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husbandohunter · 3 years

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What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

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Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

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no-droids · 4 years

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The Secret

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a dark and dreary night, Anakin tries to see if he can influence your dreams.

A/N: idk what in the hell this even is tbh I just started writing it two days ago idk what happened this is some inception shit but not the crazy ass mind bending plot twist part at the very end of inception but like just the cool middle part where you kinda get what’s sorta going on but not really okay anyways I gotta go

Warnings: There are DUBCON/NONCON ELEMENTS to this, smut/oral sex, a splash of m/m (sorta?), dark Anakin uses the force to mess with your dreams without your knowledge or consent so please read at your own discretion

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Anakin knows it’s wrong.

It’s the middle of the night on a moon he never bothered learning the name of and Anakin knows it’s wrong when his eyes shift over to you for the fifth time in the past minute. Curled up with your back to him and the crackling firelight illuminating this tiny little cave, breathing soft and quiet through your nose as you sleep, the wind roaring monstrously outside. Anakin acknowledges it—the moral impropriety of even sitting here thinking about things he shouldn’t be with you so close by. It’s wrong, no getting around it.

But there’s also something inside him that… wants the wrongness.

He likes it. Anakin likes having secrets, he likes breaking rules even when nobody is consciously here to witness it. It makes him feel alive in a way that battlefields just can’t anymore, not after two years of constant conflict where the only enemies to feel his wrath have been comprised of nuts and bolts, their robotic cries never leaving him with any satisfaction anymore. At the start of the Clone Wars, sure, it was a thrill to slice through voice boxes and body parts, even if they were mechanical. But the droids aren’t afraid of death, they’re just programmed to stay alive. It’s like killing large, dumb swarms of bugs—it needs to be done for the common good but there’s never any true fulfillment in it anymore, it just feels like a task to be completed instead of an earnest, hard-earned goal.

He’s also been given direct permission to do it. He’s even been ordered to carry out enormous droid massacres on behalf of the Republic, but that’s the thing. Anakin isn’t looking for permission, see, it takes away half the thrill.

No, he wants to feel wrong. He wants to wonder if he shouldn’t have. He wants the quiet guilt, the sparkle of holding a secret he’ll never breathe a word about, the addictive power trip from having real influence over something, something equally as real.

Technically, Anakin is supposed to be on lookout right now. He’s meant to stay awake and patrol the perimeter of the cave for enemy combatants, but he doesn’t even bother pretending to be diligent when it’s just you two here. It’s not necessary. He’d be able to sense another lifeform miles away in this secluded, barren wasteland; there’s no threat to be found right now. He can keep warm by the crackling firelight in this cave, sheltered from the dust storm that spontaneously broke out a few hours ago. He can stay awake without moving a muscle and listen to your slow breathing all night long, letting it fill him with shameful desires he spends the daylight hours fighting and suppressing.

He silently flicks his gaze over to you once more, blinking as he studies you. He can sense your mind becoming creative in its slumber, beginning to swirl into dreamlike possibilities around yourself, about to choose a path for your consciousness to follow tonight. Yes, this is what he’s waiting for. He can’t force you to dream—that’s beyond his expertise as a Jedi. But if he finds himself in the right place at the right time, he can certainly try his best to… give you a suggestion.

The wind whistles outside and the fire pops quietly and you continue to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.

Anakin closes his eyes, and begins.

He first maps your body with the Force, trying to understand it on a deeper level. Gauge it—its proportions, its ambience, the thrumming lifeforce flowing through your veins even as you sleep. He has to be careful—as a fellow Knight, there’s no guarantee you won’t immediately be able to spot him exploring your energy in this way, there’s nothing to stop you from suddenly rolling over and asking just what exactly he thinks he’s doing.

But Anakin is patient. It’s one of the only times he can remember truly exercising that untapped potential inside him, perfectly content to allow you to drift while he works to find his bearings with you. Minds are complex, especially when they’re unconscious. They’re finicky and never stay in the same spot for long—it’s not like they evade, necessarily, but instead, they just… float around. Pulsing. In and out of existence, hiding behind and under immovable things, no rhyme or reason for it, vanishing into uncertainty and nothingness as soon as he thinks he’s found it. Like trying to find a microscopic air pocket in the depths of a pitch black ocean. He’s not losing any oxygen by existing right at the edges of your sleep, but it takes hard concentration to stay here, hidden, not allowing himself to slip. He’s looking, he’s looking… but he soon realizes he just needs to wait longer. He needs to wait until you float your way back around to him, until you present the opening yourself.

So Anakin waits.

And waits…

And then suddenly—

—There. He locks onto a flicker in the Force and holds, finally isolating and breaching the surface of your inner subconscious. Anakin smiles softly, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his temple at the effort it took to locate you without alerting you of his presence. There you are. Maker, it sure is pretty in here, isn't it? He has you, he’s cradling the buried, hidden, most fragile part of your soul as you slumber, not knowing any better.

His heart thumps with excitement even though he’s barely done anything yet. To someone without sensitivity to the Force, they might just think the both of you are asleep right now. Just the two of you sitting still in this relatively small space, eyes closed, neither of you are touching, nobody has said anything or made any substantial movements in hours, nothing has changed in this world. All of it is existing in another plane, a place most people wouldn’t be able to recognize unless someone informed them of its existence, and even then, it would be beyond understanding.

But he has you now. He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. He can allow his focus to dip just slightly, knowing your mind will pull him along through the comatose current. He senses you already working through the beginning whispers of dreams, but they’re not the kind people can ever remember. These aren’t formed, there’s no substance to them—it’s just pure, abstract dreamspace for your mind to drift through while you slumber.

Finding your true consciousness through all the murky, shapeless slumber was the test in skill. Now comes the luck.

Very carefully, without arousing any suspicion or drawing undue attention to himself, Anakin begins to drag the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t open his mouth, he doesn’t move a single muscle outwardly—he just lets his tongue begin to flitter around slowly in its enclosed cavern as he breathes, making the movements as soft and hypnotic as he can, matching the aimless way you’re carrying your mind and his shadow through the darkness.

He’s tried this before. Once or twice, with a pretty Ambassador he was tasked with protecting for a few months at the start of the Clone Wars, but the results were always less than ideal. He could never seamlessly transfer his desires through her consciousness before she awoke, perhaps because she wasn’t Force sensitive. The dream would either never happen, or he would push too hard and it’d turn into a rabid nightmare that fractured her thoughts and made her terrified to close her eyes for weeks. Not this time, though, Anakin isn’t going to allow it. Not with you, not after all the unprecedented effort it took to even just get himself here.

He finds a bit more passion to put into his movements, his jaw beginning to work with more purpose. Stars, he wants this to work, and while it’s probable that there’s an easier way to accomplish it, this isn’t something the Academy trains for. There’s only so much he can do except just be patient and giving with his soft, muted thoughts, urging you to make use of them without ever saying them aloud.

And suddenly, like the dark waves of your sleep decide to illuminate for him all on their own, your subconscious mind responds to the gentle stimulus. It carefully reaches out and studies the suggestion he’s silently offering, having spent what feels like an eternity trying to entice your rawest, most fundamental being into going somewhere it normally wouldn’t go, all without letting you know he’s even there.

His tongue is still moving. With purpose, with a specific intent in mind, Anakin allows his head to slowly fall back as he lifts his chin up towards it, wanting it more and more the longer you take to consider it, as if your mind is actively trying to tease him by playing hard to get. He can feel you right there, feel you thinking about it, and the whole thing is almost like some elaborate courting ritual while he waits with bated breath for you to decide whether or not to humor him.

But then, just when Anakin fears you may be too strong to be swayed, too powerful in the Force to be tempted by an outside source, you abruptly snatch the idea from him and start to run with it.

Suddenly parts of your spirit begin illuminating that should be dormant right now, and Anakin follows you, wherever you’re leading him. He knows none of this is necessarily intentional on your behalf—nobody can consciously pick and choose their dreams, not even Jedi. But this endeavor proves that it’s absolutely possible to subtly inspire them in each other, regardless of the morality behind it.

The wind continues to howl outside the cave and remind him that an entire universe still exists beyond your beautifully soporose mind, but the dreamscape gradually begins unfolding around him without any further prompting, requiring nothing more than what he’s already provided. Anakin’s tongue continues to simulate and suggest regardless, only now he feels the ghost of it beginning to materialize somewhere else besides the roof of his mouth, the sensations appearing before the images can be conjured to fill in the gaps. His hands suddenly tighten on his thighs at the soft, enticing feeling beginning to take root in you.

And oh. It’s… good. It feels different when his own body isn’t really the target of the stimulation, when he’s doing nothing more than simply experiencing it vicariously. Anakin supposes he could’ve bypassed all this effort, just aimed the pleasure more directly from the very beginning instead of working to inspire and coax it out of your own consciousness, but that was never his intention and it misses the point entirely. Where’s the challenge in it? The finesse is lost, it doesn’t appeal to him. It’s brash and brutish and not his style. No, this is what he wanted. He wanted to get just close enough to plant the most basic, fundamental idea in your head and then witness the rest of it all play out as a phantom passenger. Step back, strap in, and see how you kindle and manipulate the desire yourself, exactly the way you want it.

Anakin starts to breathe a little heavier through his nose, shoulders tense as he works to ride the slow swelling of your own prolonged pleasure with you, not knowing if or when it’s going to peak. He’s never made it this far before, he has no idea what to expect. Your consciousness does all the heavy lifting for him, your floor muscles move and contract without him needing to do anything to encourage it, the dream he seeded now completely taking over and whisking you both away.

But then… then suddenly Anakin doesn’t understand. Because yes, your mind works exactly the way he hoped it would—everything goes the incredibly precise direction he intended, and yet the destination is somehow… here? Back at the very beginning?

You dream of a cave. It’s exactly the same as the one you’re both silently holed up in for the night, and no new faces have appeared. If Anakin fluttered his eyes open at this specific moment, absolutely nothing around him would change. Except, perhaps, the subtle glow around everything—the watery way the air seems to be moving, as if it can’t decide whether it wants to exist or not so it strangely succeeds in doing both at the same time. He’s not really here—at least, he doesn’t think he is, he’s just seated on the dirt floor, appearing as nothing more than an invisible witness to it.

No. No, actually, he takes that back, he… is here. It takes him a moment to see the full picture as you’re still putting the puzzle pieces together, but… that��s him. A projection of himself at least, looking only slightly different but recognizable enough. Dark robes, robotic right arm, steady gaze.

But where are you? Anakin looks around the empty cave, still trying to understand how you’re painting this, his conscious mind moving much more rapidly than your own abstract one and yet also somehow taking so much longer to catch up to you. You’re not here. Why aren’t you here? He’s getting stuck on the details, he knows he’s lagging behind.

It takes a moment longer. Just one, before Anakin suddenly realizes that… he’s not just an invisible witness, is he?

He looks back down to see his own head now buried between his thighs.

But they’re not his thighs, not really. They’re yours. He’s just seeing everything from your point of view, feeling everything you’re feeling from the small little space he’s occupying in your mind.

At this point, Anakin needs to anchor. He feels himself—his real self, the one currently stuck in a cave in the midst of an unexpected dust storm—curl inwards and clamp his legs together. This will work. If he focuses enough to pinpoint the way his knees feel pressed tight together, he can have a tether to separate himself from your dream, the way yours are currently… wide open. This is all too similar to your true surroundings—he didn’t expect this, he doesn’t want to get lost.

And yet… Maker, it feels good. His long curls feel so soft in your hands, his tongue drags slow magic between your legs. When Anakin first suggested the idea to you, he didn’t think you’d assign the role back to him. He assumed you had someone else in mind, somewhere else you wished to be besides this dull, dreary setting. He gave you just an inkling of a prompt, and this is what the most creative part of your mind created. Something he could be doing at this exact moment, if only he’d known you’d be interested.

Then again, Anakin thinks, you may have just recognized him subconsciously. You may have attached him to the idea already, if only because he was the truest originator of it. But it doesn’t matter now, he can’t process such complex thoughts while maintaining the suspended mental state he’s in—he feels like he’ll either completely fall into it or out of it if he tries.

But as your muscles continue to work and your pleasure continues to build, it becomes harder and harder to separate where he is in relation to you. Anakin clenches his legs tighter together as you open yours wider apart, the dream gaining more strength as it develops. Stars, it’s—it’s—

Anakin starts to lose it and he needs to tug on that tether to his surroundings again, but it’s way more difficult than it should be to recognize himself. His calloused fingers on his left hand tremble as he reaches up and uses them to cover his face, biting his tongue to stop the low rumbles of ecstasy that want to claw their way out of his throat. Maker, this feels so… different from the build he knows. He thought—if he was successful—that he’d be able to handle it as silently and stoically as he’s able to handle his own pleasure, but this is something else entirely. Why does it feel so… so spectacular? Maker, he never realized the sensation was all that different on the inside, much less that he was actually missing out by having a dick between his legs.

But then suddenly there’s a pause, a break in the way you’ve been rhythmically squeezing and flexing your body for him.

The dream adapts to it. Anakin looks down between your open thighs just in time to see himself pulling away from your warmth, putting two fingers in his mouth, before slowly easing his hand back down between them.

No, he thinks, a bright flare of panic sparking inside him as he immediately snatches and yanks the tether to reality, popping his eyes open and pulling away from your mind entirely, oh no—wait, that’s not what I—

But see. That’s the thing about being so meticulous about conjuring something that doesn’t actually exist. Once his brilliant creation decides to backfire on him—a fool-proof way to escape it doesn’t actually exist either.

He… he can’t wake up. No matter how much his body struggles backwards on the dirt floor of the cave, how wide he can feel his eyes are right now, how excruciatingly aware he is that none of this is real, none of this is actually happening to him, he’s caught in the dream he planted and you’re hauling him along for the ride. The closest he can describe it is like having footage play in one eye while the other can see perfectly fine. He knows where the line that separates reality is, but he can’t escape your consciousness’s crushing gravitational pull; it’s too massive and overwhelming now, he can’t gain enough velocity to get home. Real life exists but only through a window, and being stuck on the other side like this—knowing he’s dreaming but not being able to jolt awake when he’s very ready to leave—is suddenly more terrifying than any nightmare Anakin has ever experienced.

It also has unintended consequences. Clinging so desperately to his own body has made him completely aware of it in the purgatory he’s now trapped himself in, but the pleasure is still there so the source of the stimulation is still there. They’re not your thighs anymore, they’re his thighs again. But that’s also still him between his legs, continuing to ease his fingers forwards.

He keeps retreating back and away from them no matter what, but there’s nothing more he can do.

Anakin helplessly watches on as his own fingers slowly disappear up inside himself, and his eyes instantly lose focus and his jaw goes slack as he feels it the way you would. They’re not real, so there’s no pain, no true pressure or stretch, just… hard, unadulterated stimulation starting to burn up inside him.

He doesn’t realize his body kept moving until he suddenly feels the wall of the cave slam into his back and he has to brace himself against it, frantically shoving himself back into it as far as he can with his legs and digging his nails into dirt at the base, scrabbling for breath and stability. Anakin tightens up wickedly as you both bear down on the phantom intrusion, sweat beading at his hairline as he works to process the foreign sensation and you whimper quietly in your sleep. His cock is rock hard between his legs and he shudders to think that his mind will compensate for the difference and his alter ego will actually take it into his mouth—but no, the projection doesn’t change because it’s still coming from you, still being led by your own desires. Dream-Anakin’s mouth drops and his tongue comes out to keep licking your slit but to the real Anakin, it just looks like his mouth disappears somewhere near his balls, and then a magnificent swell of bliss suddenly kicks in before he can fight as savagely against it as he wants. He’d normally be repulsed, and maybe he currently is to some extent, but because your pleasure spikes so dangerously with it, his hips stutter into the sensation just as desperately.

He’s making noise, he knows he is—he can feel his throat working too hard for just air to be moving through. No, he’s whimpering, or moaning, or doing something but he can’t hear himself at all. His instinct is to yell as loudly as he can, to try and wake you up manually, but it doesn’t seem to work, you’re way too far gone now. He listens for the dust storm that should be screaming outside, the popping of the fire somewhere in this cave, but they’re suddenly nowhere to be found. He’s being dragged under by your enormous current that’s somehow still continuing to build in strength, losing oxygen by the second. He’s not ready for it, he doesn’t want it, he’s terrified, he needs to wake up—

Anakin slams his head back against the wall hard enough to make himself bleed and gasps raggedly as he loses his grip on everything, shutting his eyes tight with his fist shoved up against his teeth. Nothing exists at all anymore but the swirling typhoon that continues raging forth. Beyond purgatory, and then beyond heaven.

When you finally do manage to find the absolute peak of your climb, he’s sure he all but blacks out with it.

It’s pure, blinding rapture on all levels—physical, metaphysical, whatever else exists after that. It surges up with razor-sharp claws of merciless ecstasy and he’s just not equipped to experience anything anywhere close to it. The connection between your minds thrums and sparks violently; Anakin feels the way your body practically soars over top of the pleasure while his is just being ruthlessly pummeled into the ground by it. He’s not meant to handle this, he literally wasn’t made to survive the devastating anomaly—it’s as wicked and excruciating as it is dazzling, and he wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to come back from it.

Eventually, Anakin manages to find his way back to himself. Eventually.

His cock is throbbing, that’s the first thing he‘s able to notice. The dirt floor beneath him that somehow feels slightly different than before, the fetal position he’s assuming on top of it, the once sturdy wall now crumbling to dust against his back.

The next thing he notices is the utter, complete mess he made. Blood slowly drips in a line down his neck and more cum than he’s ever felt himself produce before drenches the front of his pants. Anakin slowly blinks his eyes open, trying to fight the vertigo and wondering if he might have a concussion right now. There are cracks and fractures in the ground that branch out from the small crater at his back, and the fire is completely extinguished now, charred logs splintered and strewn about like somebody detonated a bomb in here.

At some point, his gaze drags over towards you, and remarkably, you haven’t moved. Still curled up on your side with your back to him, still breathing slow and steady and undisturbed.

Anakin pants in exhaustion and waits for you to turn over to address him and what he did. There’s no way you’re still asleep, not after what just happened. Anakin couldn’t get through it without sending a giant shockwave through the entire cave and quite literally rupturing the ground beneath him, he’s surprised you even managed to stay in one spot the entire time. He doesn’t know if you feel violated right now and are refusing to acknowledge him, or if it’s just taking as long as he is for your brain to catch up and start functioning again.

That is, until he hears a small snore come from your unmoving body once more.

Anakin blinks.

No. You have to be awake, he figures, moving to prop himself upright and wipe the blood from his neck with the dark sleeve of his robe. There’s no possible way that the orgasm you both shared is actually… normal, no, the sheer power of it had to be influenced by his presence somehow. He must have… increased it, or something. Anakin doesn’t know how, but he knows he must be directly responsible, this had to have been the strongest you’ve ever cum in your life and you just don’t know how to confront him about it right now, so you’re pretending to sleep. Yes, that’s what it is, that’s what it has to be.

He’s not going to check, though. He’s not going to find any lingering energy left within himself to summon and look for the thick darkness of sleep still enveloping you, he’s not going anywhere near your signature right now. No, Anakin is fine just like this, exactly where he is. Instead of verifying or confirming his own understanding, he’ll just be extra confident in it, that’s always worked well for him.

So he just sits back and takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling like his whole body is weak and trembling with fatigue. Maybe you are asleep, he shrugs. Maybe he’s wrong, and selfish, and an idiot. Or maybe.

Maybe you just like keeping secrets, too.

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #Smut #reader insert #dark anakin #no-droids

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feather-dancer · 2 years

Note

for the title game - “ready to rumble”

I struck again I'm sorry. Usual rules apply, I did a single after edit run and that's it. Also this is very much the Stars universe.

