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callsigns-haze · 3 months

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Eternal embrace: Chp 1

Series set in a world where gods and mythical beings coexist, their lives intertwined by fate, duty, and love. At its heart lies the tale of Y/n, the goddess of sun, love, and war, and her journey through the trials and tribulations of divine existence.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Warning: Fluff, flirting, smut hints, mentions of war

In the heart of his realm, amidst the sprawling expanse of shadow-drenched lands, Jake stands within the towering walls of his ancient castle. Darkness clings to every stone and crevice, an ever-present shroud that veils his domain in an eerie stillness.

From the grand halls to the deepest dungeons, the darkness holds sway, casting long, twisting shadows that seem to dance and writhe with a life of their own. Yet amidst the gloom, there is a sense of quietude, a solemnity that permeates the very air.

As Jake surveys his kingdom from the balcony of his castle, his gaze sweeps across the vast expanse of his domain, taking in the sprawling forests and rugged mountains that stretch into the horizon. The night sky above is a tapestry of stars, their distant light a stark contrast to the velvety blackness that surrounds them.

But even in the depths of his solitude, Jake cannot shake the feeling of longing that gnaws at his heart. It is a feeling as ancient as time itself, a yearning for the one whose absence weighs heavily upon him, whose presence he feels like an ache in his soul.

With a heavy sigh, Jake turns away from the balcony, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls as he retreats into the darkness of his castle. Though he is surrounded by the trappings of power and majesty, there is a hollowness within him, a void that cannot be filled by the riches of his kingdom.

For in the silence of the night, amidst the whispers of the shadows, Jake finds himself haunted by memories of a love lost, a love that transcends the boundaries of their immortal existence. And as he stands alone in the darkness, he knows that until the day comes when he can once again hold Y/n in his arms, his realm will remain but a hollow shell, a mere shadow of what it could be with her by his side.

In the heart of his realm, amidst the swirling darkness that cloaks his domain, Jake stands as a solitary figure within the towering walls of his castle. The night stretches out before him like an endless expanse of obsidian, the stars above casting their cold light upon the land below.

Within the depths of his fortress, the air is heavy with a sense of foreboding, a palpable tension that hangs like a shroud. Shadows dance along the stone walls, their movements whispering secrets lost to time, while the faint echo of distant thunder rumbles in the distance, a reminder of Jake's own tempestuous nature.

As he paces the length of the grand hall, his footsteps echoing in the silence, Jake's thoughts are consumed by memories of Y/n, the goddess whose absence leaves a gaping void in his heart. Each flickering torch casts long, twisting shadows that seem to mock his longing, their jagged edges a cruel reminder of the barriers that separate them.

With a heavy heart, Jake ascends the winding staircase to the highest tower of his castle, seeking solace in the solitude of the night. From his vantage point, he surveys the land below, the darkness stretching out in every direction like a vast, unending abyss.

In the distance, a lone wolf's howl pierces the stillness of the night, its mournful cry a haunting echo of Jake's own sense of loss. For as the god of night, he is intimately familiar with the darkness that surrounds him, but it is the absence of Y/n's light that leaves him feeling truly alone.

As the hours pass and the night wears on, Jake finds himself consumed by a sense of restless longing, his thoughts drifting to the one he holds dear. And as he gazes out into the starlit sky, he knows that until the day comes when they can be reunited, his realm will remain a desolate wasteland, a kingdom ruled by shadows and haunted by the ghost of a love lost.

With a flicker of curiosity, Jake accepts the letter from the servant, its parchment worn and weathered from its journey through the night. As he breaks the seal and unfolds the missive, his eyes scan the words penned in Bradley's hand, each line carrying a weighty significance.

Bradley's call to arms comes as no surprise to Jake, for the rumblings of war have long echoed through the halls of the divine realms. Yet the urgency in his words sends a chill down Jake's spine, a grim reminder of the impending conflict that looms on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, Jake crumples the letter in his hand, the weight of his decision pressing upon him like a leaden cloak. Though his allegiance lies with his fellow gods, the prospect of joining forces with Bradley fills him with a sense of unease, for their history is fraught with tension and mistrust.

