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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 3 years

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Secret Baby Ch23

Dabi wakes up one day to Giran calling to ask him if he can take on an emergency mission. He needed Dabi to go spend a night or two at the League with Jin. Dabi says no at first, citing the agreement he made when he took Dabi on as an employee. Giran simply sends the exact same message back and Dabi knows he’s not truly asking. He doesn't have an option in whether or not he accepts doing Giran a favor. He’s been kind so far, routinely pays Dabi on time and always gives him his full amount of pay. He Can’t afford to lose his job, especially when the price for betraying Giran is higher than he can pay. “Come to the cafe right away, you will be shown straight to the back this time.”

Dabi swipes to mark it as read as texts Kikiyo’s babysitter, a feeling of dread and anxiety building. That’s normal for him though, he chalks it up to growing up the way he did and being on the wrong side of the law.

'You're going to have to find somebody else ‘Dabi.’ I know that’s not your actual name but whatever, Kikyo is obviously a mutant child. I'm not certified for Mutants. She wouldn’t stop screaming last time, I'm sick of the little feathers tripping me up as I try to take care of the other kids.”

Dabi tried to call her, to work something out just for the day as he drummed his fingers anxiously on the counter. Maybe get a recommendation if she wouldn't babysit Kikiyo, someone who was actually certified instead of going through this again. She must have blocked his number after sending the text because the number comes across as out of service. A quick internet search recommends a daycare several miles away from the nearest bus stop. It’s almost twice what he had been paying her. He swears and bites his lip as he rubs at his tired eyes, pacing in the kitchen. Kikiyo cries, scenting her fathers rising distressed scent filling the air. The black haired omega closes his eyes, biting his lip until it bleeds as he calls his mothers number. There’s a chance she won’t sell him out to Hawks or her husband. Slim as that chance is, Dabi isn’t left with any other choices with the trouble he’s gotten himself into and how much he owes Giran.

He can’t tell Giran that he can’t go through with this job. He can't take Kikiyo with him. This mission is coming at an inconvenient time and he doesn't have anyone else he can call to watch her. It’s been long enough, he misses his siblings if not his mother. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to do this. The phone rings and rings, Giran sends another message asking if he is on his way and Dabi sends back a simple no. Dealing with a disappointed or upset giran is somehow worse than calling his mother and he thinks about hanging up the phone and explaining to Giran for a moment that he has a kid and no babysitter. He doesn't know what other explanation he could give Giran that he couldn't disprove in minutes. He’s never been late before, the bus on his routes are suspiciously never late or full. He’s taken note of it before and had just been grateful. Only now does he consider that it may have been the work of his boss.

Maybe he was seeing how far he would go for him. At what point he would choose Kikiyo over his job. He had a job for kikyo, because of kikiyo. Dabi doesn't know the last time he had a moment or thought or action for himself that it wasn't stolen. Kikiyo’s cries turn to screeches as the call gets declined and Dabi’s stomach plummets. He feels sick as he leans against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut against a migraine hard. Redialing Rei’s number, just in case she had been away from the phone and missed the call. “This is Rei todoroki. May I ask who is calling this number?” she doesn't sound like she’s short of breath or in pain. Maybe it’s a good week. She can come and watch kikiyo and they can talk afterwards. Even if she never wanted Dabi, she can want and love her grandchild. Dabi can make peace with whatever he has to for her safety.

“Hey, it’s uh. It’s Touya.” saying his old name feels clumsy. Like an ill fitting coat, it reminds him of a different kind of stress. When he was struggling to be happy for just a few minutes before everything changed and he made plans to never be seen again. Married off to whoever gave enji the most benefits. Nothing but a tool and an object like his mother was treated. Kikiyo had very well saved him from that fate, Dabi isn’t sure how long he would have been able to bear it.

“I, I don’t know if you guys thought I was dead or um. I don't know what exactly you had thought happened to me but I, I had her, your granddaughter. I’m sorry I lied about geting a abortion. I’ve, I’ve been barely making it mom-” He hates doing this. Rei can’t offer him any help and even if she can she won’t. Dabi doesn't want to give up this thing he’s started with Giran. He can just, He needs his mom to watch kikiyo for a few hours. He can make it on his own with just this help from her.

“I can’t give you any money Touya.” she says and Dabi feels a tear dip down his cheek as he realizes her tone never shifted at the realization she was talking to him. Maybe enij reported him as a runaway but they couldn’t arrest him. they couldn't bring him home again because he was over 18.

“No, i. That's not why i’m calling. I need a babysitter.” He feels more tears leak out his eyes and he pokes Kikiyo’s cheek to make the screeching stop.

He places a few crackers in front of her and she’s instantly distracted with the food. Peeping at him every few bites and holding a cracker out for him that he smiles at as he pretends to eat it. Nibbling at her little fingers and forcing himself to smile at her to give his daughter the impression that everything is just fine. Daddy’s just weird sometimes and smells scared when there’s no need for her to worry.

“I have my own job. I just-” He hates begging her for things, she always lets him down and he’s tired of being out of options. “I’m not going to whatever rodent infested place you've landed yourself in to watch your child. Not when you shouldn’t be off partying with some random alpha who I’ve never even met or who never asked us to court you.” Despite the harsh words her tone is dreamy and far off. Dabi knows she’s staring off into space as she speaks on the phone, no clue where he is. Uncaring and someone else will have to dress the kids and feed them tonight, help with homework since he’s not there. She might come back to herself tonight, it's hard to judge over the phone.

“No mom. I’m by myself. The father isn’t in the picture. I told him the same thing I told you.” he panics slightly. She can't process what he’s saying right now, never has been able to. He needs her though. He’s gotten himself so far down in trouble that he can’t get out and he’s comfortable with that until now. “You can come meet your grand baby. She’s wonderfully behaved, I promise. She can just smell me right now and im. I’m scared and alone and i'm in some trouble if i don’t go on this job.” he admits as his eyes widen in panic and when Kikiyo wont eat her crackers and starts crying again he nearly cries with her. Instead he picks her up and bounces her in the air as he holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “I said no Touya. I can’t, He would find out. Just like he found out about your clubbing when that young blond man came knocking on the door. Looking for you. Everyone else had to pay for your mistakes because you weren’t here Touya. I refuse to clean up after a child I never wanted. I don’t have a grandbaby or an oldest omega son.” There’s a click as Kikiyo chirps shirlley and Dabi let himself slide down to sit against his counter.

Dabi’s head snapped up as there was a knock on the door. Grabbing Kikiyo and shuffling back away from the door. He glanced towards the balcony door as he held her tightly. They were on the 5th floor, no way he could make it down with her and still manage to run. The missed Call and message from Giran glowed on the screen and he pressed Kikiyo’s face tightly to his chest as he back away down the hallway. Not that it would do either of them any good to hide in the closet, still he pushed the clothes to the side and as he sank to the back shushing Kikiyo he spread them back forward to hide them. He hadn’t even taken his pills recently so he couldn’t hide them, throwing off distressed omega and baby pheromones.

His heart stopped beating as he buried his nose in Kikiyo's hair, clenching his eyes shut and clutching her to his chest as the door rattled and opened, of course Girain had sent someone who could pick locks.

He froze as his bedroom door rattled and a familiar scent met his nose. Kikiyo’s too seeing as how she managed to pull back enough to let out a cry to be picked up. It didn’t matter that Giran had come himself to harm them, that Dabi was terrified out of his mind and uselessly trying to shush her.

“I, I’m sorry Dabi. I didn’t think about how this must look to you.” Giran spoke outside the door. Dabi didn’t dare breath as he heard the rustle of clothes and Giran sat down outside the closet door. Scent deeply sad and like he was trying to comfort Dabi. Old books cigars and coffee the most comforting thing he’d smelled in a long time and the closest thing he’d ever had had to a comforting parental scent.

“Dabi, would. Would you mind coming out here? I can hold her if you wish or you can leave her in there but i think it’s time we talked. About what exactly you plan to do when your a single disowned omega with an infant getting involved in organized crime.” he sighed. Waiting another moment before he stood up and pulled back the door. Pushing Dabi’s clothes out of the way as Kikiyo cried loudly to be transferred to him and Dabi kept his head down, gritting his teeth against literally baring his fangs at Giran and shuffled them back deeper.

Giran let out a heavy long breath before stepping into the closet and sitting down across from them. Wrinkling his suit even further and closing the door behind him. Dabi marginally relaxed as he peered across the dark space at him. He took off his suit coat and placed it behind himself as he held his arms out for kikiyo. Dabi crumbled as he passed her into his arms as she coo’d at him. Patting him on the nose as tears dripped down Dabi’s face, head kept turned to the side as he avoided looking at Giran. Giran held her close and put her near his shoulder like he would burp her. Gently talking to her about how happy he was to meet her and how hard her dad was working to keep her safe. The words ‘I’m so proud of your father’ came out of his mouth and Dabi let out a sob before he managed to shove a mouth over his hand, fliniching back. “Dabi. Come here.” Giran held out his other arm as he comforted Kikiyo and Dabi dove for it. Getting easily pulled into his arms as he sobbed.

He doesn't know how long the 3 of them sat like that, sitting in Dabi’s closet as he sobbed and Kikiyo giggled and Giran held them both.

#thedarkonewrites #bnha #mha #Dabi #Hawks #Dabihawks #omega verse #secretbabyfic #OmegaDabi #AlphaKeigo #DabiHawks

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logicstolemyfairytales · 3 years

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Chapter 5 - The Gift

“...so that’s everything. I should memorise the path to the house by next week.” I explain to the detective at the cafe.

She nods and continues to write down notes in her book.

“Fascinating...and their power...they call it ‘the power of creation’?”

“Yes. they state that they can create materials with it out of nowhere, but other than that, I have no idea what the constraints of their abilities are. I’ll see to it that I try to pry some more information out of them.” I explain.

The detective closes her book and looks at me.

“That’s good. Maybe you can find proof on how the anomaly destroyed the building. After that, we’ll be done.” she hands me an envelope, most likely with the money. She tends to change the ‘packaging’ every week.

“Done?” I repeat.

“Yes. I think one more week, and you’ll no longer have to do this.”

“That is good to know. Thanks.” I stand up.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be going home.”

The detective gives a dismissive wave, and I walk out of the cafe. I quickly make my way home, and walk inside. Noticing two pairs of shoes at the front, I deduce that my parents are home from work.

“I’m home.” I announce. I hear noise coming from the kitchen, and see my dad poke his head from behind the wall. When he notices me, he smiles and walks over to greet me.

“Ah, Rookie! Back home I see. What have you been up to?” he asks.

“I was with the detective, dad.” I was about to give a casual hug, but my dad puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“Your scarf…” He mutters.

I look down and realise that my scarf has several holes and tears in it. Most likely from that...beast biting onto it. I was in such a rush to meet up with the detective that I hadn’t noticed.

“Oh...I ran into a small ‘mishap’ while with the anomaly.” I explain.

“Did they do that to you?” My dad looks concerned.

