#his mortal heart aches for the ones who could not return home eh????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softyoongiionly · 3 years

Text

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.

Corruption.

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.

But the need to win was still present.

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

It’s said to be the home a monster.

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

It always has.

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.

Exhaustion was palpable.

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.

And there it is: the tower.

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.

The layout doesn’t make sense.

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.

Beautiful.

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.

And this is what has kept you frozen.

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.

But he had vanished.

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.

You know you should be terrified.

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.

“She’s awake!”

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

830 notes · View notes

wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.1

Author’s Note: So I’m thinking of updating every other day or every two days? I tend to write compulsively and neglect my schoolwork lol. Juggling this with work and school will be difficult if I post every day (I can’t help it though, I love updating every day!) So yeah. Also if anyone has chapter filler ideas or prompts they want me to write out, message me or comment below! Back to the story!

..........................................

Xiao had just cleared a band of hilichurls when he came across the small stuffed bunny lying on the ground. It was tattered and worn, but still held its original color. He picked it up and dusted it off, glancing in the direction of the crying girl at the top of the hill. She had been crying over her stolen toy so Xiao took it upon himself to return it to her.

He may or may not have destroyed a portion of the rice crop in doing so...but no matter! The girl was happy now.

"Thank you Mr. Adeptus!" She gave him a toothy grin and hugged her bunny close. "Thank you so much!"

"It was no trouble." Xiao didn't return her smile and began to walk across the bridge that oversaw most of the rice crop. What was it with mortal children and material possessions? Was it like him with his yaksha mask and spear?

"Mr. Adeptus sir, would you like something to eat?"

"Mortal food is not to my liking." He continued to walk away despite hearing her disappointed 'oh.' His eyes landed at the top of another hill, where the hall of Quince Village sat. I should check on her Granny while I'm here.

"Welcome to my humble home! How may I--" Granny's eyes widened significantly when she caught sight of Xiao. "Oh my, it's been some time. Is she alright? Has something happened?"

"Mm." Xiao flicked his gaze around the building before he closed the distance. "She's fine. The Fatui will pose a significant problem. They may come to you first."

"Oh," Granny rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me then, dear. Just make sure she's safe. I can handle the Fatui's interrogations just fine."

"There's no telling what tactics they may use or what they're after. Make no mention of my interactions with you, nor how you found her. It is for your own safety."

"Consider it done! Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

...........................

"Wait, what?" You and the rest of the adventure team had returned to Quince Village on your request.

Well...when you say 'the rest of the adventure team,' it was just you and Aether. Diluc and Bennett had returned to Mondstat on your way here from Liyue Harbor. After your little confrontation with Childe, he claimed there was unfinished business with the Fatui in the harbor and had to remain there. You didn't believe it one bit.

"Yeah! Do you think he doesn't like me?" Lil Luo's shoulders drooped in sadness. She held her tattered bunny tight against her chest.

"'An adeptus that doesn't smile," Aether met your eyes. "That sounds like Xiao."

"W-well, when was he here? When did this happen?" You had to refrain from shaking her little shoulders for answers.

"U-um, maybe a week ago? I saw him a couple more times after that, but he never smiled back at me..."

"Xiao," you whispered to yourself and scanned the fields for any sign of him. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Four days ago, I think."

"You want to look for him, don't you?" Aether raised a smug brow.

"Can we?" You pleaded.

"We're here on your request. Might as well stay a bit, right?"

"Thank you so much!"

"You can just repay us with food," Paimon popped up and was practically drooling at her own imagination. Aether nodded in agreement.

The three of you--correction, two of you-- climbed the hill to the village center while Paimon floated carefree alongside Aether. The second you reached the top, you were greeted with a disturbing sight.

Fatui agents.

"W-what the hell?" You instinctually grabbed the hilt of your sword, as did Aether. "What are Fatui doing in Quince Village?"

"Paimon has no idea. Let's get them!"

"Doesn't your Granny live here?" Aether sent you a worried look.

"Yes, she does." You marched right up to the nearest agent and puffed out your chest. "Excuse me, what's going on here? Why are you morons moving my Granny's stuff out of the house?"

"Who're you callin' morons?" The agent scoffed through his mask. "Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'? Scram. Get out of here. Damn kids."

"This is MY house," your blade pressed against his neck in a flash. "Get off of my property." Aether followed your lead and drew his weapon too.

"I'm afraid it isn't your home anymore," an all-too familiar deep voice flowed through the air. Zhongli shot the agent a look that caused him to leave the situation to the consultant. "I sincerely apologize for not being in touch recently. The funeral parlor has been quite backed-up lately thanks to Hu Tao's mismanagement."

"What are you doing here?" Paimon asked the question that was on all your minds. "The funeral parlor is so far south of here."

"The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor serves all of Liyue," answered Zhongli. His piercing eyes turned their attention to you and Aether. "As you know, the parlor is partnered with the Fatui."

"And? That doesn't explain why you're here," you snarled. Don't get anything mixed up; you were happy to see him. But the Fatui at your house? Not as much.

Zhongli released a short sigh and closed his eyes. "We received a call from one of your neighbors. It appears your grandmother died last night of a heart attack."

Something hard panged within your chest and it was suddenly difficult to breath. "That's not...possible."

"Hey," Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the world seemed to sway beneath your feet. He slowly led you to the ground.

"That's horrible," Paimon muttered. "Was it...painful?"

"Paimon!" Aether hushed.

"No. It was rather quick. She had not suffered long." Zhongli knelt so that he was eye level with you. "I had sent someone to meet up with you in Dihua Marsh, but it appears as though the messenger never met you. My apologies for the oversight, dear friend."

"Then," you gulped, "why are the Fatui here?"

"Your grandmother had signed the house over to them a day or so before she passed."

"What? Why would she do that? She loves this house!" Your tears dried before they had the chance to fall. Your fists tightened as you struggled to determine who the enemy was. Was it Zhongli? He was technically Fatui if he worked with them. Xiao could have been wrong about him. "Who's in charge here?"

Zhongli almost appeared hesitant to answer. Xiao managed to reach the grandmother in time, but it appears she still had to make some sort of arrangement to guarantee everyone's safety. To think that Childe had somehow known to come here--

"Tch." You stood up and brushed past Aether, heading directly toward the Fatui agent that had the audacity to tell a twenty year old to go back to school. "Hey, dumbass!" You gripped the collar of his coat and yanked him close. "Tell me who's in charge here."

"Heh, want to fight your way out of a contract, eh? Don't you worship the God of Contracts? You're not gettin' your stupid house back."

"Tell me who sent you."

"A certain Harbinger," the agent taunted.

"Give me the name!" You back-handed the masked agent hard enough to hurt him and split your knuckles wide open. The blood splattered onto the wooden floor and soaked into his jacket.

"Hey, wait!" Aether grabbed your shoulder. Zhongli watched him do so.

"You're in luck, sweetheart. You'd give quite the show badmouthing Childe."

"Wha--" You stumbled backwards and knocked into Aether. The two of you shared a look of shock, concern, and betrayal. "This is all under Childe's jurisdiction?"

"Uh-huh," the agent lifted his mask slightly and wiped at his busted lip. "He should be on his way back to Liyue Harbor by now, if you wanna try and take it up with him. But I'm tellin' you he ain't gonna budge."

..........................

You stood alone in the rain. Zhongli had arranged for a proper funeral and had refused to charge you for the provided services. He had even managed to retrieve one of Granny's necklaces from the Fatui's grasp, and gave it to you. He and Aether were alongside you, what...twenty minutes ago? They decided to leave you alone in front of the new gravestone to grieve. The funeral was simple, per your request to hold true to Granny's wishes. The entire village had grieved with you.

"I'm sorry I came too late for a visit, Granny." The words came out robotic and emotionless. The look on your face was blank. You placed a small bouquet of glaze lilies on top of the stone; Zhongli had you sing to them before picking them. "Things got busy, and Childe...well, I'm sure you met him, didn't you?" You let out a dry bitter laugh that blended with the sound of raindrops. "I love you. Thank you for taking care of me even if I was a brat sometimes."

Could it be that you had been the cause of her death just like you had caused your parents'? Just how much blood was on your hands?

You felt nothing yet everything at the same time. Your eyes were dry. After the initial shock, you hadn't shed a single tear. Thus was your usual reaction to death; you were usually at peace with the idea of it. If it was their time, it was their time. But you were not convinced her death was caused by her heart.

Childe. Could he have resorted to such extremes to get the house? Or was it for something more? Perhaps he was the true danger Xiao had warned you about.

Your chest ached, desperate to release the pent up storm of emotions whirling through you. The wind picked up for a moment. "Xiao?" Your hoarse greeting was met with a grim-looking yaksha. It was possible you were just imagining him in a time of need. You hadn't seen him in a month now.

Xiao blinked and gave you a once-over as he stood beside you. He had heard your sorrow like it was blaring in his ears. His eyes fell to the gravestone, and his expression saddened further. "She's dead." His question of disbelief sounded more like a tactless statement of fact.

"Yeah," you half-winced, half-scoffed at his remark. "She's dead." You knew all too well that he didn't mean any harm. "Why're you standing in the rain?"

"I don't concern myself with the weather, but you should be inside. Mortals are fragile."

"I don't particularly care at the moment." Your words cut through the rain like a blade of ice.

She has lost all of her family now, Xiao realized. He watched you with admiration at how strong you were acting even though it was clear you were trying not to break.

"I came back to visit and check in on her," you opened up after a few minutes of silence. His glance towards you prompted you to continue. "And then a little girl told me an adeptus had saved her toy bunny. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Mm."

"Did you...see her? My Granny?"

"I have spoken with her several times over the course of several years. I did not think it would be the last time. What happened?"

"Heart attack." You swallowed. "When I reached the house, the Fatui were clearing it out." You caught the color draining from Xiao's face. "What? Do you know something?"

"So my suspicions were correct," Xiao muttered distastefully. He looked around the graveyard. "You're sure they all left?"

"Yes. Zhongli said that before she died she had signed a contract to hand the house over. But she wouldn't do that so easily."

Satisfied with his scan of their surroundings, Xiao folded his arms across his chest. "I told you I would inform you of our predicament when the time is right. The time is now."

"After my Granny just died?" Your undirected anger manifested at his words.

"The Fatui are after the two of us."

"Why?"

"Our guess is they wish to create adepti soldiers or yakshas using the technique I used on you when you were a child." Your eyes raised at 'our.' Xiao's gaze flicked to you briefly. "Zhongli."

"Wait, why would Zhongli be involved with this in the first place?"

"He is the former Lord of Geo, Rex Lapis--"

"Wait wait wait, he's what?! But that's not possible, Rex Lapis is--"

"--Only a select few know his identity. Do not go around telling." You nodded, head spinning from all this new information. "Childe was tasked with identifying and obtaining us. If anyone gets their hands on an adeptus or your blood, it could spell the downfall of humankind."

"What exactly is my blood? Why would they want me?"

"My blood runs through your veins."