But in the face of a common enemy, Jake knows that he cannot afford to let old grievances stand in the way of their survival. With a resigned nod, he sets out to answer Bradley's summons, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the coming war will test not only their strength, but their resolve as well.

For as the darkness gathers on the horizon and the false gods amass their forces, Jake knows that the fate of their realms hangs in the balance. And though the road ahead may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, he vows to stand alongside Bradley and his fellow gods, ready to face whatever trials may come in the battle that lies ahead.

-----

As Y/n's eyes flutter open, she is met with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains, casting a warm embrace over the room. Yet, as she stirs from her slumber, a sense of disorientation washes over her, accompanied by a chill that seeps into her bones.

Instinctively, her hand reaches out to the empty space beside her, seeking the familiar warmth of Bradley's embrace. But instead of finding solace in his presence, she is met with the cold emptiness of the sheets, the absence of his warmth a stark reminder of his absence.

Confusion clouds her thoughts as she sits up, the events of the previous night slowly trickling back into her consciousness. She remembers the tender moments shared with Bradley, the whispered promises and the silent reassurances exchanged beneath the stars.

But now, as she finds herself alone in their shared chambers, a sense of unease settles in the pit of her stomach. Where has Bradley gone? And why does his side of the bed feel so cold, as though he has been absent for much longer than just a few hours?

As Y/n wraps the sheets around her form, a sense of foreboding grips her heart, a nagging fear that something is amiss. With a determined resolve, she sets out to find answers, her steps echoing through the empty halls as she searches for any sign of her beloved Bradley, praying that he is safe and sound, wherever he may be.

With each step she takes, Y/n's mind races with worry and uncertainty, the echo of her footfalls a solemn rhythm in the stillness of the morning. As she navigates the familiar corridors of their shared abode, her senses keenly attuned to any sign of Bradley's presence, her heart clenches with a growing sense of apprehension.

The silence that envelops the castle feels oppressive, suffocating, as though the very walls themselves hold their breath in anticipation of some unseen threat. Y/n's pulse quickens with each passing moment, her anxiety mounting with every empty room and deserted corridor she encounters.

Finally, she reaches the grand hall, its vast expanse bathed in the soft light of dawn streaming through stained glass windows. But even in the midst of such grandeur, there is an emptiness that lingers, a void that echoes with the absence of Bradley's familiar presence.

As she approaches the far end of the hall, her eyes fall upon a small table, upon which rests an unopened envelope bearing Bradley's seal. With a mixture of relief and trepidation, Y/n reaches out and retrieves the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly as she breaks the seal and unfolds the letter within.

As she reads Bradley's words, her heart swells with a mixture of emotions: relief, concern, and determination. The letter speaks of urgent matters, of a looming threat that requires his immediate attention. And though his absence weighs heavily upon her, Y/n knows that Bradley's duty as a god compels him to face this challenge head-on.

With a steadying breath, Y/n sets aside her own fears and resolves to stand by Bradley's side, whatever may come. For in the bond that unites them, she finds strength and courage, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to engulf them.

And so, with the letter clutched tightly in her hand, Y/n sets out to prepare for the trials that lie ahead, her resolve unshakable as she faces the uncertainty of the future with unwavering determination.

As Y/n opens the envelope, a sense of anticipation fills the air, mingling with the lingering traces of worry that have clouded her thoughts since awakening to find Bradley's side of the bed cold and empty. Her fingers delicately unfold the letter, revealing Bradley's familiar handwriting inscribed upon the parchment.

As she reads his words, a mixture of relief and concern washes over her. Bradley's message speaks of impending danger, of a looming threat that casts a shadow over their realm. Yet amidst the urgency of his tone, there is also a reassurance, a reminder of his unwavering commitment to their cause.

With each passing sentence, Y/n's resolve strengthens, her determination to stand by Bradley's side unwavering in the face of adversity. Though his absence weighs heavily upon her heart, she knows that their bond is stronger than any obstacle they may face.