“No, they were the one who helped me out.”

“They did?” my dad looks off to the side, and his hand falls off my shoulder. He seems to think for a moment, and then turns to look at me.

“Brooklyn, if this person protected you...are they as bad as the detective says?” he questions.

I think about what my dad says. Sure, the anomaly helped me, but...I have no evidence proving that they did it out of good will. Or bad will, may I say. My dad is a free-thinking logical personality, so the desire to assume the most logical answer as true isn’t as strong. Instead, he prefers to write the whole idea in his head and analyse every possible outcome. However, this makes him prone to being open to unreliable ideas.

“I can’t trust the anomaly dad. Sorry.” I say, looking down.

“Well, at least hear their side of the story before making a conclusion. And don’t they have a name?” my dad mentions.

I look up into his eyes. They do have a name, I remember. But I’ve rarely addressed them in the past few weeks, so the name is foggy in my head.

“...I’ll try to refer to them with it more often dad.” my dad smiles gratefully, and walks back into the kitchen.

“Your father’s a bit busy right now, but make sure to talk to him later, ok?” “Alright. I’ll be in my room.” I make my way up the stairs and enter my room. I take off my coat and scarf and hang them on a coat hanger, and place them into my closet. Then, I turn to my bed and lay down. Looking up at the ceiling, I think back to my chat with the detective.

One more week, and you’ll no longer have to do this.

One more week. And then after that, I return to my old life. I’ll go to school, make new friends, learn the basics, and go home. The anomaly will never be mentioned again in my life.

I’ve finished my mission.

And yet...I feel so unsatisfied with that idea.

I have so many more questions. Ever since I’ve met the anomaly, my curiosity has only grown stronger. And to learn that in just seven days, I’ll have no excuse to be around them and ask questions?

It...upsets me.

And I hate the fact that I don’t understand why I’m so upset.

I sigh heavily in frustration, and close my eyes.

I’ll talk to them tomorrow.

The next day comes around, and I’m standing, waiting for the...wait, what was their actual name?

I thought about what their name actually was last night, but the name still hasn’t come up. I know it starts with a ‘Cr’, but other than that, I can’t remember. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey Brooklyn!” I come out of my thoughts to see that the...anomaly is standing next to me.

“Hello, Cryssss….” I draw out the name, struggling to remember. Was it ‘Crystalline’, or ‘Crystoph’?

“...’Crys’?” they repeat, looking confused.

“Yes…?” I start to sweat. This is it. I’ve just ruined my chances of another chance to talk to them. However, when I look at them, they smile.

“Snrk!” they snort, and I blush.

“Is that a nickname? How cute!” they exclaim. I internally sigh in relief. Looks like I got close enough to their name.

“Can I give you one too?” they ask, looking hopeful. I huff quietly.

“I suppose...that’s fair.” I mutter in defeat. Here we go. Now I’m going to have to live with some ridiculous name for a week.

“I think just ‘Brook’ would be nice!” they chirp.

I do a silent double take.

“Wait, just ‘Brook’? No random additions, no unique twists? Just a basic shortened version of my name?” I comment. The… Crys nods.

“Yeah! That’s why it’s good for you. I had the feeling that you'd prefer it that way.”

‘Brook’...it’s not bad, i guess.

“...I’ll live with it, then.” I murmur, looking off to the side.

Crys chuckles, and I find myself getting slightly flustered. Then, I remember a question I had wanted to ask about yesterday.

“Erm, Crys...about that beast, yesterday…”

“Do you mean Borez?” they recall.

“Uh, yes. Are there more of those in the forest?” I question.

“Nah, it’s just only him.” they reply. I sigh, relieved.

“Thank goodness, because- “

“There are other majenaries you should watch out for, though.”

…

“What.”

Crys looks shocked.

“Oh, sorry! Did I forget to mention that there are other majenaries?”

“What in the world...are majenaries?” I ask.

“Majenaries are these weird creatures that live in the forest. They have an imaginary look to them.” suddenly, their eyes lit up.

“How about I show you a few, Brook?” I start sweating again.

“Will any of them try to eat me as well?” I worry.

“No! Well, some, but I’ll make sure we don’t come across those.” Crys places a hand on my shoulder.

“And if we do, I’ll protect you. What do you say?”

I think about the offer. Learning about these creatures has nothing to do with what the detective has asked of me, but my curiosity is piqued. Plus, I may get the chance to see Crys use their powers.

“Sure, but you better keep that ‘Boris’ away.”

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise he won’t touch you.”

“...fine.”

“Then let’s go!” Crys grabs my hand and leads me into the forest.

We travel away from the dirt path, and deep into the eastern side of the woods. As we walked, I noticed all these strange creatures appearing from behind the trees. The colorful and strange plants that I had seen before had also become more prevalent. Crys would occasionally stop and point out a creature to me and explain a bit about it. On some occasions, they would hold the creature and show it closely to me.

All the creatures that I was seeing were...bizarre.

There was this small snake like creature with colorful bands and a head that looked like a pearl. It was the length of a shoe, and had retractable antennae that it used to attach itself to items and feel its surroundings. Crys let the creature wrap around their arm, and explained that it was a ‘parasorm’. Apparently, these creatures had the ability to attach themselves to other creatures and feed on ‘emotions’. I guessed that they most likely fed on some form of hormones. The thought of the parasitic creature just sitting on Crys’s arm worried me, but they reassured me that ‘skittles’ was friendly. They asked if I wanted to touch it, but I politely refused.

They showed me a few more creatures. There was this lizard like creature that had some sort of shell called a ‘spiraled dragon’. Then there were these rodent-like creatures that shared a long furry tail and were called ‘melders’.

The most peculiar one though was the ‘dereel’. Like the name slightly suggests, it looked like the mix between an eel and a deer. It had the body of a deer, but it’s neck was long and colorful, as well as its tail. Crys mentioned that the creature had both lungs and gills, and that its weighted hooves allowed it to walk under water. I’ll admit that these creatures were rather...interesting.

Now, Crys had walked away for a second and returned with an odd creature gripping at their arm. I walk over to it to get a better look.

It looked like a funny koala with claws for ears.

“this is a koalutcher! They use their ear-like appendages to hang onto branches. They’re also really fluffy.” Crys explains. I stand back, and open my head, sifting for information. I finally land on the page holding memories of a koala.

“It looks very much like a koala.” I start to explain, but I'm interrupted by Crys dashing over to me with sparkles in their eyes.

“Whoa! You can open up your head and see stuff? That’s so cool!” they exclaim.

I flip another page filled with information about the town.

“Well, yes. As you can see, I can quickly recall information in my memories- ” I suddenly feel hands grabbing my face. Crys is looking onto my open page with awe.

They’re...really close.

“How does it work? Can I flip the pages?” ask they speak, I feel their fingers slip under my page and grip it.

I freeze up, and start to flush. They’re...really really close. I start to tremble slightly.

“Your pages are really soft!” they comment, starting to turn the page.

I snap out of my stupor and push Crys away, quickly snapping my head shut.

“U-uh…” I trip over words.

“That’s a bit to close...for me…” I mumble, face all red. Crys looks at me with concern.

“Oh, did I hurt you? Was that uncomfortable? I-I’m so sorry!” they babble out apology after apology. I raise my hand to signal them to stop.

“It’s ok. Perhaps...we should meet up tomorrow, and stop for today.” I suggest, trying to get rid of the flush on my face. Crys nods, but their face still shows guilt.

“Ok, but I’ll make it up to you, ok?” they take my hand, and for the first time, I’m oddly aware of their contact with me.

They lead me out of the forest, and wave goodbye before leaving. I turn away, and feel that my face is still hot.

“Get a hold of yourself…” I whisper to myself, and walk home.

Crys wasn’t lying about paying me back. The next day, I walk over to the park to see that they were there earlier than I was. When they turn around, I notice that they have a small cardboard box in their hand. They see me and smile. Then, they extend the box out to me.

“Here you go!”

“A..box?” I stare at it. Crys snorts.

“C’mon, you know I mean what’s in it.”

I take the box and open up the lid. I was slightly surprised to see a scarf. The scarf was a rich dark blue color, and had a similar design to the one I had ruined the other day. I pull it out of the box. It’s very soft.

“A scarf?”

“Yeah, to replace the one you had torn by Borez. I hope I nailed your favorite color. Navy, right?”

I just blink, shocked.

“I-it is. How did you know?” I question, genuinely curious.

“Well, you’re always staring at stuff of that color when we go walking, and even though your bookmark isn’t navy, it’s a pretty dark blue.” they explain.

“You guessed my favorite color with that?” I exclaim. “And yet, I don’t even know yours after asking so many questions…”

“Hey Brook, Can I try tying up your scarf?” Crys asks. It was a weird request, but maybe I can get a request back.

“Only if you show me what’s under the hood.” I declare. Crys looks surprised, but huffs in amusement.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask about it...deal.” They take the scarf from my hand and start to wrap it around my neck.

I find myself being hyper aware of their proximity. I start to blush. I feel Crys’s hands brush against me, and I feel my heart pound.

What’s going on?

W-What’s happening to me?

“Done!” Crys states, and steps away from me.

I feel my heart start to calm down. I look down, and realise that they’ve tied it so that the ends of the scarf hang in the back.

“What do you think?” they look at me expectantly.

“It’s...convenient, I suppose. Now, your hood?” I remind them of their deal.

“Ok…” they raise their hands and start to pull off their hood.

“But it’s nothing special.” as their hood falls, I find myself gasping quietly at the sight in front of me.

“What?” they ask, noticing my reaction.

“Your hair’s a bloody mess!” I blurt out.

Their hair was a soft light blue, but the hair itself was completely in disarray. Bits and pieces were poking out at every angle.

“Really? I thought that it wasn’t that bad...I don’t really notice…” they flick their hair around in an attempt to improve it, but to no avail.

“Please tell me you have a brush.”

“No, but I can make a simple one. Why?”

“I have to fix that disaster.”

“Uh, ‘Disaster’? Ok...” the symbol in their eye appears, and I try to look at it as quickly as I can. It looks like an eight pointed star.

The faint glow appears, and I see a simple comb appear in Crys’s hand. They hand it over to me, and I start to brush through the mess of hair. I start at the bottom to get the knots out, and work my way up. Eventually, the stray clumps of hair are redirected, and the knots are all gone. When I step back and look at my work, I see that all the hair seems to have settled down. It still has bits poking out, but it was most likely due to the way the hair was cut. Crys combs a hand through their hair and smiles.

“Wow, this is so much better! I could barely comb my fingers through it without them getting stuck a while ago. Thanks so much!” they flash me a big smile, and my stomach flutters.

“Y-you’re welcome.” I avert my eyes.

“Never thought my friend was a hairstylist.” Crys jokes. I turn back to them.

“...Friends?” Crys looks back at me, and flushes a little bit.

“W-well, I thought...sorry. We’ve been hanging out for almost two months, and…” their voice slowly fades, and they look down, seemingly disappointed.

