* YOU DIE FIRST!

*Adam runs towards Cloud with his chokuto at the ready and impales him through the chest*

Blake: No!

Yang: Cloud!

Adam (seething and panting heavily from his nose): You goddamn human...you really know how to piss a faunus off.

Cloud: Eh...hehehehe...Hahahahaha!

Adam: What’s so funny?

Cloud: You’re seething like a bull...you really live up to your name and lineage, Taurus. But it’s a damn shame that Blake couldn’t be the Eve to your Adam.

Adam (glaring bloody murder at Cloud): One more quip and I’ll impale you through the heart next. No...I’ll use my semblance to draw and quarter you instead.

Cloud (shaking his head): Adam, Adam, Adam...Obviously, you haven’t heard of my past battles with another human-hating individual who’s done something like this to me before.

Adam: H-Huh?

*Cloud grabs the sword that’s still impaled through him, lifts it up, also lifting Adam up*

Adam: W-What?! H-How are you...?!

*Cloud slowly pushes the sword of out his chest*

Cloud: This is nothing new to me. I’ve literally been impaled before and I walked out alive. Now...How about I take you for a swing? *Grabs the end of the blade, and starts swinging Adam around, before slamming him face-first into the ground next to Blake and Yang*

Adam (slowly getting up, ignoring Blake’s presence): You annoying spiky-haired runt...I’m going to-

*Blake takes her weapon, and impales him from behind*

Blake: Not kill any of my friends, you asshole.

Adam (looking behind him): Blake...darling...

*Yang snatches Adam’s sword*

Yang: Blake, move away!

*Blake obliges, takes her weapon out of Adam’s chest, then Yang impales him as well*

Adam (coughing up blood): We were...meant to be...together... *Falls to the ground in a bloody mess*

Cloud/Yang (both crossing their arms): Consider that a divorce.

Adam (looking over to the blondes): You...bas- *dead*

Cloud: A bass? Me? I’m not a fish, sir.

Yang: Yeah, he’s not a fissure, he’s a Cloud.

Cloud (mockingly): Hm hm hm.

Yang (turns to look at him): You’re not a mockingbird, either.

*Cloud flips her the bird*

Yang: I mean, that’s a bird, yes. But it’s not very mocking.

Cloud: Isn’t your mother a mockingbird?

*Yang’s eyes turn red, punches a tree in rage, then the tree explodes*

Yang (angrily): DO NOT MENTION HER!!!

Cloud: Man, I’ve heard of an explosive temper, but this is just red-iculous.

*Yang’s nose starts to bleed due to Cloud’s puns, causing her to get a taste of her own medicine*

Blake: Yang! Your nose...

Yang (touches beneath her nose): Huh...whoa! My nose is bleeding!

Cloud: Your nose isn’t a goat. It’s not bleating.

Blake: Who would’ve thought that constantly making pun after pun after pun would cause physical pain?

Cloud: I’m not even enjoying this! I’m just trying to beat her at her own damn game.

Yang: Well, tall, dark, and spiky, if this is a game...I’d say it’s a tie. *Points to her bloody nose, then points to Cloud’s ears, which are still bleeding*

Cloud: Hrgh...no argument there.

Yang (wrapping an arm around his neck, smiling): We’re gonna be the bestest of friends. You, me, Team RWBY, your team, your team from World B, your dormmates from the planet of Smash...

Cloud (sternly, looking away): We are not going to be friends.

Yang: Oh, yes we are.

Cloud: No we’re not.

Yang: Yes we are.

Cloud: No we’re not.

Yang: Yes we are.

Cloud: No we’re not.

Yang (gritting her teeth, still smiling): Yes we are.

Cloud (gritting his teeth as well, becoming annoyed): No we’re not.

Yang: Yes. We. ARE.

Cloud: No. We’re. NOT-

Blake (losing her patience): For god’s sake, shut up, the both you! You two are arguing like bunch of siblings fighting over control of the TV.

Yang: You know what? You’re right, Blake! We’re not friends...

Cloud: Good.

Yang: We’re siblings! We’re long-lost siblings!

Cloud (raising an eyebrow at her): ...

Yang: You can be the little brother, and I’ll be the big sister! I’ll be the best sister you’ve never had!

Cloud (deadpan): ...I’m over 21.

Blake: And she’s beneath 21.

Yang: Wait, is this true? Then that means...

Cloud: No.

Yang: You can be...

Cloud: NO.

Yang: My big brother instead!

Cloud (still deadpan): Absolutely not.

Yang: You’ll be the best big brother me and Ruby never had!

Cloud (sarcastically): Oh yeah! We’ll play dress-up and force big brother Cloud to put various different dresses! We’ll make big brother Cloud give Ruby and Yang piggy-back rides! We’ll play with big brother Cloud’s spiky hair whenever we’re bored! And lastly, we’ll have big brother Cloud spoil Ruby Rose rotten and let her play with his sword all day long!

Yang: That all sounds like fun! Blake, do you have any rope or extra ribbons?

Cloud (a bit concerned): Wait, what?

*Blake hands over two very long threads of ribbon*

Cloud (now super concerned): Oh no.

Yang (smiling evilly): Oh yes.

Cloud (prepares to run): Oh no.

Yang (pounces on him): Oh YES!

*Yang pins Cloud to the ground, ties his hands behind his back, ties up his legs, then drags him away*

Yang: Come, brother! Activities await us! Ruby! Hey! RUBY!!

Cloud (struggling): Help! Somebody!

Blake (sighing): Those two really are like siblings...now... *looks over to Adam’s corpse* ...What to do with you...?

#rwby #final fantasy vii #yang xiao long #cloud strife #blake belladonna #adam taurus #zos short stories

[khadorek]

The Morning After 3: Some Things Never Change

August 9th, 8:47am, Brotherhood Basecamp, Tiristfal Glades

Khadorek shot awake, immediately wincing from the pain in his chest. Looking around, he learned he was in the Brotherhood medical camp on the outskirts of the battlefield, and judging by the IV in his arm, he was recovering from some sort of chemical or biological attack. Remembering why they were there, what they were doing, caused him to jolt once again, the pain this time somewhat ignored, he had to know what happened; clambering from the bed as best he can, falling over in the process and alerting the medics gathered there, he managed to look out at the aftermath of the battle, and it all came flooding back to him.

He had stopped dead when saw the note on the job board, and it captivated his attention, leaving him standing silent there for a long time; the signup sheet for the battle to come at Lordaeron. Seeing that name after so long, and the battle plans that went with it awakened something in him, something that he had not felt in years. A little voice, one of the countless that had nagged at him for all these years, spoke up.

“This is your chance,” it whispered, “sign it, join the battle; finish what you started. You can prove your worth to them. Do it, do it…” it goaded on and on, unrelenting in its intent, engrossing in its message. A bizarre trance seemed to come over him, and silently, almost robotically, he heeded its words, signing his name upon the list in a surprisingly steady print, before wordlessly wandering off; it was not for a while yet, but there was much to do, so much preparing to be done…

When the day arrived, Khadorek was the first in line for deployment. He’d barely come out of his fugue state at all in the days leading up to the day, and the voice had never ceased it’s goading; sometimes derogatory, sometimes encouraging, but ever present. Aresia gave him concerned looks every now and then, not that he noticed much of them, but when he did, he did his best to give her a reassuring nod. He traced rapid circles in the air with his blade as General Ogrimskar gave his speech, body practically bursting with nervous energy. Og had barely finished his rallying cry before Khad had thundered past him with a roar on his lips, blade set alight and raised high above his head, leading the charge for the Brotherhood, into battle and into a new, bloody future.

Somewhere in his psyche, Khad’s rational mind had more or less figured out the nature of this voice; a ghost of the past like all the others, to be sure, but this one perhaps more sinister. A fragment of his conditioning, part of the mental programming forced upon him during his ‘rebirth,’ hidden among the multitudes of mocking voices in his mind, waiting, waiting for a moment for it to rise up again, a moment just like this. This fragment, while influential, lacked the dominating control that was present when *it* was bound to his mind and soul; he could likely shake it off if he wanted, but this feeling, this sense of *freedom* was too much to give up. In this brief moment, the mental strife that he long since bore was dulled to the point of numbness, and he relished this momentary release; he couldn’t go back yet, he wasn’t ready. Still, he had to restrain himself from belting out Scarlet battle hymns, that would be too far…

The siege was well underway when he and the Brotherhood’s forces arrived there; but they had only just breached the gate, so there was much left to go. “Good.” He mused as he broke off from the main group, lumbering towards a squad of Forsaken Plague Troopers. Three of them were there, all bearing combat knives of questionable cleanliness, two with plague sprayers, and the third, presumably the squad leader, with some sort of thurible spewing forth noxious gasses. The first sprayer trooper was hacked down before they knew what was happening, the second whirled around with a cry of surprise, blasting him with the vile sludge. Khad barely managed to get the energy wall up in time to stop it, though he wasted little time thereafter sending a blast of energy into her plague tanks, causing them to rupture and send the unfortunate trooper to the ground with an unpleasant gurgling noise as the once more breathed their last. During this engagement, the leader managed to get around behind Khad, bringing the thurible down on Khad’s head, causing him to stagger forward; turning around, Khad managed to get his blade caught on the thurible’s chain, preventing both from use, though this Forsaken was a crafty one. Khad gasped in shock as the combat knife was thrust into the gap in the underside of his left shoulder, biting into his flesh before the Forsaken twisted it with a dark chuckle. Khad was resistant to many poisons, but judging by the burning sensation he felt, whatever was on that knife didn’t count, though Khad’s counterattack would be considered by most as more effective, as the Forsaken clearly didn’t have resistance to headbutts as powerful as Khad can deliver. As the Forsaken crumbled to the ground with a Khad-shaped dent in his face, Khad yanked the knife from his underarm, doing his best to ignore the bleeding as he ran up the stairs onto the battlements.