As she reaches the end of the letter, Y/n feels a sense of purpose settle over her, a clarity of vision that banishes the lingering doubts and fears that have plagued her mind. With a deep breath, she folds the letter once more, tucking it safely away as she prepares to face the challenges that lie ahead.

For in Bradley's words, she finds not only guidance but also hope—a beacon of light in the darkness that threatens to engulf them. And as she sets out to join him in the battle that looms on the horizon, Y/n knows that together, they will overcome whatever trials may come, their bond as unbreakable as the dawn that heralds a new day.

With each word she reads, Y/n feels a surge of emotions welling up within her—relief that Bradley is safe, concern for the danger that looms ahead, and a fierce determination to stand by his side no matter the cost. As she absorbs the gravity of the situation outlined in the letter, her mind races with plans and strategies to aid Bradley in facing the impending threat.

With a steady hand, she folds the letter once more, tucking it away as she rises from her seat with purpose. The weight of responsibility settles upon her shoulders, but she wears it with a resolute determination, ready to meet the challenges that lie ahead.

Before she sets out to join Bradley, Y/n takes a moment to gather her strength, drawing upon the power of her divine heritage. As the goddess of sun, love, and light, she channels the warmth of her domain, allowing its radiant energy to suffuse her being with courage and resolve.

With each breath, Y/n feels her spirit lift, her heart alight with the flames of determination. She knows that the road ahead will be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she also knows that she does not face it alone.

With one last glance around the room, Y/n steps out into the dawn, her gaze fixed upon the horizon where Bradley awaits. Though the journey ahead may be perilous, she walks it with her head held high, her faith in their bond unshakeable and her resolve unwavering.

For as long as there are stars in the sky and love in her heart, Y/n knows that she will persevere, standing side by side with Bradley as they face the darkness together, their souls bound by a love that transcends even the greatest of trials.

------

In the solemn grandeur of Jake's throne room, the air thick with anticipation, Bradley and Jake sit side by side, their expressions grave as they discuss the looming threat that hangs over their realms. Shadows dance along the walls, casting a flickering light upon the ancient tapestries that adorn the chamber.

"You see, Jake," Bradley starts, his voice low and tinged with concern, "I've been hearin' whispers, rumors spreadin' like wildfire among the gods. Seems High Lord Maverick's tryin' to sweep this whole war business under the rug, keepin' it hush-hush from the rest of us."

Jake's brow furrows in contemplation as he leans forward, his eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion. "And ya reckon there's any truth to these rumors, Bradley?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble that reverberates through the room.

"Aye, that's what's got me worried," Bradley responds, his tone sombre. "Javy, the god of fire, and his missus, Phoenix, they're thinkin' the same thing. Been hearin' whispers among the flames, secrets that can't stay hidden forever."

At that moment, the doors to the throne room burst open, and in strides Javy, his fiery presence filling the chamber with an undeniable intensity. "Bradley ain't wrong, Jake," he declares, his voice crackling with the heat of his conviction. "We've been keepin' an eye on this whole situation, and somethin' just don't sit right."

Beside him, Phoenix nods in agreement, her eyes blazing with determination. "The flames don't lie, Jake," she adds, her voice as fierce as the infernos she commands. "There's a storm brewin', and if we don't act fast, it'll consume us all."

As the weight of their words settles upon them, Bradley, Jake, Javy, and Phoenix exchange a knowing glance, a silent pact forged in the crucible of their shared determination. For in the face of adversity, they stand united, ready to confront the darkness that threatens to engulf their world and defend it with every fiber of their being.

And as they rise from their thrones, their resolve unyielding and their spirits alight with the flames of defiance, they know that the battle ahead will be long and arduous. But with their strength combined, they stand ready to face whatever trials may come, for they are gods, and together, they are unstoppable.

As they stand together in the midst of Jake's throne room, a heavy silence descends upon them, each god contemplating the gravity of the situation that has brought them together. The flickering torches cast long shadows that dance across the walls, a silent testament to the uncertainty that looms on the horizon.

Finally, it is Jake who breaks the silence, his voice resonating with a quiet determination. "We cannot afford to ignore these warnings," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his authority. "If Maverick truly seeks to deny the reality of this war, then we must act swiftly to uncover the truth."