The sudden and now regular interaction with trolls was rapidly causinh all sorts of problems that made the wizard begin to miss the before times when his biggest worries came in the form of paying the bills on time or having words with the local ghost for the fourth time in a month after they decided a supermarket haunting was hilarious. Nowadays there was all that plus having to deal with the issue of when one of them decided he needed company on the surface with zero regard for his thoughts on the matter. Had a rough day dealing with customers and want to spend a nice evening walking around for some fresh air? Surprise AAARRRGGHH is now a rumbling third wheel forcing an abrupt end to any conversation with Archie! Stayed at GDT late to do some extra studying for a spell you’ve been working on? What a coincidence that means the ‘library’ is open for the troll with an insatiable appetite for knowledge that might not be for the more delicate palettes within Trollmarket! Want to chill out in the apartment with your girlfriend that being four floors up should by all rights be safe? Too bad they’ve figured out the buzzer system and will not stop until your physical presence is there! Zoe lucked out by making the threat that if they so much as looked at her wares there would be hell to pay pretty early on and he’s just a tiny bit envious he couldn’t do the same thing without setting the art of diplomacy on fire.

Then to top it off all that was before Draal started getting involved so once he joined in it was like a new tier of agonised hell given their relationship remains terse. Now that biting his tongue was becoming much harder to do it was high time to look into alternatives before someone (Probably him) snapped and ended up doing something they regretted.

With that goal in mind it took a bit of doing to find somewhere that everybody could hang out in without risking books being damaged (Draal), size wouldn’t end up being an issue (Both Draal and AAARRRGGHH) and he wouldn’t feel like he was being persistently stalked in the name of training (Blinky) but they managed it. Sure it took was a three way argument over the course of several days over a map of Arcadia when trying to pick an unfilled building that was accessible in every sense, then another to figure out the best place to hide a glamour so the trolls wouldn’t clock them and get suspicious then to introduce them to the idea. Why yes it can be used for training they made sure there was (Supposedly) enough floor space, it can even be an emergency daytime shelter if it was ever needed and most important of all a place to simply hang out. The latter part took some explaining and Douxie quickly learned he hated being scruffed by well-meaning hands getting the complete wrong idea.

The trollish trio weren’t all that convinced when they were first shown the ex-storefront in person that was in such desperate for occupants that the owner’s didn’t really care who they were long as they paid rent and didn’t break any laws. Sure it’d seen better years, true, but it had promise and with a bit of renovation, creative wall destruction and replacing the doorway with something more friendly for wider shoulders it’d be perfect for their needs. Archie whispers that the problem was likely in how they visualise from a blank slate over reworking on the go that humans do without much thought. Zoe snorted and he can’t help but grin back though both are good enough to not say anything that could be overheard even if tempted.

“Alright!” He says clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention once they were all inside exploring. One who shall remain unnamed was in the middle of licking the wallpaper to see if it tastes of anything other than dust and grime.

“First up we’re clearing this place out. If there’s anything you want to take for your own use please put it somewhere well away from the chucking slash eating pile and remember if it’s not bolted down don’t worry about breaking it accidents are gonna happen no matter how careful we are. Archie plans on being supervisor but if he decides to sit on something it’s a keep. Let’s see if we can downgrade this place from health hazard!”

Over the course of multiple nights they end up finding a bit of all sorts that had been squirrelled into corners and forgotten about when the previous renters left making it feel more like an abandoned house at times. Why was there a stand mixer? Well it was as much a mystery as finding the rat and damp infested mattress hidden behind a cardboard mascot cut out asking people to support bees. They never did manage to figure out what the place sold at one point given the rampant chaos in both objects and decor and while he doesn’t voice it there is surprise in that all the windows have remained intact considering but then Arcadia for all it’s faults never quite manages to hit that stage of run down. By humans at least, magical things were a whole other kettle. Next up on their renovation efforts comes in the form of taking a couple internal walls out which manages to send his stress levels to the level of visiting Trollmarket from the mad cackling of the demolishers alone. Regular cleaning became a more sedate affair by cheating with magic as none of the trolls had any interest in learning how to use a broom to their standards and wouldn’t think to question how they’d managed it all in just one day. Merlin would have berated him for it but as he said to Zoe at the time, he’s the entire reason they’re in this mess in the first place and it’s often his day job anyway so he has no right to. She always did love when he grumbles about the master wizard without a hint of hesitancy even if she’s just as quick to point out he never does it enough for her liking. Some days it’s easier to let the thoughts he generally keeps to himself slip…

Very doubtful he would have approved of the paint war that broke out either but he stands by it the fiasco being hilariously worth it he won’t hear a single word against. Archie however might be a different story given the paw prints dotted near the entrance and the complaints of being any other colour than black completely undignified.

By week’s end the little scrappy little home from home had somehow become usable even if the windows are still boarded up with little more than pieces of cardboard until the blackout curtains finally arrive. The furniture is limited due to being mostly scrounged by dumpster diving or second-hand so it’s a horrific mish mash even by their standards but it’s a lot more comfortable for the humans than bare floor and does the job. There’s even shelving for the relentless sprawl of Blinky’s collection along with some other nick knacks of questionable origin. Did they really need a purple geode that looks like it has a crystallised mouth ready to bite your hand off? Well somebody clearly thought so and now it looms ominously on a hardback copy of a 20 years out of date book on the skeletal system. Now the alchemical ingredients for emergencies could be completely blamed on them but they sat with the med kit where they’d be less likely to get chewed on as nobody needs a high troll at ungodly hours. It didn’t take long for them all to quickly settle into a routine of meeting there even if one party might be running late (Early?) which vastly reduces heart attacks caused by a troll face peering in the window at 3am and far less risk of magical mishaps from any direction. It was perfect lack of proper heating be damned.

With the benefit of hindsight however introducing any troll to the existence of television beyond the static they seemed to favour was probably a bad thing even in the form of freeview that vastly limits what they could watch at a time friendly to them. It seemed a good idea at the time! The moment Douxie walked in with a bag of takeout he’d grudgingly share if asked nicely he notices Draal is staring at him with an evil glint in his eye which was suspicious not to mention concerning in it’s self. Frowning a little the wizard glances to the tv screen and suddenly realises that the opportunity to run passed an entire five seconds ago. Whoever had done the scheduling that day had decided wrestling would be make for a fantastic overnight extravaganza for those on the graveyard shift and their eager blue audience clearly wholeheartedly agreed on this new possibility for their training regime that humans could clearly do. Clutching the bag tighter not daring to take his eyes off the approaching and extremely smug troll he draws in a breath knowing this will be fun to explain at work tomorrow.

“...At least let me eat something first!”

#writing #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Platonic Sentence Starters:

“I will roll you up in a blanket if you refuse to go to bed.”

John & Scott

Mutually Assured Bedtime

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Figuring out which way around this was going was fun, because their sleep schedules are equally terrible, if for rather different reasons, and I could easily see it going either way.

Still, I'm happy with how this ended up, even if it's way too early in the morning and I should have been in bed hours ago. There is a decent chance I'm too tired to have proof read this properly, but ah well.

Platonic Sentence Starters

“How many hours have you been awake?”

Scott ignored his brother’s hologram and continued glowering at the paperwork in front of him. It was, as always, late, and the GDF were starting to get on his case about it aggressively enough that he knew it needed to be done sooner rather than later. He’d never admit it out loud, but the Janus Incident had scared him – the man had been right that International Rescue operated at the digression of the GDF, and while they could go vigilante, it would add another element of danger his brothers would be exposed to.

If there was any way to prevent that, then Scott would do it – even if it meant sacrificing a night or two of sleep until he was caught up on all the blasted paperwork they demanded.

No matter what a certain ginger brother had to say on the topic.

“It’s been twenty-three hours since you last rested,” the ginger brother in question continued after a moment. “Nearly forty-six since you last slept. You need to take a break before you write something stupid on that paperwork.”

Really? Scott glanced up to raise an eyebrow at John. Did his brother really think he was tired enough to be making stupid mistakes? Turquoise eyes, tinted a little more blue than they really were by the holographic appearance, challenged him.

Scott elected to ignore the challenge and went back to his work. The sigh John let out was pure exasperation, but Scott was used to ignoring the put-upon airs of little brothers who wanted something they couldn’t or shouldn’t have.

“Scott.” His name was a warning, but up on Thunderbird Five there was very little that John could actually do, short of corrupting the data entirely and forcing Scott to start again. No doubt that plan of action had been considered, but they both knew that Scott would just start from scratch. “I will roll you up in a blanket if you refuse to go to bed.”

That was an unusual threat. More up Virgil’s alley, and Scott glanced around to make sure his dark-haired brother wasn’t lying in wait. Not that he thought he would be – Virgil liked his sleep, and no matter how much of a night owl he was, he’d be safely tucked up in bed for what was left of the night and most of the morning by now – but it never hurt to check. Sure enough, the only two Tracys still awake were the eldest two, and John was far too far away to actually make good on his threat.

Once upon a time, John being awake so late would be a cause for Scott’s own complaints, but the astronaut had always been a night owl, and since living on Thunderbird Five more than Earth had completely lost any sense of an Earth-based sleep schedule. Instead, he worked on a cycle of naps snatched whenever he could grab them, and saved the actual sleep for when he was dirtside. Scott still didn’t like it, but he understood it.

Still, unusual threat or not, John had no way to action it from space, so Scott ignored it and continued working. It was only his second all-nighter in a row, after all.

After a moment, John’s hologram vanished, and Scott assumed his brother had, for the moment, given up. With any luck, maybe he’d even be going for one of his naps himself – the day had been a busy one, and Scott knew he hadn’t been able to nap earlier.

Satisfied that that meant all of his brothers were getting their much-deserved rest, Scott reluctantly delved back into the paperwork to write up the report on the second rescue of the day – a military warehouse fire that had needed three workers evacuated, and too many things not quite adding up for it to be accidental.

He was writing up Virgil’s scathing notes about the lack of fire safety training that had resulted in the trapped workers into something a little more official report appropriate (Virgil was many things, but his idea of a report was not the same as the military’s, and despite his best efforts he hadn’t yet managed to make the shift from his engineering jargon to military) when he heard the first noise.

Raising his head away from where Virgil had written something a little too thinly veiled about budget cuts in the military branch responsible for the warehouse, he blinked.

John was back, but instead of being projected into the centre of the den like usual, he was edging his way along the wooden floor, minding his balance in a way that looked entirely fake compared to the grace he could exhibit in zero-g.

It wasn’t until John stopped and yanked one of the blankets from under a sofa that it registered that his ginger brother wasn’t a hologram this time, but rather real flesh and blood.

“You came down?” It was hardly the smartest thing Scott had ever said, and the judgemental arch of a ginger eyebrow said obviously far more emotively than any spoken word could. “Why?”

That time, John sighed, rolling his eyes – the turquoise a little closer to green in person – and continued his advance towards the desk where Scott was sitting.

Scott made the connection between his earlier words and the blanket too late to stop the fabric being thrown around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Bed,” John said firmly.

In theory, it was an easy enough escape – or would be, if John hadn’t leant heavily enough on him that dislodging the blanket would also send his brother overbalancing to the floor. It was a risky move on John’s part, but his brother knew all too well that Scott wouldn’t risk his delicate, fresh-down-from-orbit, body with a fall.

With John so close, however, it was easy to see the dark bags forming under his younger brother’s eyes, clear evidence that his sleep schedule was catching up with him. Scott wasn’t the only one who needed sleep – in fact, if you asked Scott, he’d say that John was the one more in need. Not that John would ever admit it.

Still, Scott could turn this around, and there was no way John hadn’t seen it coming, but then it wouldn’t be the first time one of his brothers had used themselves as bait. Scott was reluctantly aware that, in the right circumstances, he was painfully easy to manipulate.

“I’ll go if you do,” he bargained. The shrug of John’s shoulders told him that, yes, John had seen it coming and had decided it was a fair price to pay.

“Sure,” the ginger said mildly. Scott started to move, but John beat him to it, snaking out an arm and turning off the computer before Scott could sidle it into sleep mode to return to once he’d got his brother to bed.

Damn it.

“You first,” his brother continued, letting out a yawn Scott knew he would have swallowed if he’d wanted to. “C’mon, big brother.” He didn’t physically tug at him, but Scott ended up awkwardly on his feet, still wrapped in the blanket, nonetheless.

“I need to get those reports done,” he pointed out, despite knowing it was a futile argument. There was a high chance that EOS had burrowed her way into the paperwork the moment John had distracted him with his physical presence, and even if she hadn’t, it was clear that John had no intentions of letting him do any more work that night.

“You need sleep,” his brother countered. “Incoherent mumbles won’t endear you any more to the GDF.”

Incoherent-? That was just downright insulting.

John was leading him away from the desk, towards the stairs up to their rooms, and Scott had to remind himself that dragging his heels wouldn’t shake John any faster. In fact, it was more likely to keep him under scrutiny for longer.

His brother’s bedroom was sparsely decorated compared to the rest of them, although the stars detailed on the ceiling – courtesy of Virgil and an entire army of measurements – heavily suggested that it was John’s room. The bookcases overflowing with textbooks and journals, all on various aspects of space or astrophysics far beyond Scott’s comprehension, confirmed it.

A childhood spent sharing a bedroom had long since desensitised the pair of them to the idea of changing in the same room, and while Scott started to attempt to wriggle free from the blanket snarled around his limbs, John stripped off his uniform and pulled on a faded NASA tee and thin shorts – leaving white legs to almost glow in the starlight spilling in through the wall of windows.

“Bed,” John said again, approaching him after depositing his uniform in the corner for later laundry, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

Not that he was actually going to go to bed when there were reports to be done, but what John didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Thin fingers catching his forearm where the blanket had finally slipped enough to release him and tugging him towards John’s bed was not part of the plan.

“There’s room for both of us,” his too-sneaky brother pointed out, and with a shove that was far stronger than Scott was expecting, forced him to stumble backwards against the bed. “We haven’t had a sleepover in a long time.”

Not in person, at least; John spending most of his nights in space had something to do with that.

The long, slender fingers prodded him until he was forced to lay down, and before he was fully aware what his pesky little brother was up to, the blanket was tangled around him again, with John’s star-themed comforter over the top, and gangly limbs belonging to the brother in question sprawled close enough that John would be disturbed if Scott tried to move.

“Sleep,” John insisted, eyes closed and seemingly entirely too satisfied with the situation. “Night, Scott.”

The astronaut was good at falling asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. It was a skill honed from his habitation of Thunderbird Five, and Scott had to admit he was somewhat jealous of the ease with which he could do it. Not that Scott couldn’t, of course, but while it had been a necessity in the Air Force, since-

Since leaving the Air Force to take Command of International Rescue, Scott had had too many memories to let him fall asleep quite so effortlessly.

In moments, John was fast asleep, still carefully arranged on and around Scott to keep him in place despite not clinging in any way, and Scott was left staring at ginger hair and tiredly musing how well his genius little brother had played him.

Exhaustion was a lure he couldn’t ignore the song of without anything else to focus on, and John had made sure Scott didn’t have any distractions. The first yawn caught him by surprise, although in hindsight he should have expected it. The second felt like it was trying to split his face in two.

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the window and John was sitting up against the headboard, reading something on his tablet. Turquoise eyes honed in on him as he shifted, and his brother moved slightly over to the side, leaving room for Scott to drag himself upright and wedge himself in next to him.

“Sleep well?”

The smugness in his brother’s voice was palatable. Scott rolled his eyes.

John knew him entirely too well, and after what had to have been several hours of uninterrupted sleep, Scott couldn’t actually complain.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderfluff #drabbles #janetm74 #mutually assured bedtime

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iliumheightnights · 3 years

Text

We Have A Jedi [21] | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male Reader, Tony Stark x Son Reader

Summary: The siege of Mandalore begins. After being asked by Ven for assistance, (M/N) returns to the war he has been away from for so long.

From the beginning Last Chapter | Next Chapter

…

The Republic Cruiser Lightbringer.

Sheyo and Janai watched as the Mandalorian gauntlet landed in the hangar. “What do Mandalorians want with us?” Sheyo asked but Janai didn’t answer. The codes that had been given to land were old...but they belonged to one person only. The ship's ramp extended and the door opened to reveal (M/N). Janai couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face. Sheyo didn’t waste a second and quickly ran to greet her best friend.

“(M/N)!” She brought him into a crushing hug. “You’re back! What are you doing here?” (M/N) hugged her back but quickly let go giving her a sad smile. “The war.” He looked past her and to his mother. “We don’t have much time. We must act quickly if we’re to capture Kren.” Sheyo looked to Janai who seemed a bit taken back by her son's words but quickly shook it off and nodded.

…

“Kren’s located here in the capital of Sundari.” Ven stated pointing at the holomap of the city before it moved into the inside of the domed city. Sheyo, Janai and (M/N) all watched and listened as he spoke. “He’s using the palace as his base of operations. Thanks to the darksaber, he now controls many Mandalorian Clans. Luckily, I have the loyalty of the rest. But I still don’t have enough to face him alone. I need your help.”

(M/N) turned to Janai who looked over the map. She seemed to be thinking before letting out a sigh. “I want to help you...but I can’t.” (M/N) turned to face her fully. “Why not?” Janai stood up straighter this time and spoke in her general voice. “I’m afraid Mandalore is not a republic world. It chose to stay neutral and unfortunately we can’t send an invasion force to capture Kren. It would be starting another war.”

“You won’t have another war! If you help us I’ll have the darksaber and I’ll make sure Mandalore won’t strike back. Just help us take back our home.” Ven spoke louder this time, letting his emotions get the better of him.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t help you.”

Janai was about to walk away but (M/N) spoke up. “Then help me.” Janai turned back and (M/N) could feel all eyes on him. “Help me then if you won’t help them. I’M going to help them take back their home...and I’m going to capture Kren once and for all. I believe the dreams...NO the VISIONS I’ve been having are finally coming to pass and I’m afraid of what it means. I won’t walk away from the thing that’s been haunting me for years. Please....don’t make me do this alone, but I will if I have to.”

Janai only stared into his eyes. In her eyes she saw how quickly (M/N) had changed and became his own person. But he was also still willing to help those in need. “I-I wish I could. But we have new orders that we’re supposed to return to Tython immediately.” Sheyo not sure what to do quickly acted on her feet. “What about we make (M/N) a military advisor? We’ve had some before to help in other battles, this way we don’t have to get involved but (M/N) and Ven still get the forces they need. It’s the best we can do...and we OWE it to (M/N).”

(M/N) watched as his mother smiled. “I suppose that’s a good compromise. I’ll get the forces ready for you.” She quickly turned and walked away. (M/N) frowned a bit, he could tell their relationship had been strained by him leaving.

“Hey. It’ll be okay. Now come on, tell me everything you’ve been up to.” Sheyo led him away to the cantina.

…

(M/N) looked out at the vast emptiness of space. “Can you feel it? The great change.”

He felt his mother’s presence next to him. “Not really. I can feel...something, like a buzzing. But then again, you always were better at sensing things.”

“I fear whatever is about to happen...won’t be good.”

Janai smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then we’ll be ready for it. It’s time to go.”

(M/N) left and boarded a gunship with Ven and a couple other mandalorians and republic troops before taking off.

“May the force be with you (M/N) Stark.”

….

Mandalore.

The hum of engines filled the sky as Republic gunships and Mandalorian gauntlets entered Mandalore's atmosphere. Inside the gunship, (M/N) watched Ven pull up a hologram. “Axten. What’s our status?” A hologram of another Mandalorian man appeared. “The city’s on high alert. Kren’s scrambling his forces. We’ve caught them off guard but it’ll only do us good for so long. You better hurry up love, you’re going to miss all the fun.” Ven laughed. “Wouldn’t miss it dear.” He shut off the hologram and turned to (M/N). “Don’t worry. Once we’re done here I’ll get you back to your boy.”

(M/N) could feel himself blush and on reflex moved to feel Peter’s sash.

Soon the gunship was rocked and the pilot’s voice came over the radio. “We have contact!” (M/N) grabbed onto a support. “Open the doors!” On cue, the doors of the gunship opened on time to watch another gunship besides them get blown up. Ven quickly put on his helmet and pulled out his pistols. “Well, let’s get to work!” He quickly jumped out of the gunship igniting his jetpack and meeting the enemy Mandalorians in the air.

The gunship shook again from another explosion and (M/N) watched as a group of enemy Mando’s boarded another gunship. Grabbing his lightsabers and backing up, (M/N) took a running start before jumping out of the gunship and landed on the other one. Igniting his lightsabers, he slashed his way through the enemies.

Jumping into the gunship, he took out the Mandalorians that had boarded it before slashing one of their jetpacks and grabbing on, letting the mandalorian’s malfunctioning jetpack to carry him forward. He let go, landing on another Gauntlet and running the length of the ship's wings. All around him fighting in the air continued on as the landing force got closer to Sundari.