The archers were even less prepared for him than the plague troopers, as Khad fell upon them like a typhoon on Stranglethorn. The voice was screaming at him now, driving him onward despite the injuries delivered upon him by the panicked arrow fire and desperate melee attacks from the archers as he sent them crumpling to the ground in pieces or sailing off the edge of the wall. His “plan,” if one could call it that, it was so impulsive, was working, as this distraction allowed yet more alliance soldiers to make the advance unto the city, a glance to the side showed several regiments of Sentinels and Mountaineers moving to better firing positions, and Gnomish cavalry and Lightforged Soldiers moving towards the gate thanks to his distraction. His eye looked in towards the city, and another challenge caught his eye, one far more dangerous, so naturally, he leapt into action, literally. Leaping from the walls into the city, his feet landed where he intended; on the shoulders of a massive abomination.

“Whaaat? Little metal man not belong dere.” It rumbled, making swipes at him with its extra limbs, one of them digging its meathook into his right shin. Khad hissed in pain, severing the disproportionately small limb with a single swipe, though the abominations movements, both ones intended to remove him and those that came as it smashed the soldiers attacking it away, soon caused him to lose balance. Khad tumbled to the ground, landing heavily on his back as the monstrosity turned to face him; a swift roll to the side prevented most of the massive, meaty fist from hitting him. Even a clipping blow from it left him stunned, though, so he staggered to his feet as the abomination took its time to regain its footing. In typical Forsaken mad scientist fashion, it still had more limbs than most being ought to have, most of which were located on its left side, as its right was mostly taken up by the aforementioned fist that seemed to have been salvaged off an Ettin. This massive arm also looked to help the creature walk, balancing out the massive shoulder on its left side that housed all its extra limbs, a glaring weakness.

“Come then, monster!” Khad barked out. “Face your judgement!” With a roar, the abomination swung all its weapons at once. Khad brought his shield to bare to block them, causing them to clatter into it, though a few of the chain-based weapons wrapped around and struck him in the chest, though this did little to deter him as he spun around, making an upward swing at the shoulder joint of the large arm, the crackling blade severing the limb, sending it and the creature tumbling down.

“Urrgh?! Wot did youu...?” Is all it can get out before a second attack severs its head, causing it to fall silent, and allowing the remaining soldiers to move on to the next melee. Khad was about to join them, when his instincts kicked in, and he leapt back from a two-handed glaive swipe. Khad turned to attack the new foe, but he couldn’t help but pause, much to the voice’s fury. The Tauren who stood before him did the same, for the same thought went through the pair of them; they knew each other, they had seen one another in Skyhold, the recognized the weapons and armour the other wielded from the battles they had fought alongside each other in. Now here they stood, brothers in arms only a few weeks prior, and already they were forced to fight to the death.

“You must see there is no glory in this fight, Brother Rockhoof.” Khadorek says in Vrykul, needlessly confirming the identity of this reluctant foe, who nodded in turn.

“I know, Brother Blackbyrne, but honour calls me to serve, and though I too grieve for the Night Elves’ loss, I must do my part to protect my own; would you not do the same?” Thoron Rockhoof replies, Khad returns the nod, fighting off the voices protests to cut the Tauren down.

“A pity it had to come to this, but I suppose it was inevitable. May we meet again in the halls, Brother.” Khad solemnly says as he begins to charge surrendering to the voice once more.

“May the Eternal Sun shine on you, Brother.” Thoron returns, before he too charges, and soon the two were locked in a duel neither wanted to be a part of. Blades locked over and over again, sometimes one may breach the other’s defenses, but neither would go down, neither willing to give it up. It felt like an eternity had passed when they heard the boom, and both saw the evil green fumes crawling towards them. Both of them knew what that was, and neither wanted to let that be how this ended. One last glance between them, and both took off towards safety. The voice screamed at Khad, but he had to put it down.

“No! Not yet! Get back their and fight!” It howled as Khad made his way to the gate, as the gas slowly overtook them. Khad’s head started to spin as he made it out, scooping up two hacking Oathsworn soldiers as he made the last staggering sprint across the bridge. No sooner had he made it across did the vile fumes overpower his already taxed will, and he collapsed coughing to the ground as darkness consumed his vision.

A medic placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Captain, you inhaled a fair bit of plague there, you need to rest.” He said, leading Khad back to his cot. He once more sat down as the IV was returned to his arm. He knew that voice was long gone, this hollow victory seeming to have satisfied its programming, but he couldn’t help but think about what this battle would lead to in the future; how many battles like this or worse would now come to pass now that this age-old conflict was started up once again…

@ogrimskar @brotherhoodofvalor @oathswornvanguard

#finally writing again

[intergalacticrp]

NAME :// AXEL FLYNN ORIGIN :// KINGDOM HEARTS AGE :// TWENTY-NINE GENDER :// QUESTIONING (HE/HIM) JOB :// RANK VII IN ORGANIZATION XIII FC :// DOUGIE POYNTER

There’s something in your way         And now someone is gonna pay                    And if you can’t get what you want                            Well it’s all because of me

BIOGRAPHY ://

Axel did not grow up in the organization. He grew up with parents who collected his baby teeth and held his hands and made sure he looked before crossing the street, parents who loved him, loved him, loved him, right up until they didn't. He was twelve when his mother started losing her mind, deteriorating right in front of him, and she left him while sitting right on the couch; his father ran out in a much more physical sense, one much more controllable. He was taught to never depend on anyone with zero words at a time, an unteachable lesson that was pressed into his temples by the time he taught himself how to steal. He worked hard to make sure that he and the body that once housed his mother stayed well fed, kept it together just enough so that he would never have to lose everything. He'll never forgive his dad for making him like this.

The organization recruited him just after his fourteenth birthday. He had been starving for almost three days, stumbling around as he was still sure that the one guy from that one stall was still following him, was ready to kill him over a loaf of bread - he hadn't eaten for two days already when he tried for the bread. When asked, he would say that he wouldn't remember who recruited him, and he would stick to that story until the day the person owned up to it themself. He was put in charge of another group of people pretty soon after his recruitment, promoted to leader and director of assassins by the time he was sixteen. The organization helped him bury his mom’s body that year. When he was seventeen, he was given rank xiii, Roxas, as a charge. and that's when everything started going to shit.

Axel was good, when he pretended he didn't have feelings and was able to kill without regret or remorse and often with a smile, that was when he was the best at his job. Roxas had to come in and make him soft all over again, take apart the walls that Axel had worked so hard on building with his own distrust and tears, just so easily as if they were made of nothing at all. He was the first real friend that Axel ever had after actually getting problems. Axel had Demyx before Roxas, but Demyx never asked questions, never wanted to know anything about who Axel was before everything. Axel didn't even want to know who Axel was before everything most the time.

After Roxas, and then Xion, Axel could have said he was happy and maybe even actually meant it for a little while. Roxas left nearly just after the day he turned eighteen, and Axel would never admit that it broke his heart, that his best friend destroyed him, that his abandonment issues only metastasized after Roxas decided that the brother he had never met was more important than the best friend who had had his back for years. Axel didn't care. He did his job, and he turned himself into stone again, and he didn't care.

He's got himself back now.

AESTHETIC ://

fire flowing off your fingertips, a snap of delicate fingers, long hair let loose over your shoulders, all you taste is destruction, you don’t know how to hold nice things without breaking them, a sense of satisfaction, bright eyes, a welcoming grin, protecting your best friends with your life, overzealous overconfidence, hiding your hurt with anger, a forest fire, barely held in and never held together.

MISC ://

Has had more near death experiences than literally any other person he knows. Has fallen off of a building, been electrocuted, been lit on fire multiple times - only like half of them his own fault. He once got into a fight with a bear from a zoo. They ended up friends. Doesn't know how he gets into these situations.