Bradley nods in agreement, his features set in a determined expression. "Aye, we must gather our allies and prepare for the worst," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of tension that fills the room.

Javy steps forward, his fiery gaze burning with a fierce resolve. "I'll rally the flames to our cause," he declares, his voice crackling with the heat of his conviction. "Together, we'll bring light to the darkness and expose Maverick's deceit for all to see."

Phoenix adds her voice to the chorus of determination, her fiery spirit unyielding in the face of adversity. "And I'll stand by your side, Javy," she vows, her eyes flashing with unwavering resolve. "For where there is fire, there is also renewal and strength."

With their plans set in motion, the four gods exchange a solemn nod, a silent promise to stand united in the face of whatever challenges may come their way. For they know that the road ahead will be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but with their strength combined, they are prepared to face whatever trials may come.

And as they prepare to embark on their journey, their hearts filled with determination and their spirits alight with the flames of defiance, they know that together, they are unstoppable. For they are gods, and in the face of darkness, they will shine as beacons of hope and strength for all who stand beside them

As Jake turns to Bradley, a flicker of concern crosses his features, his eyes searching for reassurance in his companion's gaze. "What of Payback, Fanboy, and Bob?" he inquires, his voice tinged with a note of urgency. "Will they join us in our cause?"

Bradley's brow furrows as he considers Jake's question, his mind racing with possibilities. "Aye, they're key players in this game," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of responsibility that hangs heavy upon his shoulders. "I'll reach out to them, make sure they're aware of the danger that lurks in the shadows."

With a resolute nod, Jake acknowledges Bradley's words, a silent understanding passing between them. In times of crisis, alliances must be forged and alliances must be honored, for the fate of their realms hangs in the balance.

And so, with a shared determination, Bradley sets out to seek the aid of Payback, the god of water, Fanboy, the god of animals, and Bob, the god of nature. For in their unity lies the strength to confront the darkness that threatens to engulf their world, and together, they will stand as guardians against the tide of chaos and destruction.

With a hint of hesitation, Jake casts a wary glance at Bradley, his expression betraying the weight of his next question. "And what of... Y/n?" he asks, the name lingering on his lips like a whispered prayer. "Do you think she will join us in this fight?"

Bradley's gaze softens at the mention of Y/n's name, a flicker of empathy shining in his eyes. He understands the complexities of their relationship, the bonds that tie them together even in the face of adversity. "I reckon she will," he replies, his voice gentle yet resolute. "Y/n may be the goddess of sun, love, and light, but she's got a fierce spirit when it comes to protectin' what she holds dear."

Though his heart is heavy with uncertainty, Jake nods in acknowledgment of Bradley's words, a silent acknowledgment of the truth they hold. For Y/n's allegiance is not easily won, but when the call to arms sounds, she has always answered with unwavering courage and resolve.

And so, with a shared understanding of the challenges that lie ahead, Bradley and Jake prepare to reach out to Y/n, knowing that her strength and determination will be invaluable in the battles to come. For in the unity of gods and goddesses lies the strength to face even the darkest of days, and together, they will stand as beacons of hope in the face of adversity.

With a heavy heart, Jake takes a moment to steel himself before continuing. "Y/n's loyalty lies with her realm and her people," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "But war... it changes things. I can only pray that she sees the necessity of our cause."

Bradley nods in understanding, his expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. "Aye, war has a way of bringin' clarity to even the most uncertain of hearts," he agrees, his voice tinged with a note of solemnity. "I'll extend the invitation to her, but ultimately, the decision rests with her."

As they contemplate the uncertain future that awaits them, a sense of resolve settles over them, a shared determination to face whatever challenges may come their way. For in the face of darkness, they know that their only hope lies in standing united, gods and goddesses alike, against the forces that seek to tear their world apart.

And so, with a silent vow to stand by each other's side no matter the cost, Bradley and Jake prepare to reach out to Y/n, their hearts heavy with anticipation and their spirits alight with the flames of hope. For in the unity of gods and goddesses lies the strength to overcome even the greatest of trials, and together, they will face the darkness that threatens to engulf their world with unwavering courage and resolve.