Using the force he jumped off the gauntlet, launching himself towards the docks. Letting himself fall through the air, he kept focus on the fast approaching ground and used the force to slow his descent. With a roll, he planted his feet on the docks and ignited his lightsabers. The enemy forces that were waiting began firing at him and he blocked and deflected every bolt shot at him. The enemy however was slowly pushing him towards the edge of the docks where he could fall off.

He continued to block the blaster fire but heard jetpack’s roaring behind him. Risking a look, he watched as a group of mandalorians flew up and landed besides him. He recognized one of the Mandalorians by his armor, Axten. Backup. The reinforcements began firing on the enemy Mando’s causing them to fall back. The docks had been secured and the landing force was landing. (M/N) caught his breath before running off to meet with Ven for the next push.

(M/N) helped the Republic troops and Mandalorian rebels push forward. Finally they had set up a good base of operations until they could move and take the palace. It wasn’t until (M/N) really stopped and took a short rest that he noticed how everything seemed familiar. It was the city, the domed city from his dreams, it was Sundari. Whatever his visions warned him about...it would be happening soon.

“It looks better without all the smoke and fighting.” (M/N) turned and saw Ven walking up with Axten. “Our forces are pushing forward at a steady pace. We should take the palace by nightfall.”

“Good.”

“Wow, I thought you’d love the idea of getting back to good ol’daddy and love bug.” Ven joked at him, Axten must have seen how troubled (M/N) was and stopped his lover. “Hey stop it. What’s wrong kid? I can see something’s going on in your head.”

(M/N) didn’t see the point of hiding anything anymore. “Where do I start?” He told them everything. The visions of new york, the battle, Sundari’s role in the vision...then the ashes. “So yeah...I feel like something terrible is going to happen here.”

“Look around kid, the whole place is on fire. People are being killed and ashes are just part of the job. I’m sure your vision is about this. Now let’s get a move on, we need to get Kren out of here.” Ven said leaving to get ready for their next strike.

“It’ll be alright (M/N). I’m sure whatever is coming, we’ll be able to handle it. Now come on.”

(M/N) took one last look at the city before meeting the others at a holotable to plan their move to the palace. After what seemed like hours and lots of debating they finally had a plan. As the forces were leaving the building, a vibration made (M/N) pull out his holo. An alert had sounded off and he pulled up the image to see a ship entering Earth’s atmosphere. He had installed an alert system before he left so he would know if trouble was coming. The image showed a ship in the shape of a Q entering the atmosphere. “Dad and Peter can handle that....I need to do this.” Then he put away the holo only hoping he was right.

…

The battle to the palace had been fierce. Imperial and Mandalorian forces were blocking their own forces from advancing like they had planned. (M/N) blocked blaster fire as Ven and Axten returned it.

“This isn’t working! They’ve got us blocked. (M/N) you need to get to the palace and kill Kren! It’ll be the only way to end this all!”

“How!? If you haven’t noticed we’re kind of stuck here!”

“But not by air! Grab and jetpack and we’ll follow you!”

(M/N) ducked behind a trashed republic walker and looked around. There was a dead Mandalorian near him, no longer in need of his jetpack. Using the force he ripped the jetpack from the body and quickly put it on. “Alright! Now what!?”

“Follow us!” With that Ven and Axten jumped off the sight of the walkway and began shooting through the air.

“Sure! Since it’s SO easy!” With one final look around, (M/N) ignited the jetpack and followed after them.

Flying with the jetpack wasn’t so difficult, especially after he used his fathers gauntlets. However unlike last time, he had to dodge blaster fire from others chasing him. Ven and Axten flipped around and fired behind them. “Get to the palace! We’ll cover you!”

(M/N) didn’t get to fight back as the two Mandalorian fell back and took on the enemies. (M/N) made his way to the palace,which was surprisingly empty when he arrived. Night was falling now and he could feel the disturbance growing. It was coming close.

Walking into the palace throne room, Kren sat on the throne with a smirk. It seemed like he had taken some more damage than (M/N) thought from their last battle. It seems as if his whole side of his body had been replaced with cybernetics. “Ah! Finally, I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Kren smirked and stood up. “It’s only fitting that we’re here, together at the end.” Kren walked over to the window and stared out as explosions went off around the city and the fighting kicked up again. “You’ve felt it. I know you have. The growing emptiness. The galaxy….the UNIVERSE is about to change forever.”

(M/N) was curious, what exactly had Kren known that he hadn’t. “The mad titan has made his moves and now enters his endgame. It won’t be long now.”

“The mad- Thanos!? The butcher that’s murdered billions in neutral space? What’s he planning!?” (M/N) had heard about Thanos from his mother and from senators...whole worlds reduced to ruin. Only since they were neutral worlds the Republic didn’t care.

Kren laughed at his outburst. “Nothing we can stop. Not anymore. You see he has all the infinity stones now,or will soon enough and when he does….no one will be safe for his plans. The Republic and Empire will fall. The Sith and Jedi will become extinct. The end of an era.”

“Why tell me this!? Why take Mandalore then if we’re so lost!?”

“Because not EVERYONE will die, and I will remain to build my new empire here. With the survivors.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“And you think you can stop me? I’ve heard you are no longer a Jedi.”

(M/N) ignited his lightsabers. “I guess that makes us even then. You’re only HALF a Sith.”

That seemed to have pissed Kren off, immediately he let out a snarl and ignited his saber. With a quick motion, a slash of red came at him full force. He was quick to roll out of the way and block the next attack with his blades.

“New sabers. I’m guessing the Jedi didn’t let you keep your old ones?”

“Funny. You do know I just took off your arm right? I’m guessing you just like the attention.” He smirked as he saw the rage building up in the sith.

“Insignificant, ignorant Child!” He continued to lash out with (M/N) blocking every blow. He thought of the training exercises with Steve and Nat, how Nat showed him so of her ‘dirty’ moves as she called them, while Steve showed him some of combat training. Their moves added to his jedi techniques from Janai made him even more skilled against his opponent.

The battle outside was raging, as the fighting kicked up an explosion rocked the palace. The windows shattered and littered the throne room in glass. That didn’t stop the two as they continued to lock sabers against each other. (M/N) however had an idea, using the force he called the shattered glass to fly at Kren.

“Ugh! AAAHH!” The Chiss let out a shout before using the force to push (M/N) back and taking the opportunity to make a run for it. He jumped out one of the shattered windows.

(M/N) got back up and took a quick breath. He looked at the window Kren jumped out of. “Coward.” With a running start he followed out the window. Once out of the window he slid down the slanted part of the building after Kren. The sith was ahead of him, but once he saw he was being pursued shot lightning at him. (M/N) was quick to block it with his lightsaber.

Reaching the end of the slide, Kren jumped off of the building and (M/N) followed after him. Kren landed on one of the streets and quickly blocked as (M/N) came down with his lightsaber. “Leaving so soon?”

Kren launched himself at (M/N) who once again blocked his blow. Soon blaster fire was fired past them as soldiers on both sides came rushing in. Both sides engaged each other as (M/N) and Kren continued fighting.

(M/N) had gotten the upper hand and was getting close to disarming Kren when suddenly he felt a sharp pain grow in him. Kren’s laughter cut through to him. “Can you feel that!? He has won.” As if on queue, an empty feeling was growing quickly within him. All around him he watched as Republic, Sith and Mandalorian soldiers alike turned to ash. His vision made real.

(M/N) was about to engage Kren again when he felt another pain shoot through him. Someone close to him just...gone. Without thinking, he touched the sash around his waist. “Peter.” His grief, his anger, it all bubbled up and pushed him forward. He once again engaged Kren, catching the sith off guard.

“I can feel it! Your anger. Your hatred! It’s all there! You really are no Jedi anymore!”

Kren used the force to push him back. (M/N) got up and as he looked up he prepared to block another blow, but instead he watched as Kren started to turn into ash.

“No...no no! I was supposed to survive! I was supposed to build MY empire!” His rant was cut short as he fully disintegrated.

(M/N) caught his breath and watched as people all around him turned to ash. Republic, Mandalorians, Sith. Soldier and Civilian. Whatever was happening did not discriminate against anyone. (M/N) could feel the pit in his stomach growing, was he going to vanish too? He couldn’t stop this, no matter how hard he fought. With the sense and feeling of defeat, he turned off his lightsabers and put them back on his belt. That feeling...of death, was growing more and more near.

Then suddenly he felt something grab his shoulder and he was pulled back.

#we have a jedi #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #tony stark #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader

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avatraang · 3 years

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#27, azulaang 😶

THIS WAS SUCH A CHALLENGE!!! I’ve never written or even thought of these two in my life. But it was such a good test, thank you!! If any of y’all want to request a prompt and pairing, it’s from this post.

Without further ado, here is your azulaang fic <3

when the sun goes down.

It’s a rainy day when Aang feels her presence. To say they are tied together is an understatement – Aang is connected to all worlds, but to her more than most. The way his scar almost stands on end, a phantom of electricity ghosting across it. He often feels such thunder in his veins when she’s nearby, the universe’s way of reminding him that he is tied to her in more ways than the norm.

Azula has been out in society for a number of years already – indeed, her in public is not what threatens to surprise him. What almost throws off his balance is that she’s at the Southern Air Temple. He’s known of her presence since he landed there early that same morning, climbing the winding peaks til he’s sitting on a crumbling balcony, mediating on his past to gain clarity on his present and future. Upon giving it some thought, Aang comes to the conclusion that it isn’t so odd that Azula is at the Southern Air Temple. Indeed, before he’d personally seen that the remains of the monks and Fire Nation soldiers had been given proper funerals, the temple gave the clearest examples of the wrath the Fire Nation could produce. Even now that the bodies are gone and the temple cleaner, charred wood and blackened walls still lend evidence to the tragedies of times past. Aang supposes that him being here, the lone airbender mediating in the empty temple of his people, serves as even more proof. Azula, from what Zuko had told Aang, left to see first hand both the horrors and wonders of the world through newly unclouded eyes. Of course she’d stop here.

What drives home that Azula’s come along way from delivering blows rivaling death, is how she reveals herself to him. Sitting up on the balcony, Aang can feel her as she climbs the broken staircase towards him. Her footsteps are as silent as they were when they were children; if Aang weren’t the voice of the wind and if he were unable to feel the earth under his toes, he would not be able to tell she was coming. But her steps are still sensed by the ground, and the wind tumbles around her, interrupted by her small frame. Stepping out into the balcony, Azula crosses the threshold and moves to settle in front of Aang, so she is in full view of him. Aang is struck, easily and almost comically, by how different an image this is compared to times past. The circle of life is funny that way.

They sit there meditating for quite some time, the cool air flowing around them, the sun rising until it’s warming Aang’s nose. Air courses through his veins and through the temple, which, even after over a hundred years, still makes a pleasant noise when the wind runs through it. It sounds like the waves against the ocean, like muted wind chimes while one watches the flying bison play, like a baby’s sleepy laughter. The monks had designed it that way, and that way it had remained. Constant as the air around them.

Finally, Aang opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is that her hair is short. Unconventionally so – it’s short on the back and sides of her head (shorter than Sokka’s). It reminds him vaguely of his days with hair, back when he was hiding in the Fire Nation. It makes her face look sharper, but more open, too. A small scar rests on the top left corner of her upper lip, and there’s a tattoo on her right wrist. Azula opens her eyes and looks back at him, soaking him in with the same open wonder in which Aang is regarding her. “Hello.” Azula says, and for all intents and purposes she sounds exactly the same but also very different. There’s no anger or malice dripping in ever letter, just an openness that can only come from someone who has gotten to know themselves. “It’s nice to see you.” She gives him a smile that is so awkward, Aang finds it easy to see the resemblance between her and Zuko.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Aang says, and he means it. “What brings you here?”

Azula’s eyes widen only fractionally, but that is the only noticeable change in her demeanor. “I came here to see, for myself.”

Aang tilts his head, “And what do you think?”

“I think it must have hurt.” She purses her lips, wringing her small (dainty, yet Aang knows the power she wields so well) hands. There’s a note in her voice that Aang registers easily as compassion. He holds it for every living thing he sees. “It still hurts.” Azula looks past him, as if reaching for something she can’t see. The scar on his back tingles again. “I’m sorry.”

With an honest smile, Aang waves away her apology. “It’s not okay, but it’s also not your fault. There is no guilt on your shoulders or blood on your hands. I forgive everyone, and my people do, too.”

With a small shake of her head, Azula continues. “Not just about your people. I’m sorry about what I did to you. And to Zuzu, to Ty Lee, to Mai, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Suki.” Azula lists names like she’s spent the past few years writing them down every day. She gives him a sardonic sort of laugh. “Caldera City. Ba Sing Se. The world.” Aang doesn’t speak. Something tells him she isn’t finished. “I am sorry for what I’ve personally done, the hand I had in inflicting conflict onto the world. I’ve come a long way, still am coming a long way. I have my own personality and views, now.” Azula throws him a smile, a real one, that showcases her sharp canines and perfect teeth. “I know my purpose, my place. And I know I shouldn’t guilt myself, but there are people I owe proper apologies to. And you are one of them.”

“What’s your purpose?” Aang’s curiosity is piqued.

“To do what little I can to help people. To travel the world without any aim other than that.” Azula shrugs, “At least, for now. For now, I just want to help. However I can.”

And well, shit. He can’t think of a nobler, brighter purpose. And her apology is so genuine it almost hurts him. For a second Aang just stares, smiling brightly at her, entire body beaming like he is reaching for the sun. Then he realizes Azula might be weirded out by this, so Aang clears his throat and stands. Reaching down, he offers his hand to her. Tentatively, Azula takes it, letting him haul her to her feet. Aang pulls her up with more force than he ended up needing (she’s much lighter than he remembers) and as a result she ends up colliding with him. With a gust of wind behind him to keep them from crashing down the stairs, the two steady themselves and then step away from each other. Neither of them blush (one ever poised and the other ever shameless), but they both busy themselves with readjusting their clothes for a good while. Finally, Aang turns and motions for Azula to follow him. As they wander down the steps, skipping over missing ledges, Aang speaks. “For what it’s worth, your mission is amazing.” He looks over his shoulder at her, “Reminds me of my people.” Almost tripping over a missing step, Aang tears his eyes away and continues. “It’s all good, Azula. You’ve undergone more of a journey than most people do in a lifetime, and are determined to keep doing it.” He takes an exit on the second floor, crossing into a room that’s surprisingly untouched compared to the others. Momo is sitting on the window ledge, Appa resting down below in the courtyard on the first floor. Kneeling, Aang picks up a mostly deteriorated Pai Sho tile and vividly remembers Gyatso gifting him the game for his eleventh birthday. “I forgive you. I’m proud of you, and I’m proud to know you.” He tosses her the tile and smiles, a charming thing that could give birth to a million stars.

Azula stares. “It’s that easy for you?”

“Of course.” Aang says.

“How?”

He shrugs. Sits down on the stone slab that’s under the windowsill Momo’s sitting on. “Because everyone deserves love and forgiveness.” Aang says it simply, because to him it is so. “Especially someone who’s actively making an effort to do better.”

Azula’s eyes are owlish. She’s running the tile across her fingers, the tips of her ears red. “Was this your room?”

Aang doesn’t stop her from changing the subject. “Yes,” he says.

Azula eyes the space next to him, and sits down next to him with the same confidence one would have if he’d himself invited her to invade his space. “Tell me.” Azula says, “If it’s not too much to ask.”

Talking about his people is never too much to ask, so Aang does one of the things he does best: Tells her stories.

Click Here To Continue Reading.

#atla #azula #aang #azulaang #azula x aang #my fanfiction #my writing #prompts #requests #Nat out here pushing boundaries #love that for us!!#fics for friends

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scribeofmorpheus · 3 years

Text

Himmeløyne [22/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: I have started my first original gothic story (it'll be much darker than this fic but can I offer you werewolves, vampires, 1970s Europe aesthetic as an incentive?). It's on Wattpad and I intend to update it every Wednesday, but I never stick to update schedules so... Here ya go: OUR LADY OF DARKNESS

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The end of the abyss—that frightful stream of continuous fall and forceful uplift—it finally had an end. It was a large door. Smell of rain and storms, with the slick glisten of wet rock hugging the archway. A dark type of stone, jagged and natural, the door seemed to be carved into the side of a mountain. But the mirage ended where the rock began, there were no walls. No infrastructure. Just the green of the mirror world and two hunkering doors. The archway was carved in the shape of a snake; same as the kind that embellished the rigging of ships, tongue curled, eyes made of rings within rings.

A sequence of lettering—foreign, yet oh, so familiar—hovered in the mist, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words.

“Oracle, what is this place?”

The whisper was quiet, for a brief moment you worried that you were truly on your own in this stretch of emptiness.

I sense… something has been concealed from me. Its magic is fevered, dusted in loss. Pain. Desire. It is out of place. Out of time. The conjurer’s magic has the same energy as yours, only… stronger.

“Stronger?” You shuddered at the thought. After a pause, you asked: “You don’t see the door?”

Door? What door?

“What of the letters?”

I—No, I see nothing. Describe it to me.

“There’s a serpent on the door.”

A serpent? Does he eat his tail?

“No, his head marks the start of the archway, but his mouth is facing the ground.”

Then it is incomplete. An incantation must be needed to complete the image. What of the lettering?

“These letters, they’re different than common tongue or Asgardian runes. They aren’t Jotun either. They look… I don’t know. They look so familiar.”

Reach for them.

“What?”

Familiar magic has a tendency to want to be understood, that is why it feels familiar. Touch it.

You stuck your hand up, jumping on your tippy-toes to try and grab the incorporeal words floating above your head. In defiance, they simply rose higher up, further out of reach.

Do not reach with your body, Child of the Sky. Reach with your magic.

With an exhale, you stuck both hands high up in the air, conjuring the bristle of energy that raced across your spine during spellcasting. Remembering through muscle and memory of what it was like to be in control of your magic. Of what it was like to revel in its deliciousness, its wildness, its link to Loki. A swirl of warmth took shelter in your belly, that warmth you’d grown to love before it was ripped from you and replaced by the cold of Odin’s incantation.

Suddenly, the words began to sink, lowering themselves like feathers, at first, then with the heft of an arrow, and finally, a stone.

With a crash, the words burst into fire and embers, each ember digging into your skin in a sensory overload that formed echoes in the mist.

A version of you,—the shade whose voice you heard in the abyss—older, magic glowing a different hue of blue, in strange clothing, stood by the door. You were witnessing the construction of the doorway. Every splinter, fibre, rock and sand particle materialised as though you were undoing the wroth of a sandstorm to make way for a rock giant. A woman, with firebrand hair and soft features, stood beside you, she looked drained, weary. She had magic too, it was the colour of blood. The colour of fire. It flickered in and out around her body, as if fighting to take over.

There was a young boy clasping onto the shade’s hand. Aloof in expression, a scaly growth the colour of white sands on his elbows, ankles, neck and cheeks. He was a beautiful child, hair as soft as down, curls that fluffed in a way you could never get yours too. Eyes of a pure and deep blue. Ocean surface during a thunderstorm blue.

He looked at the shade the same way little Sigrid had when she’d waved her plump, little hand goodbye before following after the hunters. It made you yearn for something so pure with a fierce heart.

“There, that should do it,” the shade said as the door materialised from thin air. “Now, we need a seal so no one who wanders can know of this place.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?” the woman asked, hugging her frame as if she were cold.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the only way I know for certain that what we’re doing now happens.” The shade’s voice felt dark, wizened in years, the same way Frigga spoke of grave matters. “This fortress is the only way he survived in my time. If we can’t change things, as the sorcerer said, then the least we can do is ensure things continue on their set path.”

“He’ll be trapped… for who knows how long? Centuries? Millennia? He’s just a boy.”

“He’s more than that,” the shade got down on one knee to look at the boy. From that angle, you could see the mangled, L shaped scars over each of her shoulder blades. They resembled the scars birds would suffer when their wings were ripped for medicines. “This is the only way he stays safe. I’ve already cemented the other enchantments. Time will not be felt here. He will not feel sadness or regret or the bitterness of solitude. He will sleep, as I once did, except… he will not be aware. And he will dream of only happy things. Then, when the time comes, I will jump. I’ll take him back with me.”