Probably depressed. Probably has some unresolved anger issues. Probably has paranoia problems. Will he get any of them checked out by an actual professional? God, no.

Lost count of how many people he's killed when he was eighteen. He used to try to renew his count every year, but he doesn't know whether to count kills he commissioned for the organization or not.

When he was a kid, he wanted to be a painter or something, maybe a model for painters even, because he just loved art so much, Wanted to be a part of creation so badly that it hurt. His mom liked art, he thinks. He doesn't remember.

Works out more than is likely healthy. Has taken every self defense and martial arts class offered by the dojos and gyms yensid's. Has had his ass kicked an inordinate amount of times.

CONNECTION ://

Roxas Strife & Xion Aster : axel’s best friends. Demyx Ryan : a friend from work. Xemnas Alexander : his boss. Sora Leonhart : roxas’s friend. 

AVAILABILITY :// OPEN || TAKEN BY MER

#axel flynn #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts rp #kingdom hearts axel #taken #tnb #nonbinary #rp #rpg #roleplay #animated rp #fandom rp #multifandom rp #video game rp #anime rp #disney rp #disney roleplay #lgbt rp #skeleton rp #bio rp

[java-induced-daymares]

I feel like you get a different perspective when you were the 'mistake'. The 'oh my God she's only fifteen', baby. My mom was the preacher's daughter, and very eighties. I'm the preacher's granddaughter, and extremely nineties. My mom is more like my sister-friend, while my five year junior sister tells everyone I practically raised her. I just feel responsible for everyone. For everything. I was the tester baby. The starter grandchild. Everything I did wrong, it was the worst, most unexpected thing. I paved the way for all the shrugs and acceptance every sibling and other grandkid had doled out practically for free. And got slammed with all the guilt and the shunning.

To be fair I was quite rebellious. I smoked, drank, experimented with drugs. Skipped class, and barely passed high school despite aceing every test and final they threw at me. Scored a solid 29 on the ACT, didn't even study. In fact, I left half the math portion blank. I hate math. I frustrated my parents to wits end. I had all the potential, none of the ambition. I wanted to smoke pot, write whatever popped in my head and just make enough money to get by. So in idealistic youth I flipped the bird to college tuition debt in favor of entering the work force.

Somehow along the line I ended up thirty years old as a entry level temp at a factory. The disappointing burnout my parents painted me to be. My mom once threatened to paint that word on my bedroom wall, to call me out so to speak. She wasn't impressed when I encouraged her to. Between mom and me, it's all emotions. I know her as well as best friends do. Like...all of it. Sex life. Financial strife. The works. It's sort of like you don't realize your mom discussing your dad's porn addiction with you when your thirteen is out of line until you grow up. And meet her meth head boyfriend at age twenty four.

He threatens to rape and kill you both but good old mom won't kick him out because she loves him. Not when he starts stealing everything in sight to sell for drugs. Not when he kidnaps her for a few days over Thanksgiving and meths out in a paranoid freakout keeping her in the hotel and not letting her leave. Or when he choked her until she was unconscious. Or raped her so loud you could hear her scream but she denied it and her screams are so frequent that you're learning to tune them out and that disturbs you on every level. Not even when he hits you, right in front of her, the first time and she yells at you for fighting back. Or when she chases your little sister into another state to live with a internet boyfriend who no one but she has met because Ducky fears living in that house more than living with strangers.

My sister was only nineteen. The week before she left my mom called her a selfish bitch for not supporting her relationship. I stood between them, outraged, explaining to my mother that she shouldn't call her child a bitch for being scared. When the meth head finally leaves, having drained a cool 20k from my mom's retirement fund in meth and tools and a Harley ect... my mom claims all these memories are a blur. In her world she is the ultimate victim, and she even blames me for standing by and letting it all happen. My brother, who showed up two months before I finally convinced my mother to get the eviction notice she needed to get the meth head out, gets all the credit for his absence.

He showed up, did meth and herione with the boyfriend and ignored my mom. She still ran to my room, daily, begging and pleading for me and my fiances protection. Some days we would wake up to her huddled by our bed, crying silently, because my fiance was the only thing this asshole feared. Because Heinzy certainly didn't stand by when she or I was threatened or hit. But he wasn't always there. And his probation kept him from throwing a first punch.

Still, my brother, who dodged all the previous months of abuse by disowning her for cheating on her husband with this guy. My brother was living in South Dakota, and calling her a bitch and a whore until he needed a bail out and suddenly he's Mama's little boy again. He gets the title of hero. Savior. Showing up last second and fucking everything up, and being loved for it. That's my brothers modis operandi. And he can't even spell those words.

People flinch when I call my mom a crazy bitch. Glad for them, in their Hallmark homes. Judging me. I still love the woman to death. Would kill for her. Suffered untold horrors just to keep her safe. Yet I can't help but feel this loyalty is a bit one sided. All things considered. And besides. Bitches be crazy.

My dad is her polar opposite. I get my cynical, mean sense of humor from him. I call him a passive aggressive teddy bear. And I feel two sides of my dad. First there's the guy that worked twenty two hours a day to support his family. No, that's not a exaggeration. And shit jobs too. Barely making it, piss on you, fast food, menial shit. It's hard not to respect that. Plus he's never touched or condoned so much as a cigarette or more than two beers that I've ever seen. Getting the shit beat out of you by a druggie alcoholic does that to you. Once, Grandpa "Buddy" even used a horse whip to beat him. Him and grandma talked about the two years they did speed at a Chili's dinner.

But they're rich as hell. Or they were. So it didn't matter. Still doesn't, as far as their putrid minds are concerned. Buy I'm off topic. His evil as fuck adoptive parents aside... My dad's not too bad. He taught me to write DOS code when I was six. How to write a household budget in Microsoft Excel when I was twelve. How to set up a wireless network for a entire office when I was sixteen. Basically he prepared me for the real world. And all it's shitty points. And probably saved me some pain for the effort.

For example, dad tip 101: Don't lend out money and expect or need it back. Only lend what you can afford and be surprised if it's ever repaid. Good tip. Seriously. When I flunked classes and needed summer school, he made me get a job and pay it back. I hated him for it. But after I worked off over a grand in summer school debt at a Chinese hole in the wall restaurant with no working AC, I understood what a dollar was worth. Hence no slavery bond. I mean, as you call them, student loans. Been there. Done that.

But then there's the other side of him. The side that never really wanted kids. The side that accused me of knowing my mom cheated when I actually didn't. My next door neighbor, a herione addict who tagged along on my mom's Easter visit to my brother did. He was there as she stopped, both on the way to and the way from, to fuck the meth head. He didn't tell me. I woke up to my sister alone in the living room crying. Because she had never seen my dad cry before. Neither have I. The only time in known history and I missed it. Poor Ducky, she saw it all.

Sometimes I wish I could erase it all. The Divorce. It happened when I was twenty four, and I thought my parents had fallen into the age old 'i hate you but I'll be with you forever trap'. The fact that they both remarried a year after divorce proves I was either naively hopeful or utterly delusional. Considering the fact that I knew they made each other utterly miserable I have to side with the latter. I just wanted to believe they loved each other in secret. Hell, thanks to my mom I knew they fucked three times a week. I thought that meant something.

Maybe that's why I think sex is pretty meaningless and too important all at once. First off. I won't fuck anyone unless I really want to. Second off. I've only fucked one guy. It wasn't intentional, the one guy thing, it's just the first guy who earned my trust was the first guy I let have me and I fell in love and ten years later he's still never betrayed me. Ever. And he makes me feel like a kid. And we fight. And I hate him sometimes but we never go to bed angry. And I have no kids. I won't be my mother. I don't want her mistakes. I'm creating my own whole new ones. It's both my privledge and my goal to defy everyone's expectations of me, even to my own detriment.

Everyone thinks I aimed low. He even says stupid stuff like how he thinks I'll leave him for someone else. Sometimes. And maybe my mom helped that paranoia along. You see, pre meth head boyfriend divorce, I was pretty found of telling people my mom and I were best friends and so alike. Post fallout, those words came back to haunt me in a big way. I supported her when EVERYONE turned away. Her father. My siblings. They all said she deserved the meth head. They didn't get it. If I left her alone he was going to kill her. Literally. And they turned on me for 'supporting her behavior'.

Go fuck yourselves. I couldn't speak to you all in the moment, and afterward everyone wanted to brush this shit under the rug. But damn it. It fucking scared me. Excuse the fuck out of me for panicking. I was twenty four, sure, a adult by all measures and standards. People don't pity adults. My dad taught me that. Figure shit out and handle it. So I did. And I took zero credit. Letting my mom crown my brother king of all the land, her savior. So in the end I was nothing.