"U-um...?" You shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

"That is how I saved you," Xiao uncrossed his arms and faced you fully. "It allows you to withstand more adeptal energy than the ordinary human, which is why I can be so close to you. It also increases your body's healing capabilities. It is the only reason you survived that day. It is also the only reason you survived your lawachurl wound."

"...Why didn't you tell me this before?" You mumbled beneath your breath. The rain hitting the earth nearly overtook the sound of your voice. "We...We could have saved her." Your anger leaked through your voice. It wanted something to blame, something to lash out at. You caught yourself before you could say or think something you didn't mean. It was a heart attack. Xiao is not to blame for this. Childe is the enemy.

"Childe was listening in on our conversations. I could not disclose this information to you so we would have the advantage to work in the dark against the him." He stared down at the gravestone. "I am...sorry. I did not recognize the stress it would put her through. She was optimistic and happy when I last saw her."

You shook your head. "I doubt it caused the heart attack. I just want to know what they did to make her sell the house," your hands curled into fists. "Childe will pay for this."

The two of you silently stood in the rain for some time before Xiao held his hand out to you. "You will get sick if you stay out here longer. Let us meet with the rest of the team." You placed your injured hand in his, having forgot that it was aching the entire time. Xiao's eyes narrowed at this, but he did not question you. With your blood, it would heal by tomorrow morning.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot #genshin one shot #genshin fanfiction

191 notes · View notes

sexyshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Kurodai AU Chapter 2: Lover Bear

The wolf didn’t wake till afternoon, the light looking much like he’d left it when he’d fallen asleep. Time seemed to be evading him. Maybe he was dead after all. Kuroo looked down at his legs- breathing seemed to be easier to manage today, but he could still barely move a muscle without wincing in pain. And his legs were heavier than stone. Before he could fully look around him, a shape loomed over him, giving him a start. Two fluffy round ears, and a curious snuffle from the snout over the man’s hair, which tickled him, making him laugh softly. “Hey little cub”, he crooned softly at the bear-cub who was clearly very curious about the stranger. He raised his arms up above his head to give him soft scratches behind the ears. And instantly, the little guy was won over. The cub was settling his head down in the crook of his neck, sniffing at his body and nuzzling close. Kuroo smiled at the welcome he was receiving, petting and caressing his new friend- when two more arrived, both just as curious as their brother- taking turns sniffing around his legs and coming closer for cuddles. He was more than happy to oblige, giving everyone pats and scratches, a big grin on his face. “O h man..”, came the familiar voice from behind him, causing Kuroo to look up- an adorable sight, surrounded by three bear cubs who had nestled into his various crevices and made home there. He grinned at his benefactor, “I made friends!” “Mhm- alright guys come on, it’s like a furnace in here, give him some room-“, the brown haired fellow sat down, shooing the cubs away with paternal patience. The cubs relented, standing a little ways away, but not fully leaving- choosing to butt their heads into him instead. Warm laughter filled the cave, his eyes crinkling with joy as he shoved at the cubs playfully, “I’m busy! Quit playing-“, he smiled and grabbed at the faces that shoved into his sides. His hand seemed to have healed well enough overnight. It was cleaned and stitched up, looking much better than it had yesterday. Kuroo watched him bring out that shell filled with the salve again- and still plagued by the cubs who sniffed at it curiously, he came closer, rubbing the stuff on both his hands and setting his palms down on his chest. “How are you feeling today”, he directed at the wolf, patient, doting eyes on him. “Good..” Kuroo seemed at a loss for words, having spent the last few minutes simply staring at the other, his smile, his eyes, his strong arms- his chest now uncovered by any furs in the warmth of the day. And it seemed he was mighty distracted. “Good? Like you can walk out of here good or ‘you can’t feel your legs at all so I might as well cut them off’- good” Look at that smirk on his handsome face. What a cheeky bear. “I’m better, thank you- the salve did help, don’t think I have a fever anymore..”, he said with some patience, a brow raised towards the man who was now busy rubbing down his torso. Oh, he’d reached his hips already. There it was again, that unbelievable surge of heat down to his- “Yeah your color seems to be returning- I think you should be able to sit up tomorrow, but we’ll take it easy anyway-“ His hands had come back up to get his back, fingers following his spine down to his tailbone again. Kuroo had to close his eyes for fear they might roll upwards- his chest expanding less painfully now as he took in deep breaths. But it was over within seconds. Far too short this time round. Gold eyes followed him as he reached for a sack and brought from inside a fist full of pretty purple rocks- a beautiful shine to them, unlike any gemstone he’d ever seen. He watched as the man carefully set them down on his body one by one, following a line down his sternum to his belly, and down his two legs using the sticky consistency of the salve to hold them in place. “They’re beautiful..”, he said, his eyes flicking up to his face as he finished up his work for the day. “Aren’t they..”, a smile on his face as he put them away. The cubs had been deterred for only a little as they watched their older brother do important work. But they were at it again, sniffing at Kuroo’s body curiously. One even managed to lick at the sticky goop when the bear man caught him- “H ey stop that- get out of here, all of you”, he used that stern papa bear voice, too familiar to them no doubt. It was enough to have them pitter pattering out of the cave- the last one stumbling with his tongue hanging open and grunting from the sting of the medicine. “Cute kids..”, the wolf said to him in the fondest tone he’d used thus far. “Are they yours?”, he asked him curiously. The other shook his head no, looking just a little perturbed at the question. Kuroo had to, had to probe more, he wanted to know. “That was your mate right? The one I was hunting-“ “No.. she’s not- they’re her cubs and I take care of them sometimes but, she’s not my mate-“, his voice was weighed down by something he couldn’t quite decipher. But it would sate his curiosity for now. And with that, he was standing up to go- “O i where you going-“, he protested, raising himself up on his elbows to crane his neck back towards him- and then instantly regretting it as the pain shot through his torso. “Hey hey relax- just going down fishing, I was gone all day for the crystals, I need to see my family and cool off with them for a bit-“, he came closer, putting a calming hand on his shoulder to lay him back down. Kuroo looked up at him, upside down now as he watched his face. A playful little pout on his lips when he asks, “Well what if I need you..” His brown eyes must’ve widened, just a little. They quickly darted away, an awkward smile on his face, he tried to brush it off. But Kuroo wasn’t letting up, “I mean, what if I’m in pain and I need that salve again..” “You’re good for at least half a day now..”, he said to him with more patience than he should’ve- a softened look on his face as he stood up again. But he didn’t leave, looking back out at the cave entrance towards the cubs who were hanging nearby. “Okay, it’s time I taught you some signs then huh-“, he kneeled down again and scooted closer to Kuroo- giving him a face full of his gleaming chest in the last faint rays of sundown. Heaven.. heaven on earth.. “You listening?” “Yeah yeah- let’s learn some bear then-“, his eyes snapped up from their guilty pleasure to his face, showing him he was paying attention. The man leaned lower, his face level with the wolf’s.

And it made his heart stop. The bear huffed through his nose at him, one, two, three times. Simple enough to replicate, though he wasn’t sure if his body language would be correct for bears, Kuroo mimicked him, tipping his nose up towards his and following along. “No-“, he put his fingers on his chin, directing it back down. It wasn’t easy to focus now, and he wasn’t quite sure why- Kuroo wasn’t one to shy away from physical touch, he quite enjoyed it, and a little touch to his face shouldn’t have had his adam’s apple bobbing nervously like it did. He tried again, three little huffs, keeping his nose level with his this time. This seemed to be more correct, granting him a smile and unfortunately, the leave of his fingers from his face. “You got it, just do that to any of the cubs, they’ll come get me-“, he said with some satisfaction as he got up one final time and turned to leave. “What does it mean-“ The bear man turned back, casually stating to him as he draped the furs over the wolf’s lower body, “Find my lover” Lover.

Lover? Lover..? The color rising in his cheeks was unmistakable as he tried to make sense of what he’d just said, blinking stupidly at him and completely speechless. He seemed to understand the confusion a little late, giving him an airy laugh, “It’s the same word for caregiver”, he said as he offered him a smile and what was a hint of playfulness in his eyes. He found him amusing at least, and not a pain, the thought left Kuroo smiling wider as he left the cave. His lover. A big sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes now, waiting for nightfall to come and for his lover to return. It was painfully boring in this cave, and the cubs weren’t around for him to entertain either. Not to mention the talk of lovers having ignited something in him that he found an absolute annoyance, given the state of his body at the moment. After what seemed like hours, he looked around the dark of the cave, and sensed nothing nearby. He cast his eyes down at the furs draped over his hips. Would his hips even work again.. The though of such a tragedy brought a small groan from his lips. It should’ve been the least of his worries, but he was after all, a mortal man, of the flesh and all that. It had been.. a painfully long time since he’d last- But then footsteps approached- familiar ones.