Looking at their expression, I feel my stomach start to squeeze.

Why does their expression make me feel so...Bad?

“well...I suppose that we are friends…” I mumble quietly, but Crys hears it. Their upset face quickly shifts into a smile.

“You really think so? That means so much!” They step forward and hug me tightly. My stomach starts to flutter again, and I panic.

What is this feeling?

Why is this happening?

Am I sick?

“Hey Brook, how do you feel about staying over at my place for the night?” I almost miss the question.

“Stay over at your place?”

“Yeah! I know you’re still wary about me meeting your parents, but would this be ok?”

Staying over their place….it would give me a chance to observe them at night, and I could investigate their house. It’s the perfect opportunity.

Then why do I feel so uncomfortable thinking about doing all that?

...Nevermind.

“It should be fine.” I answer.

“Cool! How’s...the day after tomorrow?” they suggest.

“It works for me.” Crys smiles, and turns away, heading back into the forest.

“See you then!” they holler out, and disappear behind the trees.

I wave goodbye, and start walking back home.

I don’t like it when I don’t understand something. Especially if it’s about myself. These unknown reactions to Crys are completely foreign to me. For Crys to make me feel uncertain of myself…

It's starting to make me really irritated.

#art #original #original art #original story #original stuff #brooklyn #crystal #story #drawing

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guardiansofnosgoth · 5 years

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Chapter Four: Raziel is Chosen

Raziel awoke in agony, blood and bile sour on his tongue and caked on his lips. His shoulders ached, dislocated from being dragged along his knees as dead weight. When he looked over his shoulder he retched, afflicted by the sight of his boneless, bloody wings shuffling across the ground. Weakly, he twisted his gaze toward his captors.

On his right he saw his younger brother, Turel, Kain’s second born. His other brother, Dumah, pulled him by his left, eyes forward. Melchiah, Zephon, and Rahab marched behind them, silent. Kain led the grim procession. Raziel recognized the well worn path decorated with flags. They were taking him to die.

He tried to pull himself up. His body was in such pain, more than Kain had ever prepared him for, yet he knew worse would come. He could not die like this. "Turel, Dumah... please, help me stand..."

His brothers ignored him. Desperate, he looked to Kain, his creator and father. He could not see his face. The black, empty eyes of the Soul Reaver mocked all his hopes.

"Why are you doing this? What have I done? Kain? Kain!? Please, stop this! Sire, look at me! Look at me you fucking bast-!" He wheezed, cut off by Turel’s swift kick.

Recovering himself, Raziel glared at Turel, but his rage died when he noticed the figure walking before his brother. The wraith looked just as he had in Vorador's manor; a dessicated facsimile of Raziel's former self, deprived of nearly all his trappings and even more abhorrent. Behind him, the corrupted Pillars of Nosgoth rose over the mountains and falls, black as if scorched by fire, and the wind carried a distant wailing. Raziel’s stomach entered his throat. Was he dreaming again?

The wraith looked down at Raziel with his pinprick eyes. He tapped his skull with one claw and pointed. It’s all in your mind.

At that moment the waters of the Abyss hissed and exploded into fire. Raziel yelped. The air singed his throat with molten steel. Black smoke burst from the pit of the falls and churned above the lake like volcanic ash. Roaring, roiling flames leapt from rivers of magma, belching hot, dry embers into the sky. He tried to dig his claws into the earth, but the stone platform had turned to smooth metal without purchase. His brothers twisted his arms as he thrashed, ignoring his screams, until he complied. Kain stepped aside to allow them to pass. He never looked at Raziel. Not a glance.

They reached the edge of the platform. His brothers stopped, allowing him a moment to gaze into his future grave. The bottom of the Lake of the Dead had become a gigantic forge. He squinted, eyes burned by the intensity of the flames.

Visible only to Raziel, the wraith stood in front of his brothers on the precipice, hands at his sides, stringy wings floating in the hot updraft. The wraith turned to him. He held up his fist with thumb pointed out to the side, as if to give a command to the victor of a coliseum match. He pointed his thumb down. Raziel trembled.

Behind them, out of sight, Kain said, "Cast them in."

And then Raziel was falling.

Tendrils of hot air lashed across his face and broken wings. He threw up his arms to protect himself as he burst through the first wave of ash.

Wailing voices joined him in the inferno. Had Kain cast his brothers into the pit, too? No, these screams were too shrill, too pitiful to belong to his proud brothers.

In his home Raziel employed an army of semi-feral cats to cull the rodent population and prevent plague among the slaves. He happily allowed the tamer ones to lounge about his palace. One night he heard a shrill cry coming from a storage closet and rushed in to find two palace slaves holding one of his cats by the tail and beating it viciously. These screams sounded like that. He forced himself to look.

Seven shadowy figures plummeted through the fire. They looked so far away. No, not far away, they were only much smaller than him. He tried to reach out to the nearest - a young girl - but his arm burst into flame. He screamed, tumbling head over feet. The flames gnashed their white hot teeth, tearing flesh from bone in impossible agony, and devoured them alive.

Raziel jolted awake. The touch of Kain’s sheets touch felt icy and unreal, tainted by ash. Clutching at his head, he curled into a ball, face pressed between knees, shaking all over and breathing in hard, shallow gasps.

Even as a young vampire he rarely had nightmares. Since coming back from the dead he had been having vivid dreams whenever he closed his eyes to sleep, always leaving him with a disturbing sense of dread. The Sanctuary must have addled his mind. Perhaps he should avoid sleep for a while now that he felt stronger.

Gradually, the sickness subsided. He unfolded himself, catching his breath. "Dear god…”

As he said this he became aware of a conversation taking place outside. He went to investigate.

Two Turelim stood in the hall, Nogah and another. Their conversation abruptly ended as he poked his head through the door. The stranger turned to him, fangs awkwardly sticking from his mouth, sniffed and let out a wet snort. That seemed churlish. Nogah glanced his way, ears down. “Kain is here.”

Raziel narrowed his eyes. History taught him to be wary of unusual coincidences, especially where they related to Kain.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she escorted him down the hall. Kain was waiting for him in the throne room, at the Pillars.

“Just nerves.”

“I heard you crying in your sleep.”

“It was nothing, just a bad dream,” he said tersely.

Nogah stopped outside the large double-doors. She knew he intended to leave soon, whether or not he convinced Kain to allow it. “I’ll be waiting here. Good luck, Raziel.”

Every night since his awakening Raziel had practiced flight for hours. When his chest muscles burned for peace and his wings lost all ability to lift Nogah happily kept him company on the ground. She became the only thread connecting him to the Sanctuary. Now he did not know what to say to her. All his words felt too great or too little. He inhaled slowly and deeply.

As he pushed apart the heavy doors his shoulders pinched and his wings curled into his back. Just deja vu, he told himself. He stepped onto the Pillars’ foundation, a stone platform engraved with golden runes written across concentric circles, and approached Kain. This will be the end of it.

Kain waited for him beside the Pillar of Balance, the hilt of the Soul Reaver visible over his shoulder. He knew Kain did not intend to use the sword against him again yet seeing it on his person still made him uneasy, as if he and the sword had unfinished business. Kain ran his claws across the polished white stone in a gesture Raziel found almost perverse. He turned and smiled. “Welcome, Raziel! You have no idea how pleased I am to see you again.”

“That’s a first.”

Kain chuckled, “Don’t be disingenuous. Without you none of this would be possible. I confess, in spite of all my machinations, I doubted we would ever see the Pillars restored in our time. Nosgoth is indebted to you.”

Maybe he should be happy. He would like to feel something apart from exhaustion. “So… it really is over.”

“The hard part is. With their purification I can now sense the other members of the Circle. We must collect them before they learn to fear us. Until such time as these new guardians can be turned Nosgoth is still vulnerable.”

“What makes you think I want any part in this?”

“You have as much stake in Nosgoth’s future as I.”

“My part in prophecy is finished. Now that I have fulfilled my obligation to Nosgoth, I will be going my own way.”

Kain started to frown. “You are my right hand.”

The memory burned like acid. “I was dying, Kain. It was different. I wanted to settle accounts before I died but now I am suffocating under the weight of your sins. Please, if my sacrifice means anything to you, grant my request. I do not think freedom is too much to ask.”

Kain walked toward him. Raziel tensed, half-expecting a fight. To his surprise Kain seemed almost sympathetic. “You must know it’s not that simple. The Pillars brought you back for a purpose.”

Of course, Raziel did consider that possibility. It was not something he enjoyed thinking about. Fate destroyed him, obliterated everyone and everything he held dear, necessitated giving up his very soul, and still demanded more? Raziel looked away. He never admitted defeat before. It tasted like bile.

“You’re exhausting me.”

“That is irrelevant. You are too important to be risking your life as a vagrant of the wastes. Or have you not realized? The Pillars chose you the way they chose me.”

Raziel looked at him with gritting disgust. “Am I a joke to you?”

“I’m not laughing. I saw the truth of it the moment I found you lying in this chamber - you are a Pillar guardian, the Pillars remade you as such.”

In all his centuries he never knew Kain to lie. He omitted truths or kept silent. Besides, if that was a lie it was a terribly poor one.

No, it could not be true.

“How then? You would not need to curse human guardians if the Pillars could summon vampires out of thin air!”

“Your soul was the catalyst for this,” Kain said, gesturing at the Pillars jutting above the shattered throne room. “Using that I created you from nothing more than bones and dust. Why should the Pillars have any difficulty? I may not be omniscient, Raziel, but I will not deny the truth as it stands before me. You disappoint me. I actually thought the Pillars chose well making you Time Streamer.”

Kain’s words stuck him like a blow to the chest. His entire being shuddered in rejection of Moebius’ former title. Seeing the conviction in Kain’s eyes, could he still call him a liar?

It made sense. The Pillars required vampire guardians to maintain the delicate Binding protecting Nosgoth from the corrupting influence of the other realms. His soul, disembodied yet tantalizingly infused with vampiric essence, happened to appear in the one place and time they could conceivably make use of it. When he thought of it that way Kain's conclusion became inevitable.

Did his dreams have something to do with this?

He staggered backward, stumbling over his own feet. His body insisted that he needed air. When he tried to breathe his chest seemed to turn to stone. Still it insisted - breathe, you need air!

“Compose yourself, Raziel!”

Just as he thought he would collapse Kain’s command snapped him back to reality. As he struggled to collect himself the weight of Kain’s eyes felt like the only real thing in the room. Kain watched over him thoughtfully. “Come with me. There is something I need to show you.”

Raziel blinked. “What now? Another layer of hell?”

Kain raised an eyebrow. “I assume you would like to see one of the fruits of your labor. I have the Nature Guardian.”

…

They arrived in one of the guest rooms in the clans’ wing of the Sanctuary. Raziel recognized the woman as Sweetblood, the slave from the bath; a questionable choice for the Nature Guardian’s wet nurse. At Kain’s request, she lifted a bundle out of an open drawer and handed it to him. Rarely did Kain handle an object with such care. Nestled within the furs Raziel saw a tiny human face, sleeping peacefully. Nogah leaned over Raziel’s shoulder, sniffing and listening to the child’s soft breathing with intrigue.