And I didn't say shit. Let my extended family think what they liked. Not in that exact intention. In my head I was like, this.famiky situation is so fucked and so nasty I couldn't bear to tell them. And that left me awkwardly over formal in responses. I should have guessed no one else in my family was that shy. They told all...of their bullshit. And I know that sounds so one sided.

If I were you, I wouldn't trust my perspective on the matter either. After all, perception is defined by experience, and my experience is sure to lead me to be self serving and exploitative. I don't pretend otherwise. This is simply how it felt to me. As I received notices from my pastor grandfather telling me I was living in sin because I hadn't married or gone to church regularly. First off. YOUR only daughter had three kids out of wedlock by three different men. Totally beating the odds here. Thanks. Secondly, and yes I said this, bet your ass I did, I have only had sex with one guy and I promised God he was the one. Law is not religion. All a wedding is, technically, is a profession of exclusivity with your partner before God. I did that. Proved it for ten years. Living in sin? How so? By what biblical standard? Handfasting was a accepted marriage ceremony, Heinzy and I have declared devotion before each other and all else hands held before. It counts. So what is I don't have the legal document? Judge not least ye be judged and all that.

As for church. Ah the constructrial artifice of faith devoid of all passion. Going to church with my grandparents is different. There's something about my grandpa being a pastor, people instantly recognize it and respond to it. I have never, not once, stood in church with my grandpa and not had ten people know someone he knew from congregation or teaching job (he was a private school teacher and even principal too). He doesn't get what it's like, poor as fuck, to show up for service and be mocked by so called Christians. How I disdain their fake pandering. I love God. His houses are often beautiful, the scent of fresh wood and the art of stained glass. But the people inside are ugly and don't reflect Him at all. They just want to puff up their own self worth and indulgence and I hate them for it. But maybe that's just Illinois Lutherans for you.

They ruined church for me. Haven't been since I was in my twenties and I turned thirty two whole weeks ago.

[garden-ghoul]

appendix blog, part 1

“going straight from talmud to LotR appendices is probably the easiest transition ever”

There’s a little beginning note that explains why certain things were included and how various sources are quoted... good good historian formatting. 

The Third Age was held to have ended when the Three Rings passed away in September 3021, but for the purposes of records in Gondor F.A.I began on March 25, 3021.

See. This kind of bullshit. This is my favorite part because nothing makes a world feel more real than neighboring (ish) kingdoms disagreeing on how to mark time. Listen it’s fine, relativity dictates that events at different locations and different times can be “simultaneous” depending on how you look at it. The One Ring was destroyed at exactly the same time as Galadriel and Elrond’s boat set off from the Grey Havens.

I hope everyone who knows anything about relativity is mildly pissed. *I* sure don’t know anything about relativity, and am grievously misusing it. Er, right, I’m blogging the appendices.

THE NUMENOREAN KINGS

...this starts with an account of the creation of the Silmarils. Listen. LISTEN.

There were three unions of the Eldar and the Edain: Lúthien and Beren; Idril and Tuor; Arwen and Aragorn. By the last the long-sundered branches of the Half-elven were reunited and their line was restored.

Isn’t Arwen already a descendant of both lines. LISTEN!! Mr Tolkien!! What are you on about!! He even goes on to explain Elwing and Earendil’s marriage in the next couple paragraphs! Are the “branches of the half-elven” actually... half-elven mortals and half-elven immortals?? What do you mean “their line was restored”?? Is this some more monarchist genetic purity bullshit?? Gentle reader, I’m sorry for the absolute profusion of question marks, but I don’t really understand what he is obliquely hinting at.

The sons of Eärendil were Elros and Elrond, the Peredhil or Half-elven. In them alone the line of the heroic chieftains of the Edain in the First Age was preserved; and after the fall of Gil-galad the lineage of the High-elven Kings was also in Middle-earth only represented by their descendants.

Okay I really like this. After the first age there are no longer any pure noble lines of any particular race. Nobility, as we see in Rohan, just sort of happens organically. I know this is the exact opposite of what Tolkien wants me to get out of this, but I’m reading it as “nobility is arbitrary, and heritages have no inherent value, especially after their context has been lying under the sea for thousands of years.” 

There’s a bit about  the founding of Numenor and they mention Meneltarma. My favorite Meneltarma thing is that after the world was rounded it still presumably sticks up out of the ocean and has a view of Tol Eressea, and people keep sailing around looking for it. I’m not sure we ever heard for sure if Tol Eressea ended up on Middle Earth or in space when Numenor fell. Then there’s a list of rulers of Numenor. Anyone have sources on the last two ruling queens, Tar-Telperien and Tar-Vanimelde? They also mention the divide between Tar- kings and Ar- kings--the latter have Adunaic names, which explains what I’ve been wondering since I read the Akallabeth. The Faithful are even... linguistically faithful. Because of course they are, it’s Tolkien. Linguistic decisions are a primary method of characterization. I’m still mad Ar-Inziladun changed his name to Tar-Palantir when he re-Faitful’d. Inziladun is the coolest fucking name ever. PLEASE let elves learn about the letter Z. Also in re the execution of those speaking Sindarin on Numenor... I wonder what Tolkien thought about the way those methods of linguistic persecution were and are used on real-ass Earth? Did he hold all natural languages to be good and worthy? (most likely: no) It’s not like I need his probably racist opinions on this but I want him to see! Double standards!

They mention the palantiri, and I want to say quickly how rad it is that if you use them for one specific thing a lot they can get stuck on it. Their animating magic gets confused and trims the subroutines that allow them to look at other stuff. I’m fond of these buggy magical artifacts.

After this there’s a lineage of Elendil’s descendants in exile. I love the phrase “ship-kings,” and I hope Tolkien is going to explain why they are called that. Nope, he did not explain. Arnor ended up being divided into three kingdoms with silly names due to an inheritance spat. I remember someone (Tom Bombadil?) talking about small kingdoms, and I expect they will all be destroyed in the war against Angmar any day now. Oh no maybe they will destroy themselves! Just like any European fairy tale with three brothers, two of them are wicked and will not stop bickering over Amon Sul and the palantir there. While this is happening, the chief Nazgul moves in up north specifically to kill them all, but apparently they don’t notice and he has plenty of time to establish infrastructure and gather armies. Guyssss. Oh! And this is the place where they name him the Witch-King! Thank goodness that’s taken care of.

This one guy in the Good Brother kingdom tried to take over the other two Arnorian kingdoms, because they didn’t have the ~blood of Isildur~ ruling them. Bull! Shit! Who gives a fuck, man! Don’t conquer people this is basic fucking courtesy. ESPECIALLY not when Angmar is RIGHT THERE waiting for the Evil Brother kingdoms to try to secede and take advantage of your strife! Oh that king’s name was Argeleb though, a really good name, a good name for a star.

It is said that the mounds of Tyrn Gorthad, as the Barrowdowns were called of old, are very ancient, and that many were built in the days of the old world of the First Age by the forefathers of the Edain, before they crossed the Blue Mountains into Beleriand, of which Lindon is all that now remains. Those hills were therefore revered by the Dúnedain after their return; and there many of their lords and Kings were buried.

Hey. Rock on. Elves aren’t the only forebears who did cool shit and who we owe cultural continuity to. Ah then there’s this cool bit about how Ardevui (some king) had to flee Fornost and stay the winter with some snow people (!!) who gradually... warmed up to him, to such an extent that when Cirdan came to fetch the Dunedain there the snow people were like “nah stay till summer, then we can take down the Witch-King.” Ardevui didn’t listen, and almost immediately died in a shipwreck. But he did give the snow people a Foreshadowing Ring that probably is going to show up later. Ardevui was the last king of Arnor, but like, he had an heir. I guess the guy just wasn’t feeling kingship. Aragorn could have already been a king, except that hobbits didn’t really need any kinging and there weren’t enough Dunedain left in the north for it to be worth it. The royal line started a tradition of fostering their sons in Rivendell. So they’d be elvish enough to seem kingly, I guess. Elvish is like French, you’ve got to know it if you’re noble. We also hear about how Celebrian was tortured by orcs (why were there orcs in the north? has Angmar not fallen yet?) and had to go away to the West for her trauma.

And now we come to Aragorn II, the current king, who sometimes vacations in his country house near the Shire. But big folk are illegal in the Shire, so he never actually goes in. Just hosts exclusive parties at his mansion. Also we find out that Sam’s daughter Elanor is 1) very beautiful (presumably as a result of magic dust) and 2) a handmaid of Arwen.

Aha! Finally, ship-kings! They’re exactly what they sound like, a succession of kings who built navies and conquered stuff along the western coast. I just can’t bring myself to care that much about the Gondor section, because there’s no hobbits and so far Beruthiel hasn’t been mentioned either. It’s just a series of small wars with literally every one of Gondor’s neighbors. Oh wait no now we’ve got a bunch of Gondorrim being rude to some king’s wife because she’s of a “lesser race,” which caused a civil war. “No, no,” they reportedly said, “we’re just concerned her children will die when they’re 30, like normal humans.”