His lover was home. Kuroo looked up to see him, his gold eyed glinting in the dark and seeing him clear as day. He had a.. giant fish in his mouth. And he looked happy, his hair dripping wet, as was the rest of his body. Oh no. “You need to eat! Come on! We got a great haul today, oh boy oh boy-“ he said, plopping the fish down in his lap as he crossed his legs and took a seat on the ground. He ripped out some of the flesh and offered it to him with his hand- Kuroo stared back and shook his head, “I’m not.. a fish person..”, he said weakly, feeling his stomach turn at the sight. “Eh? What do you eat then? Berries? We have some but you need meat in you if you want your legs back-“, he looked at him, the most adorably perplexed expression on his face as he tilted his head at him. “No I- I don’t eat them raw..”, he said with a sheepish look on his face. Cue a much more surprised, even scandalised look on the bear man’s face. “You don’t.. eat.. your meat.. r a w??” Kuroo can’t help but laugh at him then, clutching at his ribs for the ache it caused. He shook his head at him softly, “I cook it before I eat.. it’s just better for my body, I lived more around humankind than wolfkind.. just used to it like that” “Oh..”, he said now, and Kuroo could’ve sworn he saw his phantom bear ears droop a little. The very idea of.. cooking.. his fish.. seemed to depress the poor fellow. But he perked up soon after, swiveling around to find something. He rustled around back there and brought forth a few twigs, and smooth looking stones. And then he set about, doing something like clicking the stones together. Minutes passed as he concentrated on his task, while the wolf watched, a big, indulgent smile on his face as he looked up at him from time to time. “..with all due respect.. lover bear, what are you doing” The man looked at his face, eyes wide, his jaw tense. He didn’t seem to want to comment on the nickname just yet, though he’d heard it alright. “I’m making a fire.. this is.. how the humans.. do it..”, his voice trailed off when Kuroo seemed to not be impressed. “No..?” Shaking his head at him, “No”, he answered and took one stone from him- wincing as he raised himself up on one elbow. “Hold that in place-“, he reached for the fur at his hips with his other hand, gathering some of the loose furs on it and brought it back around to use as kindling- then struck hard at the rock in his hand. It took him a few tries but the warmth in that cave was kind enough to let the spark catch the fur- which Kuroo diligently blew at and fed little twigs. He settled back down when it seemed to grow, feeding more twigs to it till it was blazing as big as his fist at the centre of the cave. The other man seemed to be mesmerized by it, watching the flames dance in place, feeding it dry leaves from time to time. The gold and orange light flickered over their faces as they exchanged happy glances with each other. He held a stick of fish meat over the flame, turning it after a few minutes, while Kuroo watched him, happy enough to do just that. And then he came to him, stick in hand. He blew on each piece, pulled it off its skewer and held it to his mouth for the wolf to eat. And he did, chewing hungrily. He hadn’t eaten in more than a day now, he just realized. When he’d had his fill for the time being, he looked up at him with interest. “Do bears feed each other..” The question got him raising a brow at him, “Yeah we feed our cubs.. what, you want me to chew up your meat and feed it to you like you’re a 1 month old?” Kuroo sours a little, turning his nose up at him and looking up at the tall ceiling, illuminated by the light of the fire. “..wolves feed each other all the time.. don’t have to be a pup to get it” The bear man could sense something in his voice, something wistful, longing. It wasn’t a happy look on his face. So he tried to change the subject, huffing slightly, then in an amused tone, “That’s another thing- don’t even try to change here- I’m warning you, you do so much as yip like a wolf and I won’t be able to protect you-“ He crossed his arms across his chest as he continued on firmly, “The only reason they’re letting you stay here is cause of me- but if you seem like a threat to the cubs, I won’t be able to stop them from ripping you apart.” “Mm mm.. got it”, Kuroo answered with a small smile his way. But he didn’t stop there, smiling at the floor as his brown orbs twinkled. “Not sure how they’re overlooking that stench though”. When he looked up, he saw a disgruntled looking wolf man, an unamused look on his face. He looked like he wanted to bark at him right then and there. He laughed again, chortling at his reaction, “You have the pride of a wolf.. that’s for sure, but not much else I gotta say-“, he groans as he shakes his head, “They’re so noisy when they play, just loud and obnoxious- o h and the howling at the moon, hell on earth, what a racket” Yet again, this was cause for Kuroo to raise his nose at him, taking a deep breath to pace himself, till a smile grew on his lips. A dreamy look on his face as his eyes seemed to get lost in his memories. “Ahh.. but the moon’s so pretty, you can’t help but sing to it..” The other man looked at him, scooting a tad bit closer, and raising a single brow at his words, “You.. sing to pretty things?” The wolf man’s eyes darted back to his face, lolling his head towards him now with infallible confidence, “Why, you interested?” This confused him, though there was a little gnawing sensation at the back of his head. The bear ventured further, against his instinct, “In.. singing?” “In me singing to you- I can’t see the moon from here- you’re a pretty bear, might just howl at you one of these days..”, words spoken without hesitation as he looked into his eyes, an annoyingly charming smirk on his lips that was begging to be wiped off. He couldn’t help but blush when he said it all, and that’s what had him scoffing- laughing, disbelievingly, or perhaps just to distract himself from the near-hungry look in this man’s eyes. “Tell me this- is talking like a jerk just YOUR thing or is it just a wolf dialect-“, he shoots back at him now, thin lipped smile in place to control his face from erupting in color again. That definitely knocked him down a peg, stopping him in his tracks. Kuroo’s mouth was opened now, in a little scoff of his own, before he resumed that disgustingly smooth smile of his, “Tell me this! Is fondling your patient just YOUR thing or it just the magic of bear fingers-“ “FONDLING! H AH-“ he shook his head with some outrage at him, “You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, I’m not f o ndling you, I’m healing you, you ungrateful little-” But before he could finish his sentence, the wolf man was transformed in his affect- stretching his sinewy, muscular arms above him, his smile flashing as he presents his neck to him like a dog in heat, “Mmm healing me alright.. in more ways than one” Those eyes bore into him, watching him for a reaction, crafty and ready to pounce at any opening.

And he felt the heat climbing down his body, flickering like the light in the cave, threatening to reach its destination. That was his cue to leave. The bear man stood up, grateful for the heavy fur he had draped around his middle, “Alright wise-ass, get some sleep”, he said with obvious bitterness lacing his words as his face steeled itself against any more unruly attacks from this jackass. “H ahhh don’t leave now, come on, I was teasing..” It was almost laughable how needy he sounded, but the fact that it was working like tendrils tying his feet to the ground- that wasn’t very funny at all, he thought. The bear swallowed slowly, determined not to give him another word- not another word for him to twist around and use against him. “Won’t you spend the night with me..?” Silence. Deep breaths to calm himself, and to fix a testy gaze on the man at his feet, who still seemed to be holding back a laugh. “Hey it’s been a while since you put that stuff on me, I might hurt at night..” Was there anything this guy wouldn’t do to get him to stay. And what if he knew that he’d won before he’d even tried. What then. The man sat back down heavily, reaching for some furs and laid them down- f ar from his side, the sign of a clear boundary. Which again got Kuroo chuckling to himself quietly as he watched him. He put out the fire with impatience covering it with hide, and in the darkness lay down on his fur. Deadly silence. “Hey uh.. what’s your name.. I forgot to ask..” Nothing. He was going to give him absolutely nothing. “..do I just call you my lover then?” “Daichi- my name’s Daichi..” Kuroo turned his head towards him in the dark, the smile on his face gleaming bright at the neat trick he’d just pulled.

“What’s yours..”

“Tetsurou”, he answered with a softer smile his way.

#kurodaiweek #kurodai #kurodaiweek2021 #daichi #sawamura daichi #Kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #shapeshifterau #supernatural #suggestive #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuufanfic

17 notes · View notes

nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.IV

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.III - ch.V

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan allowed the cool, salt-scented breeze ruffled his clothes as he leaned forward at the window, watching lightning strike the ocean from a far. He and the kid were safe. A gust of wind threatened to kill the fire, so Stan closed the window and turned back to the fireplace, where Dipper sat flexing his hand after wrapping some bandages around his scraped knuckles. He stood up and grinned at his teacher. “I’m ready, what else have you got?”

“Hold it, buddy boy, that’s enough for today.” Stan chuckled and sat in his chair covered in furs, making a comfortable small throne for the king of the house. “Just relax.”

“C’mon, please.” Dipper begged and stood by his side. “This is the best I’ve ever done, let’s see if I can beat my record on the obstacle course or something!”

“Listen, key to being a hero is knowing when to start and when to stop.” Stan said as he leaned back and relaxed. “You might be a demigod, but you still need rest. Just sit back and enjoy the storm happening outside and try to put something in your gut. Soup’s almost ready, anyways.”

Dipper sighed, admitting defeat, and sat on his pillow next to Stan’s big chair. After a year of training with him, though his body still ached from time to time, he was succeeding more than failing recently. It was like he was finally on his way to becoming a true hero. He didn’t want to stop, not when he was so close to being with his family, but he knew better than to push Stan on an argument, and so he watched the fire crackle as he heard the lightning storm outside. “Stanford must be mad.” Dipper said to fill the air.

Stan snorted; Dipper had learned by now that the old guy had a weird hatred for the Ruler of the Gods. Ever since that first introduction Dipper never said another word about Stanford being his potential family, since clearly Stan wasn’t buying it, but every once in a while Dipper would talk to Mabel through the drawings of his journal, and she was always praising him and telling him stories of her and Grunkle Ford. Dipper believed her and decided to just keep his connections to his family to himself.

“Doesn’t take much to make that jerk mad.” Stan muttered and stood up to mix the soup.

Dipper shrugged, thought about his question, and decided to risk it and ask his mentor, “You got something against Stanford?”

“What makes you ask, kiddo?”

Again, Dipper shrugged. “You don’t really bad-mouth the other gods. I mean, I don’t care if you do, but you just seem to have something against one of the most powerful gods despite the possibility he could strike your house and burn it to the ground.”

“Ha! That’d be a new one.” Stan laughed harshly and tasted the soup and shrugged. “Eh, we’ll give it a few minutes. Anyways, I guess the other gods just ain’t worth my bad-mouthing. But if it’ll make you feel better I’ll bad-mouth the others, too, to make it fair.” He joked.

Dipper chuckled and let slip, “I don’t care as long as you leave Mabel out of it.”

“Right, your sister.” Dipper was surprised that Stan had remembered that; he never talked about his sister to him. “You miss her, don’t you, kid?” The old man asked, his back still to his student as he stirred dinner.

Dipper sighed and nodded. “I just wanna be a family again, that’s all.”

Stan finally turned to him and he ruffled the boy’s hair, making his bangs stick up and reveal his birthmark. “You’ll get there. I promise.”

Dipper smiled, flattened his hair again, and said, “Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Olympus was filled to the brim and busy, the ballroom crowded and loud as the audience waited for the introduction of the Muse in Training. Stanford sat in his throne with Fiddleford by his side, both grinning and excited to see how far their little girl had come. The messenger even had a colorful array of flowers on his lap to give to her when she finished her performance.

“She’s grown up so much.” Stanford said.

“Indeed.” Fiddleford agreed.

The Ruler of the Gods glanced over at his closest friend and asked, “Do you think I’m too hard on her?”

“In what way?”

Stanford shrugged. “She wants to leave Olympus.”

“Not forever, my friend. She just wants t’see the world. Every other god gets t’come n’ go from here, she simply wishes t’as well.” Fiddleford reminded him.

Stanford took in a deep breath, held it, and let it go. “I’m thinking of giving her a curfew.”

Fiddleford blinked in shock and then grinned. “Really?”

“Perhaps… it’ll be good for her to have some time to herself.” Stanford theorized. “If I made it clear that she must be home by sundown, and if I gave her permission to go exploring after her lessons…”

“I think that’s a fair compromise.” Fiddleford said with a nod. “Really, has she done anythang t’prove she couldn’t be trusted?”

Stanford shook her head. “No. She’s the most honest, trustworthy person I know, right next to you and Bill, of course.”

“No offense taken.” Fiddleford chose to ignore Bill’s name drop.

“Then it’s settled.” Stanford sat up straighter. “After her performance, I shall grant her a curfew and allow her to explore the valley below us.”

“I think that’s a good start.” Fiddleford patted his shoulder. “You’re doin’ the right thang.”

Horns rang through the air, glittering smoke filled the air and collected in five groups, and there five beautiful ladies in white dresses stood on the stage, ready to introduce their apprentice. Stanford and Fiddleford applauded for the stunning arrival, along with the other gods, and after a swift show-off of their beautiful voices, the Muses parted ways to make way for the newest among them… but no one came.

A minute of dead, shocked, confused silence was deafening on the mountain, until a booming voice rang through and caused lightning to strike. “MABEL!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“A little more bandages, some grapes for being a good boy, and a kiss to make it feel better.” Mabel kissed the tiny ankle by the black hoof and grinned at the animal by her side, sitting on the soft grass on her knees. “All done! You’re back in action, Waddles.”

The pig stood on all four to do a little trot in place. He oinked happily to find no pain in his leg and he licked Mabel’s cheek in thanks as she scooped him up to hug him. “Aw, you’re welcome.”

A clash of lightning over her head rang out. Mabel’s heart dropped as she looked up the mountain behind her, dark clouds hiding the top. She cringed and sighed. “I missed the concert, didn’t I?”