Raziel was not sure what he expected. Kain’s tales described Bane the Druid as a mountain of a man, savagely dressed in hide and bone, with the power to bend earth and beasts to his will. This child was hardly bigger than a kitten.

As lord of his clan, Raziel took no interest in humans until they reached an age where they could work in his palace, fight in the coliseum, or showed potential for the dark gift. In fact, he had killed children as young as this during the war without a second thought, under Kain’s orders no less. When he thought of how Janos would react at the sight of this child, and what he would say had he known the horrible actions of Raziel’s past, he felt guilty.

If only Janos could see her. When the Sarafan flaunted their kills a mere stone’s throw from his window, Janos had been forgiving, seeing ignorance where all others saw only malice. He had given Raziel unwavering faith no matter how many times he failed him. His patience and compassion made him a far better candidate to guide the new guardians. It should have been him standing here. He deserved it more.

Kain made a warm introduction. “Callisto, the first Nature Guardian in nearly two millennia. Hold out your arms, Raziel.”

“Kain, no -”

Kain passed the infant into his protesting arms regardless. He froze in terror as Kain manipulated his arms until he was holding her according to his terms. If left to his own devices he would have tried to hold her like a cat, his only frame of reference. Satisfied, Kain backed away, leaving him adrift with Callisto. It was like holding a damned bomb.

The child wriggled weakly in his arms with a mewing sound. Thankfully, she did not stir more than that. She felt unusually warm, more so than an adult human, and her swaddling smelled of Nosgoth’s dry wastes. Callisto had a peculiar scent of her own. She smelled startlingly sweet.

“Recall how you felt when you beheld Nosgoth’s natural splendor for the first time. Callisto is the seed of that forgotten world. With her the empire shall be reborn into a golden era of vitality, perhaps even greater than what came before. This is what your sacrifice was for. It is our legacy.”

Kain had a brilliant way with words. It was one of the reasons Raziel remained so fervently loyal to him, up until the end.

This poor child had no concept of the trials ahead. In some ways he valued the upbringing Kain gave him as a vampire, yet for all the strength and courage Kain instilled into his soul, he also filled his life with brutality, distrust and ultimately, agony. Kain built him up with one hand and tore him down with the other in a relentless cycle. He would do the same to her.

Janos would want him to stay. Recalling how Janos buried countless centuries of misery and loneliness to guard the Reaver for him, ultimately giving up his life to protect him, how could he rightfully refuse? Yet surely Janos would also agree he deserved a period of respite.

Kain smiled, quietly pleased. “Now you understand. I knew Callisto would show you the way.”

Raziel’s head throbbed. He was about to say something when Callisto hiccuped and started to cry, which abruptly grew to a piercing wail. A flame sparked at the forefront of Raziel’s mind. It was that horrible cat scream.

Sweetblood carried Callisto away, trying to calm her, meanwhile Raziel experienced a break in reality. The floor fell out from under him and the flames of the Abyss lashed at his feet. He saw Kain coming toward him, that terrible look in his eyes, reaching out to rip the bones from his wings and leapt back blindly, striking his elbow against the door and tripping over Nogah as he staggered into the hall. Kain’s talons caught his shoulder like hooks.

Everything went red. For a moment after the haze cleared he saw Kain standing less than a meter away, hand clutched to one side of his face, a thick red line dripping over the bridge of his nose. The injury was negligible. The rage in Kain’s eye was not.

Raziel crashed through an adjacent door. The force of the throw bounced him off the stone floor. He rolled a few feet, the suddenness and violence of the attack too great to recover from.

Just as he had gathered his bearings his ribs exploded in pain. Kain was upon him, kicking him viciously. Raziel curled into a ball, limbs tight against his body, wings tightest of all. Knowing only submission would satisfy, he surrendered to the thrashing until the blows subsided. Kain wrenched him up by his elbow and shoved him, stumbling into the center of the room.

This room was also part of the clans’ wing. Unlike Callisto’s room, it was barren.

“Now,” Kain growled, gruffly composing himself, “you will tell me what happened.”

Hunched over, clutching his arm, Raziel seethed. “You - “

“I know! Tell me what you saw.”

He clenched his jaw and straightened. Kain was right, it was pointless to chastise him. Worse, it might earn him a second beating. “That girl is in peril. I think the other guardians may be as well.”

“What peril?”

The words crumpled on his tongue. He stepped back. “I… I don’t know. When she started to cry I suddenly realized I knew her. She came from a nightmare. There were others too, seven children wailing and plummeting into a lake of fire - and I among them. We all burned up in the flames. And the Pillars… my god, the Pillars…”

He trailed off. Kain’s umbrage died, simply died like an insect. The change in Kain’s demeanor frightened him more than his wrath ever could. A long silence settled between them.

“What are we to do?”

“I…” What should he say? That Kain cast his fellow guardians into the fire? Raziel pushed his claws through his hair, gripping his head. “Kain, I… I do not know how to interpret these visions. You unraveled the riddle of my fate before. How do I understand?”

“I saw only what Moebius allowed me to see. The rest I pieced together on my own through centuries of study into Nosgoth’s past. I never predicted the future,” Kain replied solemnly, eyes downcast. He looked at Raziel after a pause. “This is your Pillar. Think carefully. Do not rush.”

Raziel’s mind drew a blank. Each time he tried to analyze his dream his mind flashed back to the scene of his execution and dissolved his progress in a whirlpool of nausea. Only violence seemed certain, violence and betrayal and death. There had to be some way to make the picture clearer. If only he could escape this den of bitter memories.

An idea came to him. “I need to go to the Oracle’s Cave. If I am who you say I am then perhaps something there will elucidate my dream.”

Kain folded his arms pensively. His brow furrowed. “That may not be possible for some time. I have much to attend to and cannot spare any of my guards to accompany you. You’ll just have to find another way.”

As if protecting him was Kain’s first priority. “Very well, I’m perfectly capable of flying alone.”

“Denied. You’re too weak for such a long flight.”

“The winds are strong this time of year. If I start from a high place I can ride them all the way to the mountains with hardly any effort on my part.”

“And you shall find yourself stranded in a cold wasteland dry of blood with miles of Zillahim and Dumahim remnant between yourself and Sanctuary. The flight is arduous even in bat form, I know, I’ve done it dozens of times, you not once. You must stay here where it is safe.”

“Safe?” Raziel almost laughed. “You barely restrained from breaking my ribs. This place is prison.”

“If you were my prisoner, you would know it.”

“I suppose you’d lock me underground, perhaps slice off my wings for good measure. I’d leave Nosgoth to burn out of spite for you.”

Kain only scowled. Perhaps he regretted teaching Raziel to resist torture in preparation for Nosgoth’s conquest so many centuries ago. Emboldened, Raziel pressed, “How much time do you suppose we have? A few days, a month? These portents may come true within the hour for all anyone could say!”

There came no snappy reply this time. He looked like someone trying to swallow a small caltrop. When he did speak every word felt like a barricade against his rage. “You still have no idea how much Nosgoth has changed. These walls are all that protect us from the ten thousand bloodthirsty maws of this shattered empire yet our continued existence depends upon the Rahabim and Zephonim. My only bargaining chips for slaves and trade are the sharpness of my blade and the hope of the Pillar guardians. That includes you. If either of us makes a fatal error it all falls apart. The Circle will never form, Nosgoth will never heal, and it shall be as you saw.”

“I assure you this vision was not born from one of my mistakes, Kain.”

“This is no longer up for debate!”

“Because you would have to kill me to stop me.”

It was too late to take back his words. Kain advanced upon him, stopping just inches from his face. “Is that how you see it? After all I’ve done for you… Fine. Go. You have five days, starting now. If you have not returned by sundown on the fifth day I will find you and I will drag you back here bloody and broken. Pray you bring answers.”

Raziel held his tongue. He remained steadfast until Kain left the room. Now he wondered how he ever imagined they could part ways peacefully. Sadly, this caustic separation was only temporary. With the Nature Guardian already in Kain’s possession Raziel did not doubt his claim to sense the locations of the other Circle members.

He found Nogah standing alone in the hall, looking worn and defeated. His sire had taken out words on her, too. “Kain wishes me to escort you to the armory. You do not need to do this. If you give him time, he may cool down.”

“What’s done is done. I want to leave while he’s given me the chance.”

#time streamer #chapter 4 #legacy of kain #raziel #kain #soul reaver #blood omen #edited chapter

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thepilotanon · 6 years

Text

touch.

summary: “Kylo Ren was a failure, and he had a scar to prove his worthlessness.”

I...couldn’t resist? I have no excuse, I just had to write this because I know I wanted to give that emo space fridge love every time he spoke to Snoke. I hope you will enjoy it anyway! I hope to hear from you guys because I’m very happy how it turned out! Please enjoy!

tagging @kylokiwi @xmotherofbatsx @sdavid09 @starrfruit @el-eldritch @xseraphrosex @germansarechill for being supportive and super sweet like?? Why did Heaven allow you guys to leave. I won’t tag people often unless you’d want me to.

warning: mention of slavery and abuse, semi-nsfw but not detailed. Post Kylo gettin’ his sexy scar.

“You can’t hide from her forever, Commander Ren.”

Shooting a glare to the silver-armored captain, Kylo Ren was so tempted to choke Phasma before she spoke up again in the confines of the “hiding place” she found him in - an empty, unused control room. “Sooner or later, she will start to worry, and even I don’t need to have your abilities to know that you don’t want that to happen.” Keeping her gaze forward and in a ready stance, she made no move to leave his side just yet. “And, if I may be rather blunt with you...you look like shit, and can probably use her company.”

Leather gloves squeezing the metal chair he was sitting in, Kylo stared in disgust at his reflection from a metal plate on the wall. His black hair stringy from sweat, melted snow; skin damp from stress and dark shadows underneath his eyes, Kylo Ren no doubt did look like shit. It certainly didn’t help with the black bacta strips sticking down his face and into the collar of his cowl. Still kicking in the pain medication from the stitching he had finished hours prior, fighting in a airship and nearly destroyed an unwanted lifeforce he felt in his TIE Silencer, Kylo still felt the burn of the blue lightsaber’s mark on his flesh. The stench of his own burning flesh still haunting his nose and the words of his Master ringing in his ears, Kylo could barely recognize himself inside and out…

Kylo Ren was a failure.

“I won’t be held responsible of keeping her out of your way either, Commander,” Phasma added in casually. “Knowing how she is, she can slip through anyone’s grasp or make a bloody mess in a supply closet somewhere…”

It had been a good week since the last time Kylo saw his secret wife, Nova, First Order’s official trainer for personalized stormtroopers and Knights of Ren, as well as Supreme Leader Snoke’s praetorian guards at times. He knew she was informed of his return to the Supremacy, hearing he survived the destruction of Starkiller and the fight he dealt with from the scavenger girl who currently holds Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber. Any of those listed were not the bit of his worry, knowing that she wasn’t aware of the specifics of his day-to-day goals unless he were to contact her more regularly - but alas, he had been busy. No, Kylo was more worried about other matters.