The firebrand woman showed doubt for the first time, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve already done it.” The shade touched the other magic bearer’s shoulder, a comradery there. A closeness built from time and triumph, much like that kindred fire you shared with Sif. “Now, a phrase. A word. Anything to bind this lock to. Something unique.”

“Why don’t you choose it?” “Because I know myself. It has to be something I’d never choose so that she never knows it, and no mind reader can ever guess it should they stumble upon this place.”

“Vision,” the woman’s lips quivered with loss, but there was a bloom of hope in the tweak of her lips as your shade repeated the word.

The biting of the magic ended, and suddenly, you were alone again.

What happened? Child of the Sky? Are you there?

“I’m right here, Oracle,” you choked out, a tightness in your throat.

You were gone. One instant here, the next… nowhere. Somewhere. Between.

“I know how to open the door,” you took several steps back and then cleared your throat. With conviction and authority, you calmly said: “Vision.”

What did the magic reveal to you?

Your head was spinning from the fabrics of this mirror universe being so amateurishly tailored, so lacking in its design and purpose. The more you discovered, the more you began to doubt if this world was ancient; or if it was barely into its adolescence. “I do not quite understand it, yet. You said you were imprisoned here?”

Yes. I have been without body or memory for as long as I can remember.

The snake on the door began to slither till its mouth was at the top, and its tail was tucked firmly in its jaws. Then its eyes glowed the same colour as the child’s, thunderstorm blue. With a groan and a strike of something loud, the door peeled back. Beyond its threshold was a mutation of worlds, all collided in exquisite syzygy; aligned, misaligned, human, Asgardian, Jotun, and even the liquid blackness of space with pepper spots for stars.

“And how long ago was that?”

I—I do not… Centuries? Millennia? Aeons?

To busy your mind of doubt and fear as you stepped past the threshold and heard the door seal shut behind you, you toyed with the idea of understanding more of this world. “You said you could hear the beginning of your name… What was it?”

The whisper grew soft, warm. It sounded like ‘see’. Or was it the sea? Sea? Sea. Sea!

A garden shifted into the plane, then with a breath, a lake, then a cave, then a temple, then a waterfall, then a tower made of metal and glass. The world wasn’t fixed to a temporal setting, nor a specific location in space. It was like watching fire tell a story; brief, bright and constant.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

At the epicentre, laying on a stone tablet with a curtain of gold—that same curtain from the healing chamber—wrapped around like a fleece, was the child. Unaged. Beautiful. Asleep. He had no scaly growths like in the visions.

You took your steps with trepidation. Almost afraid to make a whisper even though the Oracle chanted ‘Sea!’ over and over. Its voice morphing into the very faint intones of a voice you knew all too well.

The world began to peel away the closer you got to the child. A presence was syphoning the magic, transmuting it for another purpose. A purpose that you now realised was meant to happen. Soon, a figure of pure light, with large wings of utmost magnificence, formed from the siphoned magics of the world. The Oracle was gaining form. The fleece turned grey and the boy began to stir. The magic of the sleep spell was broken.

You approached him slowly. Hands seeking out his aura. Then, in the most silver of voices you’d ever heard, he said, “You came. You said you’d come.” A smile of familiarity adorned his freckled laugh lines.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“Do you know me?”

He nodded.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“How?”

“From now.”

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“What’s your name?”

He seemed confused. Reeling back from the line you’d cast him for with that question. Bait in hook, he fished in the muddy waters that were your consciousness. You could feel his magic, abrasive as sand between toes, cool and wet, but also warm and sea-salt thick. He replied, “You haven’t given it to me yet. But you will return hers to her.”

He pointed to the Oracle’s figure, pulsating into a more corporeal form. The boy opened his hand and you knew instantly what he needed you to do before you thought to ask. A reflex. His magic extended to yours, carrying thought, and the very genesis of thought in its energy. You placed your face close so his hand could cover the cavity where your eye used to be.

Sugar. Berries picked from the wild thickets. A prick into padded thumb. Ooze of blood. A slight sting, then a scab and finally nothing, no marks, no evidence of the thorn in your thumb. He was projecting images of what he envisioned as he healed you. What the berries would taste like; apples. “You can open your eyes now. It was gold when we met. I kept it the same.”

Feeling no different than before, you opened both eyes for the first time since you stepped into Verdenspeil. With a tickle, the runes drawn on your hand and forehead sloughed off like skin cells. You could see the world without them. You could see through both eyes again. The shifting world shifted to a hexagon of mirrors. One, the sky shifting blue of your mother, the other, the ancient, world piercing gold of your father, your face held two eyes again.

“It’s… beautiful,” you looked down at the boy with your eyes. He showed teeth with his grin, pleased with himself. Pleased with your laugh of awe. “There was a boy in my village. Half as beautiful as you are. Half as joyful, with a smile and constellations marking his nose and cheeks too. He showed me kindness. His name was Baldrick. I shall call you Baldrick.”

“Now that you have spoken my name, remind her of who she is,” the boy said, glancing at the Oracle. “You know. You know but cannot believe.”

A gasp left your mouth. A mix of hope and disbelief. With the new eye, you could see the face of the Oracle beneath the light, beneath the enchantment that kept her hidden.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“S-Sigrid.”

The Oracle hushed before exploding into a million, tiny pieces of energy. Out of the explosion was your mother, winged as the Valkyrie from legend, wearing the armour you had seen in the mirror prior to entering Verdenspeil.

“Y/N,” she said, lowering to the ground. Her hand cupped your face. You could barely feel her. “I have waited so long for this moment.”

“Mother,” you hugged her close.

A swirl of black formed once the mirrors of the world broke. Sigrid looked at you with panic.

“Listen, there isn’t time. Take the boy, “Sigrid removed a bracelet and cast it into the black-hole. A portal began to form, leading to what looked like a stone temple. “Take him and jump, it’ll lead you to the one with answers.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t you come with us? How are you alive?”

“I’m not alive dear, sweet child. But I can promise this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. We will meet again, soon. I promise. But you must go, the world has fulfilled its purpose. There is no reason for it to exist anymore. It has already began to unravel.”

The mist began to turn sour, choking like poison.

You coughed, breathing through your sleeve, “But, as the Oracle, you said I had to take you to the source.”

“You are the source. You and the boy. Your magics are entangled. The maze was a lie, one devised by you. This world isn’t ancient, it is young. A deception. I am the deceiver. My purpose was to ensure none but you found the boy and the portal to Mímir’s tomb. You enchanted this world so all would walk along the lighted paths until they reached a portal that would return them to a random space within the nine realms. You enchanted this world with your memories, so only you could follow them. Hear them.” Sigrid handed you a four-pronged dagger, “Take this you’ll need it.” She kissed your cheek, then her form started unravelling with the world too. Through transference, she gave you her armour, it was lighter than you'd expected, and it fit to cover your proportions through magical effect.

“Why can’t you come with us?” you reached your hand out to Baldrick. He took it with ease.

“I am not meant for the lands of the living,” she lamented. “Go! Before the world takes you with it.”

You rushed to the portal, but before you could step through you asked one last question: “What did you mean by ‘sins of the father’?”

“The war,” Sigrid fluttered her wings to hover in the green mist. “It was a lie. The Jotuns, they didn’t start it. We—the Himmel Kvinner—there’s a reason why only the women in our family inherited the gift. It’s not just power. It’s essence. A woman’s essence. Odin didn’t know we would develop magic from the artefact, but none of us were able to understand the complexity of her spell. Until you. You will discover the reason behind it all. You told me you did. I suspect it is because you are not fully mortal." Bitterly, she added as her body turned to mist as well, "You will bring the heavens to its knees. And your fate is that none shall remember it.”

One of Sigrid’s wings dissipated, she faltered in the air, then shouted: “Go!”

“I love you,” you whispered before hurtling through the undulating expanse of the portal.

“I know…” you heard her whisper back as Verdenspeil was destroyed.

#loki #loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson #tom hiddleston #himmeløyne #norse mythology #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel imagine #loki imagine #tom hiddlestone imagine

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prophecy-is-inevitable · 4 years

Text

Indulgence of Divinity: Chapter 1

Michael Langdon x OFC

Four months after the events at Outpost 3, Michael begins to grow restless in the Sanctuary. His powers continue to grow seemingly without a purpose, and the Cooperative is clamoring to know his next move. Help arrives from an unlikely source that changes everything Michael thought he knew about being the Antichrist.

Rebuilding the world requires a delicate balance-destruction and creation, death and life, dark and light. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter Warnings: Mild Language (we’re just warming up)

Word Count: 3846

So excited to finally have the first chapter posted! Hope you enjoy! (Also posted on AO3 under the same title.)

------------------------

Chapter One: Court of the Divinity

Water droplets traced the lean outlines along his torso and thighs while others collected in the hollow at the small of his back. The aqueous kisses briefly reminded him of caresses that yearned to memorize each dip and swell of a lover’s form. His eyes drifted closed as he tipped his head back, lips drawing apart to pass contented sighs, in an attempt to savor the sensation. How long it had been since it was more than an illusion… His head lulled with a deliberate slowness to feel the tension ebb and flow from the corded muscles across his shoulders, up the base of his skull, and down the center of his spine. A delicate floral note occasionally touched his senses that he couldn’t quite place as past or present, simply familiar; nonetheless, it momentarily quelled the chaotic swarm of thoughts plaguing his mind. Even kings deserved a reverie now and again.

Michael’s gaze flitted about the room as he stood from the bathing pool and retrieved his towel hanging from the decorative iron gate.

Flickering candles lined the stone alcoves and shelves carved centuries ago out of the grotto rock and filled the room with a serene luminance. Their reflections danced and swayed on the surface of the water only to writhe in the wake of his languid movements. The sheer array of burning wicks had produced a surprising warmth in the chamber–a warmth that drew memories from the rugged stone and imparted the scent of incense from pilgrimages long-forgotten into the air. A shrine to the Lord and his archangel Michael that once stood proudly at the front of the holy cavern had been reduced to nothing more than an opulent light fixture. It brought him a sense of satisfaction in no small measure, and a smug curl of his lips accompanied the thoughts of sacrilege.

‘How fitting that the Sanctuary of Saint Michael Archangel, his oldest shrine in Western Europe and a holy destination for centuries, would become the seat of power for the Antichrist of the same name. The Sanctuary of the Apocalypse,’ Michael mused while patting himself dry. The infernal heat thrumming through his veins made short work of any dampness left to his skin. The grotto he stood in had once been the location of a church. Since coming into the possession of the Cooperative, the pews had been removed to make room for a stepped recess to be carved into the floor and filled with water in the style of an ancient bath–an extension of his personal chambers. ‘Someone clearly thrives on irony.’ Of course, it was not to be lost on him and his smirk of satisfaction only grew as he pulled on the sleek black fabric of his pants.

The journey back to his rooms saw the return of Michael’s incessant thoughts of uncertainty. The existence of the Sanctuary had been somewhat of a surprise even to him. Then again, the best lies were always built from a foundation of truth. What had begun as a ruse to incite panic and chaos amongst survivors was apparently very much an actuality. An actuality that he had been living in for the last four months.

Outpost 3 had been the last for…liquidation. Once the task was completed, the Cooperative had sent him a communication informing him of an automated jet waiting to take him to a “safe place”. They didn’t want to risk the use of Transmutation, despite his ever-growing powers. The flight was long and turbulent from the dramatic air currents and storms swirling in the wake of the cataclysm. A coastal mountain topped with a medieval structure loomed outside the window as the plane started to descend. The Sanctuary.

Noticeable architecture and the few remaining geographical features alluded to a location somewhere most likely Mediterranean. Michael’s lips stretched into an open-mouthed grin, and his eyes burned from how widely they were opened as he looked at the landscape of his making. Previously turquoise oceans undulated in new scarlet waves onto a gray shore. Bare branches strained against the raging wind–their leaves decimated long ago. Armageddon had truly come, and it was by his hand. Sure, he had seen first hand the result of his handiwork in America, but the satisfaction of seeing the effects clear across the world… Michael remembered the way his chest swelled and his shoulders straightened with pride.

That had been four months ago . Fucking hell… What great accomplishments had he achieved since those glorious days of revelation? Once again, he had been left to do his father’s will with no direction, no help of any kind. The remaining Cooperative members were breathing down his neck like hellhounds, either trying to curry favor with absurd and depraved behavior (which he may or may not have accepted on occasion) or hovering for a command. How could he lead his people when he had no means of navigating the future himself? Even the stars were silent behind the eternal midnight cinders cloaking the sky.

He dropped onto the lush mattress and draped his forearm over his eyes. In times of stress, Michael’s mind conjured up images of a world that no longer existed and perhaps never had. The sense of familiarity surrounded him once again as he stood amongst the tall pines and colorful oaks. He remembered these woods. Birds trilled happily above as if pleased by his return. His blood no longer marred the earth in a ruby pentagram; sprigs of white bell-shaped flowers sprung up from the circle and perfumed the air with their sweetness. They were larger than last time. Michael crouched to slowly reach out a hand, palm up, to cradle one of the drooping blossoms.

“Do you like them? I’ve been practicing.” A soft voice reached his ears just as the scalloped tepals dusted the tip of his middle finger. The uncertainty in the voice made his brow crease. He turned his head with a frown to face the shimmering specter, their radiance shrouding any distinguishable features aside from their feminine figure. She was always there, stood in the same space his frantic young mind had hallucinated an angel while begging for his father’s aid.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” It was much more a statement than a question. Had his own imagination turned against him, too? Was this a subconscious manifestation of his own doubt?

“White and delicate isn’t exactly your style,” the figure said. Her tone had relaxed a bit at the sound of his disappointment.

“Perhaps that’s all the more reason for me to like it. A palate cleanser to the world before my eyes every other minute of the day.” The flowers captured his attention again when they began to bob in the breeze. “Beautiful,” he breathed. He couldn’t see a smile, but he got the distinct feeling of happiness from his companion. Curiously, his own heart beat a bit easier as the aura permeated his space. Michael straightened again to take in the full effect of the flowers and surround woods.

“Something’s bothering you, Michael. You’re never here otherwise,” she mused. The light shifted as she moved to sit on a mossy rock. He titled his head to look at her without turning his body. Long strands of golden hair fell over his shoulder and framed his face in the sunlight. A shrug tugged at his shoulder as he spoke.

“What comes next? Have I done all I was meant to do?”

“Is fire, blood, and chaos all you were born for?” A tight nod answered her question. “Doubtful.” She rose and stepped into the ring of flowers with him. The hair hanging in his face was pushed behind his ear by misty tendrils he perceived to be fingers. A slight chill tickled his cheek from the contact and caused the hair at the base of his neck to rise. “With each breath, you grow in strength and purpose.” One of the flower stems was placed in his hand. “Why do you think these have flourished? As you grow stronger, so do I. It would be pointless to give you more power with no purpose behind it, especially since you already hold more power than any being left in the world.” A dark chuckle bubble in his throat at that. Her words satisfied him when similar grovels from those in the Sanctuary would find his ire.

“Then why -” The presence of a frosted hand directing his gaze back towards the glowing woods stopped him short.

“Patience, Michael. Having power does not mean you have to be omniscient. It simply means you will be more than capable of whatever is required in time. You’ve given them what they wanted–there’s no reason to believe you would fail at that in the future.” Phantom fingers slid up his cheek and into his hair in a gesture of comfort and Michael closed his eyes with a sigh. “Patience, my king.”

The stone ceiling of his bedroom greeted him when he next opened his eyes. Goosebumps still prickled his skin as a reminder of his dream. For a few moments he did nothing but stare blankly, wondering if he could close his eyes again and return to the simplistic visions of his mind.

“Patience…” he grumbled, dragging a hand down his high cheeks and chiseled jaw. Could the Antichrist possess such a heavenly virtue? Michael couldn’t remember any recent time he was met with less than near-instant gratification. Several soft yet pronounced raps on the door put an end to his wishful thoughts of mental escape. That would be Ms. Mead, and he certainly didn’t want to keep her waiting. It wouldn’t do to treat the one person here that was truly on his side so poorly, and certainly not after she’d undergone such extensive repairs from the events at Outpost 3.

A rare, genuine smile graced his full lips when he pulled the door open to reveal the woman. The deep furrow of her brow and the shift of her eyes promptly removed the carefree expression from his face.

“You’re needed in the great hall.” The muscles around Michael’s eyes twitched in scrutiny. Only incredibly important or special occasions called for the use of the great hall, and he certainly hadn’t issued any grandiose decrees. She wasn’t pleased to be ignorant about whatever situation had arisen, either.

“I will be with you shortly once I’ve made myself presentable.” Michael acknowledged her request with an elegant incline of his head. Ms. Mead nodded quickly and turned on her heel to await him outside his chambers.

Michael quite enjoyed catering his looks to maximize the effect of his presence. Without knowing the purpose of this engagement, he would have to work with what previously resulted in the most success. Within three minutes, he was walking through the halls with Ms. Mead and rather pleased with his appearance. He had donned his usual black dress pants and tucked button-up, the buttons of the cuffs trailing well up his forearms. A luxurious black side button dress coat accentuated his broad shoulders and lean stature; Michael enjoyed the feeling of the fabric conforming so perfectly to his body.

Many survivors admired the thought that went into the Sanctuary’s design each time they walked the halls. Displays had been embedded into the mountain walls where the builders encountered the fossilized remains of prehistoric flora and fauna–lingering reminders that all origins were followed by the same undisputable end in time. Rivers of fire ran down trenches parallel to the walkways for sufficient lighting. Without access to the outside world, they set the fire to cycle intensity and mimic the path of the sun. At night, minerals were added to the oil to make the fire burn blue in homage to moonlight. Large fireplaces dotted the hallways for added warmth and light in the deeper parts of the mountain.

Today, residents of the Sanctuary that had found themselves a partner were happily clinging to each other in alcoves or corners. Some exchanged gifts they’d either made or traded for tied with red ribbon. Someone had poorly scribbled hearts decorating their package, and Michael’s eyebrows jumped momentarily in realization. Of course. It was February. Many of the survivors had chosen to observe the old holidays in a vain attempt at normalcy. If it gave them reason to remain happy and kept morale high, then he would allow them to cling to their absurd traditions. They smiled and waved, some bowing their heads in respect, as he passed them. An occasional brave soul wandered his way with the intention of handing him chocolates or paper flowers. Michael held up his hand to stop them with a small, appreciative quirk of his lips but shook his head.

“There’s no need for that. Your loyalty and support are enough.” They held eye contact for a moment until the person scampered away to a cluster of others standing by a fire pit. Almost immediately, Michael’s jaw squared and returned his expression to simmering annoyance.

“Ms. Mead,” he drawled, “why am I on my way to the great hall for an obligation that I can’t seem to recall arranging?” Her head shaking slightly was barely visible off to his side.

“This wasn’t arranged at all. These…people–Court of the Divinity they called themselves–just showed up and wanted to see you. Wouldn’t say what for, but I recognized the man in charge as a member of the Cooperative. Some high ranking clergyman or some bullshit.” Ms. Mead continued to shake her head and gave him a sidelong glance. “I don’t know where they get off thinking they can make such demands of their king. It’s impertinent if you ask me.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory level. “We shouldn’t trust them.” Michael’s head tipped back with a pleased laugh.

“Oh, not to worry, Ms. Mead. We must attend to the needs of our people.” Michael stopped outside of the oversized mahogany doors and turned to the older woman. His hands came to rest on her shoulders as he fixed her with a pointed gaze. “And if they waste my time, it will be the last time that they do so.” Ms. Mead returned his look with a smile and watery eyes, one of her hands reaching out to delicately stroke the long curls resting over his collarbone before she replied. The pride rolled off of her in waves nearly as strong as the electronic pulses of her fabrication.

“That’s my beautiful boy.” Michael would always hold her affection in highest regard. With a deep breath, Ms. Mead returned to the moment and smoothed down his hair. “You go in ahead. I’ll retrieve your guests from the auxiliary hall. My king.” She left with a bow and beaming smile so Michael could take his rightful place in the extravagant throne chair at the front of the hall. He certainly cut an imposing figure. One leg rested crossed over the knee of the other, his elbows firmly on the arm rests to allow his steepled fingers to remain steady in front of his chest, and his jaw clenched with a minute grinding the longer he waited.