She knew it was risky to sneak away right before her debut, but she had to! The little piggy was hurt, caught in a branch, and Mabel had freed him yesterday and swiftly returned home, but Waddles still needed to be cleaned up or he could get an infection, so the first chance she got the young goddess slipped away and helped the animal.

Mabel stood up and sighed. No point in trying to hide. As if on cue, Fiddleford could be seen running down the mountain at super speed and relaxed at seeing Mabel in the valley. He ran up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Mabel! Ya know you’re not allowed off Olympus! Stanford’s worried sick.”

“I know, I know!” Mabel whined. “But Waddles needed me.”

“Who?” Fiddleford looked down at the pig oinking at Mabel’s feet and rubbing against her legs.

“Waddles.” Mabel introduced. “I call him that because he waddles.”

“Sweetie, ya ain’t suppose to name it.” Fiddleford said with his eyes shut. “Once you name it, ya start gettin’ attached t’it. Now c’mon, I’m supposed t’take ya home.”

Mabel took the time to scratch Waddles goodbye and then allowed Fiddleford to walk her up the mountain gloomily.

At the gate Stanford was pacing, a nervous wreck, but when he saw his niece, rather than relax, he was hysterical. He pulled her into a tight hug and checked all over her body for injuries, and then proceeded to grab her by the shoulder tightly and walk her into their temple with Fiddleford behind them, prepared to play referee and to stop his friend if he became too harsh.

“Mable, how dare you leave without my permission!”

“I’m sorry, but Waddles the pig needed my help…”

“I don’t care, let the other gods take care of it if they see fit to do so!” Stanford snapped. “You are to stay on Olympus where I can keep you safe!”

“Grunkle Ford, please, nothing has ever happened to me and…” She bit her lip. Oops.

Stanford’s whole face turned red with anger. “You’ve been down on Earth before, haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”

“O-Only twice.” Mabel mumbled to her feet with her hands behind her back.

“MABEL!”

“Stanford, control yourself.” Fiddleford said warningly next to his partner.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea how dangerous Earth is?!” Stanford scolded. “Have I taught you nothing?! You could have been kidnapped, or hurt, or worse!”

“I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for thirteen years.” Mabel said weakly.

“You are not ready!” Stanford bellowed. “You’re just a little girl! You’re too…” He bit his tongue and backtracked, stopping himself from saying something hurtful. “You’re only thirteen! You’re not ready for the mortal world!”

But Mabel was staring up at him, finally, with eyes filled with tears. “You were gonna say ‘weak’, weren’t you?”

“N-No.” The god looked cornered. “No, sweetheart, I wasn’t.” He had never been the best at lying.

Mabel bit her lip. “You think I’m weak. You think I’m just some stupid girl.”

Stanford got on his knees and put his polydactyl hands on her shoulders. “Mabel, darling, no…”

Mabel shrugged his hands off of her and walked past the males for her bedroom. “It’s fine, I don’t care. Bet you wished I was taken instead of Mason, huh?” And she closed the door behind her harshly.

Stanford stared at the wood that separated him from his family. For a few moments no one moved or said a word, until Stanford said weakly, “Do you think she truly believes that, or only said it out of mixed emotions?”

Fiddleford stood behind him and patted his shoulder. “Well, in retrospect, ya don’t talk ‘bout him. At all. N’ when ya do, you’re extremely mournful of it.”

“Yes, but not because…”

“I know,” Fiddleford stopped him. “N’ I think she knows it, too, deep down, but I think she needs a gentle reminder that that’s not how ya feel. Give her some alone time to breathe, n’ then talk to her, not yell at her.”

Stanford nodded and rose with shaking knees. He was surprised to find a smile on Fiddleford’s face. “What?”

“She reminds me a lot of her great… excuse me, her grunkle.” Fiddleford shared.

Stanford snorted. “We are a lot alike…”

“I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout you.” Fiddleford said as he walked away. “I’m just sayin’ that sneakin’ off t’care for an animal n’ namin’ it n’ basically adoptin’ it as a pet is somethang a young god once did.” And he left Stanford alone with his thoughts.

He sighed and muttered to himself, “I know she is a lot like him. That’s what worries me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If Stanford was honest, he admired Mabel’s room. It was a beautiful place with fluffy clouds, a big window showcasing the world below, a soft bed with a nightstand that hosted her music box and a vase of her family, and every inch of her walls was coated in paintings. Birds, people, trees, animals, the moon and sun, everything, even the ceiling, was covered in beautiful paintings. Stanford always loved to sit with her and talk, and occasionally be given permission to paint with her, though he felt unworthy of that privilege today.

Through the door he could hear the music box playing. That was a relatively good sign. Grunkle Ford gently knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter. “Mabel, sweetie, may I come in?”

“Mm, hm.”

Grunkle Ford slowly opened the door and found her in her usual spot. Criss-cross on the bed, by her nightstand, and hugging her pillow with her arms and legs and she had her face down on the fluffy cloud of a pillow to hide. “Mabel, I owe you an apology.” Grunkle Ford said as he stepped into the room and closed the door. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m sorry.”

Mabel sniffed into her pillow and rested her chin on it, showing her beautiful brown eyes that were still forming tears. “I’m sorry I ruined the performance.”

“It’s okay,” Grunkle Ford sat by her side, giving her a few inches of space. “I don’t care about that, not nearly as much as I care about your safety. I was so scared of losing you, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

Mabel sniffed and tried to blink her eyes dry. “I like you better as a dad than as a god.” She mumbled, mouth covered by the pillows and her eyes peering up at him.

Grunkle Ford smiled at that, feeling his heart in his throat. “Yeah?”

“And you like me better as your d-... kid than a muse, right?” She cried, her face now fully in her pillow.

“Oh, Mabel.” Grunkle Ford whispered and gently scooped her up into his arms and held her tenderly. “Oh, my darling Mabel. Yes, of course I do.”

Mabel let her cloud pillow go and she hugged him around the neck. Grunkle Ford rubbed circles into her back as he whispered gently to her. “Sweetheart, I love you very much. You’re my entire world. The idea of being without you… it terrifies me. But I’m afraid I’ve allowed that fear to cloud my better judgement, and I’m sorry. And, for what it’s worth… I’m beyond grateful The Faiths gave me you.”

Mabel sniffed, letting her grunkle’s toga catch her tears. “You don’t wish M-Mason was here instead of me?”

“No,” Grunkle Ford said. “I do miss your brother, more than words can say, but I love you very much and wouldn’t trade you away for anything in the world.”

Mabel looked up at him with hope glistening in her eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Cross your heart?” Grunkle Ford chuckled and crossed his heart. Mabel rested her head there and smiled with a tiny giggle. “I love your heartbeat.”

And no, Grunkle Ford was not crying. He stubbornly cleared his throat and blinked his eyes dry as he combed his niece’s beautiful brown hair. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay?”

“I know you want to come and go like everybody else, but I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I still stand by what I said. You are still young. Something I envy actually.” He added and they both chuckled. “But I think I have a nice compromise.”

“Isn’t that bending the law?”

“Uh… no. It’s an agreement met in the middle of what both parties want.” Grunkle Ford loosened her hold on her so they could look at each other. “Here’s what I am offering: I am willing to give you a curfew if you promise me you can stand by it. After your lessons, you may go down to the valley at the base of the mountain, and perhaps a bit into the woods that surround the valley, but you must tell me when you are leaving and you must be home by sundown. Does that sound fair?”

“YES!” Mabel cheered and bounced in his lap. “Yes, that’s all I want! I just wanna go exploring! Thank you thank you THANK YOU, Grunkle Ford!”

He chuckled and smiled at her. “Promise me you will follow the rules?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?” And Mabel did so before leaping back into his arms for a tight hug. And no, Grunkle Ford still wasn’t crying. “Thank you, my dear.” He said as he hugged her again. “I’m glad I can trust you.”

Yup. That hurt. That made the tears come back in Mabel’s eyes. She hated secrets, more than anything, and she loved her grunkle but hated it when he kept things from her, but that didn’t make it right to keep things from him. She blinked her eyes dry and muttered into his shoulder, “You can’t trust me.”

Grunkle Ford let her sit on his lap to look at her softly, though his heart did pick up speed at that statement. “What do you mean?”

Mabel sighed and bit her lip, not looking back at her great-uncle. “I’ve been talking to D-... to Mason.”

Grunkle Ford stared at her. “You have?”

“I didn’t leave Olympus!” Mabel quickly explained. “Not really! I just projected myself on the art in the Temple of the Gods when he went there to pray and know who he was! I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry! He deserved to know! He’s my twin! Twins shouldn’t keep secrets from each other! And I had always wanted to talk to him! And, and…”

“Mabel, Mabel,” Grunkle Ford hushed and combed her hair with his six fingers. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m not mad. I… I knew you two would meet someday. I hated the fact that you had to be apart, it wasn’t fair. I just… I… Well, how did he take the news that he was a god?” He asked with a low chuckle.

Mabel gave a watery giggle. “He didn’t believe me at first. But he came around. He’s trying to become a true hero so his godhood will come back.”

“What?!” Grunkle Ford gasped and asked sternly, “Did you tell him that was possible?”

“Well, yeah, cuz it is…”

“Mabel! You shouldn’t have done that.” He scolded as lightly as his anxiety would let him. “He could get hurt or killed.”

“But how else is he supposed to come home?” Mabel asked.

“At least he has a chance to live a happy life on Earth.”

“But Grunkle Ford! If becoming a hero will bring him home…”

“He can’t come home if he’s dead, Mabel!”

The girl growled in her throat, losing patience with Grunkle Ford’s hopelessness, and yelled, “Well, what was I supposed to do?! I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to lose a twin?!”

Mabel had shouted that more in a rhetorical sense, expecting Grunkle Ford to not answer, or to admit defeat and say no; what she definitely didn’t expect was for Grunkle Ford to sigh, nod his head, and say, “I do, actually.”

The young muse blinked at him, letting his words sink in. Grunkle Ford looked so sad, so full of shame. It was the same way he looked when he thought about Dipper and believed he was alone. “Y-You do? Did you have...?”

Grunkle Ford nodded solemnly. “I did. Once. A long time ago.”

Mabel had a million questions for him. She wanted to know everything, but she decided to open with an easy question to ease her uncle into telling her what happened. “Well, what’s their name?”

Grunkle Ford met her eyes with a small, sad smile on his face. “Stanley. The Trainer of Heroes.”

#GF #gravity falls au #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #Mabel and Ford bonding #gift #fanfiction #help?#i love this au too much.?

22 notes · View notes

webcricket · 5 years

Text

Looking Glass

Chapter 18 - The Good Soldier

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader, AU!CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1545

Summary: Conflicted and captivated by the reader’s affectionate attachment to Cas, sympathy stirred in affront to duty, AU!Castiel strives simply to be a good soldier.