Grabbing his cowl from the counter, Kylo stood from the chair. Keeping his back to Phasma, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Bring her to our quarters, Phasma. Don’t let anyone see her.”

“Of course,” Phasma nodded once before leaving the room, leaving Kylo to himself.

Nova followed closely to Phasma’s strong march, her legs moving a bit quicker to keep up with the captain’s long strides as she bounced to get the other’s attention. “How was the evacuation? Was it crowded in the ships at all? What was the weather like on the Starkiller base, Phasma? Phasma? Phasma! What was the planet like?”

“You are quite curious for one who is in the middle of a war, Nova,” Phasma sighed in her helmet, not sparing a glance as she took a sharp turn to the hallway leading to the private quarters of Commander Ren. “Certainly you have other important things to worry about.”

“Not when I’m stuck here,” Nova shook her head, reaching to hold on to Phasma’s unique cape to inspect it, pulling off a random scrap of metal. “Doesn’t feel like I’m in the middle of anything when nothing happens here…”

“You should be grateful,” Captain Phasma suggested in a mute tone, allowing the weaponry master to pluck off more scraps off her uniform as they approached the locked doors. “The Supreme Leader sees you as indispensable to keep you from fighting and the possibility of being killed. You’re safer here.”

“I’m bored here, worrying about my friend and husband,” Nova muttered lowly, bumping her forehead against Phasma’s armored back as she came to a halt. Rubbing her head as she looked up to the tall woman, she smiled innocently to Phasma’s visors. “I hope someday that I can actually join you two and be more useful to you than just mentoring others.”

The captain kept a silent gaze at her for one moment before raising a hand to rest ontop of the woman’s head, a very unusual gesture from the otherwise emotionless woman. “You mean a lot to us all, more than you realize, Nova. Appreciate that you don’t have to deal with what I have to.”

At that, Phasma turned her heel and marched back where she came, leaving Nova to watch her agily sneak out from being seen escorting her to her unpublic quarters. As much as Nova didn’t mind keeping her marriage a secret from everyone, including Supreme Leader Snoke, she did wish that there weren’t extra precaution put in place formed by her husband and friend…

Inputting the pin to enter the chamber, Nova noticed the familiar shadow not too far inside. A bright smile spreading on her lips, Nova waited until the doors hissed closed behind her before speaking with such joy. “Kylo!”

Running to his back and tackling him into an embrace, Nova buried her face into his clothed back. He smelled like his usual musky scent, a hint of burning wood and something that she could only describe as Kylo’s smell; he also carried new scents, too, from Starkiller, she guessed. It was cold and smelled wet, in a way she couldn’t really describe, but she melted into the radiating warmth he gave off. She also picked up the familiar hint of the throne room on him, making her also assume that he had spoken to Snoke before coming home to her. Nova was sure that he was stressed from seeing his Master after such a long mission.

Closing her eyes and grasping the front of his uniform, Nova sighed in relief as she nuzzled between his shoulder blades. “I’m so happy you’re home, husband. I’ve missed you so much, I thought I was going to go mad from being away from you for so long.”

He didn’t respond like he normally would, instead lifted his shaking, gloved hands to rest atop of her knuckles. His thumbs brushing her skin delicately, he hummed lowly at feeling her head shift behind him.

“Kylo?” Nova peeped curiously, trying to look over his shoulder to see his face. When he turned the other way, Nova frowned and carefully withdrew her hands. “Kylo? Why won’t you look at me? Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“I did,” Kylo said. “Very much.”

“Then, why won’t you look at me? What if I cut all my hair off or got a robotic leg you didn’t know about while you were gone?” Nova asked with narrowed brows, seeing his shoulders jump a bit to resist his chuckle. “Not that I did, but… Kylo, let me see my husband.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

Taking a deep breath, Kylo chewed the inside of his cheek. “During my mission,” he began, “I obtained an injury from the scavenger girl I told you about from our last discussion through the holopad. I fought against her and got injured.”

“The one the defected stormtrooper left with?” Nova watched his head nod once, making her blink. “Well, that can happen in battle, Kylo, even I know that!”

“It’s not like that, love… I don’t look the same anymore,” he ground out bitterly, hating himself for losing his stoic tone so easily in her presence. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I look too different, and…”

He didn’t move when Nova scurried around him - he couldn’t. He knew he would have to show his wife what happened to him eventually, as much as it would hurt him to see her react.

Shutting his eyes as soon as hers looked up to his face, Kylo bit his bottom lip and waited…

Feeling her soft hands touch his chin and began to lightly skim along his jaw, forcing him to crack his eyes open as she tilt her head with simple curiosity. Her fingers hovered over the black strips for a moment before she poked his nose, a little smile quirked on her lips.

“My husband still has his nose that I love to kiss,” Nova announced. Her palms pressed against the fat of his cheeks and her fingers slipped into his hair to touch his hidden ears. “And the big ears I love to whisper into. Your eyes are still there, and I can still see my reflection in them; strong jaw, beauty marks and your hair...even though it’s a bit messy right now, that’s okay. You look just fine to me!”

“Stop it,” Kylo tried with furrowed brows.

Getting to her toes, Nova stared deep into his eyes. He knew what she was doing at that moment, feeling the rare caress in the back of his skull. “Whatever Snoke has said to you, I think he needs to look in the mirror and rethink how he describes people when he looks like a hairless rodent.”

“Nova,” he warned.

“Other than that, you don’t look that much different to me, Kylo,” Nova shrugged, pressing a light kiss to his tense jaw. “Still just as strong and handsome as usual.”

Kylo resisted in rolling his eyes as he shook his head at her. “Stop trying to make this better. It’s pointless in what Snoke has said - I’ve failed, and I have the scar to prove it.”

Nova frowned, going to her regular height as something changed - her eyes gave off an unusual look he wasn’t used to receiving from her, a look she would normally give to someone she was giving lessons to. Within a second, Nova shoved him back, falling to the edge of the bed before she climbed into his lap, her hands starting to undo the buttons on her uniform top. When Kylo attempted to stop her by placing his hands on her hips to still her, Nova grabbed his wrists and pushed them away before continuing. Huffing, Kylo tried to stop her again and was met with the same result.

“Wife, I’m not in the mood to -” Kylo tried to tell her, only for her hand to cover his mouth as she pressed a light kiss under his eye.

“No,” she told him in response, taking off her jacket and remaining in her bottoms and her bra. Kylo didn’t resist to stare longingly at the revealed flesh of his wife, how the dimmed lights of their room seemed to give her a heavenly glow that he adored.

Taking his hands, Nova wrapped them behind her bare back and pressed his fingers to her skin. When she placed them exactly where she wanted, she held his hands there firmly. “Feel it?”

Kylo did feel it. The slightly roughened skin that trailed a long, diagonal line across her back; his middle finger slowly dragged along the scar that filled the of it, a habit he had in those moments in the shower when they shared hot water after a long day, or when she wore a backless top and slept on her stomach while he watched her in bed. He nodded, his brows furrowing as she let go to let him touch the scar. “I do…”

“From my first owner, when I failed him in my first spar with a senior slave,” she told him. “He took a knife and had me held down while he cut me. It hurt to move for almost a month, and I still had to train. I was probably three...”

Taking his right hand, Nova then brought it to touch the curved mark on her hipbone. “When I fought against someone who tried to steal from my next owner. He threw me and I fell into a pile of broken parts to the Speeder, wasn’t that much older.”

Kylo’s thumb rubbed beside the mark before she pulled the hand up to under her breast, where a faint, long indent started from under the bra and went all the way to her shoulder blade. “This one...I actually woke up bleeding, but I believed it was from another slave I didn’t get along with trying to give me a slow death. They weren’t that smart, as you can see - it wasn’t deep enough.”

“Love…” Kylo mumbled as he shook his head.

Tilting her head back, she pointed to a discolored blotch hidden in the corner of her jaw and went to under her ear. “Acid punishment from refusing to kill another child,” she said. Adjusting her seat on his lap, spreading her legs a bit and brought his hand to her inner thigh. While she still had her pants on, Kylo knew what she was guiding him to. He had seen it many times over their time together; he had touched it before and kissed it whenever he professed his love to Nova physically. A burn mark in a shape of an X, and Nova pressed her palm on top of his hand to keep it there. Her eyes softening with a slight hesitation before speaking.

“Before you came and took me away...when I was labeled a disgrace to the people on my planet for failing my ‘purpose’ to my last owner,” she said softly. “My least favorite one and sometimes I feel ugly every time you touch me there or see it.”

Kylo swallowed at the next words she spoke. “I never told you this, but it was actually the mark to signify my chance of being executed. The females on the planet get marked on their inner thighs and the males got it on the back of their necks. If they were to draw a line all the way down my leg, then I was expected to die.”

Her hands coming to hold his face, Nova made him look at her as she gave him a smile. “If you hadn’t decided to take me, the line would have been placed,” she confessed. “Every time I feel disgusted by the failures of my marks, you remind me that it was worth going through so much pain...because I went through all that and ended up falling in love with you, Kylo.”

Her finger touched the edge of his patch, a tingling sensation came from the touch but it wasn’t painful to him. “For so long I felt as a failure with no future, and the scars reminded me of that. When you touch me and tell me praises, when you kiss my marks and look at me the way you do...you make me feel so happy because I feel like I survived and can finally feel happy.

“This mark right here,” she said softly, brushing a falling tear from his eye before it could touch the strips, “only tells me that you fought hard and came out strong. You survived and came back to me. My husband was strong enough to survive a fight so I can see him look at me and let me love him. Snoke knows nothing of your true power, Kylo, and you need to see it too.”

Kylo took a deep breath, looking down to the scars on his wife’s torso. He knew she had other ones from the past, forgotten stories that were erased from time and his touch, and he had the same. Cuts and tiny scars decorated both of their skins, and many of them are never seen by anyone else but each other in the seclusion of their chambers. Nova’s ability to close off even the strong Snoke from looking into their sanctuary to reveal their flaws and still have an attraction to each other. The feelings they share that just seemed so right with the Force bonding them together so perfectly makes him forget everything his Master throws at him. Nova makes him forget everything wrong, makes him feel important…

Kissing the corner of his lips, Nova spoke against his skin in a loving tone. “My strong, handsome husband, with his beautiful scars,” she whispered. Peppering kisses closer to the bacta patches, her fingers went to his thick hair as she massaged his sore scalp. “My husband coming back to me and making me feel important for the first time in my life. I love you, Kylo.”

Unable to hold back any more, Kylo lifted his chin to seal her lips with his in a passionate embrace, his gloved hands slipping up her back and drawing her closer and pressing their hips together. His tears fell on either of them as he brought her onto their bed with his body hovering over her; his mouth never leaving her skin as he began working on removing the rest of her clothes and add his own to the pile. He shivered at the skin-to-skin touch as his naked hands finally touched his wife, exhaling in pure amazement at how soft she felt to his touch.