Several minutes passed before the heavy doors were opened and Ms. Mead, now wielding a stern expression, led in a bizarre group of men. Michael couldn’t help leaning forward a fraction in interest. Each man was dressed in different holy garb. A Buddhist lama, a Hindu sadhu, a Jewish rabbi. Those were only the ones in clear view. Still more troubling, not one of them did he recognize beyond the cardinal standing at their front. He had worked as the Cooperative’s source inside the Vatican for decades under the guise of a faithful God-worshipper. Michael lifted his chin out of habit at the man’s approach, heightened even more as the small congregation bowed before his dais.

“Cardinal Vicente Santori.” The name dripped off Michael’s tongue like saccharine wine. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your audience? For your sake, I would hope it’s something of the absolute utmost importance.” The cardinal bowed again. The tone in their king’s voice left no conflict regarding his displeasure.

“My king, as you know, we are more than 20 months through your prophesied reign,” Santori began. Michael’s intrigued gaze turned to that of ice, and he brought his chin to rest on his bejewelled fist.

“I am aware. So…what is this?” He opened his palm up towards them inviting silent answers. “As you said yourself, we are beyond the halfway point of the Apocalypse. It’s a bit late for any religious intervention.” Michael’s patronizing chuckle reverberated in the vaulted room, “Especially from you, Cardinal.” The man quickly shook his hands to brush away those notions.

“No. No, we are here for quite the opposite.” The slight tilt of the king’s head drew the cardinal’s attention before he continued. “You have done well in cleansing the stain of humanity from the world. You’ve also grown stronger since coming to the Sanctuary, haven’t you, my king?” When he did not receive a denial, Santori delved into further explanation. “We are the Court of the Divinity, tasked with a special purpose. We have the answers to that phenomenon: there is still more work to be done. Work that you cannot be expected to complete on your own. What we have experienced is only the beginning of your father’s great plan. Preparation of a canvas about to become your greatest masterpiece.”

“What would you know of this ‘work to be done’?” His father had refused to answer his own questions, yet these heretics claimed to have knowledge of his purpose? All Michael had ever wanted was answers. Would it be washed-up clerics that gave them to him? Michael ran his tongue over his teeth. The most irritating aspect of it all was that not a single one of them held a lie within their heart or mind.

“Satan was cast into the fire and chained amidst the burning lake against his will. Would you wish to remain in a prison for all eternity? Is that what you would base your greatest wish from? It is one thing to condemn others to share your fate, but it’s something else to rise above it. There has always been a deeper longing for Paradise, and what better way to secure his claim on Earth than by his son creating something that surpasses that of God. However, you will not succumb to such hubris as God, my king, for you won’t be alone.” There was a pause in the cardinal’s ramblings to let the information settle. Silence hung heavy in the air for so long that some of the men began to shift uncomfortably. Even Ms. Mead seemed to be holding her breath off to Michael’s side.

Their king stood, each vertebra aligning themselves one by one, until he reached his full height. His descent from the dais was marked by the crisp, measured knocking of his heeled shoes on the stone floor. Arms clasped elegantly behind his back, Michael approached the cardinal and looked him up and down. The older man was in his choir dress for what he must have deemed a special occasion; vibrant scarlet cassock with matching scarlet trim, red elbow-length cape over the lace-trimmed white rochet, and a red cleric’s skullcap. One item was notably missing; Cardinal Santori no longer burdened himself with the symbol of the cross. Michael stopped directly in front of the man to give him a sardonic smile.

“Will it be you, Cardinal, and your men that seek to help me with this task of surpassing God? The one you once promised to worship and honor with every breath and whom you have now forsaken?” They were so easily swayed by a little show of power. Michael had won their faith by hardly lifting a finger. The cardinal stepped aside and issued a beckoning wave back to the others. The group parted, three men on either side, to form a passage for the remaining associate at the back of their cluster.

“Unfortunately, the act of creation has always been a divine gift. We have never been blessed in such a way, though we have been given the honor of upbringing for the one who has. Our glorious purpose.” Soft heels clicked across the thin carpet runner approaching the dais. “God failed because there was no balance, which he now knows. There cannot be creation without destruction, no life without death, no light without the dark. To force one into extinction is to condemn the other. Someone once called you ‘the Alpha and the Omega,’ correct? Well, they were halfway right.” A slim hand settled into the one the cardinal left outstretched.

“My king.” Michael’s eyes quickly darted to the speaker when they stepped into his view, dipping into a low curtsey.

She was his opposite in every way. Delicate feminine features and form contrasted his strong, masculine bone structure and build. Her lustrous amber eyes met his aquamarine, and both pairs widened at the sudden jolt they received. Fire and ice. Twisting. Turning. Climbing from earth to sky. Something about her called to him. Something quietly familiar. Michael stepped forward with a creased brow while she allowed him to continue his observation. He swept a wave of her silken obsidian hair over her shoulder. Her breath shuddered momentarily, but her smile widened when their gaze met again. She waited patiently, allowing him as much time as he needed. After all, she had been patient long enough in waiting to meet him, and this gave her an equal opportunity to drink him in as well. His skin held the warmth of the fire he was born from in both color and temperature. She, on the other hand, seemed to be risen from the first winter snow. Could it be true that he wouldn’t be left to rebuild the world alone? Their proximity caused a breeze to weave through the room that centered around them. Years of waiting and begging and training…would this be the beginning of their purpose?

Clothed in flowing white, the crystalline vine embellishments captured the firelight to give her a glowing illusion. Chiffon draped from her shoulder straps and down her back in a delicate cape veil that did nothing to obscure the expense of her open back. More of the gentle fabric was braided across her chest to protect her dignity. A large portion of the bodice remained sheer except for more sparkling embellishments designed in the same intricate vine pattern. In place of a slit, the sheer fabric continued from the bodice, over her left hip, and down the entire left side of the otherwise modest, floor length skirt. It was a look meant to make an impression while still conveying the purity within her body and blood. Sensual yet sinless. She wanted him to be pleased, to be intrigued. And he certainly was in both respects. Cardinal Santori’s voice broke through Michael’s considerations.

“This… is the Divinity.”

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #Michael Langdon x OC #Indulgence of Divinity #my fics #Michael Langdon deserves love #Writing Requests Open

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shih-coulda-had-it · 3 years

Note

74 ,96

74 (Huddling for Warmth) & 96 (Scars) | [Nanahiko]

Timing their investigation into All for One’s operations in Hokkaido for winter?

Absolutely terrible idea all around. Who suggested that?

Nana hauled Sorahiko from the river with her arms locked around his waist, teeth gritted against the biting chill. He shivered violently and clutched at Nana for support in standing upright. She did not have the opportunity to stop moving and marvel at the wintry landscape, or break down and punch the frozen earth to reveal their mole.

It was paramount that she get them to the rented cabin. The closest hospital or clinic was at least three hours away on foot, and Nana didn’t trust herself behind the wheel in these conditions.

She made a note to send Chiyo a gift basket; being forced to study the emergency first-aid scenarios was turning out to be more helpful than anticipated.

With brisk efficiency, Nana made it to the crest of the floodplain. Sorahiko couldn’t get a comprehensible word out yet, but at least he seemed aware of their surroundings; Nana didn’t even struggle on the way to the cabin.

“In we go,” she said with forced cheerfulness, wrenching the door open and dragging her ice-cube of a best friend inside.

It was a two-bedroom, one bath affair, with the living room, kitchen, and genkan all in one place. There wasn’t much in terms of furniture, but there was a fireplace with a working chimney, so Nana couldn’t complain too much.

She flicked the switch. It remained dark.

“B-b-blackout?”

“Eh,” said Nana, flicking the switch repeatedly, as though increased force would spark the power back to life. The fireplace was the safety net. Nana knew how to light a fire, but she would rather have the electric lights humming away with the generator warming the space. “Eh-h-h-h-h.”

“Nana,” Sorahiko said piteously.

“I know,” she soothed. “Keep moving, okay? And try and take off your gloves and cape. I’m going to get the fire started, and I’ll help with the rest of your gear.”

He made a small agreeable noise and slowly, painfully shed his cape. Nana removed her own boots and gloves, then staggered over to the fireplace and peered at the stacked bundle of wood, the firestarter, the poker—aha, she thought, grabbing the handheld lighter.

Sorahiko grumbled to himself as he wrestled with his gloves. Nana parsed out a few words, like, ‘stupid’ and ‘freezing’ and a fervent ‘I hate Hokkaido’ that was muttered under his breath several times over. It was a strange relief to hear him mouthing off; it was a weight off her shoulders, seeing the little flame catch onto its fuel and burst into life.

“Ha!” Nana cheered, and left it to burn, turning around in time to catch Sorahiko crumpling against her.

“Fire,” he cheered into her collarbone. She maneuvered him flat on his back onto the wooden floor, as close to the fire as she dared, and started peeling Sorahiko out of his gear.

It was like peeling shrimp. Like parting the sausage meat from its casing. Like picking out a ripe tangerine and jamming a thumb into its core, thinking that it would be an easy snack, except the thin skin hadn’t yet separated from the flesh, so time was devoted to scrabbling the peel off.

Nana was hungry.

“We’re gonna make a nest,” she relayed to Sorahiko. “All the sheets and blankets and pillows, just for you to burrow yourself into. And then in the morning, we’re going to get hot tea and miso soup and a train ticket straight home.”

“Hot springs,” he said.

“Hot springs,” Nana echoed, a few seconds late. “Yes. Hot springs. You… you wanted to visit the hot springs?”

“Stress relief.”

“That makes sense.” Two gloves off. The boots, surprisingly, went easier. He was lucky that water couldn’t leak through the soles; they were lucky, she supposed, given that Nana probably would have panicked and shoved his feet in the fire to melt potential icicles. In any case, it unnerved Nana to see his bare hands and feet.

The belt was a little fiddly, but Nana’s dexterity was nothing to scoff at. What finally made her pause was, well, the whole jumpsuit.

“I need you to roll over.”

He rolled over.

Nana exhaled sharply and committed: she unzipped the suit from the neck all the way down to the small of his back, her eyes drawn to the slope of his spine and the contracting of muscles as unmarked flesh was exposed to air.

Sorahiko didn’t scar easily. Where the history of his injuries remained, they tended to be on the front.

“You’ve got underwear on, right?” she said, aiming for levity. “Skin-to-skin contact is supposed to be the most reliable route to getting warm again, but I think we’ll be blurring boundaries if your junk meets my junk bare. Which it wouldn’t, because I have a sports bra and underwear on.”

Sorahiko groaned into the floor. Not an especially sexy groan, just one of resignation.

“That better be a yes.”

“I’m wearing boxer-briefs,” he said to the fire. “Please get the blankets.”

“Right!” She got to her feet and bolted for the bedrooms. It took two trips, bundling pillows into blankets and sheets from each bedroom and then lugging it all to the central area. The first return, Nana caught Sorahiko wiggling his way out of the suit, legs sticking in the air as he shoved the rubber composite past his thighs.

After laughing at his plight, Nana retrieved the rest of their building materials and tomorrow’s clothes. They situated the nest a meter away from the fireplace. First the thin sheets were stretched out, then a comforter, then a half-ring of pillows, and as Sorahiko nestled in under the second comforter, Nana tossed their clothes in too.

“You know,” she said, “it’s a good thing that water doesn’t actually soak into our jumpsuits. We’d be in the danger zone of hypothermia if that was a thing.”

“I’m lucky my head didn’t get submerged,” he responded, his voice muffled. Only the top of his fluffy silver hair was visible.

“It would be pretty tough getting in bed with you, if you had the sniffles.”

Sorahiko peeked over the comforter, pale eyes following her step everywhere except the nest. She hadn’t joined him yet because she had the presence of mind to gather their gear and leave it in a pile by the genkan.

Also, because Nana needed to muster the willpower to slide under the covers and face the possibility of clinging to him like a barnacle for the rest of the evening. She shifted her weight from side to side. Goosebumps were rising, and not just because of the cold.

“If you press your cold feet to my shins, I will scream,” Sorahiko threatened.

“Pot, kettle,” she said, and Nana crawled under the covers. It was not the pocket of warmth she’d been anticipating; she scooted further in until she bumped into Sorahiko, and at that point, she sprawled on top of him like a sea star.

“Feet!”

“Deal with it!”

A great deal of squirming ensued. The result of the scuffle still had Nana’s chest pressed against his, their legs tangled, and his hands loosely holding her by the waist. So overall, Nana was pleased, and she luxuriated in the unspoken victory.

Sleep, however, was not coming as easily.

As steady as their breathing was, Nana knew Sorahiko was awake. She tried to unfocus; she could do nothing more about their situation. All that was left was to rest and wait for the morning.

The fire crackled. Sorahiko shifted beneath her, and finally Nana propped herself up, hands folded under her chin, eyes tracing the angles of Sorahiko’s face, softened by their flickering light.

“Did you know,” she said, “I forgot we had some matching scars.”

“First and only time I stayed on the ground for close-combat,” he responded. “Yours healed up better than mine.”

“My abs are made of steel.” The familiar boast elicited a familiar laugh, one that rumbled pleasantly through Nana’s bones.

“What’s that make me?”

“Some softer metal,” she teased. “Gold? How do you feel about gold?”

“Gaudy,” Sorahiko pronounced, but his hands tightened at her waist. “Also, way too valuable. Downgrade me to something cheaper. People still use tin, right?”

“Tin,” Nana echoed. “Like, a tin-man.”

He squinted past his beaky nose at her, rightfully suspicious. “... Yes?”

“Does that make Dorothy me or Toshinori?” Over the sound of his splutter, Nana continued, “Do you need some oil for your rusted joints? Oh! Are you looking for a heart?”

“Tin doesn’t rust,” Sorahiko said, ignoring her last remark.

“It’s about the continuity, Sorahiko.”

“And you’d be the Cowardly Lion. Toshinori’s the kid who keeps landing himself in messes.”

“The Cowardly Lion?” she protested. “What!”

She could see him smirking. “Go to sleep now,” he said, his eyes deliberately snapping shut and his body easing the tension away. “Nighty-night.”

Nana huffed, but relented. It wasn’t that grave of an insult, to be labeled as the Cowardly Lion; she vaguely remembered Dorothy’s friends as wanting things (or wanting to be things) they already were. The brainless Scarecrow was already smart, the Tin Man was already empathetic, and the Cowardly Lion was already brave.

So! Sorahiko had given her a compliment! It was just like Sorahiko to deliver one that sounded like an insult.

Rebelliously, she turned her head, resting her ear right over his steadily thumping heart.

“You don’t need to look for a heart,” she mumbled, snuggling as close as possible, despite their bodies having reached an optimal temperature already. Nana needed to say it out loud, because Sorahiko was simply terrible at reading between the lines when it came to this. “You’ve got mine now.”

#bnha #nanahiko #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #asks #anon #sorry this got back late! I’ve been... vegetating

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cognitivefunk · 4 years

Text

Yuma’s Possession

Lol, I’m terrible with titles. Anyway, here is the requested yandere Yuma x Yui fic with a scenario involving a transfer student. Since this is a school request, let’s just assume that Yui is 18, Yuma for the sake of stating it is also over 18. I made up a transfer student and had a little fun with it, lol. To be continued?

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers Pairing: Yuma Mukami x Yui Komori Rating: E - Explicit 18+ Warnings: Blood, crying, light choking, spanking, naughty words, slapping, humiliation Word Count: 4,819

Yui’s smile was bright and unguarded as she walked side by side next to the new transfer student of Ryoutei Academy. She had taken it upon herself to show him around since she knew what it was like to change schools, especially so late in the year. Akio was a quiet type, average build but slender and taller than she was. They stopped at the rooftop to have lunch since it was usually deserted at this time of day, just to give him some space from meeting so many new people. The stars illuminated the sky rather brightly that night, giving the roof a peaceful ambiance along with the soft lighting from the lanterns.

“Thanks for being my tour guide today,” he laughed, tucking a lustrous black lock of hair behind his ear. His hair was messy and layered, but fashionable. It did well to frame his face, accentuating his features. What had started out as an awkward exchange of information had melted into a relaxed atmosphere of sociability. The two of them set their bags down onto the rooftop and proceeded to set up their lunches. Unbeknownst to the pair, someone had been watching their encounter for a better half of the day they had spent together. Caramel eyes narrowed from a distance, watching the two of them getting along, with a fire that was growing like a deadly crescendo. Yuma gnashed his teeth together, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

Had he not been a vampire, he may have had lasting marks from the action. The crescent moon shapes slowly faded from his skin as he lessened the tension in his fists. The sting of the cut took some of the edge off of his rage temporarily, only for it to come roiling back to the surface. ‘Who does that sow think she is? I should go over there right now and teach her a lesson of whose property she is…’ The itch to move over to the pair was building inside of him, but he kept it at bay. Instead, he continued to watch in silence, simmering when he saw a faint blush cross the other man’s features as their conversation carried on. The transfer student’s hand had brushed against hers as they exchanged food from their lunches and it took all of Yuma’s self-control not to beat the man to a bloody pulp on the spot. ‘No. I’ll nip this in the bud early. This needs a more permanent solution.’ A smile tugged at the vampire’s handsome features, but it was not one of mirth. Rather, it was a sickly smile of an infatuated man on the verge of a violent rampage. He had seen enough, and his plan was already in motion as he retreated from the scene before him so that he wouldn’t ruin the surprise earlier than he intended.

“I made it myself this morning!” she beamed, as the other male tried her home cooking. He had brought leftovers from the night before that his sister had made, but it was nice to try something different than he would usually eat. The clafoutis was fluffy and decorated with dark cherries, and even though it wasn’t reheated it still had its sweet and airy taste. Yui had made sure to pack an extra serving for Yuma, topped with powdered sugar, that morning because she knew that he liked sweets and thought that it would make him happy.

“Thank you, I wouldn’t usually eat something sweet so early in the day. It’s really good! Your family must be very proud of you,” he shared her cheery demeanor as he showered her in compliments. His amethyst eyes were focused on the young woman’s face as she ducked her head forward, her platinum tresses cascading forward, hiding her face slightly. Perhaps he had misspoken.

“I live with some of the other students here right now,” she paused, clearly thinking about how to word her situation, “as part of an exchange program of sorts.” He listened intently, a glimmer of interest flashing over his features before he replaced it with another cheery smile. “Even more reason to be proud then, you must be very important.” The words stung a little bit, given the reality of her situation, but she was still thankful for his praise. There was something about it that gave her a sense of normalcy. She lifted her head again, tucking her hair back. When her hand brushed against her collar it briefly flashed a puncture wound that did not go unnoticed. “Yui? Are you ok?” Akio started to ask but the sound of the bell caught her attention and she started to gather her belongings, laughing halfheartedly. “I guess we stayed out here longer than I thought, we’d better get to class before we’re late!”

After the clock struck 2 a.m. it was time to go home for the day. It was difficult acclimating to being awake primarily during the nighttime hours, but for the most part Yui was accustomed to it. However, it still didn’t stop her body’s internal clock from crying out. When she arrived home, she trotted off to find Yuma to see if he liked the dessert that she had packed for him earlier. Perhaps she could also see if she should make something else for him before she got ready for bed. She found it strange that she hadn’t seen him at all during the day, even stranger that he hadn’t been there to accompany her home. A small amount of worry settled in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if something had happened to him or if he was avoiding her. “Yuma?” she knocked against his door.

There was no answer. She tried again, louder this time, but to no avail. Kou rounded the corner and waved his hand brightly at the young woman. “M-Nekochan~” he called out, walking toward her with one hand tucked away in his pocket. His posture was relaxed and she subconsciously relaxed around him. “Oh, hi Kou…I was just looking for Yuma, have you seen him?” she picked at the fabric of her sleeves absentmindedly, peeking around the corner of the hall to see if he was on his way. A pout crossed Kou’s face and he let out an exaggerated whine, “Awh, why weren’t you looking for me instead? You know, I’m much more interesting than Yuma-kun…” He flashed one of his modelesque smiles and Yui couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his antics.

“Sorry Kou, it’s just I haven’t seen him all day and I was kind of hoping to talk to him before bed.” She was picking her sleeve slightly more aggressively, taking out her frustration on the cuff of her sweater. The blonde narrowed his eyes with a frown, but decided not to push the matter. After all, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his brother’s rage for marking up his woman. “Hmm,” he leaned his head against the wall in thought before his eyes lit up in realization, “Oh! I saw him briefly after lunch and he didn’t look too happy… That’s right, M-neko, you must have really upset him!” he looked a touch too gleeful at that statement, a darkness lingering over his eyes as he watched her face grow with concern.