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

One broad hand fastened around your throat – the thumb poised perilously between jaw and jugular, your pulse pounding beneath the roughened pad – the other fist digging uncomfortably into the meat of your thigh to secure your squirming figure to the chair, sneering face suspended mere inches from yours, Castiel studies with macabre fascination the panicked astonishment dominating your demeanor in reaction to the callous caress of his lips that arose in such stark contrast to the fondness feathering your features only a moment ago as you remembered the other of him.

The inquisitive gleam of his blues diminishes, brow of his scarred eye twitching at a sudden swished onslaught of wings disturbing the dust-swirled firmament of the abandoned gas-n-sip where they hold you; this close, the minute muscular movement and the tenseness electrifying his fingers where they bite to bone conveys his unpleasant surprise at the unannounced angelic arrival.

“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie.” An angel suited up less tactically for combat and more for a Napoleonic era gala – sporting, as he does, a well-fitted navy waistcoat lined in crimson satin, capped in ostentatious gold fringe detail at the squared shoulders, streamers of useless buttons shining along every available seam, with neatly pressed crisp white jodhpurs, and polished black leather boots peeking out beneath spotless spats – dryly tsks your captor’s name from where he manifested in an unoccupied corner; evidently the officers comprising this angelic garrison are permitted certain liberties when it comes to their garb and mannerisms.

Unanticipated and unwelcome – thick lashes lowering in recognition of the tenor tone, Castiel subtly cringes into his coat collar; the unforgiving crush of his fingers constricts deeper into your muscle and neck in his effort to maintain a charade of composure.

“Cuh-cuh,” you choke on an airless cry of his name invoking mercy. Fringes of consciousness dimming, the cracked whimper vibrates and dies in your larynx where cruel reflex compresses blood flow and threatens to cave-in your windpipe.

Sniffing a sigh, blinking wide, something verging on abject agony tinted with a shade of pity – an expression defiant to his ruthless nature – bares itself to you.

At the brink of blackout, you see in that shift of stormy color something of your angel – the one who rebelled against Heaven at the cost of losing everything he knew, who endures unending doubt, who understands you can’t go home again, who loves humanity, who loves you, who struggles daily to determine what is right and good in the world and to do the rightest in a world of wrong.

You glimpse for a split second through the black barriers shrouding this angel’s heart what might have been and what is – an iteration of your Castiel who was denied choice; and in your heart, if it be the last thing you will ever do, purity of love forgives him of fault.

He feels that balm of forgiveness pall his skin as the life ebbs from your body. He feels . . . regret. Grip slackening, his grace diffuses through your offended flesh with enough reflected heat to sooth and save, though not wholly heal. It’s closer to an act of kindness than you would have thought him capable – closer than he thought himself capable.

Harshly coughing to garner Castiel’s obviously divided attention, swaggering forward a few steps into the naked wash of the overhead fluorescent bulb weakly illumining the center of the space, palm resting on the hilt of a sword hinged at his hip, the flashy newcomer glances about the grimy walls converted into an improvised interrogation chamber with a lip curled in unguarded disgust. “When they informed me I could find you in the trenches, I didn’t imagine you were in an actual pit,” he complains in a lilting French accent drifting on conversational. “This place is utterly abhorrent; I honestly don’t know how you manage.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel growls through a row of clenched teeth. The seraph’s benevolence, like the gentleness of his grace, slips ephemerally away. Nostrils flaring, mouth malignantly jolting into a smirk, he narrows his blue-lit focus on you in ominous intimation he is not done sifting through your memories – especially those memories concerning the him for whom your heart beats with curious rapidity. “Can’t you see we are occupied here?” Breaking backward to confront the angelic intruder, his grip on your body and mind dissolves leaving you dazed and gasping. “You disrupt my work.”

“Never one to waste time on niceties, eh?” Balthazar casts you a disinterested cocked glance.

Absent angelic influence, the dull hot ache of faded bruising throbs in your thigh. Burning air punches into your lungs through an abraded throat. If you could direct the lumps of jelly defining your legs into motion, you’d attempt to flee. As it stands, or rather, slumps, you sit secured by physical half-insentience. Judgement impaired by the shock of disorientation, you instinctively pray to Cas – your Cas – for help.

Hearing your voiceless plea to the other – the yearning of spirit, the faith you have in his ability to save you, the desperate need for him – the Castiel brooding before you stiffens as a surge of sympathy taints the blood bounding through his vessel’s heart.

Balthazar shrugs in affront to the stone-wall of seraphim silence. “As you prefer, all work and no play – Naomi requires a report.”

“And?” Castiel prompts in a rising clipped tone, covering for the fact that every sinew of flesh and fiber in his vessel revolts with rigidity in shield against the softness of emotion striking him from within your soul.

“And,” –Balthazar’s eyebrows arc askance and knot– “what?”

You pray louder – each contraction of your heart a deafening cry for Cas.

Overcompensating for and deflecting the impact of your prayers with a reminder of rank, demanding respect, concerned Balthazar hears and will betray even the quickly corrected course of compassion flooding his veins to Naomi, Castiel snarls, “And, what? What! Do you forget your place?”

Such intelligence would inevitably result in a reckoning all too familiar to the fragmentary framework of the seraph’s fundamentally rebellious and repeatedly reordered being – his countenance violently jerks to maintain forever slipping grasp on control, both of himself, and the situation. Jaw gnashing, he wishes you would shut up – would silence you himself, even, if it would not draw attention as to the motive. Or better yet, eying the door, he could drag you from this place, tuck you out of sight somewhere, plod through your memories one by one, take his time, just you and he alone.

Balthazar curtsies contritely. “Naomi requires a report,” he reiterates, bowing deeper to satisfy his captain’s abstracted scowl, adding a snide, “sir!”

“I see.” Circling the insincere emissary, Castiel stops to stare at his comrade’s crooked spine, asking, “And why did she send you? Any one of the soldiers here could have delivered this message and wasted less of my time.” Cold weight of celestial metal encumbering his sleeve, he ponders stabbing the pompous messenger in the back; peace descends upon his frenetic features as he runs through the probability of being able to smite the other two angels, too, before they realize what is happening in order to beat a hasty retreat with you in tow. They wouldn’t be the first kin he selfishly slew to serve subjugated desire.

“She felt you might be distracted by the latest … development.” Balthazar lifts his chin to fling the inflection of the last word at you. Obeisant bend deepening, he simpers in self-defense against the rumble of incensed thunder building within his superior’s chest at the insinuation of subversion. “Questioning a loyalist like yourself, of course, is absurd.” Nebulously recollecting his place in the battalion's pecking order, he mumbles a postscript of, “Sir.”

If Naomi suspects, then – stifling a shudder, Castiel stows his blade. “Let us resolve her concerns at once so I may continue my work here uninterrupted.” Prying a pair of gloves from his pocket and tugging them over his fingers, readjusting the snap of leather encircling his wrist, Castiel sweeps his glance over the impassive faces of the two other angels in the room. He wonders if they, too, perceive your continued prayers to him and read anything into his reaction; for in that insulated alcove of his angelic heart, your pleas touch and arouse an empathy buried time and again by Naomi’s reprogramming. Therein shelters ineradicable traces of a love for humanity which his Father nurtured at his creation – the foundations of fidelity to the purpose of protecting and serving mortal souls that even Naomi’s worst cannot rend to her will. There dwells the crack in his chassis where regret creeps out and choice sits for the seizing.

And yet, if Naomi has her suspicions, if any of these angels express a similar concern or contempt, Castiel is already damned – compliance exists as the only recourse. He is nothing if not a good soldier. “The Kommandant awaits,” he states sternly. Gesturing at Balthazar to commence with the winged transport, he flicks his attention upon you.

Looking up, you catch the unmasked sheen of remorse in his regard in the moment before he vanishes. Despite the fear and pain he caused you, an incongruous hope for his return flutters and sinks in the hollow of your stomach on his departure.

Next: Ch. 19 - A Real Dead Ringer

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #au!castiel x reader #castiel series #castiel reader insert #castiel x y/n #castielxreader #castielxyou #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #spn x reader #spn fanfic #au!castiel #castiel x au!reader #cricket writes cas

53 notes · View notes

looptheloup · 5 years

Text

(Belated) Whumptober!

Day 19: Exhaustion

Link to AO3

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, Jarvis

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Prisoner of war, Non-sexual bondage, Magical exhaustion, Near death, Vomiting, Broken bones

Other tags: Eventual fluff, Thor is a good bro

Summary: After running for months, Loki is exhausted and falls into Tony Stark's hands. He thought he'd experienced the worst the fates could throw at him but he was wrong.

[A/N: Still working on these :) Many thanks to my beta, who is amazing. I hope you enjoy it! ps. I kind of see this as relating to the song ‘Brother’ by Kodaline, link here :)]

Exhaustion

Loki touched the cold concrete beneath him and choked on a bitter laugh. Sitting in a filthy alley that stank of rancid fat and urine, the cold digging needles into him; was this how it was going to end? He curled up tighter, wincing at the aching pain in his stomach where he’d taken a beating from a motel manager when he couldn’t pay them. His magic lay dormant, spent on teleporting across the world and back again, trying to escape Stark’s technology and the cell the man wanted to put him in.

But Loki was tired. He didn’t have the strength in him to run any longer, to flit about with his tricks and his quick anticipation of his opponent’s plans. It had been a year and he was buckling under the strain as his clever ideas became slippery, difficult to conjure up when he needed them, and then his magic began to slip. Now it was his body, which was nothing but a disappointment after Odin had made him mortal, colluding with the man of iron in a joined attempt to find him. Loki had shielded himself from Asgard’s prying eyes for as long as he could, but it was crumbling around him now.

Stark would find him first, though. His technology seemed to reach everywhere on this pathetic planet, a constant shadow looming over Loki, clinging to him like lichen.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Loki closed his eyes. Perhaps if he were braver, he would have killed himself before Stark arrived, but he hadn’t been able to gather himself to do it.

“Sorry I’m late. The traffic was awful.”

Loki opened his eyes to see the red gleam of Stark’s metal contraption; the machine that worked with human magic to enable his flight. The mortal smiled down at him, his face arranged into an expression that ought to have been warm, but his eyes were cold as Jotunheim.

“If this is a bad time for you,” Loki managed, “don’t let me keep you, man of iron.” He stayed sitting on the concrete because he feared if he stood, he would only collapse. He’d overused his magic far beyond its ability to regenerate and without it he felt like empty rind, hollowed out and nauseous with it.

“And let you lead me on another wild goose chase? I don’t think so, reindeer games.”

Loki had nothing to say, no quick words to help him wind Stark around his finger and slip out of this Norns-damned mess he’d gotten himself into. So he just sat silently, shivering, waiting for Stark to kill him or take him away. He suspected the latter, and feared what they’d do to him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Stark said. “Fine with me, fucking pain in my ass.”

He tensed as Stark lifted his hand and then panicked when a sharp blue flash led to very small but very sharp metal spikes embedding themselves in his chest and forcing him rigid, unable to move, his jaw clenched shut as his muscles spasmed. Some kind of magic shock and, gods, it hurt.