Kylo Ren was not a failure. Even as Snoke continues to call him weak or a child in comparison to the scavenger girl, it would eventually mean nothing to him as soon as he reunited with his wife. To him, her words were final, and not even the strongest being in the galaxy could change that once Kylo hears her voice.

As he whispered his love for her against her skin, kissing each scar he could reach from their current position of making love, Kylo felt himself piecing back together into a stronger warrior then he was before. To him, he can take on his challenges and keep on fighting as Nova waited for his return each time. Kylo Ren can keep going.

Kylo Ren was not a failure.

A bit of backstory for the {reader} that I thought would be interesting to share and maybe deepen the bond the {reader} and Kylo have together to be compatible. I’m VERY tempted to make a mini series of how Kylo met Nova/reader for another idea - I’m all over the place, I should stop.

I hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluff and stuff and get to hear from you guys on what you thought. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read it!

#pilotanonwrites #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #featuring phasma #wife!reader #oc/reader insert #female reader insert #reader insert #kylos wife

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lynestudios · 7 years

Text

Broken Hourglass

Chapter 2 Dipper let out a soft series of short gasps as he ran into a building, ducking just below the window as the guards stomped past. "Find him! Find the traitor!!" He shut his eyes tightly and whimpered until the rumbling stopped. The young man stood up and looked out the window, sighing in relief as the mob disappeared. He was safe, for now. "So what did you do to get the prince this pissed off?" He jumped up and turned himself around, standing behind him was a tall woman with thick red hair. A smug smile spread across her face as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Oh, man are you okay?" Her smug grin turned into a look of concern as she took Dipper's chin in her hand and turned his head. "That's one deep cut there Sis... Yo Soos! Bring me some bandages and the anti-biotic ointment!!"

Sis? Dipper looked confused as he ran a hand through his hair, then let out a shocked gasp. His hair, the wig, he was still wearing that horrible wig that little monster was planning to subdue him in. "I... wait I think you're confused I'm-" He was cut off by the sight of a large man, somewhat resembling a hairless rodent coming over with a roll of gauze. "Okay dudes! I got them!" The red headed woman let out an irritated sigh and took the antibiotic from him. "Soos, I said bring the bandages. We're dressing a wound. NOT wrapping up a mummy!"

Soos, as he was called looked at the bandages in his hand and then towards Dipper with a frown. "Ah I'm really sorry Wendy, but these are the only bandages that Mr. Pines will buy." Dipper looked at the two, mouthing out their names a few times in order to help himself remember them. "Alright Soos, go to my pack, there is an old t-shirt and some honey in there, bring those to me." The large man gave a nod and ran into the back of the building. Wendy turned to Dipper with a smile and proceeded to clean the wound. "I'm sorry about him, he's a good guy, real nice, but sometimes he's not exactly... all there. So tell me about yourself, what's your name?"

Dipper became shocked as he was addressed in such a casual manner. His name? He didn't know what to say. If he told her the truth, he might be ridiculed for dressing like a girl, but if he lied he might be discovered and called disgusting. The boy looked around, desperate for an answer and then with his head hanging low decided to simply state the truth. "I... I'm not a girl... My name is Mason Pines... and the reason I'm wearing this wig is... because I'm running away from that fat pig known as Prince Gideon." He braced himself, waiting for the woman to call him disgusting, waiting for her to throw him out and hand him over to the royal guards. Instead, he heard a small laugh. Followed by a loud cackling. "Oh man! Dude I knew you were a boy the entire time!! I just didn't want to throw you off like that!" The redhead wiped a tear from her eye and sighed before kneeling down to Dipper's level. "I'm impressed you lasted as long as you did, there was a town crier in the city the other day talking about what happened with you. I've seen potential wives jump into the ocean just to get away from him after a few hours. You're a pretty tough kid to be able to deal with someone like him."

She playfully punched Dipper in the shoulder just as Soos came back with an elderly man. Dipper looked up at him and turned his head to the side. Sometime, somewhere before he had seen him. But he just couldn't figure out where. Wendy grinned and stood up, motioning for Dipper to do the same. "Guys this is Mason Pines, he's in disguise and needs our help to escape from Prince Fatty." She smiled and held the boy's arm up, earning a short cheer from Soos and a cough from the elderly man. "Let me get a look at you, my boy." Dipper turned to see the man, his head adorned with thick gray hairs, glasses squared off around the edges, his red jacket embroidered with an orange fish over the breast pocket. He tilted Dipper's chin up with his cane, smiling as he reached upward and smoothed Dipper's hair back. Revealing his constellation shaped birthmark. "I don't believe it, it really is you. I haven't seen you or the rest of the family since the day you were born."

Dipper was confused, who exactly was this man and why was he acting so familiar with him. "Ah I don't expect you to remember me, but I do want you to know that we are related. I'm your Great Uncle Stan. But you can just call me Grunkle Stan!"

His great uncle. In such a hellish time in his life, the young man never expected to be graced with the chance of meeting his long lost Great Uncle. He didn't even care that he didn't have the time to really enjoy the moment. He knew immediately that when he heard the word 'family' he could trust these three people. "Hmmm now let me think if there's one thing I know it's how to avoid being arrested. Wendy, get to dressing his wound." The red head gave a nod, took the items from Soos, and proceeded to begin her work on the large gash on Dipper's cheek.

"What should I do Mr. Pines?" Stan gave a thoughtful look and began to look around, almost as if he were trying to find him something to do. "Go to that fancy pants shop and get Dipper here some actual clothes, the robe he's wearing is a dead give away. How about one dress and a pair of pants and a shirt?" Dipper wanted to complain about the dress, however, Wendy wouldn't let him move as she smeared the honey into his wound. "So Mr. Pines, why did you have Soos go get a dress."

"The answer is simple. Pity. Men are more likely to take pity on and help a distressed young woman than they are with a young man. With that wig, a bit of makeup, and the dress he'll be set to sneak aboard one of those ships. Once they're out in open waters, then he'll be free from their tyranny." The elder man smirked, obviously proud of his own idea. Dipper wanted to complain about the dress, however, after hearing the explanation to that piece of the plan he couldn't help but keep his mouth shut. His great uncle really was looking out for him after all.

Just as Wendy had finished dressing the wound on Dipper's cheek, Soos came in, panting heavily as he held out the bag of clothing to them. "This was the best I could do dudes! They wouldn't let me have anything else because I didn't have much money."

"It's fine Soos!" The old man's gravelly voice filled the room as he reached over and took the bag. "These will work just fine, he's escaping not being part of a fashion show. Wendy, take Mason upstairs and dress him up. I assume that you have a corset that he can borrow, considering you went through 4 sizes in the past two years"

"Alright, Mr. Pines I get it! Come on Mason, let's get you upstairs."

Dipper followed Wendy up the steps with a discontented sigh. He hated his real name, it sounded unmanly and almost girlish to him. Almost as if his parents decided that his name would sound better if it were a close copy of his sisters. "Dipper." He finally managed to choke out, his nervousness from the bizarre situation finally subsiding. "What was that?" Wendy inquired as she looked back at him with a smile. "Dipper... I prefer to be called Dipper.... It's because of my birthmark."

"Okay man, Dipper it is.. now take off that robe and step over here. " Dipper did as he was told, his face flushing a soft pink as he revealed the multiple bruises he had accumulated over the past few days to the woman. "Hey man, don't worry. I'm not going to judge you or anything like that. Now grip the chair so that I can get this corset on you. This is the only hard part, the rest will be easy."

Despite how he would never admit it out loud Dipper actually had some experience wearing a corset before. His sister would from time to time use Dipper as a mannequin, as he was the only other person in the group who shared a similar size with her. He could feel the laces being pulled and woven in the back, then a mighty pull, effectively encasing his rib cage and rearranging his insides. "I can hardly breathe..." The boy wheezed out as Wendy finished tying the corset. "That's how you're supposed to feel. If you're having an easy time breathing then it's been tied up wrong." She clapped her hands and handed him the dress, a fluffy full-skirted white topped and dark blue bottomed party style dress. On the left breast was the simple embroidery of a pine tree, dark blue just like the skirt of the dress.

Wendy stood back and whistled. "I think I could totally pass you off as my little sister or something. We just need to put a little bit of makeup on you." She smiled and pulled out her compact. "Now just hold still. This is just to make you look more like a girl." She began to work, thanking the fact that she didn't need to work too much as Dipper was already fairly feminine. "A bit of blush and some eyeliner... now close your eyes I have some lashes to put on you... There, finished!" She stepped back, obviously proud of her word. "Okay, now I'm almost done. I just need to see if I managed to save an old pair of my shoes." She headed towards the closet as Dipper looked into the mirror.

In the mirror, he could have sworn that he saw his sister Mabel. Except he didn't look like Mabel as well. He looked as if someone had painted his sister and put her up for the world to see.

"Wendy... why do you live here? Are you a Pines as well?"Wendy poked her head out from the closet and shook her head. "No man! I'm living here because I didn't want to join my dad and brothers in the mountains. Not when I have great friends and a decent job here."

"Don't you miss them?"

"Yeah I miss them, but so what? Besides they always stay in the city during the fall and winter months because the weather gets so bad up there... AHAH! I found them!"

Dipper suddenly jumped as two pairs of shoes were thrown at him. A pair of black mary janes, and a pair of white kitten heels. "Those are probably the only shoes I have that might fit you. You have pretty small feet." She smiled and handed him a pair of stockings as well. "I think the mary janes might be easier for traveling so I would wear those and put the other ones in the bag we're packing up for you."

"You guys are packing a bag for me?" Dipper looked up to Wendy, an obviously grateful smile spreading across his face. "Of course we are! We can't let you go off into the world unprepared. Besides what kind of big sister would I be if I let a kid like you go off with nothing but a slap on the back?" The brunette immediately hugged the woman, who happily returned the gesture. "Now get those shoes and stockings on, Soos will be escorting you to your next destination soon."

Soon Dipper was ready and he was lead down the stairs by Wendy, who presented him with an imitation of a Trumpet. "Presenting! Maryanne Pines!" She stood back and gave a few faux cheers as Dipper came down the stairs. His long, unkempt wig now neatly trimmed and braided in order to finish the look that the dress gave him. Soos gave a cheer and looked over to Stan who gave a short grunt. The elder man walked over and looked at Dipper as if trying to figure out one last piece he needed. "I know what's missing! Soos go get my old glasses, and make sure to pop the lenses out of them!" Soos gave a quick salute and ran out, returning almost as quickly as he left with a pair of round frames which Stan promptly placed on the boys face. "Perfect. Now nobody will recognize him." He stated proudly before pulling the teen into a tight hug. "I hate this... I haven't seen you kids for almost 18 years and then.. finally... I get to see one of you and it's under circumstances like these... can you do me two favors kid?"

"Anything for you Grunkle Stan."