Then there’s a bunch more wars I don’t care about. Arvedui tries to claim kingship of Gondor, because Arthedain apparently have a tendency toward greed and too much respect for successions. Gondor just stopped talking to him and crowned someone else as king. Better luck next time, asshole. All right, here we go, one of the kings (?) from Gondor, Earnur, comes up to the Grey Havens to help retake Arnor and Cirdan and everyone go off on Angmar. Earnur almost kills the Witch-King but his horse is too cowardly. Glorfindel shows up and makes the prophecy that no man will kill the Witch-King. Okay, what? Since when is Glorfindel a prophet? Among elves that capacity is usually reserved for 1) mothers (and only in regard to their children) and 2) rulers of countries. Anyway after Earnur goes back to Gondor and becomes king he is laughably easy to bait by calling him a chicken, with the consequence that he rides to Minas Morgul to fight the Witch-King and gets tortured to death. He was the last king of Gondor, because mumble mumble blood purity hangups.

More wars, more wars. Duirng Denethor’s father’s reign a Mystery Guy from a Mystery Place shows up and is just really super good at fortifying Gondor, but he leaves as soon as he’s done enough deeds to make it safe. They call him Thorongil, but I kind of suspect it’s Aragorn. That would just make Denethor’s attitude toward Aragorn in RotK more hilarious, because young Denethor really resented how much everyone loved Thorongil more than him. This is also the origin of Denethor’s distrust of Gandalf, since Thorongil kept telling Ecthelion to trust him.

Oh I thought eventually there would be like a chapter break or something. TOMORROW is Aragorn and Arwen.

#blog of the rings

[angelsdemonsducks]

(okay no we have to change that you don't get stuff for ask memes so if you're up for it how about 84 or 85 in the writing one :3? Because your hamburr au au was really really cute btw!!! )

This has been sitting in my inbox for the longest time now I am so s o r r y

So! Here it is! Number 85: Write an AU fic! Including canon era idiots, a soulmate au premise, and canon divergence because I wanted to avoid death if at all possible!

For most people, soulmates only exist as a nuisance. As something to complain about when they stub their toe or trip and skin their knee, because when one of a pair does, the other feels that pain as surely as if it were their own.

Most people don’t meet their soulmates in their lifetime. The world is, after all, very wide. Those who do are considered fortunate. Those who don’t find them, though, tend to find love on their own terms and are none the worse for it. Even though the pain that your soulmate feels is a constant that never goes away, no matter how hard you fall for someone else. An aching reminder that there is supposedly someone out there meant for you and you alone.

Burr has never given much thought to his soulmate, and when he does, it is nothing but annoyance, because it seems that whoever they are, they are constantly getting themselves into trouble. Have been since they were a kid. But as soon as the gun goes off, he knows, because he is watching with dread to see where the bullet strikes, his shout still ringing in the air but doing nothing to stop its deadly advance. I didn’t mean it, he thinks, and the bullet strikes right between Hamilton’s ribs.

An identical pain blooms in his chest, and it is all he can do to stay upright, and he knows.

He thinks he staggers forward. Hard to say; everything has gone a bit blurry and indistinct. He can hear nothing but the roaring of blood in his ears, can feel nothing but the sharp, stabbing pains running through him. The wound could very well be fatal, but he shies away from that thought. It won’t be; Hamilton will pull through, like he always does, and if he could just speak to him-

Then, he is being pulled back, and it is Van Ness’ hands on his shoulders, Van Ness who is saying something to him, his face frantic. There are few people out there who he would actually consider his friend, but Van Ness is one of them.

Once upon a time, Alexander had been another.

“-pull yourself together! We need to get you out of here, and-”

“William,” he breathes, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest. There should be blood there, but there isn’t, because it is Hamilton’s wound, not his, a wound that he dealt and-

He doesn’t know what his face looks like, but it must be a sight to behold. Whatever expression he’s making makes Van Ness stop where he is and stare, his gaze flickering back and forth between him and where Hamilton is lying on the ground.

“Shit,” he breathes after a moment, and Aaron can’t help but nod in agreement. “He’s your…? Nevermind, that just makes it more important to get you out of here right now.”

This time, he doesn’t protest, allows himself to be escorted away. His mind has gone blissfully numb.

Miraculously, Hamilton survives the night. And the next. And the next. Aaron begins to suspect, even as he rubs at the incessant ache, that while the literal bullet hit its mark, they have dodged the figurative one.

One of them, at least.

And that is how he finds himself on the Hamiltons’ doorstep one day, in no small amount of distress as Angelica Church glares at him, halfway hidden behind the door to her brother-in-law’s home. “Give me one good reason,” she is saying, “as to why I should allow you inside. Haven’t you done enough damage already?” Every word is like a viper sent to bite at his ankles, and for a moment, he considers running.

But that is not what he has come here to do.

“My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Church,” he says. “I have no intentions of doing anyone any harm today. But please, I really must speak to Hamilton, it is of utmost importance to me-”

Her glower deepens. “Oh, you must, must you?” she snaps, and then her attention is taken by a voice from inside. “Yes, it’s him,” she says, and pauses. The indistinct voice says something else. “No, I was just sending him on his way, but-” And then, the door opens wider, revealing Elizabeth Hamilton, eyes tired and sad.

“Come in, Mr. Burr,” she says. “I assume you are not here to carry out what you started with?”

“I am not, and even if I was, I am unarmed,” he assures her, and enters at her bidding. She leads him down the hallway in silence, their footsteps echoing one another’s. She stops at the foot of a staircase.

“Your actions almost cost me my husband,” she tells him, and he bows his head. Before he can respond, however, she continues. “And I fear they still will.” She stares pointedly at his chest, and he realizes with a start that he was rubbing at it again, absentmindedly. And looking into her eyes, he can tell that she knows exactly why he’s here.

“I have no intention of taking him from you,” he says.

She smiles, a small, sad thing, and shakes her head. “You couldn’t if you tried,” she says, “and I doubt you would. My worry is that he will go with you willingly.”

The worst thing is that he cannot even tell her that her fears are unfounded. And she knows it. She sighs.

“Do what you came here to do,” she tells him. “His room is the first you’ll come on.”

He thanks her and walks up the stairs. What else can he do? He cannot ease her pain anymore than she can ease his.

Eliza, he thinks, is a wise woman. She will outlive them all yet.

Hamilton is waiting for him. It is obvious in the lack of surprise in his eyes and bearing when he knocks and enters. And the way his gaze holds for a breath too long at his chest makes something else glaringly clear.

“You knew,” Aaron says, slumping into a chair by Hamilton’s bedside. “You knew.”

Hamilton’s eyes are tired too, though in a different way than Eliza’s. Perhaps this is why he answers in the way he does. “Yes,” he says simply, without prevarication or elaboration.

“You would have let me kill you.” It is not a question. Aaron already knows the answer. What he wants to know is why, and Hamilton knows it too.

“I suppose,” he replies. “I have to admit, I didn’t really expect you to. That came as a surprise. I still don’t understand why you were so angry. It was politics, not personal.”

Aaron laughs, and is surprised by the bitterness in it. “With us, it’s always personal,” he says, and feels slightly gratified when Hamilton concedes the point with a nod of his head, cracking a wry smile.

“You have a point,” he allows. “And in any case, I had no intention of hurting you. I’ve never wanted that, even putting all of-” He gestures to the two of them- “this aside.”

And that brings them right back to the point, something for which Aaron is grateful. He doesn’t particularly want to discuss the duel at the moment. Or ever, if he’s being honest. “How long have you known?” he asks, and they wince in tandem at the pain that shoots through them when Hamilton shrugs.

“Since the war,” he admits, and Aaron is surprised at the red hot anger that the words summon. “When you got heatstroke, do you remember? I’ll admit, dealing with that on top of everything else made things rather-”

“You knew all this time and you didn’t tell me.”

“And what should I have said?” Hamilton snaps, and oh, yes, there is that temper. Aaron can almost admit he missed it, as little sense as that makes. “I had Eliza and you had your Theodosia, and we were both happy. Upsetting the balance seemed foolish.”

“You mean upsetting your reputation seemed foolish,” Aaron corrects, and stands. At this point, he doesn’t know what to think anymore. One one hand, he knows that Hamilton makes a good point; he loved Theo and still does, and adding Hamilton to that would only have caused unnecessary confusion and strife.

But at the same time, knowing that Hamilton, his soulmate- and he still doesn’t know what he should do with that information- was within arms reach for most of his life and saw fit not to tell him about it… that burns.

“I don’t know what I thought I’d accomplish here,” he says, and moves toward the door. His visit thus far has caused him nothing but frustration, and at this point, he is ready to leave. There is only so much exposure to Hamilton he can take in one sitting.