Yui’s eyebrows furrowed and she chewed the inside of her cheek in discomfort. She decided it would be best to busy herself in the kitchen after all, as she wouldn’t be able to sleep until Yuma came back home.

Akio had felt a presence following him for a good portion of the day, and it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. As he walked the deserted path back toward his house he clutched his bag, readying himself for an ambush. As if on cue, Yuma took the chance to reveal himself by dashing out of his hiding place and pressing the other boy against a tree by the neck. The darker haired male winced at the sensation, but was sturdier than Yuma would have assumed given his frame. “Oy, I’m here to teach you a lesson about messing with someone else’s property,” Yuma’s voice was rough and filled with hatred and he buried his nails into the soft flesh of his victim.

The transfer student was unable to speak a retort back at the vampire due to his hand pressing into his windpipe. However, the taller male was quite obviously underestimating his ability to fight back even from this position. Akio curled his fingers toward his right wrist, unleashing a blade that he used to slash at the offending hand, falling down to one knee when the pressure was released suddenly and gathering his bearings as the oxygen flowed back into his burning lungs. Yuma jumped back, startled, clutching at the wound on his hand, staring in disbelief when it wasn’t immediately closing. “Heh? What the fuck is this!?”

“Is this how Ryoutei Academy’s students treat their new guests? I know we’re off campus but I’m sure they’d be very disappointed in you attacking a new student on their first day,” the sudden confidence in his voice was different than the way he had been conducting himself around Yui earlier. Yuma glared at the other man, shaking the spilled blood off of his hand and ripping off the bottom of his dress shirt to wrap the wound with. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes were nearly alight with the fury that was raging through him. He took on a fighting stance, sizing up his opponent differently this time, striking out quickly and swiping his fist against the side of Akio’s cheek as the other male dodged most of his attack. At the speed he was going, a human shouldn’t have been able to stand a chance, let alone nearly dodge a full frontal attack.

The taller male sniffed the air tentatively; he could have sworn he smelled human blood. But it was muddled. Now that he was focusing, he could tell there was definitely a trace of vampiric blood flowing through the other man’s veins. Unlike Yuma, who had once been human and then turned vampire, Akio had been born, a product of a human mother and a father who was a vampire. He was not as strong as a full-fledged vampire, but he did possess a similar skillset to Yuma, along with weak magical capabilities. It was enough to hold his own one-on-one with the enraged male.

“What is this property you’re going on about? Is it that girl?” Akio asked, taking on a protective quality in his voice. He wasn’t sure what the status of the relationship was between the two of them, but it was the only conclusion he could think of that would have gotten the vampire so riled up. It would seem he struck a nerve as Yuma spun around with a flying kick aimed right for his head. Akio ducked and grabbed Yuma’s steady leg from beneath him, rolling out of the way before the vampire could grab him down to the ground with him. The younger male leaned against a tree for support, having used a lot of his strength to drag Yuma down.

“Oy, oy, OY! Listen here you bastard,” Yuma picked himself up quickly, towering over Akio before he picked him up by the scruff of his shirt. “You’re really pissing me off.” He shoved him against the tree again, mindful of the hidden knife up the other man’s sleeve. “I ought to kill you right here,” he used his own head to crush into Akio’s disorienting the dhampir before throwing him to the ground and stomping his foot into his stomach. The darker haired man groaned in pain at the impact and scrambled to reach for his backpack, hands shakily ripping the bag open to throw the equivalent of a flash bomb at the vampire so he could make a quick retreat.

A scream of frustration ripped from Yuma’s throat as he realized that he had let him slip out of his sight and something about the device messed with his sense of smell temporarily. There was a ringing in his head and he clutched his hair with his good hand, kicking the dirt where Akio had been in irritation. He sighed, admitting defeat for the time being. The next time he saw the other male he would make sure to finish what he started. He made his way back toward home, figuring he could let out his frustration on the girl who he determined to be at fault for this entire situation.

In the kitchen, Yui had busied herself making a version of pavlova, a dessert made of sugar and egg whites with lemon curd she had prepared the day before and an arrangement of fresh fruits. The sound of the door slamming shut startled the young woman, but she wiped her hands on her apron, and tentatively peered her head out of the kitchen to see Yuma bee lining toward her. “Yuma, you’re home!” she offered, trying to sound cheery despite the nervousness that was settling over her body like a blanket. Yuma stopped when he was right in front of her, eyeing the dessert that she had been preparing.

“Is that for him too?” he spat, reaching over to smack the dessert off the counter but Yui jumped in front of his arm, “No!!” before she could tell him that she made it for him he pushed her to the ground and shoved the dessert and the delicate plate it was displayed on shattering to the ground beside her. Tears welled at her eyes and came spilling over, all her hard work was in a pile on the floor over a misunderstanding. “Yuma..” she opened her mouth to speak but he shoved her back against the kitchen floor, straddling her body as he ripped open the top of her shirt.

“Do I need to re-train your body to remember that you belong to me and only me??” his words rang out in the room, and he grabbed a piece of broken glass from the serving plate, still coated in the dessert she had made, and sliced into her collarbone. At first there was no pain at all, only a shocked sensation that racked her body, but then the air began to sting the cut and fresh tears welled in her eyes. Yuma didn’t give her time to speak yet again, forcing his tongue into the cut, widening it rather than soothing it, causing her to grunt and writhe beneath him. The pain was searing, but she felt as if her spirit was being sliced open. Her heart was bleeding for him and he didn’t even see it. That or he didn’t care.

Yuma moaned against the cut, tasting the sugary confection mixed with her blood. It was a shame he had scattered it across the floor, because it really did taste wonderful. For a moment, he let himself indulge in the sweetness of her, drinking her blood hungrily, his right hand throbbing from the cut he had received earlier. The thought of even a fraction of it being made with the other male in mind came sparking back to the surface and he tugged his fangs down, ripping open a wound on Yui’s pale chest.

Her blood flowed thickly, slowly blossoming across her chest and soaking her shirt. She sobbed out, her hands reaching out to hold onto Yuma’s arms. She noticed the makeshift bandage on his hand and turned her attention to him in concern, burying her own pain down. “What happened?” she asked softly, ghosting her fingers over the fabric that he wound tight around his hand. He lifted his head from her chest to glare down at her with concerning intensity.

“You’re an absolute fuckin’ idiot, you know that?” Yui attempted to look away as he insulted her, but he grabbed her chin firmly with his wounded hand, the coppery smell of both his blood and her own overwhelming her senses. “You were out there seducing a vampire hunter today weren’t you?” He smacked the side of her face, hard. She cried out in pain and could feel the sting heating up as the mark on her face turned a bright pink. He chuckled, bringing his hand down to strike her other cheek while the girl shuddered beneath him, eyes widening in confusion and terror.

“I was just helping him—“ he cut her off, raising his voice to a yell. “Just helping him my ass. I saw you share your lunch with him, saw the way the two of you blushed, or did you think you could whore yourself around the school without me taking notice? HUH?” He grabbed onto her sweater and shook her for emphasis, dropping her and letting her head knock against the ground. He sighed, looking at the mess in the kitchen and got off of her, kicking her in the side to encourage her to get up quickly. “Oy, clean this shit up. This is punishment for causing me trouble.”

Yui started to get to her feet but was pushed over again, eliciting a humorless chuckle from the man above her. “Did I say you could stand up? Crawl like the sow you are,” a shadow seemed to cast over his gaze and he crossed his arms, waiting for her to do as he asked. The girl trembled, her lip quivering, but she crawled on all fours, picking up the broken glass and scooping the ruined dessert into the trash with her hands. She reached for a towel but Yuma stopped her again, leaning over to lick the sugary mix off of her hands. A light blush crossed over her face as her body reacted to his touch. A smirk formed over Yuma’s lips as he pulled a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit before biting down, mixing her blood with the taste of sugar once more.

He groaned, the overindulgent taste comforting a piece of him. He sucked a little more harshly and a squeak left Yui’s mouth, causing her to panic and scramble an apology before Yuma chuckled again. “It seems your body does know who it belongs to, hm?” He used his nails to rip the apron off of her body, signaling her to use that instead of a towel to clean the remainder of the mess. She did so and once completed with the task she folded the fabric and placed it in the hamper she had placed in the kitchen next to the trash. She was nervous to do anything to set Yuma off, so she waited to see if he was pleased enough to let her stand back up.

He grabbed something off the counter that she couldn’t quite see and beckoned her to stand. “Come on, up!” he patronized her as though he were talking to a pet. Once she stood before him, he placed a sour dried lemon into her mouth and closed her mouth around it, cupping his hand over her lips to keep it there. “Mmn!!” her mouth puckered instantly and she screwed her eyes shut. It was a particularly sour lemon and it was almost painful in the way it pulled the saliva to her mouth. “There, there. Keep it there, we’re not done. Not by a long shot…”

She was led back to his room, where the door was locked behind them as soon as they entered. Not that it mattered anyway, but it was more of a subtle warning. He stood her in the middle of the room, circling around her before stopping in front of her again, moving to rip off the remainder of her clothing, leaving her completely naked and vulnerable before him. He leaned forward to lap up the blood that was cooling on her skin from the wound he had made earlier. He dug his fingers into the cut, re-opening the slit enough to let fresh blood ooze over the old blood. He led her backward as he attached his lips to the wound, the bed shaking when they fell back onto it.

“Aaah, I can’t get used to it. Haah, you’re sweeter than sugar…I just want to drink, and drink, and drink until there’s nothing left,” he gasped, continuing his ministrations on her searing laceration. The pain had just started to dull before he dug his fingers in to re-open it, and the new wave of pain made Yui feel dizzy. Yuma moaned against her collarbone, the sensation vibrating against her chest. He reached up to smack her across the face when he noticed she was slipping and he pulled away from her tempting blood. He didn’t want her to lose consciousness quite yet. Not until he’d had his full of her. She chewed the lemon slice in her mouth, the sourness of it pulling her consciousness from its foggy haze before she finally swallowed it, freeing her mouth.

“I’ll remind you tonight that you belong to me,” he moved to stand next to the bed, grabbing her by the hair to drag onto the floor. “On your knees, sow.” He was still speaking coldly toward her, the pent up anger still coursing through his body. He undid his belt, but did not drop it, instead he left it bunched in his left hand, and he stared down at her submissive position. Another smirk crossed his lips as he undid his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. He kicked out of the lower garment and gingerly pumped himself with his injured hand.

“I’ll give you a chance to say you’re sorry,” he breathed, guiding her mouth to his aching member. Her blood and crying face had gotten him excited. As she wrapped her lips around his member, he leant down to wrap the belt around her throat. “Go on, be a good girl, ok?” his words were a warning for her not to do anything to displease him, and he gave the belt a tug for good measure. The constriction around her throat was strange as she took his length into her mouth.

She bobbed her head along his cock, the tears on her face were dried to her cheeks and there were bits of blood smeared and caked across her chest and some patchy areas of her throat. Her saliva was thick from sucking on the lemon slice moments before, and she relaxed the back of her throat, taking him all the way to the base as best she could. The action of servicing the vampire was starting to excite Yui, and she felt a warm sensation starting to grow in her own body as Yuma bucked his hips against her mouth, using her body to pleasure himself.

He pulled her off of him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you’ve had enough punishment yet,” he murmured, guiding her to lie over his lap, her head draped down toward the floor with her ass nestled right over his knees. He took the belt into his right hand and folded it over before he brought it down on her smooth skin with a crack.

“Aah, Yuma!” Yui cried out in surprise. Although she had an inkling of what he was up to when he draped her over his knee. It was humiliating and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. He struck down again, alternating the location of the strike to an uncovered area of flesh each time until her entire bottom felt raw and on fire. Little welts from where he let the buckle strike her flesh decorated her rear end and she knew that it was going to be uncomfortable to sit for a few days.

Yuma didn’t stop until another wave of tears fell from those pink eyes of hers. He soothed the irritated skin with his hand, massaging his hands into the fat of her ass. “That’s better, isn’t it? Know your place, and I’ll be gentle with you, hm?” his voice was softer than it had been earlier, but another part of him was hard and pressing against Yui’s lower belly in the position she was in.

He suddenly hoisted the young woman back onto the bed, settling her near the headboard. He removed his shirt before crawling over her body, already positioning himself to enter her. She was going to voice a protest but feared he may be rougher with her if she tried to dissuade him from going at his pace for now. She bit down on her lip as he rocked forward, stretching her insides around him. “This is still a punishment,” he breathed, watching her face contort in pain as he pushed into her slowly, not wanting to hurt her too badly but wanting her to feel discomfort.

Yui took in a shaky breath and nodded compliantly, a wave of pleasure shooting through her as she saw his face relax as the warmth of her pussy enveloped him. Even though he said it was a punishment, he was moving very slowly, and she felt a pang tug at her heartstrings. She lifted a leg cautiously, still adjusting to his thick length that was pulsating inside her with desire. She moaned softly at the spark of pleasure that jolted through her at the change in angle. Yuma let out a rumbling chuckle, “You’re already so wet…Oy, did you get excited from your punishment?”

He shifted and lifted her legs up, resting them against his shoulders as he watched his cock glide in and out of her wet heat. The sound of the two of them joining together was embarrassing, and Yui wanted to bury her face in her hands but she stayed put, a bright flush covering her face. Yuma’s strong hands were holding her legs in place and he was enjoying himself, watching the act of fucking her.

The erotic nature of the sight was exciting him further and he leaned forward, pressing her legs toward her chest as he took her arms and pinned them above her head with one hand. He pressed his weight against the hands beneath him and used his free hand to fondle her breast before he picked up the pace of his ravishing. Yui turned her head to the side, writhing beneath him and chanting his name like a prayer, over and over. It was as though she had forgotten all words aside from his name. Aside from Yuma. “Yeah? Does it feel good? Yuma, it’s Yuma who makes you feel like this, hm?” he moaned breathily, watching her with a lecherous gaze, “I’ll make sure your body never forgets just who you belong to. You’re going to give everything to me, do you understand?”

He latched onto her neck again, sinking his fangs into her flesh once more as he started to pound her into the mattress. If any of his brothers were awake they could most likely hear the banging of his bed against the wall and Yui’s cries as he took her. He didn’t care, and in fact, it only made him want to do it rougher. He leaned back once more, digging his nails into her hips and lifting her onto his cock, angling himself deep inside of her. Yui’s hands scrambled to grab onto the wall above her head as she pressed the back of her head into the mattress, arching up into the man above her. As soon as she felt his seed shoot inside of her, searing her insides, she climaxed around him. The overall sensation driving her over the edge with him.

Yuma caught his breath, and leaned back down to latch onto her neck once again. “Yuma! I’m gonna pass out,” Yui protested weakly, her vision already becoming hazy around the edges after her orgasm had ripped through her body. She was already anemic due to his never-ending thirst and she wasn’t sure if she could handle much more.

“Then pass out,” he murmured against her throat, gulping more of her down. He paused, looking down at her with serious eyes, “You’re not going anywhere tomorrow anyway. You’re not leaving this house again.” Those were the last words she heard before the world became muddy and thick like molasses. Her body became limp in his arms as he slowly finished drinking from her, rolling over to lie beside her. His body felt surprisingly sore after fighting with Akio and he wondered if it had to do with the blade that he used. It was something he would have to figure out later, however, one thought remained as the tendrils of sleep began to pull him to sleep: I’m going to kill him.

#usagiwrites #fanfic #fanfic request #diabolik lovers #yuma mukami #I'd say this is light yandere #cliffhanger #I actually thought about continuing something with this but I'm not sure #lolol #original character I guess #I can't write fight scenes to save my life so I'm aware it's a bit cliche #legit I was gonna have Yuma eat him and bring part of his body back to show Yui #but then I was like #I could have fun with this character alive #idk #I hope it's ok #if I write another chapter Yuma's gonna take a chunk out of him

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

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Now that Tuesday is here, I’ve got a brand new talentswap for the week! The ice to last week’s fire, it’s Myth, the Former Ultimate Ice Skater!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth has been exposed to ice skating ever since she was little, which makes sense considering her parentage. Myth’s mother happened to be a famous figure skater and skating coach back in her home country of Ukraine, until she settled down and married Myth’s father, a fellow American ice skater. According to many critics, Myth’s ice skating style managed to pay homage to her mother’s ice skating style, while still providing her own unique spin on it. Her fanbase often refers to her as “Aurora Incarnate”, for her mysterious style and the main color scheme of her figure skating outfit. Winning plenty of international tournaments, as well as being a viral sensation was what earned Myth her application to Hope’s Peak. Even when she became a Former Ultimate, Myth still didn’t give up on her primary passion.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate VS. Debater

Myth and Wyre have been best friends ever since childhood, and they’ve continued being friends even after becoming viral sensations in completely different domains. Myth occasionally guest stars on Wyre’s web series, “WHO SHALL CONQUER?!”, an edutainment web series about pitting historical and prehistorical powerhouses together, and debating about who would win.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Procrastinator

For someone with such a listless talent, Anon Scar, or as she calls herself, “The Timemaster”, has a flair for theatrics that could rival the many figure skaters throughout Myth’s 10+ year old career. Myth wonders how someone with so much energy in her performance could be so lazy in every other aspect of life, no matter how many times that Scar refers to it as “waiting for just the right time”.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Puzzle Solver

Fusion got famous by both being on and winning multiple puzzle game shows, in order to win the prize money for his family. Fusion and Myth quickly bonded and have a mutual respect for each other, having seen each other’s performances on TV multiple times. They also regularly exchange advice on how to chill their nerves for TV appearances.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Essayist

Fusion II and Myth have a bit of a neutral relationship, considering their contrasting domains. Fusion II can regularly be found hutched over her computer, typing out long essays at incredible speeds. Myth, at times, can’t help but be concerned for this girl’s sleep schedule, considering that she subsists off of coffee to get through the rest of the day, and dismisses people’s concern for her with sarcastic comments.

Just Anon, Ultimate Astronomer

A natural scientific prodigy, Janon can usually be found outdoors, on an air mattress and blanket and staring up at the night sky. Janon regularly claims that it is “research”, but to everybody else, he‘s just being lazy. Because of Janon’s cynical and apathetic attitude, Janon doesn‘t get along with anybody, let alone Myth. But hopefully, Myth can find a heart of gold, hidden within Janon’s moon bunny hoodie.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Romantic

Sparkle and Myth get along with each other very well. This can be attributed to their shared flair for theatrics and love for all things romantic. Myth is currently teaching Sparkle how to ice skate, allowing for some romantic moments to spark between them. Sparkle was thinking of performing ”THE SPECTACULAR SPARKLE MEETS AURORA INCARNATE (ON ICE)”, when she fully masters the art of ice skating.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Trivia Master, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Voice Actor

Despite what the duo’s innocuous talents would suggest, the Freak Twins are a presence to be feared at the Kibo-Con. Whether it‘s Wet Sock’s abrasive attitude and creepy voice, or Egg‘s flippant attitude and wide disposal of cursed trivia, very few Anons can actually tolerate the two’s presence. Even the chill Myth nervously excuses herself when this cursed duo enters the room and begin conversing with her.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Speedreader

Because of Curious’ obscurity outside of their hometown and their stoic and unflappable demeanor, very little is actually known about Curious. Myth very quickly bonded with Curious over their shared love of literature and their chill attitudes. However, you’d think that an avid reader of romantic novels would be quicker on the uptake when it comes to the rare affections of a certain cynical space geek.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Surgeon

Despite pursuing a talent in the medical field, Nerd‘s has a short temper, a rude and hostile attitude and a foul mouth. However, Myth’s mother didn’t raise a quitter, and no matter how many times Myth was threatened with a cyanide injection or an open-heart surgery without anaesthetic, Myth still continues to be an absolute and total flirt towards this high-strung medical prodigy, in hopes that Nerd would loosen up and just accept his feelings for Myth.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Personal Assistant

Despite Eldritch’s small size and frail build, Eldritch compensates for it by being quick and efficient with the various tasks assigned to him by others. Myth thinks that Eldritch would make a great speed skater and wishes to tutor the pint-sized secretary. However, Eldritch doesn’t seem to trust anyone or even anything, which is ironic given his talent. However, Myth will do whatever it takes to open up the heart of this paranoid personal assistant.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Ornithologist

Having an interest in nature ever since she was little, this hyperactive and bouncy birdwatcher wishes to jump up and fly, just like the birds she loves so much. Dream likens Myth’s performances to a bird in flight, and Myth is definitely flattered by that comparison. Dream, like Sparkle, is also being given ice skating lessons by Myth, for which she takes like a duck to water, proving to be a natural at it very quickly.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist

Iris, despite what her talent would suggest, is very energetic and optimistic. Most of Iris’s conspiracy theories revolve around the possibilities of alien life living among us, which she uses as an excuse to treat everyone as a friend, even people like Janon and the Freak Twins. Following in the lead of Dream and Sparkle, Iris also attempted to ice skate. However, unlike with Dream, the continuous lessons have merely resulted in a bruised behind and legs, but she is still learning and trying her best, and Myth can’t fault her for that.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Palaeontologist

Despite her timid personality and complex vocabulary, Purple Anon’s academic journals are heavily respected by various academic circles. Myth actually recognises Purple from her occasional guest-appearances on Wyre’s debate channel, offering Wyre knowledge on the capabilities of dinosaurs and other prehistoric life. Apart from Wyre, the only other person that Purple really talks to is Fusion, her translator and psuedo-bodyguard. Most of Myth’s information about Purple comes from either Wyre or Fusion.