As Bradley and Jake brace themselves for the task ahead, a sense of urgency fills the air, mingling with the palpable tension that hangs between them. With a deep breath, Bradley turns to Jake, his gaze steady despite the uncertainty that clouds their path.

"We'll need to approach Y/n with caution," Bradley suggests, his voice measured yet resolute. "She's a goddess of many realms, and her allegiance may not come easily."

Jake nods in agreement, his expression grave as he considers the weight of their request. "We must appeal to her sense of duty," he replies, his voice tinged with a note of determination. "For the sake of our people, and the future of our realms, she must stand with us."

With a shared understanding of the task that lies ahead, Bradley and Jake prepare to reach out to Y/n, knowing that their words may shape the course of their world. For in the face of adversity, they know that unity is their greatest strength, and together, they will stand as guardians against the darkness that threatens to consume them all.

As Bradley and Jake venture forth to find Y/n, their footsteps echoing through the halls of her divine realm, they are filled with a sense of purpose, yet tinged with apprehension. It has been years since Y/n and Jake last crossed paths, and the weight of their reunion hangs heavy in the air.

Finally reaching Y/n's domain, they pause at the threshold, the warmth of her golden light spilling into the corridor. As they step forward, they can't help but feel a pang of uncertainty at the prospect of facing the goddess after so long.

Y/n turns to greet her unexpected visitors, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to stunned disbelief as her eyes fall upon Jake. For a moment, time seems to stand still as the enormity of the moment sinks in.

"Jake..." Y/n breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, disbelief and wonder mingling in her tone. "Is it really you?"

Jake meets her gaze, his own filled with a mixture of longing and regret. "Yes, Y/n," he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me."

The air crackles with tension as they stand before each other, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy between them. Memories of their past flood back, stirring emotions long buried beneath the surface.

But amidst the turmoil of their reunion, there is also a sense of hope, a glimmer of possibility that perhaps, despite the passage of time, they can find a way to move forward—together.

With a shared understanding of the significance of their reunion, Bradley and Y/n exchange a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of their situation. And as they prepare to face the challenges that lie ahead, they do so with the knowledge that, no matter what may come, they will confront it together, united in their determination to protect their realms and forge a brighter future.

As Y/n's initial shock begins to subside, she finds herself grappling with a flood of emotions—joy at seeing Jake again after all these years, but also a tinge of sadness for the time lost between them. Memories of their shared past swirl in her mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Y/n admits, her voice trembling with emotion as she takes a hesitant step forward. "So much has changed since you left."

Jake meets her gaze, his expression filled with a mixture of regret and longing. "I know, Y/n," he replies, his voice soft with sincerity. "I never stopped thinking about you, even after all this time."

Their eyes lock in a moment of shared understanding, the weight of their past bearing down upon them like an invisible burden. But amidst the pain of their separation, there is also a glimmer of hope—a chance for reconciliation, for forgiveness, for a new beginning.

With a deep breath, Y/n gathers her resolve, her heart heavy yet hopeful as she faces the uncertainty of their reunion. "I want to believe that things can be different this time," she confesses, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. "That we can find a way to move forward, together."

Jake's expression softens at her words, a flicker of warmth igniting in his eyes. "I do too, Y/n," he admits, his voice tinged with quiet determination. "But first, we must focus on the task at hand. War is coming, and we need your strength and guidance now more than ever."

With a shared nod of understanding, Y/n and Jake set aside the complexities of their past, their minds turning to the challenges that lie ahead. For in the face of adversity, they know that their bond as gods—and as allies—will be tested like never before. And as they prepare to face the trials that await them, they do so with a newfound sense of unity and purpose, ready to confront whatever obstacles may come their way, together.

As Y/n and Jake stand in the midst of their reunion, their emotions swirling like a tempestuous storm, Bradley interjects, his voice cutting through the tension with a sense of urgency.

"Forgive me for interrupting," Bradley interjects, his tone brimming with determination. "But we must focus on the task at hand. War is on the horizon, and the fate of our realms hangs in the balance."