“Nice. Let’s get this wrapped up, eh, Loki-poki, before anyone else arrives.” Stark came towards him and Loki couldn’t move, couldn’t much breathe. He didn’t know who Stark was expecting would arrive, nor why he wanted to take Loki before they did. Perhaps he wanted Loki to himself before he handed him over, Norns forbid it. Restraints snapped onto his wrists, and around his ankles and he growled low in his throat, hating Stark with a cold fire in his belly. If he only had his magic-

“Alrighty,” Stark said triumphantly and the paralysis dropped away all at once, along with the weird metal spikes, leaving Loki gasping at the damp air and trying to lift himself up, but lacking the strength to do so. He’d never felt so weak. “Let’s get this show on the road. You look like a wet mutt and I’d rather be in bed, in all honesty.”

Stark wrapped an unfeeling metal arm around him and before Loki could properly catch his breath, Stark had jetted up into the cold air above the city, leaving Loki shuddering in Stark’s icy grip. When Odin had turned him mortal, he’d taken his Jotun form from him; a body he’d hated, but he’d missed the damn thing when he was hiding out somewhere cold on this filthy planet, and he missed it now, as Stark took him higher and Loki could no longer feel his feet or his fingers as the wind stole what little warmth he’d had.

Stark flew for some time and Loki’s eyes fell closed as he shuddered, limp with exhaustion. He welcomed the cold, wished almost that it would freeze his stubborn heart, or that Stark would drop him and Loki’s worries would be done with. Mortal bodies were so fragile, he’d discovered.

But Stark brought him, if not fully hale then mostly conscious and in one piece, to what Loki presumed was his home, because it didn’t look like a prison. Stark dropped down to land on a platform, releasing Loki roughly, whose whole weight fell onto his elbow and he screamed as he felt it crack beneath him. The pain was awful and he curled up defensively on his side as he tried to drag air in through the stabbing agony that radiated all the way up to his shoulder.

“Jesus fuck,” Stark muttered and Loki tensed to be kicked, or roughly dragged, only for the metal arms of Stark’s armour to wrap carefully around his chest and lift him to his feet. The movement still jarred his elbow and he hissed, shaking. “Didn’t mean to break you. Sorry.” Stark manhandled him with unexpected gentleness inside the building, the door closing behind them on its own. Without the wind, the silence felt heavy and Loki’s harsh breathing painfully audible.

He was set down in a soft fabric chair, of all things, before Stark stepped away, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t move, princess,” he ordered. “Jarv, keep an eye on him. He’s a slippery prick, and not the fun kind.”

“Yes, sir,” a voice said from the ceiling. Loki was too tired to even startle and he stayed where Stark had left him, neither willing or able to stir himself. Stark left the room and Loki felt himself drifting, as the waves of pain from his arm and the empty ache of his absent magic washed over him, rough as an ocean storm.

Stark returned an indeterminable time later with a man at his side, a man Loki blearily and unhappily recognised as the mortal form of the great green monster; Bruce Banner.

“Is that really-?” Banner stuttered, staring. Loki exhaled, his jaw aching from how he was pressing his teeth together.

“Yup, the trickster asshole himself,” Stark said cheerily, though he sounded grim under his light tone. “Might have broken his arm a little bit.”

Banner turned to give Stark an incredulous look. “You didn’t,” he said.

“He did,” Loki muttered, exhausted and wishing they’d either throw him in a cell or knock him into unconsciousness. He didn’t much care which at this point.

“Oh,” Banner said. “Ah well I better look, then. Tony, if you could-?”

“Medical room?” Stark said. “Yeah, see you there, green bean.”

Banner headed out with an irritable huff, muttering under his breath in a displeased manner that Loki doubted boded well for him. Medical room? Loki didn’t like the sound of it and his head skittered away from imagining what Stark might require medical equipment for.

“Wow you look like shit warmed up,” Stark said. He was still in his red armour, but he’d removed his helmet and Loki eyed his face, trying and failing to read the mortal’s intentions. Stark clinically picked him up and Loki ducked his head as he tried to suppress a noise of pain from his elbow as he was moved.

Stark took him silently out of the room and into what Loki had learnt was an elevator, which carried them smoothly down several floors. Loki wished futilely that they wouldn’t be going underground. He loathed the cold and dark, even as the blue skin that lurked deep inside him thrived on the barren ice.

“He’s properly mortal, then,” Stark said and Loki stirred as he was set down, realising that he’d drifted again. His elbow sparked with pain.

“Yes, seems that way.” Banner was moving about with an intent expression, looking at screens and tapping them faster than Loki’s weary brain could follow. “You fractured his elbow, Tony.” Banner brought up a picture of the bones in Loki’s arm, or so he assumed.

“Oops,” Stark said carelessly. “My bad.”

Banner made a disgruntled noise. “Radial neck fracture,” he muttered. “But doesn’t look like it needs surgery.”

Together, the mortals attached Loki to the chair and, as much as he loathed it, there wasn’t anything he could do. Norns, he loathed feeling so weak.

“I shall disembowel you,” he snarled at Stark, when the mortal was holding him still so that Banner could stick a needle full of something into him.

Stark shot him an unimpressed look. “If you’ve nothing nice to say,” he said darkly. Loki tried to drag his thoughts together into a response, only for whatever had been in the needle to hit his systems, making his thoughts go fuzzy at the edges and leaving him limp. He vaguely felt Stark let go of him.

They were talking but Loki couldn’t make the sounds make sense. He felt his arm being moved and looked down at it in confusion, widening his eyes as gloved fingers cleaned a bloody gash on his elbow that he hadn’t even noticed.

Time passed and his head rolled back as his arm was moved and shapes moved around him. He knew he was fastened down but it didn’t worry him. He let consciousness slide away from him with a sense of overwhelming relief.

He woke groggy and dry-mouthed to a throbbing ache in his right arm, which lay across his chest, wrapped in white. A splint of some kind, he thought blearily, trying to make his mind work. He reached for his magic on reflex but found little, and what there was squirmed away from him. To take anymore of it now might be irreparable, he feared, and life without his magic wouldn’t be any life at all.

He was alone in a bare room, a cell he realised with a sigh. His left hand was locked to a metal loop on the floor, while his fractured right arm was rendered immobile with his injury.

“Good afternoon, Mr Laufeyson,” a voice said from the ceiling, making Loki startle. He twisted around to scour the room but could see no-one. One of those microphones he’d experienced, then, or something similar. He’d jumped violently when he first heard a voice come from the ceiling of a food store, but since the humans hadn’t seemed bothered by it, he’d realised it was considered normal.

“Who am I speaking to?” he asked hesitantly, unsure if the voice would even be able to hear him, or if it was only one-way.

“My name is Jarvis. I’m a type of computer that Mr Stark developed to help him with his work. I have alerted him that you are awake.”

Loki just nodded silently. A door slid open and Loki lifted his head slightly to eye Stark coldly.

Stark grinned. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he said lightly, coming forwards. Loki noticed a second too late that Stark was holding something in his hand and when Stark crouched down beside him, Loki couldn’t push him away, flinching with a growl when Stark lifted hands to his neck and fastened cold metal around his throat. A blue glow emanated from it and Loki sent Stark a look, trying to keep his terror from his face. He could feel something, the collar feeling icy against his skin, like it was sapping warmth from him.

“What is this?” he managed, attempting disdain and failing. Stark patted his cheek in such a way that Loki gritted his teeth and imagined crushing Stark’s throat under his heel.

“Just a precaution, reindeer games. Be a dear and have a go at some magic for me, will you?”

Loki blinked at him, the metal collar seeming to choke him for a moment as realisation rolled over him.

“It blocks my magic?” he murmured, horrified.

Stark gave him a cool look. “Don’t fret,” he said easily. “It might not work. Give it a spin for me, eh?”

Loki had already been reaching for his magic. It had been severely, painfully depleted, but it had been there, tingling and slowly increasing. Now there was nothing, just a barren nothingness when he reached for it. He stared at Stark in horror. This would kill him. To take his magic—Stark would strip him first of sanity and then his life, slowly. Stark’s face split into a satisfied smile.

“I suppose that expression means it works? Perfect.” He stood up while Loki stared at the ground. He felt sick. Did Stark know what he was doing? “Jarv, release Loki, please. I don’t think he’s going to be any more trouble for now.”

“This will kill me,” Loki breathed, glancing up at Stark. The man’s satisfaction faltered for a moment as he narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled slightly, almost puzzled.

“Don’t be a drama queen,” he said easily.

The metal cuff on Loki’s left wrist fell away but Loki only lifted his arm to shift it into his lap as he stared at Stark and didn’t do anything else. He kept reaching for his magic, straining to find it, hoping that he might feel some responding tingle, but there was just a vacant emptiness; an awful, endless nothingness.

“Come on, Lokes,” Stark said from the doorway of the cell. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Loki was, he realised, and also painfully thirsty. Mortals were almost constantly hungry, he’d found out, and it was something he hated, the way that his body was constantly clamouring for sustenance.

He got slowly, unsteadily, to his feet and when Stark led the way down a corridor, he followed. His hand came up to touch the cool metal around his throat and resolve hardened in his stomach. He had to remove this thing, and to do it he needed information, time, and as much strength as he could muster.

So when Stark placed some odd, cold food and a glass of water in front of him, Loki drank until his throat didn’t feel so raw, and then ate the offered food, finding it to be chilled fish and rice and pleasant enough. Nausea twisted inside him, though, and he felt slightly dizzy. He knew it would only get worse. Stark talked at him, half taunting and half inane chatter.

“…Since I’ve got you all nicely secure here, your brother’ll be dropping in tomorrow to say hi.” Loki paused with the chopsticks half-way to his mouth to meet Stark’s sharp eyes. Stark smiled slightly. “You’re rather good with those, for an alien, you know,” Stark said, tapping his own chopsticks together and Loki made a noise of agreement without thinking. The chopsticks were at least convenient in that they only required one hand, since his right was out of commission. “But then you spent several weeks in China, didn’t you?” Stark said, his voice going hard and Loki set his chopsticks down as he lost his appetite entirely. Stark had been on his tail for the best part of a year: they were captor and prisoner and the collar around Loki’s neck was only one of many reminders of how powerless Loki was.

But he would be strong again, he hoped, if he could just get this thing off. And even Thor, with his frankly abysmal understanding of magic, wouldn’t let Stark kill him like this; slowly going mad, wasting away, would he? Even after all that had passed between them, Loki hoped that Thor retained at least enough regard for him that if he wanted Loki dead, he would kill Loki outright. He hoped at least. Perhaps Thor was done with him, but if that were so then he wouldn’t come when Stark told him of Loki’s capture. Unless he wished only to taunt Loki for his fall, or to lecture him.

Loki’s thoughts spiralled sickening as he doubted himself and doubted again. Once, he’d been so good at anticipating other’s moves that it had become almost dull. Now he was alone and weakened in enemy territory and Thor, who he had once believed would never leave his side, was now an unknown.

“You look thoughtful,” Stark commented. He took some of the fish left on Loki’s plate and stuck it in his own mouth. That at least told Loki that there had been nothing in the food, something that he hadn’t even considered before digging in. His fingers came up to brush the collar. It was messing with his head. “Regretting your life choices?” Stark mused aloud. “Or just planning to murder me?”