This series mostly revolves around these two BFFs and viral sensations meeting up with other viral sensations.

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APPEARANCE

IceSkater!Myth wears a figure-skating dress with a pink to purple to blue gradient as you go down, which is how she got the nickname of “Aurora Incarnate“. Over that, she wears a grey hooded jacket with the same-collared gradient as her dress on each sleeve. Her jacket also has snowflake drawstrings and a bi pride badge on her right lapel. On her feet, she wears grey stockings and white sneakers with a rainbow-gradient tongue and sole. She wears her purple-dyed hair in a smooth ponytail, held in place by a light blue scrunchie with a snowflake clip. She keeps her glasses from the original design.

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PERSONALITY

Myth has what could best be described as a ”gap moe” personality. On the rink and in front of an audience, IceSkater!Myth is cool, calm and collected, able to pull off the most complex moves with ease. Off of the rink and behind the scenes however, IceSkater!Myth is a massive dork, with an equally massive teasy side. IceSkater!Myth is also very determined. If she doesn’t perfect a move on the first try, she’ll spend all night at the rink perfecting the move. IceSkater!Myth is also happy to teach her underclassmen all about ice skating if they wanted to try it. She is patient as well, making her the perfect instructor for inexperienced skaters. ——————————————————

Yeah, I knew it was about time that I did a talentswap with the Anon KG talents, so I’ve chosen Ice Skater for this week’s talentswap! I’ve partially based IceSkater!Myth’s mom and dad off of Viktor and Yuuri from Yuri On Ice, respectively. Let me hear your thoughts on the AU, if you have any!

-Fusion Anon

—

This is so freaking cool, I think in another life I would’ve been an ice skater! Or, at least, I like to think I would be ^^’ meanwhile my dad is the only one in my fam who actually knows how to skate lol

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mirrerover · 4 years

Text

Shipyard Stars

Spock’s bedroom on Earth would be called spacious by almost everyone’s standards. His parents allocated him almost the entire third level in the building -adequate room to meditate, study, and exercise- upon their arrival one year ago. His father out of practical reasons, his mother for reasons Spock believes might be partially grounded in emotions. Perhaps guilt for uprooting his life on Vulcan. Or out of an impulse to cosset him as human mothers are prone to. Both unnecessary.

The space is minimal and open, per Vulcan tradition, but never seems as small as it does with James Tiberius Kirk at the centre of it. With Jim comes a presence that seems to large to be contained by his adolescent body. Jim is a bright blaze of fire and gold, feelings boldly crackling in the air around him in a way that would be considered shameful on Spock’s home planet. But there’s never shame in the kaleidoscope of Jim’ many human emotions. Only anger.

Spock observes Jim from his mat on the floor. He had been meditating when interrupted by Jim climbing in through the window to unapologetically rummage through his drawers. Jim has taken to keeping many of his things at Spock’s place where they cannot be confiscated by his mother or teachers. A safe place as Spock’s parents haven’t entered his room or gone through his possessions without his explicit permission since he was four.

“May I enquire to the reason for your presence?”

Jim turns over one of his data pads in his hand before depositing it back where he found it.

“They’re sending her up soon.”

After a year on Earth, Spock has become very familiar with how humans will eschew clear and concise language in favour of a mixture of verbal and nonverbal cues. Jim in particular will start every conversation somewhere in the middle, brain ten steps ahead of his words, confident Spock will catch up to him. This time it’s easy. The newest addition to the fleet has been nearly all that Jim has spoken of these last few months.

“The final stages of assembly will require the ship to be in orbit.”

Jim’s bright blue eyes lock with Spock’s briefly before he returns to his task of depositing and retrieving his belongings in Spock’s space at will.

“It’ll be impossible to get to her up there.”

Spock knows this to be the truth. But he has also learned that for however loud and brash Vulcans and humans alike might consider Jim to be, the things Jim does not say or do can be just as telling.

“You do not possess access clearance to it on Earth either.”

Jim sighs and rolls his eyes towards the heavens, indicating that he finds Spock particularly obtuse at this moment. The gesture used to irk Spock. Maybe it still would if he wasn’t trained from a young age in controlling such a feeling because –despite Jim possessing a remarkable mind compared to his human peers— Spock has been at the top of his classes for his entire life, even back on Vulcan where his genetic heritage was thought to put him at a disadvantage. And these days he’s more aware of Jim’s tendency to manipulate others into action by appealing to their baser instincts. Like pride.

“Y’know, I’ve found that a lot of the times it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

There’s a tremor in Spock’s eyebrow that has started to plague him ever since his family moved to Iowa.

“You are choosing short term gratification over long-term gains. Your freedom gets reduced every time you break the rules people set for you.” Jim seems completely preoccupied with packing his bag while Spock considers this a notion worth his attention. “Some might call that short-sightedness.”

The tool Spock gifted Jim for his birthday, a scanner of Vulcan technology that had made Jim come alight upon receiving it, is shoved into the bottom of his bag.

“She would never let me.”

Spock has little doubt that Admiral Winona Kirk would not grant access to two members of the public to roam around on what was going to be Starfleet’s most technological advanced ship in the fleet. Regardless of one of them being her youngest son. Or the other the son of one of their most important foreign diplomats.

Still.

“You should address your query through the proper channels.”

“What’s the point of proper channels if they’re not gonna listen anyway? All that’ll accomplish is tipping them off.” Jim zips the bag closed with unnecessary force and smiles a smile that Spock isn’t sure could be qualified as a smile at all. A sharp and cutting thing showing teeth but no happiness. “Wouldn’t be the same anyway. There’s a difference with having to make do with what people give you and just going out there and capturing it.”

Spock has noticed a growing fascination on Jim’s part with stealing, both in the literal and metaphorical sense, that he firmly resolves to curb in the future.

“I agree,” Spock says, eyes firmly locked with Jim’s. “Things freely given and things taken by force cannot be considered the same.”

Silence can be even louder than words when wielded by James Tiberius Kirk. He lets his gaze wander pointedly across Spock’s room and the sophisticated educational tools provided within it. Material possessions that Spock doesn’t share with anyone but Jim.

“Some are given more than others.”

Jealousy. An emotion even humans strive to repress. But Spock knows that it doesn’t drive Jim as much as it controls many other humans he has encountered. Fairness. Injustice. Those are the primary motivators of Jim’s anger even at his relatively young age.

“Yes,” Spock acknowledges. “We are not born equal.”

There’s a pause to Jim, as if he’s deciding whether he will allow Spock's acknowledgement of his world view to kill the momentum of his growing anger. Within their time together, Spock has become apt at sensing and steering Jim’s moods in a way no one else in Jim’s life has. And Jim, possessing great skill at picking people’s motivations apart himself, seems to constantly swing between joy at being known by Spock and fearful rebellion at being so completely seen by another person.

Vulnerability. Jim hardly ever shows it like he does now, body still and voice soft: “What if this is my only chance? To be on a ship like her?”

Fear. Spock has discovered that in Jim fear and anger run close at times. Sometimes Jim chooses anger because he prefers it over the cold touch of fear. Fear at not living up to his parents, fear of never leaving Iowa, fear of never exploring the stars. His dreams slowly suffocating between the endless oppressive stretches of corn until they die.

“You’ll serve aboard many star ships when you join Starfleet,” Spock says decisively. Like there is no doubt Jim will join the ranks of Earth’s primary space branch. And Spock doesn’t have any doubts. Jim has many qualities that humans admire in one another. Qualities that would even garner respect from non-humans. From Vulcans.

Spock speaks the words as he speaks all his words. Because he thinks they deserve to be heard. And even though Jim is heading towards the exit, shoulders squared like he’s already willing his soft-spoken question into a soon forgotten memory, Spock has little doubt his answer is being heard. Spock finds his own words throw back into his face by Jim in the most inopportune of moments.

“So,” Jim says, caught in the doorway like a frozen storm, “you comin’?”

Within hours of first meeting him Spock had discovered that in Jim’s world there were clear sides. His mother, verbally abusive stepfather, and other figures of authority on one side. And Jim, fierce and alone, abandoned by his older brother, on the other. But since the start Spock had recognized the falsehood of this lone wolf narrative Jim had spun for himself. Their peers are drawn to Jim; they rally behind him in his school rebellions, captivated by his charisma, and cheer him on in his revolts. The day Jim realises the full scope of his magnetism would surely prove to be… interesting.

Also, there is Spock. Where Jim goes, Spock follows, despite his human mother’s reservation and his Vulcan father’s disapproval. Spock’s presence to curtail some of Jim’s most reckless impulses could only prove to be beneficial. It is the logical choice.

So Spock rises from the bed and smooths down the creases in his robes. “I shall accompany you.”

A siren starts to blare in the distance.

“You think that’s for us?”

They’d ventured deeper into the belly of Starfleet’s future flagship than Spock had anticipated beforehand. Jim had been prepared, as Spock had known he would be, circumventing the security with his mother’s cloned Starfleet credentials. The Vulcan technology Spock had gifted Jim in the past played a key role in this deception and had immediately forced Spock to re-examine the tools deemed save to bestow upon Jim’s moral creativity and technical aptitude.

Spock tilts his head to the left in consideration. “Our breaking and entering would seem the most likely explanation for setting off the alarms to a secured facility.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees, seemingly in awe of the flashing red lights and ear-piercing shrill of the alarm bouncing off the walls in increasing urgency.

Then Jim does something so illogical it stuns. He laughs, deep and boisterous, shaking his frame with tremors as if his body can’t contain the wealth of mirth he’s feeling. A display of emotion so blatant it would be considered indecent back home. Unseen. Spock can feel heat rising to his cheeks.

“We should run,” Jim says when he catches his breath, pupils blown wide in excitement.

“It would be futile. The activated security measures would take too long for us to circumvent. The chance of achieving a successful escape is negligible.”

Another pearl of laughter rips from Jim’s throat. The sound tugging at a counterpart hidden somewhere deep inside that Spock keeps carefully locked behind years of rigid mental training.

“They’ll never take us alive.”

A nonsensical statement as Starfleet would never use deadly force on two adolescent children but Spock knows Jim is alluding to something else he can’t grasp the meaning of yet. Jim’s mother tongue is full of allegories and again Spock curses the language’s lack of precision and layered meanings. But Spock is yet to find a puzzle he can’t solve if he fully applies himself and he doesn’t see how a single teenage human boy could be any different.

Then Jim runs, a flash of gold down a corridor.

And Spock runs after.

@anarchisticandy @blueberrymafia, I finished a 1500 word Spirk drabble I started for you guys 2 years ago. XD

Inspired by one of our fav fics Magpie by @waldorph

#mirre writes #spirk #star trek fanfic #spirk fanfic

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blorbologist · 4 years

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Alchemist- King Lore/Drabble

Realized ‘oh shit my class is done, I can treat myself’ and by that I mean write 1.5k words ‘cause @servalspots inspired me with Celestial Lore. Also huge thanks for @jesterden for inspiring me by writing such great lore too!! <3

The array was a disaster.

Alchemist’s fur rippled against his haunches at the sight he returned to. The salt overflowed past its noted boundaries; the mercury had dribbled from its flask, the phosphorus powder crisscrossing the iron shavings. Hell, the calligraphy was all nonsense.

Worst of all, the circle was sloppy- an ellipse, by the stars, no circle! Not even complete, either, leading out and away in a sputter of white.

Smatters of chalk lead straight to a very, very scared looking cub, fur powdered with all sorts of chemicals. Alchemist knew they were each warped reflections of eachother- a lot more similar than the cub knew, barring a crucial detail.

His ears slick to the tentative start of a mane, he did his best to hold his mentor’s gaze. “I-I didn’t mean it, honest. I thought you’d want the prep done, for when you got back, and I’d seen you done it enough times.”

“Quiet.”

Alchemist had to stretch a fair bit into the shadows to grasp the cub in his jaws- he nearly spat him out again. Reagents, right. Very toxic reagents, and chalk. Struggling to hold back his spit and his prodigy, he rolled his shoulders, settling his cape to be a pleasant weight against his spine. Satisfied, or as much as he could be wanting to heave, he turned and padded back towards the mouth of the cave. The cub was silent.

As he walked, he scanned the walls of his domain. It wasn’t as clear as he’d like, this far back, but feline vision could only account for so much. Bone-white writing in chalk- equations, theorems, triple-underlined THAT WAS A STUPID IDEA, DON’T DO THIS AGAIN. All in that same scrawl, a shade better than the cub’s. But he couldn’t remember writing a stitch of it.

He backtracked once or twice, braced himself against the wall to peer at some worthwhile notes near the cave’s roof. Finding what he was looking for, he bounced slightly on his pads, jostling the cub.

“Ahhuh! Mh Mrmfrun! Urh, mrph heurh ith whtunt you where mithinh-”

“I… didn’t get a word of that, Alchemist.” the cub whispered.

“Ouh. Yh.”

Alchemist spat him out. The two spent a minute dealing with the unpleasant aftermath - Alchemist rubbing at his snout with a paw and making gagging noises, while the cub gave his messy, slobbery pelt a disheartened lick or two.

Alchemist regained some composure, cleared his throat.

“I’m, uh. Very disappointed in you.”

The cub paused mid-lick, drawing attention to very queer spots. Immediately his demeanor changed- stiff and afraid, again. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to waste so many reagents, and make a mess, and-”

“What are you talking about?” Alchemist snorted. “You’re just as curious as I was at your age, that’s a good thing. My problem is that you didn’t think first.”

“Of the consequences?”

“No.” The lion reached up, as high as his lanky legs and the wall could take him, to smack a crystal embedded there with his paw. Once, twice- it almost wheezed to life, like a dying firefly. In the periwinkle glow, the stars on their pelt winked and danced, and the rows and rows of point-form instructions and scrawled out writing were made clearer.

“You didn’t think of how to do it properly.”

The cub’s little snout scrunched up. “I… I did it like you did.”

“That’s not thinking. No Alchemist gets anywhere on pure mimicry. Because if you copy wrong, you die.”

Alchemist didn’t make the same mistake twice- he didn’t want a mouthful of fur and phosphorus. Instead, he beckoned the cub to climb onto his shoulders, nestled into the neck of his cape. Once secure, he lifted them both up.

“See, here?” He nosed towards one angry-looking scrawl.

He could almost hear the cub squinting. “Equal parts… salt… to iron.”

Alchemist nodded as lightly as he could without dislodging his charge. “Right. And why’s that?”

“To...” A pause, as the cub looked for the answer. Maybe in his head, maybe on the walls. “To balance the array, so their powers balance eachother! And so both contribute, instead of one overwhelming the other!” Sharp claws pricked through the fabric of his cape - the prodigy was grasping at him in building excitement.

“Almost!” Alchemist bucked the cub- no longer scared, the little one laughed, rolling on the cold cave floor. “If unbalanced, or not properly contained, they can cause an explosion!”

He lightly clawed at some nasty looking scorchmarks, from however long ago. His grin was wild, rivaling the cub’s. “They’re both very potent together- it’s why we need a perfectly made outer array. Or the explosion is a lot less fun, and could put us back a lot of progress.”

“By destroying supplies?”

“No!” Alchemist dropped a heavy paw on the cub’s head, messing with his ears. “By killing you!”

The cub’s enthusiasm faltered. Alchemist’s did not.

“That’s why you need to think- you’re standing on the shoulders of giants here, heir to lifetimes of failures and accidents and discoveries!”

He spun on himself, cape nearly touching his forepaws as he gazed wonderingly at the writing on the wall. It spun and made him a little sick. “Why make the same errors made before when you can skip half the learning curve, straight to progress! Half of our skill is knowing when to take the most efficient path, and turning yourself into paste is not good for any of us!”

The cub seemed to be pondering something, tail curling and uncurling in a familiar way. Alchemist almost skidded to a stop next to him, hardly feeling the cool stone beneath his paws. “We are descendants of the stars, my homunculi, my little me! Mortals with the blood of divine in our veins. Usually only smattering on our fur and eyes, yes, but so much more in us.”

The thrill, the sheer joy of this and that, of science and power, was almost addictive. No. Definitely. Definitely was.

“My little homunculi, when we see this through- we can surpass the siphoning and immorality of petty whispers, turn meteorite shards into philosopher’s stones. Use magic and science to pursue our goals, not like some sniveling, incestuous, wise-cracking-”

“That Apedemak fellow?”

Alchemist blinked - his clone’s eyes peered at him, glowing eerily in the light. Just like his, just like him, but not quite. “Yes, that one.”

His lips curved into a snarl, throwing his cloak aside with a paw.

“Fuck him. No methods, no good madness, a cheap hack.” Alchemist’s eyes narrowed, his chest heaving after the rapid-fire rant.

He’s made himself over and over, he knew. From one incarnation to the next, a successful experiment, a tweak to a viable clone-but-not that paid off and gave him results. These eyes or those eyes, these marks and eight others, too.

Not bred, made, with little vials and delicate measurements and some blood of his with its blue-silver sheen. No harm, not to anything that could live anyways at least. Give a chick teeth, give a fly face-legs, give a cub the means to drag God down and kick his ass.

If there were any problems with these methods, they would have stopped long ago… right?

“Our methods are more humane. And efficient.”

He took in a gulp of air, then reached up to dim the glowing shard.

It grew dark, but for their eyes and the fading twinkle of their pelts.

They lit up more crystals, closer to the mouth of the cave.

Alchemist and his homunculi padded from wall to wall. Chattering about the equations, occasionally dashing between connections as the cub’s mind began to pick up speed.

Alchemist watched, pleased as can be, as the chemicals were balanced, scripts rewritten, the damn elliptical array turned into a proper, perfect circle. One that wouldn’t backfire. The mess cleaned up, a proper experiment now possible.

The homunculi’s cry of joy, paws on either side of the focal point of the array, as blue electricity danced along the chalk. The components were consumed, an acrid smell in the air and billows of dark smoke pieced by bright snaps of light. Left in the center was a meteorite shard- glowing, now, levitating just slightly as it was batted at with eager paws.

The homunculi looked to Alchemist for permission, pranced out of the cave when it was given. He nosed his little floating rock, pulsing with power, calling out giddy to his family. Almost just like him- more than blood relatives, almost identical down to their marrow, all more or less far from being Alchemists.

Alchemist himself, though, felt a sense of deja-vu.

Other Alchemists had done this, maybe not every time but often enough. It tugged at his insides, roughly where he was pretty sure a kidney sat. They were him but not, some memories lost, always some improvements made (except for that one time).

He looked once more at the array. Traced each line with a paw- not touching, just drifting over the curves and corners, noting the spaces where symbols would be drawn in detail.

He knew similar circles - bastardized, drawn by genetics in the form of Rosettes. Hundreds of them, on a pelt identical to his own but for their presence. On his cub- his homunculi, yes.

The lines crossed and wavered.

They weren’t perfect circles.

He sighed.

They’d have to do.