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of their situation. Y/n and Jake exchange a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the need to set aside their personal matters in the face of the looming threat.

With a shared nod of understanding, Y/n and Jake push aside the complexities of their reunion, their minds turning to the challenges that lie ahead. For in the face of adversity, they know that their bond as gods—and as allies—will be tested like never before.

And so, with a renewed sense of purpose, they turn their attention to the task at hand, ready to confront whatever obstacles may come their way, together. For in unity lies their greatest strength, and together, they will stand as guardians against the darkness that threatens to engulf their world.

With their personal matters set aside for the moment, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley delve into the details of the impending war. Bradley wastes no time in outlining the dire situation, his words laced with urgency as he lays bare the threats facing their realms.

"The false gods are gathering their forces, and Maverick's reluctance to acknowledge the truth only exacerbates the danger," Bradley explains, his voice grave. "We need allies, and we need them now."

Y/n and Jake listen intently, their expressions reflecting the gravity of Bradley's words. They know that the stakes could not be higher—the fate of their realms hangs in the balance, and they must act swiftly to ensure their survival.

"We must rally our allies and prepare for the inevitable conflict," Jake declares, his voice ringing with determination. "Every god and goddess must stand united against this threat."

Y/n nods in agreement, her resolve unwavering. "I will do everything in my power to aid in the defense of our realms," she vows, her voice resonating with strength. "Together, we will face this challenge head-on."

With their course of action set, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley prepare to embark on their mission to gather allies and prepare for the coming war. Though the road ahead may be fraught with peril, they know that as long as they stand united, they will not falter in the face of adversity.

With their resolve firm and their purpose clear, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley set their plan into motion. They know that time is of the essence, and they waste no moment in reaching out to their fellow gods and goddesses, seeking allies in their fight against the looming threat.

Y/n takes charge of rallying the divine forces aligned with the sun, love, and light, her radiant presence inspiring hope and courage among those who look to her for guidance. With each word she speaks, she kindles the flames of determination in their hearts, igniting a fervent resolve to stand united against the darkness.

Meanwhile, Jake calls upon his allies from the realm of night, his solemn demeanor a testament to the gravity of their situation. He speaks of the shadows that lurk on the horizon, urging his fellow gods to heed the warning signs and prepare for the inevitable conflict that looms ahead.

And Bradley, ever the strategist, coordinates their efforts with precision and foresight. He reaches out to allies far and wide, weaving together a network of support that spans across realms and dimensions. His leadership is unwavering, his determination unyielding as he orchestrates their preparations for war.

Together, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley work tirelessly to gather their forces, knowing that their unity is their greatest strength in the face of adversity. For they understand that only by standing together, as gods and goddesses united, can they hope to emerge victorious against the darkness that threatens to engulf their world.

As their preparations for war intensify, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley find themselves immersed in a whirlwind of activity. They convene councils of gods and goddesses, forging alliances and devising strategies to counter the threat posed by Maverick and the false gods.

In the divine halls where they gather, tensions run high as disagreements arise over tactics and allegiances. Yet amidst the chaos, Y/n remains a beacon of calm and clarity, her unwavering presence a source of inspiration for all who stand beside her.

Jake lends his expertise in reconnaissance and espionage, using his mastery of shadows to gather intelligence on the enemy's movements. His insights prove invaluable, providing crucial information that allows them to anticipate their adversary's next move.

Meanwhile, Bradley oversees the logistical aspects of their preparations, ensuring that their forces are equipped and ready for battle. His strategic brilliance shines through as he coordinates the deployment of troops and resources with meticulous precision.

As the days pass and tensions escalate, Y/n, Jake, and Bradley draw strength from their shared determination to defend their realms. Though the path ahead is fraught with uncertainty, they remain steadfast in their resolve to stand united against the forces of darkness.

And as the hour of reckoning draws near, they stand shoulder to shoulder, ready to face whatever challenges may come their way. For they know that together, as gods and goddesses united in purpose, they are capable of overcoming even the greatest of obstacles.