Loki lifted his eyebrows silently and Stark looked innocently back at him. Did he know what the device he’d fastened onto Loki was doing? Did he just not care?

“This collar will kill me,” Loki tried again, searching Stark’s eyes, trying to gage whether the mortal had designed the device to block his magic so utterly that it would slowly kill him, or if he was just playing with things he didn’t understand.

Stark was impossible to read. His forehead tightened into a frown but he stubbornly pressed his lips together. “Yeah, you said that already. Doesn’t make me more likely to believe you.” Loki blinked. So Stark didn’t know. That was good, that gave him space to try to- “Oh no, I can see you thinking,” Stark interrupted as he stood, gathering the plates. “Don’t fucking start. You’re not called the liesmith for shits and giggles. That collar’s not coming off, Loki-poki and if you start harping on about it, you’ll only piss me off.”

Loki clenched his jaw. His balance was off so that when he turned his head too fast, a wave of sickness made him pause, dizzy. But Stark didn’t see, his back turned as he put the plates in the sink.

“Blocking my magic-” he tried.

“Loki.” Stark’s voice was hard but Loki pressed on, desperately.

“-is like cutting off blood-”

“Loki.”

“-to my brain. I will go-”

Stark slammed the plates down in the sink. “Enough!” he snapped and Loki broke off, falling silent. He had tried, it was the mortal’s idiotic fault for not listening. “You can’t help yourself, can you?” Stark turned to face him and Loki leaned back slightly, wary of the mortal’s power over him. Once he could have killed the man with a flick of his fingers, but now was not that time. “You’ve learnt nothing. You don’t give a fuck about the lives you took, you’re just a selfish dick.”

Loki clenched his jaw against the things he wanted to say and told himself to bide his time until Thor arrived, if Stark wasn’t lying about the visit. That was Loki’s best chance. And, if it fell through, then Loki would have to seek his own means to remove the thing himself.

Maybe Stark was right that Loki ought to accept the punishment as his due. But he was a survivor and he’d been damned if he went down like this, sick and weak and not even at the hands of mortals, which would have been tiresome enough, but by the work of a rudimental machine. If Loki was to die for his crimes, then he would die with honour, not like this.

“Get up,” Stark ordered flatly and Loki reluctantly did as he was told, struggling against the alarming dizziness when he came to his feet. “Move, go on,” Stark said and Loki started slowly down the corridor, back towards the cell. Loki didn’t relish the prospect, but what choice did he have? He had no doubt that Stark would best him in any physical confrontation, what with Loki’s broken arm and his sickness. “What would my dad say?” Stark sounded bitter and he pushed Loki in the middle of his back, almost sending him to the floor as his vision swung sickening before him. “You can go and think about what you’ve done. Maybe if you’re left for a couple of decades you might develop a smidgen of compassion for the hundreds you slaughtered, you fucking murderer.”

Loki was struggling to focus but he heard the underlying sharpness to Stark’s words and wondered, blearily, whether Stark wasn’t just berating Loki, but himself too, or perhaps his father, since he spoke so bitterly of him. At his best, Loki might have tried to dig his fingernails into that chink, to pull Stark’s vulnerabilities out into the harsh outside air, but he hadn’t the strength of mind to form words, let alone manipulate them.

A door slid open and Loki was nudged inside the same cell. Stark roughly took hold of his wrist and tugged him violently down so as to secure his left arm to the metal loop on the floor, where the shackle still lay, like an opened oyster. The wrench on his arm unbalanced Loki entirely and he fell hard on his hip as he collapsed to the floor, with the impact jarring his broken arm badly enough that he could nothing for several seconds but try not to cry out, dragging harsh breaths in through clenched teeth.

“Caught off guard?” Stark muttered. If he’d been surprised by Loki’s collapse, Loki hadn’t been looking at the man’s face to know. Stark closed the shackle around Loki’s wrist and Loki did nothing to stop him, because he couldn’t, and there was no point besides. So he just sat, breathing through the pain in his arm and the dizzy sickness in his head, as Stark looked down on him for a second and then left silently. The door closed behind him with a soft hiss that felt violent nonetheless.

Loki sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes, exhausted. The hypervigilance of being a fugitive had been a slow grinding down of his energy and his inner fortitude so that more and more frequently he’d found his mind invaded with thoughts of just handing himself in. And then he’d depleted his magic, fleeing from Stark’s mechanical eyes, which had somehow managed to track his magic, no matter what form Loki had twisted it into, or what shielding he’d placed on it. There had been a delay, but never long enough. He’d thought he’d hit the worst of it, in a mortal body and without his magic. But there was now this, this new torment, new pressure, and Loki was just so so tired. He would not roll over and accept his fate, he didn’t think he was capable of it, but Norns damn it, it was tempting.

The sickness worsened far faster than Loki had anticipated. The collar felt frigid against his mortal skin and even when he tried lifting it away from his neck, he felt the ache of its power in his fingers, down his wrist, sapping his power from him as surely as a burning candle wick.

There was a drain in the corner of the small cell and Loki moved sluggishly some time after Stark had left him, needing to relieve himself, only for his stomach to flip and with a sudden violence he threw up on the floor, retching until his throat was raw and he coughed, trying to rid himself of the vile taste.

He tilted backwards only for the cell walls to swing nauseatingly and he ended up falling hard against the wall as he closed his eyes and tried to regain his balance. It was futile, though, and even when keeping completely still, the cell still rocked before his eyes and Loki groaned, feeling sick and scared, as much as he loathed it. This was happening too fast and he wanted Thor. Norns, he wanted to see the idiot’s stupid puppy-like face and his golden hair. He didn’t want to die sucked dry of magic in a grey box beside his own vomit.

After a time, sitting up became too difficult and he lowered himself with great difficulty to the cold floor. His broken arm throbbed agonisingly and his stomach rolled, threatening to send him into retching again until his mouth was sharp with acid.

Lying flat was marginally better and Loki let his eyes close. He could feel his heart-beat slowing. He reached repeatedly for his magic, unable to stop himself, like a tongue worrying a sore tooth, but it was never there and it hurt every time.

“Loki!”

Loki couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could open his eyes, he had so little energy. His thoughts were as sluggish as tar. There was a hand on his shoulder and it shook him. He knew it was hurting his broken arm but barring a low hiss, he didn’t have the strength to do anything to stop it. He didn’t even care.

“Loki! For fuck’s sake-” There were fingers on his neck, then and Loki would have flinched, but he felt like he’d been set in amber, or ice: immovable.

“Brother,” the low voice, so familiar, stirred something in Loki’s gut and he blinked dizzily but he couldn’t see through a haze of grey and he closed his eyes again after a moment. “Brother, you must hold on. The man of iron is removing the collar.”

Loki struggled to couple the words with the meaning of them in his brain. It was like two boats in calmed waters trying to communicate with one another across a vast expanse of lazily rocking sea.

Something cold fell away from his neck and he released a harsh breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He felt lighter, somehow, but he still couldn’t move.

“If he dies, I would advise that you leave my presence immediately,” Loki heard that warm voice rumble, the tone dark but the voice itself comforting. “I’m not certain I will be able to keep from killing you.”

“Roger that,” the other voice said grimly. Loki thought he might be sick again, but there was nothing to bring up and he hadn’t the strength to vomit. There was a painful pressure in his bladder.

“Brother,” he breathed. The warm voice was important, he knew, and he wanted them close, couldn’t bear the thought of them leaving him here, in the cold, unable to move for lack of strength.

Warm, solid hands stroked over his shoulder and over his back. “I am here, Loki. Can you take something of my energy? Come back to me, Loki, please brother.”

Loki wondered whether he could do as the voice, his brother, suggested and he reached shakily for his magic. Overwhelming relief flushed through him when it tingled gently and a tear slid down his cheek. Norns, he’d missed that. He reached for the frayed threads of his power, barely there after being so depleted and then battened down ruthlessly by the evil collar, and gently teased them out, reaching for Thor’s energy as he did so.

Thor’s power was something huge, a wonderous, electric thing that he kept barely contained, sparking inside of him like a thunderstorm inside a maelstrom. Loki tentatively touched the ends of his pathetic magic to the edges of Thor’s power.

It felt like an electric shock and he jerked upwards with a sharp inhalation of shock and pain. Thor’s energy was relentless and harsh like static and Loki broke off the connection quickly, before he overwhelmed himself, or drained Thor.

But it was enough and he sat up, trembling, only to be embraced by warm, strong arms, his nose pressed to Thor’s solid shoulder, breathing in his burnt scent and shaking with utter relief. Not even the pain in his arm could flatten his brief, sharp elation.

“Thor,” he choked, clutching at Thor’s back with his good left hand, which was no longer chained to the floor.

The memory of the chain made him tense and Thor pulled away as Loki turned to eye Stark warily. The man looked pale and strained and he looked back at Loki with a pained expression. Loki regarded him coldly.

“Come, brother,” Thor said, his voice loud in the small cell that seemed tiny with Thor’s bulk inside it. “Can you walk? You must eat and recover.”

Loki made no move to try to stand but moved his gaze from Stark’s tight face to Thor, drinking in the sight of him desperately.

“You’re here,” he murmured. “You don’t- you- Thor?” he broke, unable to express the depths of his doubt, his despair, his wary hope that Thor being here meant that maybe-

“Of course I am here,” Thor rumbled, looking at him with such love that it crushed the air out of Loki’s chest. He’d not imagined anyone alive, save Frigga perhaps, would look at him like that again.

“I’ve missed you,” Loki gasped. I’m so sorry, he wanted to say, I love you so much.

Thor smiled, his whole face lighting up like his lightning did when it split the night sky. “And I you, brother,” he said easily, like it had never been in doubt. “We will talk more when you are well.” Thor glanced at Stark with something dark flicking in his eyes and Loki felt a surge of vindictive validation in that look. He glared at Stark with malice. I tried to tell you, he hissed silently. Stark looked back at him like he knew exactly what Loki was thinking.

Thor looped a large but careful arm around Loki’s back and Loki let him help to his feet. He felt unbearably weak, but he was alive, and Thor didn’t hate him, still called him ‘brother’, after everything.

“We are not brothers,” Loki said as he let Thor half-carry him out of the cell. There was more sadness than bitterness in his voice and he knew Thor heard it.

“You will always be my brother, Loki,” he said solemnly and Loki swallowed thickly, telling himself that he was overwrought and that was why he felt damnably close to tears.

Stark silently led the way to a room with a bed and Thor set Loki down on it with a certain tenderness. He reminded Loki painfully of Frigga, for a moment, with his care.

“Rest, brother,” he said. “All will be well.”

Loki looked up at him, and then over at Stark, hovering in the corner with his arms crossed defensively over the glowing metal in his chest. Thor had a determined set to his jaw and Loki smiled, exhausted, but more at ease than he’d been in far too long.