He has almost exited before Hamilton makes his move. “Burr, wait!” he calls, and he must shift in place or try to sit up or do something, because a fresh wave of agony rips through him and leaves him fighting for breath and leaning heavily on the doorframe. Behind him, Hamilton is panting in a similar manner.

You did this, he reminds himself, as if he could ever forget.

“What is it you want from me, Alexander?” he asks, the familiar name slipping out without his consent. He hates the way his voice sounds far more pleading than angry, but it is too late to take it back.

There is a beat of silence, and then:

“Stay?” Alexander asks softly, and he turns to look at the man, this man he has known and loved and hated his entire life.

He should leave.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he crosses the floor to sit back down in that chair, and he stays. And he knows exactly the reason why, even if it’s not something he’ll ever care to admit.

Alexander has always been a difficult man to say no to.

#again im so sorry this took so long #i hope its okay #hamilton fanfic #hamburr #aaron burr #alexander hamilton #elizabeth schuyler #angelica schuyler

[fluffybunnybadass]

The three TGP sisters, plus Melody (Pokeverse) and Alt-Melody. Maybe Douchebagel, too.

the prompt

Full Name:Gender and Sexuality:Pronouns:Ethnicity/Species:Birthplace and Birthdate:Guilty Pleasures:Phobias:What They Would Be Famous For:What They Would Get Arrested For:OC You Ship Them With:OC Most Likely To Murder Them:Favorite Movie/Book Genre:Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche:Talents and/or Powers:Why Someone Might Love Them:Why Someone Might Hate Them:How They Change:Why You Love Them:

Sarai Chiaki

Full Name: Sarai Lin ChiakiGender and Sexuality: Female and Demiro Pansexual. Or maybe bi, but I’m honestly not sure for her in particular.Pronouns: She/herEthnicity/Species: Human/technically half-celestial, JapaneseBirthplace and Birthdate: [sputtering noises for birthplace], I forget if I kept her berdei the same as mine considering how quickly she ran from being a self-insert like right away from point of creation. :TGuilty Pleasures: [HURR HURR] reading fluffy stuff on the occasion, thinking about dat romancePhobias: being hurt/betrayed, some heights??? I forget. I don’t think her fears came up much when I was using her. :T;What They Would Be Famous For: Last I checked, it’s underground poprock star [currently a Paramore cover band]What They Would Get Arrested For: Trespassing, tbh.OC You Ship Them With: no one atm?? i mean i’d probably ship her with her bandmates if I had to pick a ship, since her and Shroud are kind of not a thing anymore [actual reason: don’t talk to that mun anymore]OC Most Likely To Murder Them: idk Raven probably [of mine, uh. QB I guess, she’s the only one to actually commit murder out of like everyone]Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Action/comedyLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: dramas/period dramasTalents and/or Powers: uhhh does being chronically depressed count uhhh she’s kinda good at her cover band gig. She’s the only one in her family that seems to be powerless, even though her parents are a celestial/angel and a powerful mage, she has 0 abilities. She secretly blames her older sisters for taking all of them, even if that isn’t the case anymore.Why Someone Might Love Them: She was the quirky LULZ RANDOM1!! teen, also is treated poorly by her narrative tbqh...Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s chronically depressed as of late/has become hardened as a result, like even to the point of another OC known for being a bitch coming in and being like “dude. stop being a bitch. you’re a human it’s literally against your biological inclinations to isolate yourself and be vitriolic.”How They Change: already answered above, but they go from being the low-key depressed but presenting RANDUMS LULZ!!! teen and eventually become full-blown depression because wow she has nothing to offer the world and continues to lack reasons to believe opposite.Why You Love Them: I... made... her??? like I don’t even know. Also maybe because we vibe a lot on the whole “I’m nothing special, everyone else [in my family] has something special about them” aspects of bad brain thinking.

Hamano Chiaki

Full Name: Hamano [nee Chiaki]. I forget her husband’s last name lolwoops. [alternatively, wonder if the girls all just. keep their last name and it’s only a technicality. They’re all still referred to as the Chiaki sisters, after all]Gender and Sexuality: female and I don’t know!! hetero/guy-loving?Pronouns: she/herEthnicity/Species: Human/half-celestial, JapaneseBirthplace and Birthdate: [whirrrling noises] I forget her birthday i’m sure it’s on her lj/gaia.... apparently it’s 9/30? huh. I always thought she was a summer muse. ok then.Guilty Pleasures: TRASHY ROMANCE MOVIES/NOVELS, like they’re so bad but she loves all the cheesy romance stuff. and some of the trashy stuff too. Phobias: Not being able to help someone/her sisters, losing her sisters.What They Would Be Famous For: Clothes/designing/teaching design!What They Would Get Arrested For: nothing she is too good. [maybe if mind-reading is illegal]OC You Ship Them With: @whenocsareooc / @curseyoupikachu ’s  Mikhail. ..Kurogawa? or was that someone else’s last name lol.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: who would want to murder her. qb doesn’t count, she’s always dtmFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Romance/”chick flicks”Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: hypermasculine action festsTalents and/or Powers: Psychic. Telekinesis, telepathy, spirit sensing, etc etc.Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s super sweet and her love of romance stuff is p. admirable.Why Someone Might Hate Them: she’s “too girly” and “cheats by mindreading”How They Change: She was a romance tryhard and flirty with all the boys, she eventually calms down when she finally meets Mikhail [she’s always been faithful to whomever she was dating, but she rarely found someone she was attracted to like. all the time. or something.]. She also goes from being the quiet middle sheep between her older and younger sister, and more actively mediates and takes part in their lives, instead of doing whatever she felt would create the least amount of strife. She goes from being a little timid about getting in the middle of things, to stepping in when she sees/senses the need for it. Why You Love Them:  SHE’S LIKE MY BLACK SHEEP I ACCIDENTALLY NEVER DO ANYTHING WITH HER, BUT I STILL LOVE HER BECAUSE EVEN IF SHE’S LIKE ALL MY GIRLY TROPES ROLLED INTO A CHARACTER, I LOVE HOW UNABASHEDLY HAPPY SHE IS ABOUT BEING A GIRL??? LIKE. YOU GO GIRL. #INSPIRATION.

Sakamoto Chiaki

Full Name: Sakamoto Chiaki-HertzmorderGender and Sexuality: Female, greysexual? //SHRUGSPronouns: she/herEthnicity/Species: human/half-celestial, JapaneseBirthplace and Birthdate: we just don’t know but it’s probably in Japan, and I thought it was later in may but maybe I was thinking of ALL THE PEOPLE I KNOW WITH MARCH/MAY BDAYS anyways it’s 5/18 apparently Guilty Pleasures: don’t tell anyone but her husband but she rly likes the soft quiet moments where she actually gets to be vulnerable/not strong, SHE WILL NOT HESITATE TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE IF YOU FIND OUT., also i’m sure there’s something else but that was the only thing to come to mind lolPhobias: Losing, getting killed, being the reason for any harm/death to come to her sisters/familyWhat They Would Be Famous For: The Potion Seller who sells you their strongest potion. am i memeing this right. also for kicking your ass with magic without breaking a sweat What They Would Get Arrested For: setting people/places on fire.OC You Ship Them With: Viktor!! :DOC Most Likely To Murder Them: lol... I’m pretty sure my friend’s OC Raven still has dibs despite them pretty much being extended family/distant relate-mates [both tough, closed off women with happier little sisters and known for being powerful as well, getting worned down by a pair of dashingly handsome vampire brothers.], but it’s more like a case of “You don’t get to die until I say you do. Only *I* am allowed to take your life.” [also a bit of pun, seeing as Raven is her realm’s goddess of death. XD]Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Nonfiction books, mostly spell/information/learning booksLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: any movies but mostly romance and action. and terribly written/”unrealistic” fantasy movies [no one is able to watch their random fantasy series around her because “THAT’S NOT HOW MAGIC WORKS WHAT THE FUCK”]Talents and/or Powers: magical AF. like. literally. High MP pool to cast those big powerful spells down a few times and blast your ass into the next 5 dimensions. Also can read tarot despite it not being a very magical thing. Why Someone Might Love Them: She’s a strong woman who don’t need no man, sarcastic af, she takes no shit.Why Someone Might Hate Them: OP af, closed off/distant even to her own siblings; kinda fucks up raising her kids/connecting with her daughter because of this.How They Change: She learns to open up more and become less imposing/threatening to her own children, especially when it shows much strain in her relationship with her own daughter. While the gap can never truly become completely filled, they have worked together on making a bridge, and as a result, she’s opened up to helping people more, whereas before it was a sort of “obligation” to the greater good. She was also mostly concerned with kicking her dad’s ass for his manipulation of his children and neglect, but while she’s nowhere near saying that she has familial love (or any kind of love for that matter) for her father, she no longer hates and despises him/just barely tolerates him.* Why You Love Them: see “reasons why someone might love them”

*bonus fact: he tries to give the Chiaki-Hertzmorder family branch gifts of goodwill, such as incredibly expensive pottery and vases and shit, and Sakamoto just lets her kids use them as target practice..... LOL. someone broke a vase? As long as it was from your grandfather it’s all good.