"I want you to try and find my brother, Stanford Pines... he went out to sea years ago and never returned... but I know he's still alive. If you find him just tell him that you're his grand nephew and I'm sure that he'll be able to help you if you need it."

"Okay... I can do that." Dipper could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he tried to fight them back. "What's the other favor?"

"I want you to write to me whenever possible, but don't sign your name on the cards. Use something like a Pine Tree as a symbol... that way I know that it's from you."

"I'll do that.. thank you so much, Grunkle Stan... You're the best." The boy hugged his Great Uncle one last time before being lead away by Soos. He gave a short wave as he went out the door and the two began to head towards the docks.

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O

Back at the castle, Prince Gideon was growing more and more furious. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND HIM!?" He shrieked at his father, King Buck, before throwing a piece of expensive china and smashing it against the wall. "Now Son I..." Another piece of china shattered against the wall behind him. "I own you old man! You would not even be king if I weren't here! Now tell me why you can't find HIM!!""Now son look we have every officer and guard in the city looking for that boy, and besides I thought you didn't even like him!""It doesn't matter if I like him or not! That boy humiliated me, and I'm determined to see him humiliated as well. This isn't about like or dislike. This is about vengeance. He humiliated me by knocking me off of my horse... he humiliated me a second time by coming here instead of his beautiful enchantress of a sister.... AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I LET HIM HUMILIATE ME BY RUNNING AWAY! NOW GET TO FINDING HIM!!!"Without another word the king left, apologizing profusely to his son. "Lock down the city, only those with permits may be allowed to leave. We cannot risk upsetting my son anymore."

#billdip #gravity falls fanfiction #update #Wendy Corduroy #Soos Ramirez #Grunkle Stan #Gideon Gleeful #Buck Gleeful

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theroseofthorns · 7 years

Text

Rose Hips | A TAMB/MTnY fic for Tumblr

Part I: She's Been Growing

I poke my nose into the room as an inquiry, because I can feel her registering surprise.

Chise?

She gives no indication that I should leave, and I press a little further into the close slot between the door and the frame, wood slick against fur, the door's weight squeezing my temple and dragging at an ear so that for a moment its movement is all I can hear. The view this grating action provides reveals Chise standing in front of a mirror with an arm crossed over a bare chest and a swimming costume—suit, they're called now—tugged awkwardly around her hips. Its edges press indents into her skin that make the flesh to either side of the elastic seem to pucker, though there is no soft or flaccid part on her anywhere. Chise is like Isabel that way: She's a very slight creature. Sometimes I'd like to feed her more, maybe chase down something wild and rich and offer it up fresh, but that's frowned upon.

Chise’s expression in the mirror is a somewhat wide-eyed mixture of consternation and bewilderment.

“Is something wrong?”

“It's. . . Too small.”

Inspecting her with a pricked ear and a tilted head yields no explanation of why this is surprising.

“Did the Silver one bring you the wrong size?”

“No. Well, it's a small like I asked for. I was worried it would be too big, but it won't fit.”

She slides her free hand, less tactilely sensitive than it used to be before the dragon’s curse, down her side and settles her fingers around the curve of her own hip. She tilts her head, inquisitive, and for some unfathomable reason, takes some of the flesh where thigh becomes hip and pinches it between her fingers with her eyes looking dazed in the mirror.

“You grew,” I tell her. “that’s normal. I saw Isabel do it, too.” All kinds of new weight in new places and little changes in her smell followed for years after her first rapid burst toward adulthood. Surely, Chise is no different.

“I know,” she says, “that it is. I suppose . . . I just didn’t realize. Ruth?”

“Hmm?”

“Do I look a lot older to you?”

I press the rest of my body into the room and settle on the floor for a long look at her.

Definitely,” I conclude. “And it isn't just the wrinkles.”

I point with my nose at her arm. I think it's a morbid thing to joke about, but she welcomes unruly and off-color humor, which I imagine explains some of how well she gets along with her shadow betrothed, whom she never refers to as such.

Her expression screws itself up into a knot of contrarily moving eyebrows,and a crinkled nose, and a little parting of her mouth for a moment before she laughs. She does that more often these days than ever in the brief time—feeling like a lifetime—that I've been with her. It's a strange thing. I asked her once about it, and she said “I think I decided how I want to live,” and no more.

She shakes her head and returns her eyes to herself in the mirror.

“Well,” she declares, looking herself over and again tracing the shape of her side where her delicate ribcage yields a tiny waist, tracing down to where her pelvis has burst outward by a couple of inches which have somehow transformed the bottom half of her. A touch knock-kneed and still so thin everywhere else the little bit of broadness that's quietly added itself to her bones looks as strange in her mind's eye as the changes she is just now seeing in her face, though they have been taking shape for some time.

“I'll go tell the silver one,” I offer without breaking her reverie. “you should get redressed.”

“Oh, probably, yes. Thank you Ruth.”

She rejoins me halfway down the stairs moments later, once again in her usual clothes. Under the higher waists of pants and skirts, she hardly looks different, though the Silver One sizes her up delightedly. Her requisite silence, voice traded for a home, buzzes with eager intensity as she siezes Chise’s wrists and directs her into an about face turn right here on the staircase, dismissive of my disapproval, silent or barked. She nudges Chise rapidly up the stairs.

I wait in the hall, nose to tail in the hallway, breathing against Chise’s door. I can feel chagrin and, primarily, bewilderment along with the sort of whirring, whirling sensation of trying to track an exuberant Silky back and forth from closet to Chise to Chise to drawer, silently insisting her little lady of the house with her new hips try on all of her old clothes for reapproval. I can feel the lukewarm—cold contrasted with the air in the room—on the measuring tape around Chise’s body. She jumps away from it to no avail.

Elias appears down the hall, smelling the heady way of heavy sleep, at mid morning. I don’t feel his presence in the way Chise does, in that way I can't define through aight or smell or heart, but I feel him nevertheless. He doesn’t feel fae, or otherwise familiar, nor human—at once interesting and dismissible—and the lack of particular identity is what makes him pop at the edges of awareness. He has a gravity to him, a disturbing weight of immense power coupled with that void of identity. Like a dark hole with something in it. It isn't threatening, in and of itself. But it's distinctive, and I register him as rapidly as he does me, with a cock of his head that threatens to tip a horn into the wall.

“Is something the matter? Why are you locked out of her room?”

“The Silver One is scrutinizing her wardrobe.”

“Whatever for?”

Elias is, very much of the time, very much of a pup.

“She's outgrown at least half of it.”

Elias hums to himself, the sound reverberating through the cavities of his skull, empty except for shadow.

“Silky must be beside herself. If she isn't done within the hour, I'll find something for one of them to do. Chise will need rescuing.”

I offer him a nod a not quite bark. “undoubtedly.”

Elias turns toward the stairway. I feel his halt before it comes, a little change in the weight of void that follows him everywhere. He pivots halfway round, just far enough to point the red pilot light of one unseen eye in my direction. Despite a mouth full of teeth to rival mine, he has the eyes of prey, on the sides of his head. I sometimes wonder what it must be like for him to see.

“What was the offending piece of clothing that got her started, I wonder.”

He knows what he's asking. I know what he's asking. There's no point in talking around it.

“Her bathing suit, for her trip with Alice.”

He hums again, now a short, glottal sound.

“So she's still planning that.”

I don’t growl at him, I chuff. But I don’t answer, either. He takes my meaning, ducking his head some small increment of submission.

"Of course she is,” he says, and disappears down the stairs.

I've been lying at the door's feet long enough to behoove me to get up, turn and resettle myself, feeling Chise’s scrambling to keep up with the Silver One peak to a quiet, curious excitement in the room beyond as the silky drafts new outfits and places new orders, when next he appears.

“She still has her trapped,” Elias observes.

“She doesn’t mind much, for now.”

She really is growing up.

“I doubt she'd object to an out.” He approaches the door. I don’t move from it except to drop my chin back to the hardwood. I'm not going anywhere.

Elias, without pause, reaches over me to wrap once on the door. He smells powerfully of new clothing and old magic and something else I can't decide if I like. It's the kind of smell that puts an itch between my shoulders and at the end of my nose, not a smell likeanything, but strong and distinct and interesting. Not quite enticing. He smells the opposite of appetizing without even the universal hot smell of mammals and rodents and things which move in the woods. Chise can't smell any of that anyway, though, with her weak human nose, and she always says she likes how he smells, for the most part.“It is a little . . . Musty. But I don’t mind. In fact—“

She wouldn't finish that sentence where i could hear, but I remember the little turning, clenching feeling that came with her thoughts.

She feels that way often around him.

“Chise.” His voice through the door registers in her as a heat that I feel far more potently than most of her signals. It's a powerful feeling, love.

“Oh, yes Elias?”

“Do you need rescuing?”

The silver one, if she is indignant, can say nothing about it. But Chise allows a small bubbling laugh up her throat.

“It's all right,” she tells him.

He hums at her, that low resonance again.

“Don't be all day. The garden needs tending. The chamomile misses you.”

The chamomile, I think, as he hovers at the door. Sure.

#the ancient magus bride #mahou tsukai no yome #mahoutsukai no yome #tamb #mtny #fic #fan fic #fanfic

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towncalledkingdom · 7 years

Photo

Two things worried Roland Washington. The first was that he had made a mistake in coming to the man with the 3D printer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had assumed that if a man was smart enough to invent a ray that could shrink people down to the size of a quarter, that same man probably knew how to unshrink said person and, though he had been warned, but that did not change what he believed. He cursed his short term planning, the implications of everlasting tininess destroying his once carefree mood.

The first few days of catching up with his former Privateer buddies had been exciting. Percy Stapleton was one of a group of boys who had gone through training with Roland when he first joined the Privateers. Together they had formed a little community of their own. They’d listened to the glorious raiding stories told by Privateer officers in the barracks when they returned carrying some new oddity or dragging behind them pieces of machinery to trade with other factions.

It had been Roland who emerged as the leader of the band. He had been the one to push them to accept rigorous training exercises, the one filling their heads with the promise of fame and riches. He had been the one at the head of the pack the night they’d taken down the truck with the enormous shipping container. Beneath the hearty claps on the back and the exclamations of “Good to see you again!” was the lingering eye contact. The mutual shame hidden in exuberance. The truck driver’s face was permanently stamped in each of their minds. And now they were here. Now they were small and vulnerable. Safe, maybe, from Eleanor’s bounty hunters. Free, possibly, from the Dungeon’s invisible chains. But so weak. So permanently weak. This was the first thing that worried Roland.

Roland’s second worry was more immediate: the front door was open. Weeks ago a storm had wracked Kingdom. As the man with the 3D printer’s house squatted alone in the middle of a large flat lawn, there was nothing to help break the wind. Sometime in the night the latch had finally given way, slamming the door inward to bust a doorknob-shaped hole in the wall behind it. Spray had billowed through the open doorway for hours before the storm subsided, leaving the carpet sopping wet and stinking after two days.