#lioden #pride lore #alchemist #alchemy #ocs #apedemak #tw:july storyline vaguely alluded to #apedemak is Awful and Alchemist hates him but kinda for the wrong reasons

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thesorceryman · 3 years

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Possession is defined as ‘‘the belief that an individual has been entered by an alien spirit or other Para human force, which then controls that person and alters his action and identity. The word Jinn in Arabic (Alujonnu in Yoruba "borrowed from Arabic word JINN") refers to something that is (concealed and hidden from the human eyes ) in Al-Qaamoos Al’muheet ( which is the biggest Arabic dictionary of all times ) said this about the word ” JINN ” { Jannahu al-layla } which means ( the night covered him ) ( or concealed him) so this word simply means some being who is Hidden from the normal human eye. JINNS (demons or devils) are unseen creatures that are believed to exist in all major religions and have the power to possess humans and cause them harm. Jinn possession can manifest with a range of bizarre behaviors and unusual movements which could be interpreted as several different psychotic, non-psychotic mental disorders as well as feelings of the implant by foreign bodies or aliens. They do, common with humans, such as they also have the ability to, however, possess some characteristics in the ability to think and reflect. Similarly, choose between the path of good and the path of evil in the same manner as humans.

These are conscious beings, which are invisible, among the ordinary people they are known as ‘fairy’, ‘giant’, ‘genie’, ‘ghost’, ‘JINN’, ‘elf’, ‘aliens’ and various other names are given to them depending on the image they display. The people think that they are the SPIRITS of the dead people, so they try to establish contacts with them by calling them. Last but not least, these conscious beings introduce themselves as ’BEINGS FROM OUTER SPACE’ to those people whose level of knowledge is insufficient to be able to buy their stories. The JINN takes its existence, its liveliness, and its ‘self’ conscious from the absolute ‘SPIRIT’. With regards to the perfection it possesses within the consciousness, it is something that comes after the ‘HUMAN BEING’ in the whole universe. It is fully aware of its own consciousness only after it can enfold itself in the periphery (the body of light). This, in a way, can be considered as the birth of the JINNS concerning their structures.

Their death in the absolute sense takes place right at the moment of the doomed event, just like human beings. Their death in the simplest sense (i.e. the kind of death we know in general) takes place whenever their periphery (body of light) gets isolated from them at the end of their planned life span. The JINNS can understand the death of each other simply by finding out the loss of another jinni from their group. Even though their lifetimes are as long as the humans in reality, due to their structure and some properties they possess, this period could be as high as the age of 700-1000 when compared with us. In actual fact, when their life span of 60-70 years concerning their own unit of time is compared with our unit of time, we can see that it amounts to a life span of nearly 1000 years. Due to their structural behaviour, they also possess quite sophisticated potentials and some of them are even more superior to humans in terms of their conscious level. However, it is known for sure that the superior human being is much more superior to the most superior JINN. Concerning their character, they are weaker than humans. They are more inclined to display such behaviours, which can be considered as negative. In general, they deal with such activities. Despite this fact, there are also good ones among them as well as the ones who are more religious and even ones who are saints although this is very rare.

Their most significant characteristics and pleasure is to manipulate the weak points of the people, make individuals depend on them and make them do what they want, make them serve as well as worship them as if they were their servants.

So what are the ” Elemental Spirits “ ?

Elementals spirits are what some call the Nature Spirits or Devas or the Faeries . this type of Spirits have only one element to their nature usually Air, Fire, Water and Earth , so Djinns are part of the Fire Spirits.

Yes, the Spirits of the Four Elements are divided into four categories, earth, air, fire, and water. Let us look at each of them in turn.

1. EARTH: Earth spirits, that is the beings, which relate to rocks, stones, minerals, precious gems, hills, and mountains are traditionally called in English ( Gnomes ). All aspects of the solid physical structure of the planet come under their domain. Although they can be found within rocks, they also have the freedom to move around but generally stay close to the ground. They are a) Gnomes b) Kobolds c) giants d) mountain spirits, they are short about 1 to 2 feet tall and thy look old with full beard those are the Gnomes or the Ghulz, the other type are bigger and bit taller, most of them live underground, under the trees or on hilltops.

2. WATER: Water spirits are connected to all liquids, but their presence can be felt in a much more powerful way by streams, rivers, lakes, and, of course, the sea. They are traditionally known as Undines, they have males and females. but their females are shining as if wet, is female, nude and without wings, the exquisite limbs gleam through the white auric flow, the arms are particularly long and beautiful, and she waves them gracefully in her flight. She is about four feet in height and her general coloring is silvery-white, with gold stars around the head.

3. AIR: The spirits of the air are connected to all gaseous substances but like water, beings are best sensed in winds and breezes. Because air moves so quickly they can be difficult to pin down. They are known as Sylphs in tradition although the perception of a ‘fairy’ with tiny wings that can fly is a close approximation to how they appear to children.

These live in the element air and are like light in the atmosphere. Sensitive to the movement of the atmosphere, they have a sleepy consciousness. Their task is to transfer light to the plants. The stream of air caused by a flying bird creates a sound they can hear. They like birds flying through the air. Sylphs are connected to movement in space, like modeling and directing the wind. Elves (or fairies) are more connected to the expansion of life in their area.

4. FIRE: (these are what most people call the JINN ) Fire spirits can be found in volcanoes in nature but also in any fire, from candle to inferno. They are known as Salamanders or Vulcanii and are the most difficult of all of the elementals to connect with, being said to the only associate with philosophers and adepts of the magical arts.

Possession worldwide is found more commonly in women and marginalized groups and maybe a vehicle through which they can express their complaints in a context in which they can be heard. Spirit possession generally occurs in cultural contexts in which the self is more likely to be fragmented. Whether or not possession is itself seen as pathological is dependent on the cultural context in which it occurs; by no means are all cases of possession seen as signs of illness. Being possessed by demons or evil spirits is one of the oldest ways of accounting for bodily and mental disorders. The idea that spirit possession and mental illness are related has a long historical legacy.

Possessed individuals sometimes exhibit symptoms similar to those associated with mental illnesses such as psychosis, hysteria, mania, Tourette syndrome, epilepsy, schizophrenia, or dissociative identity disorder; this includes involuntary or uncensored behaviour. Since possession is not normative in Western cultures, it is the cultural context that determines the distinction between psychosis and the spiritual. Spirit possession is a culturally specific way of displaying symptoms of psychosis, dissociation, social anxiety, etc., and is a fairly global idiom of distress. That is, whereas a person with psychosis in the West may believe he is being controlled by a computer, a member of a community that beliefs in spirit possession may believe his body to be taken over by a demon.

How does JINN possess people?

1. Weak spiritual protection

2. Hexing and cursing

1. WEAK SPIRITUAL PROTECTION : The JINNS establish their connections especially with nervous women following the time they’ve given birth to a baby or during illnesses accompanied by high fever or during accidents. This is because during those periods, the brain is busy with the extra activity taking place in various parts of the body and therefore the human being simply cannot have control over the brain’s activity in a desired manner. As a result, the JINN takes over the control in the related part of the brain at that particular weak moment by becoming visible

to the person in whatever form he likes and force him/her to do whatever he desires.

Sometimes this act of forcing can take place by the impulses that the JINN sends to the part of the brain that is connected with the faculty of pain centre and making the individual feel that pain. At other times, by triggering the centre of fear, JINN could make the individual even more frightened so that the individual can do whatever they desire. Most probably, what is simply being carried out is that they send out light signals to a certain centre in the individual’s brain and therefore create the desired effect. Whenever the mediums go into a trance, they experience exactly the same situation. This is the reason why they are asked to relax and let themselves loose in the first place. Here, the objective is to decrease the control that the human being has over his

brain. In this way, the JINN desired to be contacted would be able to possess the individual more easily. In such connections, the women particularly say that the JINN becoming visible before their eyes appear as a very handsome man.

The JINNS who establish contacts openly with the women or the young girls usually marry them and have sexual intercourse with them. During these connections, the women see the JINN as a solid object and have a sexual contact with it as if it were a male from the human kind. However, as the JINN do not have a tangible solid physical body, then the following question comes to the minds.

How on earth the JINN who cannot even be transformed into a complete physical object can manage to satisfy a woman belonging to the human race during this connection?. Under such conditions, the JINN stimulate the part of sexuality centre in the brain of the woman involved and cause her to get satisfaction. As a matter of fact, all the scientists who work in the field of physiology know very well that when an electro shock is applied to a certain centre of the brain, it is possible to make that person do whatever you want. In fact, these are just the sort of contacts, which do not only take place between a woman from the human kind and a man from the class of JINNS. There can also be a sexual relation between a woman from the class of JINNS and a man from the humankind as well. Moreover, it is also said that the JINNS have homosexual contacts too. In all of these connections, the point which is usually discovered in common is that a member of the JINN makes a contact with a human being only for the purpose of fulfilling his selfish desires on the human being forcefully. In general, the people who have been forced into such positions do complain about this. These events take place without consent of the individual.

In such cases, especially when there is a connection between a woman from the human kind and a man from the class of JINNS, the woman isolates herself from the world outside and most of the time she wants to stay in a room.

2. HEXING AND CURSING: These are done by individuals who possesed power to manipulate or control JINNS to do whatever they want. In this case, the JINN is sent to forcefully ententer the body of the victim and do as it pleases. The victim will exhibit some of the symptoms listed below.

SYMPTOMS OF POSSESSION

1. Hearing voices

2. Erratic behaviour in one's words, deeds, and movement.

3. Being quick to get angry or weep with no apparent cause

4. Seeing metaphysical objects

5. Irregular menstruation in women

6. Constant headache

7. Frightening nightmares which include seeing various kinds of creatures such as ghosts, or apparitions, seeing oneself falling from a high place, seeing people in strange forms and snakes.

8. Insomnia, anxiety, and fear upon waking.

9. Talking loudly in one's sleep, or moaning and groaning.

10. Having sex in dreams.

All these symptoms still need to be examined by a professional or priest before establishing the fact that truly one is possessed by JINN through reading or divination.

Nowadays, the medical science cannot diagnose these cases and therefore they try to cure the patient by means of applying electro-shock for the sake of the positive science. However, in these cases too, hardly any result can be obtained. At the end of the electro-shock process, there is a disorder and an agitation in the brain cells of the individual causing a state of calmness. This of course does not mean that the person has been cured, it is because of the disturbance that she had due to the shock. Generally, it is seen that the people who have good healing powers can correct such situations by way of prayers, spells and ritual blown upon to the depressed person.

If you're experiencing any of the symptoms above or needs spiritual help, contact me. Follow me on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter @thesorceryman

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smuttymess · 4 years

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bts astro soulmate reading | for taylor

sign: pisces sun | gemini moon | aries rising

lover: Jeon Jungkook | soulmate: Kim Taehyung

This reading is for Taylor, a Yoongi bias who regularly gets wrecked by Taehyung. You’re my first Pisces, and a a fellow Pisces I was super excited to write this one. Maknae pairings are also pretty rare for me, so this was a particularly fun writing experience. Hope you enjoy, love!

This particular water-air-fire star sign combination is one of pure dreaminess, sensuality, intuition, and imagination. In your chart you possess a true astrological triple threat: your Sun in Pisces makes you one of the most emotionally capable beings in the Zodiac, your Gemini Moon gives you intelligence and dexterity, while your Aries rising provides a fire and drive that is almost unrivaled. As a result, With your star placements, emotions run everything within your social, work, familial and love spheres. You feel deeply, Pisces, and your passion has no bounds when paired with your determined Aries Sun, which often overrides your generally logical Gemini Moon and makes you a fiery force to be reckoned with. Your Sun and Moon makes you hard-wired for spontaneity and impulsiveness, drawing energy from platonic and romantic love above all else. Given the intensity of all three signs, you are a lover who gives their all to whoever you are with, if only for the moment - Pisces/Gemini is notoriously flighty pairing and Aries is exceptionally hard to pin down to any form of commitment whatsoever. While this combination can make you appear restless and flighty to others, deep down you are a diehard romantic, craving true partnership and emotional connection with a very special someone(s). You will not, however, settle down until you feel you have met your perfect other half - someone who respects and appreciates you and the breadth of your mystic, unconventional nature. Until then, you're happy to explore all that the world has to offer.

Your Gemini/Aries combination means you are always on the go, both physically and mentally. Generally, you go where your spirit moves you, constantly seeking out your next challenge or adventure. When something - or someone - piques your interest, you are often not too slow to act and make it known. So when a man, clad head to toe in black leather, stops his motorcycle on the street in front of you, you're interested in seeing what lies under his helmet. Words are almost lost on your when you realize how attractive he is, boyish charm beneath a strong jaw and athletic build, as he asks you for directions to a nearby restaurant. His wide, doe-eyed stare and charming, innocent smile is enough to make your Pisces heart melt, and your Aries go-getter doesn't want the interaction to stop there. Your unmatched communication skills work to get the shy man to open up, perhaps feigning an interest in motorcycles just for the hell of it. Whatever plans you had for the night (likely dinner with a friend or another commitment) are immediately on hold when mystery man introduces himself as Jeon Jungkook and you suggest teach you more about his bike when he has time. Surely, your friend will understand your tardiness, or at least you hope so - this is not the first time you've been late because of a handsome stranger and with your romantic Piscean nature it certainly won't be the last.

Over the next few weeks, once you finally pull the Virgo away from his work, you and Jungkook are able to enjoy the pleasures of a budding relationship. The Virgo/Pisces relationship is one of a slow build towards romance, the Virgo moving with full intention in everything he does without hesitating to let you know he is slow, pragmatic and deliberate when it comes to love. This works out quite well for your Aries rising, which enjoys a bit of a chase - who doesn't like a challenge? Your Gemini/Aries works in overdrive to crack the code of this enigmatic man, rather quickly your intuitive Pisces Sun seeing past his more reserved exterior. Its not uncommon for the Pisces lady to fall for her Virgo man far before he does, falling for the gentle, sensitive Venus in Libra and Jupiter in Aquarius that lies beneath the surface - a side that he keeps close to his heart. The times that you feel most connected to him are during sex, one of the few places where he fully lets go and lets himself be truly vulnerable, though he still strives for perfectionism. When Pisces and Virgo finally get together, Pisces brings the highly sensual, emotional passion wherein Virgo brings stamina, vigor, and determination. While Virgo is not known to be animalistic, Jungkook's Mars in Scorpio makes him impulsive while his Venus in Libra gives him a softness, meaning you get both a sensitive and dynamic lover. You and Jungkook are able to enjoy countless nights together in bed, the incredible strength of his body against yours as your legs rest on his shoulders while he trusts into you, his stare filled with an undeniable fire as you lock eyes and your foreheads touch. In that moment, wherein his moans become more desperate and sweet words pour from his lips that you feel you belong to each other.

When you're not having sex, the ideologies of you and Jungkook are often at odds, the differences starting off mild but becoming more pronounced as you get to each other on a deeper level. Pisces mantra is "what will be will be" while Virgo more often than not lives by "I decide what will be," and while you adore Jungkook's strength you begin to believe that he is too rigid for his own good. Though your fantastical nature and sense of unpredictability is what draws you to him, his Leo Moon and Uranus in Aries does not bode well with too much indecision, making him appear more headstrong and impatient as your relationship moves further. Over time, you begin to sense his increased frustration, occasional coldness, and Virgo moods - especially when he is under heavy stress, which happens often. Your Pisces Sun innately wants to to pull him out of his rigid ways or away from his video game, while your Gemini/Aquarius wants to flee and avoid any conflict or drama. You feel misunderstood by JK, whose Sun and Mercury in Virgo deeply values logic and rationality while you prefer to act on your emotions, resulting in frequent miscommunication that drives you into increased separation. Ultimately, your overly-contrasting approaches to life, work and love prove to be incompatible, forcing you to part ways. This is not an easy breakup, however, as you know that beneath his Virgo ego and celebrity is an emotional soul who could have been everything you wanted if he were it not for his Venus in Scorpio, marked by self-consciousness and a fear of love. A pairing of this kind is likely to stay in contact, if only to check in on each other occasionally to make sure they are healthy and well, never forgetting the emotional impact they had on one another.

After a brief retreat in your inner Pisces world, your Aries/Gemini inspires you to start a new chapter, healing through connections with new people and business prospects, your vast network opening you up to various creative initiatives. It is in one of these spaces where you're introduced to Kim Taehyung. This is a pairing that may begin first as collaborators on an intensive project - perhaps his next solo track - which requires spending a great deal of time with each other to ensure each element is perfect. A Piscean loves nothing more than a good mystery, and from the moment you meet Taehyung and see his deep, brown eyes under his curls you are highly intrigued. His earthy Capricorn Sun makes him warm but stoic in his disposition, possessing a subdued persona and a cool, quiet confidence that you can't quite figure out. You are taken aback by his intelligence, fostered by his Uranus in Capricorn, which he illustrates with calmed reason and without any ego or cockiness. In getting to know each other professionally, you bond over your shared charisma towards the unique and unconventional - his Venus in Aquarius pairing nicely with your eccentric placements. Your Pisces/Gemini combination makes you one of the most imaginative and creative people on the planet - your mind constantly racing towards your big idea. Taehyung's Neptune in Capricorn and Venus in Aquarius makes him equally creative and whimsical, becoming a true supporter of your out-of-the-box ideas. Taehyung, while perhaps not saying much, enjoys sees your mind at work and more importantly knows exactly how to harness that fire and make it bloom into tangible results. Your intuitive nature is able to target Tae's desires and come up with a myriad of possibilities for his song, making his eyes sparkle with excitement as he grows more interested in your opposing yet complimentary personas. It is unlikely that you ever could resist falling for Tae at the start, your Aries/Gemini patience wanting to jump his bones almost immediately while your Pisces struggles to let things flow and develop naturally. Unfortunately, in true ram fashion, Taehyung takes his time in pursuing anything outside of the professional space, waiting until the collaboration is over before asking you to dinner - as if you hadn't been waiting for months.

Where you are the dreamer, Capricorn Taehyung is the doer. Together, your playful souls can work together to make your many visions a reality. You inevitably fall in love with each other's minds, valuing open-mindedness and creativity on a higher level. This extends into your sex lives, A powerful trait of your Pisces nature if to bring the often stubborn Capricorn out of his shell and into your fantasy world. Any logic, reasoning, or methodology the ram may want to apply to sex goes completely out the window when in the presence of the sexually experimental, curious fish. It is your Aries/Gemini that makes the first move, your body aching for him by the time you get him into his bedroom. Tae's Moon in Aries makes him quite intense, eyes igniting with lust as you sit him down on a chair in his bed, your hands moving down the length of your neck and down your belly, stopping short of your inner thigh. You possess an innate ability to light his skin on fire with a simple touch, sauntering over to kiss him gently before you move down to his neck and his ear. Few things give you more pleasure than watching him lick his lips, his eagerness to grab your hips as you stand above him almost overwhelming. He adores the way you can completely dictate the mood, a smirk forming on his lips as he realizes he is at your mercy while he is allowed to look but not touch until you say so. Once you get him going, he is more than happy to turn the tables on you, tossing you onto your back as your robe falls own, a low growl escaping his mouth he moves in between your thighs. You practically melt when his more impulsive and powerful Uranus in Capricorn emerges, his voice deepening as he teases you mercilessly until you beg him to fill you up. Sex is always an opportunity for you to connect on a level deeper than the physical, and while this is something that the Pisces woman would typically initiate, the Capricorn lover always along for the ride. You're insatiable, love. What am I going to do with you, hmm?

Ultimately, the world you and Taehyung build together is one of whimsy and stability, water and earth coming together to create your own little world of wonder and possibility. Whenever Tae gets in his perfectionist, stubborn work modes your fiery Aries is able to to give him the space you both require, independence being a key factor in what makes this specific pairing work. He is a workaholic, and you are a go-getter, so while you may grow restless at times wanting to spend time with him, there is a mutual understanding and appreciation of this shared drive. Such respect for autonomy allows you to merge after you've checked off the many items on your to-do list and enjoy quality alone time: private, silly dance parties in your secluded home or over a glass of wine overlooking your expansive grounds overlooking acres of farmland. You two are the couple that people are curious about in your enigmatic nature, constantly wondering what you are thinking or what venture you will move on to next. At the end of the day, you do not need the world to understand everything about this love - they likely never could!

#bts #bts horoscope #bts fic #astrology #astrology readings #horoscope reading #horosope #pisces #virgo #capricorn

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