Melody (Pokeverse)

Full Name: Melody Ann Anson [nee Hikari]Gender and Sexuality: female, demiro (gr)ace. I think.Pronouns: she/herEthnicity/Species: Human, Kanto nativeBirthplace and Birthdate: Saffron City, 11/30/90Guilty Pleasures: buhhhhhhhhh [whirrling noise] going on adventures now that she’s a responsible adulting mom. how do u go on an adventure with two toddlers and a husband that’s a Champion and y’all are pseudo-celebs/recognizeable that is hard ok.Phobias: death, somehow doing something unforgivable, losing everything.What They Would Be Famous For: being the most accomplished trainer ever woops. [okay like. being a Champion and being married to an elite four member slash Champion? and winning a few cups/tournaments here and there? like how much MORE famous/footnote in history can you get]What They Would Get Arrested For: buhbuhbuh breaking and entering in order to free some pokemon that were being illegally kept/treated improperly lolOC You Ship Them With: no one :T [i feel like there ALMOST was one at some point. but I don’t think they were within this realm/history/limitation]OC Most Likely To Murder Them: no one within realm.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: adventure/fantasy books, action/comedies moviesLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: poorly done Kiss of LifeTalents and/or Powers: she’s a really strong/awesome trainer? and she could have been a really Masterful Coordinator in her late teens/early twenties/current age if she had kept interest in them. [Unfortunately, becoming a Pokemon Master > Pokemon Coordinator]. Why Someone Might Love Them: idk she’s just p. neatWhy Someone Might Hate Them: [insert people screaming MARY SUE here despite that getting worked on]How They Change: She starts out as this kind of. Openly willful kid, with a very expressive way about what was right and well (so I guess.. that’s like. 8th grade syndrome or whatever?), but she eventually matures, and in her early twenties she’s just this. Much more calm/reserved/wise-seeming adult who seems to have their life together, though in reality she’s still just trying to figure it out, especially when the itch to adventure isn’t something you can’t just up and do anymore when you’ve got a husband, a home, children, essentially “Settled”. Why You Love Them: she my bae/first gal  

Alt-Melody

Full Name: [redacted]Gender and Sexuality: female-presenting [maybe agender] and i’m not sure if she’s just lesbian or pan.Pronouns: she/her/they/themEthnicity/Species: humanBirthplace and Birthdate: [redacted]Guilty Pleasures: watching her girlfriend/wife?? idk tbh it’s very hard when I never really got into their character much.Phobias: becoming weak, not being able to defend/protect her gf.What They Would Be Famous For: hacking i guess.What They Would Get Arrested For: hacking, lol. and illegal time/realm travelOC You Ship Them With: alt!kiraOC Most Likely To Murder Them: QB, maybe a handful of friend’s OCs.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: tech/instruciton manuals, information booksLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: literally any of them.Talents and/or Powers: I... don’t remember terribly well? I’m not sure if she also has time/realm travel abilities or if she had a device for it. She is more warrior-trained than her alt/original.Why Someone Might Love Them: idk tough quiet person made of stone who loves her frilly gf and that dynamic between the two?Why Someone Might Hate Them: she’s p. plain for an alt.How They Change: idk she marries her gf //THROWS HANDS UP IN THE AIRWhy You Love Them: i don’t have the same affection for her like I did a lot of the other characters, but she did slap some sense into her alt [literally], so bonus points for that. *thumbs up*

Douchebagel

Full Name: idk but he’s referred to in-universe as Mafia Purge and in the past as an Alpha Purge.Gender and Sexuality: he i guess, aropan? i forget. either aropan or aroace.Pronouns: he/him/it/shitballEthnicity/Species: futuristic human thing being now made of timespace ether???Birthplace and Birthdate: one of the many alternate sc5 realms/timelines that was all mafia themed, and he was one of the few to be successful/killed his timeline’s UlalaGuilty Pleasures: everything he does is a guilty pleasure.Phobias: uh. i forget if spiders was a universal alt/purge phobia or not.What They Would Be Famous For: he is literally famous within that rpverse as being the Fallen, the ex-Alpha, for being a piece of shit, and when he and QB meet in timeline, for actually being one of the few people to give QB a run for her money.What They Would Get Arrested For: [LAUGH TRACK]OC You Ship Them With: crackships alpha and qb. separately. tho man now i wonder how the fuck a poly would work with them that would be interesting/hilarious AF.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: QB, Alpha, any of the other alt Purges... they all also HAVE killed him he’s just. beyond normal lifeline/timeline cycles when he originally ascended to Alpha status.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Crime lol. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Where the crimelords don’t win like where’s the realism in that.Talents and/or Powers: where do i begin? Spacetime manipulation for one, manipulation of people for another, being insanely uber powerful that only other beings who have ascended to a statehood of Alpha can even come close to harming him, making even QB hesitate. I forget what else but man he’s. he’s... someone you don’t wanna mess with, like actual demigod level here.Why Someone Might Love Them: he literally is scum the only thing he has going for him is being a source of drama and being someone QB would hatefully run from/avoid conflict with.Why Someone Might Hate Them: he is a piece of shit and tortures all his alts without remorse and is essentially the one who ruined alpha’s life, PLEASE GIVE ALPHA HIS HAPPINESS AND CHEERFUL NATURE BACK KTHXHow They Change: he gets more powerful, merges with a demon, comes back as an uber demon. is still unsuccessful.Why You Love Them: LOVE HATE MAN LOVE HATE CAN YOU SEE WHY DO I REALLY NEED TO SPELL IT OUT.

#my ocs #--sort of #oc: melody anson #oc: chiaki sisters #tgp #the guilty pleasure #the 3 kingdoms #douchebagel #oc: sarai chiaki #oc: hamano chiaki #oc: sakamoto chiaki #oc: sakamoto hertzmorder #oc: alt. melody #notevendoommusic #asks

[testifytime2-blog]

moonlightcook1e replied to your post “When I get home I’m gonna ramble about why I find John’s place in...”

Tell me the Salt I'm genuinely curious,,,,,,

Oh sweetie I hope you’re prepared cus I am here to give you the salt on why I, personally, an unsatisfied with John’s ending in that fucking hell of a comic. 

So, firstly, we need to look at where we start off. John’s a 13 year old kid with a loving father who tries to connect with what he believes are his child’s interests, in a household that makes a fair bit of money, in a life where his only complaint is that his dad might be a bit weird and a bit overbearing. John has a good life. An enviable life. 

Now lets look at the other kids. Rose, who has some serious issues with her mother, and though they’re very well off (arguably the most well off out of all of them, maybe), the loving and caring between mother and daughter seems hampered by Rose’s view of her; Dave, who lives in an abusive/neglectful household, with dangerous weapons all over the place, a possessed puppet as a roommate, and probably the lowest budget out of them all despite Bro’s business empire; Jade, who is literally all on her own except for a dog. 

Why is this important to note in my eyes?

Because Sburb gives to everyone but John.

Now, what I mean by that is this:

Rose is taken from her household, loses her mother, and has some pretty fucking serious issues (for instance, the alcoholism and going grimdark), but in the end, she benefits from the game through a very loving girlfriend, whom she marries, and a younger version of her mother through whom she can reconcile the troubles and strifes that went unresolved between her mother and herself. 

Dave is removed from his household, loses his abuser, comes to terms with his abuse through the reconciliation with the younger version of his brother, actually gains that younger version as a brother, gains a loving boyfriend, and despite having to go through identity issues and personal strain and death to get there, in the end, he just seems... happy. Happier than he’s been at any other point.

Jade is removed from her household, is taken out of her unwanted isolation, is given the chance to interact with people for the first time since she was small, to actually see her friends, the people who care for her and have been there for her. She’s given the chance to live outside of her dreams and the things she knows is going to happen/the things Bec makes happen (or protects her from), she’s given spontaneity and people she deeply cares for. She, like the others, goes through hell and back to get it, but in the end, Jade is no longer alone. 

John loses a very loving father, loses a stable household, loses his friends over and over, and in the end I believe is even put in a different timeline with people who are yet aren’t his friends, is given not his father, not the version of someone he deeply cared for like the others, but a younger version of his Nanna - someone he never even met - and said Nanna’s father(/his son) - e.g. someone who is not his dad. He loses every relationship he (or other versions of him) try to form, he doesn’t get a final love interest from it all-

And in the end, he’s just. In his old house, all alone, no better off from where he started. Sure, he’s got his friends, but what John gains from the game is minuscule to what his friends gain. 