Together hundreds of the little people had climbed down from their 3D-printed neighborhoods to help close the door. They had, in a single concentrated effort, managed to push the heavy metal object all the way to the correct position before they realized that the jamb had been damaged. Where the wooden frame had once housed a perfect little latch hole it was now broken completely inward. The wind and latch had torn the wood so that the door could no longer stay closed. It blew open again as soon as strong winds returned, rolling the line of pushing people beneath it and nearly impaling a woman on the springy door stopper. For weeks now the people had been scrounging materials together to build scaffolding up to the broken piece of door jamb. They raided the man with the 3D printer’s office for pens and tape and paper clips. A precarious tower now reached half way up the inside of the door frame, long sections of clear tape shining on the cream-colored wood.

The open door had been noticed by others as well. By some unfortunate chance no full-sized humans had come close enough to discover them, but the field was full of life in other forms. Birds flew dangerously close to the door, hopping around on the concrete landing with twitching heads and unblinking black eyes. Roland and Percy met with the leaders of the 3D-printed neighborhoods and developed strategy for taking cover in case something managed to come through the door. They sharpened and cut paper clip spears. One woman had even built a tiny ballista and mounted it on her roof, rubber bands stretched tight against the butt of a wicked-looking pencil. Tiny people built scaffold. Tiny people held council meetings late into the night. Tiny people prepared for inevitable war.

Now Roland’s face is dyed with green ink from a ballpoint pen, a choice he will probably regret later. He crouches with another sentry just inside the crack of the open door. Earlier today they had made two discoveries. The first was a triangular piece of rubber- a door stopper hidden in the depths of the coat closet. Together the tiny people had wedged it tight beneath the metal door, bracing it against the wind but leaving an opening of a few inches between the door and the frame. They posted a 24-hour watch at the base of the doorway and extinguished all light at sundown so as not to attract insects. The second discovery threatened the very existence of the shrunken society. Every tiny person was painfully aware of the shape slinking through the grass outside.

The first time they’d seen it they thought it was a giant worm. Pink, segmented, and naked like a newborn it curled and meandered over the flat stone at the edge of the now-overgrown lawn. A small bird hopped toward it curiously that day. The wormlike creature did not try to escape, just continued slowly feeling its way back and forth on the sun-warmed stone. The little bird hopped closer. The people watched, spears held ready inside the doorway in case it decided to venture in. It did not. The bird flitted so close it nearly stepped on the long pink thing, tilted its head and opened its beak.

A bundle of fur and clawed feet sprang from the grass, flipping the astonished bird upside down and rendering it helpless against the twisting prehensile tail. By the time the little bird realized that the worm was not, in fact, a worm but a deceitful lure that would spell its doom, the rat’s jaws were closing down on its neck. It was the most horrific thing Roland had ever seen.

The rat stood there, the bird’s lifeless corpse held tight in its teeth, and stared at the tiny crowd. It stared until it lost interest, oblivious to the retching, horrified onlookers, and then slunk back into the grass. A trail of scarlet blood followed. The rat haunted the little people’s dreams that night. They saw it lurking in every shadow, watching them from the nooks and crannies of the house.

Most of the rat sightings over the following days had been phantoms- overactive imaginings due to the paranoia that seeped from every corner the tiny society. Tonight, however, the rat was undeniably real. The woman who had built a ballista on the top of her home, Beebe, leads several warriors into position behind Roland and the sentries. A line of people carrying sharpened pencil bolts marches behind them. A magnifying lens glued to a coaster slides into place in front of Roland. He walks back and forth, trying to get a better view of the dark shape crouching in the moonlit lawn. It doesn’t move. Roland is afraid to blink, afraid that in the millisecond it takes for his eyes to refocus he will lose sight of his adversary. He raises a fist. Pencil-bolts load into place behind him. He hears rubber bands stretch and stop.

Roland looks through the magnifying lens one more, fist still raised in signal. The tall grass of the flat land outside bends in a gentle breeze. Moonlight brightens and ripples with the wind, transforming the unkept lawn into a feathery ocean. A pink nose pokes out from between the blades, widening and constricting in rapid succession. Something in the distance catches Roland’s eye, something white and brilliant in the moonlight. It is shifting and swaying downwind from where the rat hides, dipping and rising in slow, hypnotic rhythm. The rat’s nostrils open and close, unaware of the approaching shape.

Roland turns his dyed green face on his people. “Don’t fire until I drop my fist. One bolt goes off early and we’re all dead,” he hisses. The people nod in the half-light, but do not speak. The white shape is close now. It flows and interlaces with the blades of grass like an oval spotlight shining dimly from above. Roland’s searches what he can see of the sky, but nothing appears to have changed. The shape stops. The twitching nostrils stop twitching. The rat thinks its final terrified thoughts as panic takes hold and the white shape pounces behind it.

From the grass a magnificent long-haired cat descends on its shocked prey. The rat lets out a single anguished scream, jerking its legs out into the unforgiving breeze before going limp in the cat’s jaws. The cat does not consume the rodent, but carries its lifeless body to the doorway and drops it before the tiny awestruck warriors. “Don’t fire!” orders Roland. “Don’t fire. Don’t fire.” He gives the orders over and over, words jumbling and growing quieter with every repetition, hand lowering slowly, slowly. No was moving anyway. All eyes are affixed to the awesome ethereal being that stares down at them.

The cat sits perfectly still, looming above the people and the corpse it has brought them. Its long white fur whips gently in the night wind, a translucent silhouette eclipsing the moon. They are transfixed in its gaze. One eye sparkles a gentle, crystalline blue. Blue like clear water in advertisements for tropical vacations. Blue like the edge of a waterfall where the dark river shifts and explodes into white froth. The other eye is emerald green, lush like the forest after heavy rain.

A thin piece of string hangs around the cat’s great shaggy neck. A silver coin dangles from it. The cat hooks a single claw over the string and breaks it easily, allowing the coin to bounce and roll and fall at Roland’s feet. Its tail swishes in a magnificent arc as it turns and springs back into the grass in a single bound. Roland stares down at the coin. A single word has been scratched deep beneath its surface. The little people begin to groggily break free of their trance and crowd around to read the word.

“Haiku.”

#chapter 6 #haiku #private Washington #Roland #privateers #3d printing #girlfromipanema

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psychicdinneranon-blog · 7 years

Text

Five Times Shou Eats Something He Shouldn’t (And 1 Time He Doesn’t)

This is part 2 of a series based off the MiB AU! From bakanohealthy and qcatter Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

(Second Time: In which Shou Steals Some Good Quality Soil)

Shou wandered the old warehouse with his hands in his pockets and peering curiously at anything that might look interesting. At only eight years old he was already a master explorer, diving in to crevices and searching every nook and cranny.

But there wasn’t really much to see in this dusty old building as he carefully avoided all the places his father had forbidden him to go. This along with keeping himself out of the way for his father’s workers and any and all aliens.

Shou idly kicked a stray woodchip away from his path, wondering why his dad had to center his business from here of all places. After all, it was boring and cold and he wasn’t allowed to touch any of the interesting shiny things that he saw get brought in by the crate-full.

All in all his father had been working on this place for a whole month and Shou was ready to go back to exploring the caves. At least those had been interesting.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wander around this boring place every day for a whole month, his tutoring easily filled up his days. But his mom was sick today and so he had to go into work with his father.

He was just about to give up hunting down any interesting developments, not new developments. Because the only new developments from the past two hours were that the concrete floor was muddier and there were more dead leaves near the entrance where one of the tucks had unloaded. Otherwise now he’d just wander back towards his father and wait for something interesting to happen.

Maybe he’d get another piece of that cinnamony rock if he was extra good! Shou licked his lips, remembering the hot taste of candy cinnamon as he tried to remember what exactly the name had been. Cinnaone, Syndicate, Synnergy, Cinna ore? He couldn’t remember.

But then out of the corner of his vision he spotted something bright white and colorful against the grey of the concrete floor. And Shou instantly began to investigate the pile of soil bags curiously.

As he was dancing around the bags as well as poking and shifting them around, he got a bit of the contents onto his fingers. Like many other children he cleaned his fingers by licking them clean.

At the first taste of the soil Shou’s eyes lit up. It was dark and fine grained but still with texture with a sort of bittersweet aftertaste. Shou fell in love with the taste instantly.

With a quick glance around the warehouse, Shou noticed that there were very few people wandering through. So it was no trouble at all to shift into his starform and telekinetically haul a dozen soil bags up to a small dusty platform out of the way of any prying eyes.

Shou then proceeded to spend the rest of his time stuck in the warehouse reaching into the bags of slightly moist soil and eating the cool dirt by the handful.

Once the bags had been emptied Shou swallowed the plastic bags as well, making a soft contented purr as he did so. Then he flopped backwards to take full advantage of a passing patch of sunlight, dozing easily until he heard his father calling for him to make their way back home.

---

Minegishi was annoyed.

Actually, to be more specific Minegishi was very very annoyed at a very particular someone.

Said particular someone was sitting at the far end table across the room and casually chatting away whatever inane thought popped into his little rodent brain.

Minegishi stomped very decisively towards Shizamaki who waved a clawed hand in acknowledgement. Then he seemed to suddenly feel the glare that was boring holes through his back- And oh how Minegishi wished that were literal instead of figurative right now, and asked Minegishi what was up.

Now seething mad and really wanting to make Shizamaki into bite sized little mole-person pieces to feed his plants with, Minegishi growled out. “Where did you stash my soil?”

Shizamaki and his ever present smile faltered just slightly at the sudden rage from his coworker. “Huh? I didn’t take any of your soil Minegishi. Sheesh so rude.” Shizamaki was already turning back to his conversation partner when he felt the vines of Minegishi’s hand on his shoulder.

“Liar you took some last week, now. Where is. My. Soil.” Minegisihi shook the other. “Tell me or I use you to test out my new poisons and then feed your body to my carnivorous plants.”

“Sorry Mineghishi I just can’t see you doing a thing like that.” Shizamaki’s smile was somehow wider than before. Minegishi wasted no time in striking at the other with his vines but by the time he had the other had already teleported away.

Minegishi screeched and tore out of the room, chasing after Shizamaki’s teleporting form across the warehouse.

As he teleported Shizamaki shouted to the plant alien. “What? I didn’t do anything. Really you should just leaf me alone!” He cackled loudly in response to Minegishi’s screech of rage.

In the end he did not manage to catch up to Shizamaki, however he was approached by one of the underlings to be hesitantly told that his soil would get replaced as soon as possible,

Somewhat mollified Minegishi called off the chase. Though a few hours later there were reports of Shizamaki once again running away from the greenhouse, screeching in laughter as he did.

And a week later Shizamaki found Shou carefully sneaking the batteries out from the supply closet. Shizamaki promptly decided to stick around and teach the kid a few tips about how to properly steal and misdirect. Then he steered his newfound companion towards the joy of all joys: pranks.

Especially on Minegishi.

#this is why Shou and Shizamaki never interact in canon #because they decide to prank EVERYONE #MiB au #my writing #bakanohealthy #Shou Suzuki #5 Times Shou Ate Something he Shouldn't

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