“I believe you,” he said. The warmth of Thor’s smile was enough that he managed to smile back, just a little, and though he grumbled at Thor’s fussing as the Aesir laid the bedcovers over him, the care left him oddly pleased. He fell asleep with a half-smile on his lips, content in the knowledge that his brother would watch over him.

Links to:

Day 1 - Stabbed, Detroit Become Human

Day 2 - Bloody hands, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Day 3 - Insomnia, Harry Potter

Day 4 - “No, stop!”, Altered Carbon

Day 5 - Poisoned, Supernatural

Day 6 - Betrayed, Detroit Become Human

Day 7 - Kidnapped, Supernatural

Day 8 - Fever, Yuuri!! on ice

Day 9 - Stranded, Detroit Become Human

Day 10 - Bruises, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Day 11 - Hypothermia, Supernatural

Day 12 - Electrocuted, Rise of the Guardians

Day 13 - “Stay.”, Marvel

Day 14 - Torture, Original Work

Day 15 - Manhandling, Teen Wolf

Day 16 - Bedridden, Harry Potter

Day 17 - Drugged, Teen Wolf

Day 18 - Hostage, Original Work

#Whumptober #loki #tony stark #torture #magic #prisoner #fic #fanfic #marvel #bruce banner #thor is a good bro #loki needs a hug #violence #broken bones #ao3 #angst #whump #2018 #queue owe me this much

2 notes · View notes

reeseoqz · 3 years

Text

000

~ Mother watched it die every year. For at a time when the leaves twirl as dance, or those in sphere with that purple static reflectors: she may run herself along of what it was but gone away, and it was only distance till common then; say as Jupiter.

All developed from the dot but change anyway and thru the seems; with glimpse of when the frozen lake, to now the sighted first birds among the echo of on the walls to out, and the fires less as we embrace invited horizon as the dreams return. Yet, I could not convey what spark did change in ~____until there were some friends of mine: the hallucination of bears…

Forward to revive: to think of without, gl111x00Fearoming\oeoe: would the spirits say we are settled always guided and flourish as? Even when about: it would reveal time*** Mother has turquoise while home wondered on until along the nature’s night of grace and wonder.

If the morning cried, there I would be. My stance glowing and learn myth or two, but what of the dearest natural changes? Losing groups of the noble to vastness at those times, or withered poison left gifted or snuck about***

Now the light thru the cloud’s noticed at noon and all til moon; maybe to the waterfall, o: life presented and fond in mind. The magenta some other lapse of sky, now shimmer rotation ! ! ! ! around the land.

The wise healers to all, and the flourished to be of what became of me so different and quiet—they, the sighted almost time or in the morning fire, became all of what I ever,...memories, and in my heart: creaoievus

When the warmth congruent, I wanted to ask her about it—my own little change of change leading me up the hill and adjacent to the 1;^ across and thru to mother’s circle space in the distance, and the derived glee will renew her and our days divine.

———-

When the “”((( gathered us all: there was my brother—an enthusiast of season, stay till noble, then groups travel beyond what all is to what 0. He knew there was change and up speed*** he chooses, and all of his purpose and freedom would keep our people hopeful even when it is home to return from what they call an-overflow: ‘city’, to see for themselves a sim;,,,with grateful for (;)*** or #revived.

The bears looked frightful despite awaken. How could I ease a circle?*** The woods was where it prayed and blossomed—longed for (;) and when a journal with a branded eagle was gifted to my brother. He kissed mother goodbye and disappeared beyond the hills***.

Myself where the birds sing, moving with the light.*** I wanted to remember where they hinted about, and why the bears were easing fear thru my body and mind. The cycles but myself never was aware of anything besides circles, on so on. I could have felt then, but dizzy…

<><><><><><>><><>><>>><<<<><>///////////]]]]]\\\\\\\\\\\

h!z4oh whisper echo—vines, moody swirling whistle become. So the bears….

Hum e\ri\\ridge, still oh my, rush ‘em away you bloody shadows. j@!e02, such as that—people rebelled and rumored tumor or simply losing related, that is where. Neighbor when duration amplify^#=Jupiter then the bloom. Eh, say as so, for honest, earwax heavy that is cube. EDITronate *nothing but it was, but how if the A#3lllhm maybe to home now, ek soul drum crickets. @m<-Waving pink haired bear.

———^[[[[[[[[[[[[[?`````————————————-

Engage dino7 but fireflies or busy \ glitter 4&&;_

Erased along with berry atmosphere too…/[___~

<<>> until it, ugh&deer and rabbits…distanced worry.

Within; rewind =</freely see what is around it, the very thing blurry. L00kme me see the spiral cloak of morphing bloom ugh, ^2 grass near church up west hill miles on, abandon ^^^way; frenzy so re- and why have the tribes fled? ;\#;’

———————-

Color spectrum, mortal us a fools. Embrace oh the ladder,* * * would it snow?—never mind any guess,. Haunted hehq, said tweedled0=; water#&7\+ real7y own map replied, Thru and of the woods, step so lounge window to circle , re,0t;z shun Fe-@x+j^q2e.

: 00000_&eagh^F>L>E>M>…………

up a tree/Flood@waterfall rotator7^ \^ appointment light spotted.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

cry any cry til day purple moon] 3@;\\

``` &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^creek^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^33^3370333abandon for sister 33333737373777777700000<`0~_______00000static atmosphere, c—- soon to loom…..00000 ;;; the messages of mother.

Storm, echos and shadows. From a stranger at camp, name unknown, found on a chair in my tent, opium, spoke of but missed and matched, as the*** and when nature soul knew it would not be very long, 0h%/\convinced scissor that June when the change saw I saw for one or [^.

———

When I got to the open circle, up to the treehouse; old notebooks; drawings. Hallway but to where?… sincere, hm0 \ and]]\0; if to lightning near the stone manifest, awhile see—where it always is but view static to ground and around; stunned twirling ribbons of pink light.***************

ZzzzzzzzzzzzzzZ

Grey clothed men, demon cursing***, oh loud friction bells, and ill_ z doc stumble thru blur, of to onward see as we, fire and madness; who would? Human lasers, my family, our home…

Thru and thru to smoke and ash. 1//e@L<. Once without mirror then hehyugh, jettison slaughter,,,,The stranger boy being thrown to the ground.

Clmderophinzym—ti;hsorthm0 or but really ladybugs, the butterflies, my friends.\\ maze mist and demon skeletons, 7llll3\=

_SPOTLi#h+uh Tachx9\; chief***. Jasmine rhuteahalL7. Huhph4fkg;&^ fire screams but not at all like this moment oh, elders bowed, tremble and gave away freedom; and yet the spirits***; what of this grief Jupiter?

Wire supply storage, prisoners; away the doc. Oh we gone along. z3e7e7=lightning scan woods, journey vomit exhausted in the wasteland— mourning, who again…cannot.

———————

7 ill fair fainting oh— spirits you see…but suddenly: awG, the spoken of regarding xhxhxxhhxxhxhxh, but never believed,.

“Hello.’***

toxic in storm this night, hmm So so so, darkening sky. Birdhouse pirate cannot navy, women say to shelter; this different poison blinded////. MJ0#stair if they, where is home? Dear heavens…,

There are soldiers near path with torches.

H1; and swords, violence and yet I was near it, just yesterday; a fold of common.

Who was wizardry, oh pinch surreal?! Chaos. e.s.t.. Where are we going?! Eye_corruption over home and yelling for retrace,. It they search; I saw the ribbon drop 0 in heart. Some stayed and knitted sharpen; circle but far and forever these. So my mother’s journals and 3/4c/keys to on move till flying lanterns. Fabric ash, awG sharp teeth %/\,;+3k’’——______——-_______————-_________————____ …tired in the void. Oh, some chemical ++ asleep***

Story harps and Heather00 proclaimed ghosts and awG’s cavalry. Tormenting, yet my papers and letters from my sister, point wheel-mech, and tobacco when.*** All till***, traveler boy with ‘swim on. ^^^ ^’awG gloom: are we to be hidden away? Silk uahhz.

Crowds; portion appear sits beside me. It is not the poison, the more and more stranded, but future thru the hills and without song, and only us captured; frightened.

000

“Devils and humans do similar…”, boy Fhyejg.

I awoke to an orange circle around the moon. He was tired, whittling, and seemingly over a spell. My eyes, this coma,…artificial, blinking lights,…ocean,…aliens. The awGs, people to skeletons with darkness and fire—they were yelling, dragging dead or alive bodies away from the water.

We were sitting outside of a tent and my body ached, and there were scars on all over him. Fhyejg was speaking an eerie mantra and shivering then he laid up to the voided sky. Oh, mother—the comets.

“Mechanics,…technology.”

“Why do the shadows have red eyes?”

…………..

The camp moved away from the sea and into the metal land—clouds covered, vomit…

If a human in sight for put as not x but ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~, awG frenzy brainwash, electricity in ears—lacking, impaired and the junkyard was indeed also once lived.

In the distance, giant towers—the awG’s halted and the people, around twenty-five of us, were horrified, starving, poisoned, and confused. Of hidden in darkly cloak and cold—mother, mother these demons,…their rain is fusion-anger and lies.

There were whisper sounds outside of my tent: hundreds of green spiders pausing and curious oh, follow thru gaps of structure, alone and the soldiers out of sight. Lanterns on the trees, large towers in the distant east—dim and cold; soft and eerie violins farther in path with trees closing over sky view. Nervous stomach, seizure fidget—fear and stumble with the spiders panning out now: a shut door with an imprinted animal,…….

“I would rather die!”, yelling and a thrown chair inside. I see Fhyejg huffing out the door without a glance, again muttering. Eight men were around the table in a bland grey room: name Z0 pointed to closest seating while I froze and my body shook while the eyes were fixated with the exception of a neon ostrich seated at the far end flipping thru papers, then hinting to Z0 to begin speaking.

“We are here to help you, Ms. A4.”, he walked over to a table where a chest was opened. Z0 took out a vile of something pink, a mirror, and a butterfly that flew and then rested in the middle of the table. He brought the vile to me and it steamed with toxin mist around my body, ill ;_`=//\\\\…the man at the end snapped his fingers and I saw a flash.

“You have been poisoned on several occasions by your own.”

“Tell us where it is and the whereabouts of your mother by looking into this mirror.” The mirror was made of water. Oh, I saw home. Circle of jumble fierce words of sorcery….meadow, joy—thru the glowing and exuberant community: nobody but me while the image fades to the forest, where it was always meant to be, yet I was to reveal and convey what only is to be a myth protected by my sleeping mother. The warmth in body Y_33[[[[__________i

Uhm, “F-fuzz______

——————

)000

HM3907hek,

Dente titan craze, t;8feeseawhe?

0uhL me friendz, fold awG treacherous poison, alright.

pi3ehnze

PF; she’s the days as zapping type “ ()” )0ov540001

iuvcoohr oh flicker 000 building golden towers……..

Ch3uh!e0; witchy wall oh dear L(((

Submarine cigar and blame oh what a zap FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Lewis thru Luke 444_—— metal moth. Dim ah today tomorrow eager collapse, crying at McVm4;&

fin

\rees eoqz

0 notes