Do his friends deserve to get all of that gain? Hell yes. Oh holy fuck yes they do and if Hussie took that away from them I would bludgeon him with a dead clown, but John, in my eyes, is just kinda. Left out? He’s not got his dad, he’s not got the younger version of someone he loved, he’s not got a love interest, having his friends irl isn’t that huge of an impact considering the environment he’s in, and honestly, in the end...

John almost benefits more from the game having never happened. 

He doesn’t reconcile with his dad, like Rose does with her mom, and he doesn’t escape from an abusive household like Dave does, and he doesn’t get a lover who helps him feel good about himself and what he’s lived through like they do, either. He’s not saved from isolation like Jade is, or Roxy, or Dirk, or even Jake; his life isn’t saved from assassination like Jane is, putting her in a situation to build a goddamn business for herself, and a successful one at that (and similarly, he doesn’t have the sort of film business going on like Jake does) - and he sure as hell doesn’t get two lovers like Jane does. He gets, at the most, the satisfaction that he survived through some real shit with his friends, the satisfaction that he’s a god, and that’s. About it. 

Did John even properly mourn his dad? I can’t remember. 

But the point is, if the game had never happened, John would still be a kid with a very loving father, in a well off household, surrounded by people he could befriend or fall in love with, with the chance to get into a good job, with four friends he cares for deeply. He could have kids and become a dad himself, and run a jokeshop or become famous as a magician/comedian. He could have had a good and fulfilling life. 

Is this probably the point? Is John, the one who had everything, losing a hell of a lot and getting little in return, while the ones who had almost nothing gain so, so much, the entire point? Probably. And those kids deserve so fucking much. 

But goddamn it I refuse to believe John could actually be happy where he is right now. His dad is still dead! Jane still has her dad and that is not fair. He saw literally everyone he cared for die, he went through a highly traumatic game, he’s now a god, and he’s just- he’s just okay with that? How does this kid not have some serious PTSD after everything he’s gone through? How does he seemingly not care that everyone is better off than he is - that Jake and Jane have successful businesses and they as well as Dave and Rose have successful and loving relationships and that they all have this gain, this sort of peace from their original, abnormal lives, while John is just left getting older, in a house that doesn’t have his loving father in it, without a job or a purpose he could be working to, or someone to help support him/love him. It’s not believable in my mind? No kid would go through all of that and lose that much and then at the end be like “oh yeah this is fine lol”. 

My main salt is basically that John has lost a fucking lot through that damn game, and at the least I wish he could just get his dad back. He deserves that much? At least? 

Obviously I’m probably kinda blowing this out of proportion or whatever but I just want this dumbass windy kid to a) actually act like a kid would after going through the kinda shit he did and b) get his gotdamn dad back. 

#moonlightcook1e #long post // #the heartbroken prince rambles #sometimes the blogger rambles

[hoseastudy]

Day 56:  Pressed - Guest post by Chelsea Barrick

When I was a little girl, my sister and I lead a life of many secrets, of hurt, pain, and feelings of being utterly alone.  My mom could not care for us at times in our childhood and a time came when we were two little girls on a pilgrimage searching for our next home, our next meal, or possibly our next family.  There was one night in particular when my sister and I had been staying with a family for a few days.  I remember that night lying in bed and being thankful that I had a bed to sleep in and food in my stomach. As I was laying there though I overheard this lady talking about how she wasn’t sure she could handle caring for the two of us and that they would need to discuss which one of us would stay and then find another home for the other.  The shock of hearing that sent me into uncontrollable sobbing and I was trying to smother the sounds of my tears in the pillow for fear someone would hear. I just laid there praying and asking, "God why us?   We are so little and young.  Please keep us together.  Find a home or please make my mom well enough to care for us". 

That was definitely a hard time in my life and at that time I did not understand it and wondered why God would ever allow children to feel pain to that degree. I know now that even in those very dark times, He provided everything we needed not a minute to soon or a minute to late. He gave us the strength and courage to fight day after day. He provided by letting my older sister stay by my side.  Just when we may have lost hope, He gave us the hope we needed.  He placed loving and caring women and men in our lives for periods of time that helped guide us and they would even pray with us and for us through the rest of our journey through our childhood, teenage years, adulthood, marriage, and motherhood!  He gave us not one earthly mom but several that I will always hold dear in my heart.  

Trials are hard and sometimes unbearable at moments. I have been through many trials, starting as a young child and even into my adult life.  Even though this verse has not always been my life verse, recently over the last couple of months, God has repeatedly made this verse known to me through scripture when I’m reading, through devotionals, and through my bible study. As I was studying this verse and looking into it deeply, I found it was written by the apostle Paul and in this verse he is referring to some of the trials to which he and his fellow laborers were subjected to in making known the gospel.  Could you imagine 40 something men plotting to kill you or being imprisoned and beaten?  I love how Paul used his suffering to glorify Jesus.

2 Corinthians 4:8-9  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 

pressed - to crowd (literally or figuratively) afflicted, narrow, throng, suffer tribulation, trouble.

crushed- to hem closely together, that is (figuratively) cramp, distress, straiten. Not Crushed-In all things we are pressed, but are not suffocated.

perplexed - to have no way out, that is, to be at a loss (mentally)- (stand in) doubt, be perplexed. Brought into circumstances of great embarrassment, hardly knew what to do, or what course to take. Were surrounded by foes; they were in want; they were in circumstances which they had not anticipated, and which greatly perplexed them.

despair - To be utterly at loss, to be utterly destitute of measure of resource, to renounce all hope, be in despair. Not despair- Their needs were provided for; their embarrassments were removed; their grounds of perplexity were taken away; and unexpected strength and resources were imparted to them. When they did not know what to do; when all resources seemed to fail them, in some unexpected manner they would be relieved and saved from absolute despair. 

persecuted- to make run or flee, put to flight, drive away, to run swiftly in order to catch a person or thing, to run after. To purse in a ( hostile manner). In any way to harass.

abandoned - desert. Leave in straits, leave helpless, utterly forsaken, to leave behind, to leave surviving. Not abandoned- Not abandoned; nor left by God Though persecuted by people, to experience the fulfillment of the divine promise that God would never leave nor forsake us. God always interposed to aid us; always saved us from the power of our enemies; always sustained us in the time of persecution. It is still true. His people have been often persecuted. Yet God has often interposed to save us from the hands of our enemies; and where he has not saved us from their hands, and preserved our lives, yet he has never left us, but has sustained, upheld, and comforted us even in the dreadful agonies of death or trails.

struck down - to throw to the ground, to put in a lower place.

destroyed - to destroy, to put out of the way entirely, abolish, to put an end to ruin, render useless, to kill, to declare on must be put to death, to devote or give over to eternal misery in hell. Not deserted; Not killed. They rose again; they recovered their strength; they were prepared for new conflicts. They surmounted every difficulty, and were ready to engage in new strifes, and to meet new trials and persecutions.

(All above definitions and commentaries are taken from www.studylight.org)

What I love so much about this verse is that in every trial, He is there right by our side, never abandoning us.  I don’t know a single person who wants to endure trials or to have their heart hurt or to experience feelings of being hopeless, alone, or abandoned.  I have felt the deep, hard pains of trials.  Sometimes when I think back on some of them I have endured, my eyes begin to water up and my throat begins to close….I know these feelings all too well.  It's often as if the pain is still as much present today as it was when it happened. Have you ever felt that pain before?  I think back to those times and I remember thinking, "I don’t think I will survive this".  

I loved the definition for not destroyed that I shared up above.  They rose again; they recovered their strength; they were prepared for new conflicts. They surmounted every difficulty and were ready to engage in new strifes and to meet new trials and persecutions. It’s through the pressing times that I have seen Gods hand move in my life, guiding, and redirection my footsteps. I know in order for us to grow and to change to become more like Him that pressing times must come. I love how 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 says, “for this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison”.

Romans 8:35-37Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the daylong; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 

James 1:2-4Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

2 Corinthians 4:16-17So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

This is my precious friend Chels and her sweet daughter Maybre at the pumpkin patch last week!  I've known Chelsea for about 6 or 7 years and she has always been dear to my heart but just recently the Lord has taken our friendship so much deeper.  We are just at the same place in our desire to know the Lord and to abide in intimacy with Him!  We are also homeschooling and doing Classical Conversations together.  One thing I admire most about Chelsea is her ability to make light of hard situations!  Lately it seems when everyone else seems to be stressing out and overreacting (including me) she is smiling and laughing and trusting God!  Last night even, I was keeping her kids because she wasn't feeling good and my husband took her precious 2 year old along with my 2 year old to the park.  Her little daughter Maybre fell and got a pretty deep cut between her eyes.  Chelsea and her husband Chris were so gracious and forgiving toward us and they just smiled and laughed and said, "she will be just fine!"  If it wasn't for the contagious, sweet light hearted spirit they had I may have lost it!