As Y/n stands on the balcony, her gaze fixed on the horizon, a sense of calm washes over her. The city below bustles with life, yet here, high above it all, she finds solace in the quietude of the moment.

Unbeknownst to her, Jake, the god of night, moves with practiced stealth, his footsteps silent as he approaches from behind. His presence, though unexpected, does not startle her. There is a familiarity in the way he moves, a silent reassurance that she is not alone.

As he draws nearer, Y/n senses his presence, a subtle shift in the air that sends a shiver down her spine. Without turning, she acknowledges him with a small smile, her blue eyes reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun.

"Jake," she murmurs, her voice a gentle melody carried on the breeze. "I sensed you were near."

Jake steps closer, his gaze fixed on the vista spread out before them. "I couldn't resist the call of the night," he replies, his voice low and resonant. "Especially with such a captivating view."

There is a quiet understanding between them, a bond that transcends words. They may come from different realms, but in this moment, they are united by the shared weight of their responsibilities as gods.

As they stand side by side, the warmth of the sun fading into the cool embrace of the night, Y/n and Jake find comfort in each other's presence. Though the challenges ahead may be daunting, they know that as long as they stand together, they can weather any storm that comes their way.

As the evening breeze rustles through Y/n's hair, Jake's gaze drifts to the horizon, where the last traces of daylight linger on the edge of the sky. There's a sense of peace in this moment, a brief respite from the chaos of their divine duties.

For a while, they stand in silence, each lost in their own thoughts yet connected by the unspoken bond that has always existed between them. It's a rare moment of tranquility in a world fraught with uncertainty.

But as the last vestiges of daylight fade into darkness, Jake breaks the silence, his voice soft yet filled with purpose. "Y/n," he begins, his words carrying a weight that belies their simplicity, "there's something I need to say."

Y/n turns to him, her expression a curious mix of anticipation and apprehension. "What is it, Jake?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jake takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he meets her eyes. "I know we've had our differences in the past," he admits, his voice tinged with regret, "but I want you to know that I've always respected you, Y/n. And no matter what happens, that will never change."

Y/n's heart swells with emotion at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through her as she takes in the sincerity in his eyes. "Thank you, Jake," she replies, her voice filled with gratitude. "That means more to me than you know."

With a shared understanding of the bond that binds them, Y/n and Jake stand together in the fading light, their hearts filled with a newfound sense of unity and purpose. And as they turn to face the challenges that lie ahead, they do so with the knowledge that, no matter what trials may come their way, they will face them together, united in their determination to protect their realms and forge a brighter future.

As the weight of Jake's words hangs in the air, a quiet tension settles between them, thick with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Y/n can feel the intensity of his gaze upon her, a silent plea echoing in the depths of his eyes.

In that moment, she realizes that despite the passage of time and the trials they've faced, the bond between them remains unbroken. A flicker of warmth stirs in her heart, a long-buried ember reignited by the sincerity of Jake's confession.

"Jake," she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I need to tell you too."

He turns to her, his expression a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. "What is it, Y/n?" he asks, his voice filled with a quiet longing.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Y/n meets his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I've always admired you, Jake," she admits, her words imbued with a vulnerability she hadn't realized she possessed. "And despite everything that's happened, a part of me has never stopped caring for you."

The admission hangs in the air between them, a fragile thread connecting their hearts in the darkness of the night. For a moment, time seems to stand still as they grapple with the weight of their shared truth, each silently daring to hope for something more.

And then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, Y/n and Jake move closer, their hearts beating in unison as they bridge the gap between them. In that fleeting moment, as their lips meet in a tender embrace, they find solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of light in the midst of uncertainty.

As they pull away, their foreheads touching in a silent promise of solidarity, Y/n and Jake know that no matter what challenges may lie ahead, they will face them together, united in their love and their determination to protect everything they hold dear.

Lost in the tender moment they shared, Y/n and Jake are unaware of Bradley's silent observation. His footsteps had been quiet, his presence unnoticed as he approached the balcony, but now he stands a few paces away, his gaze fixed upon them with a mixture of surprise and understanding.

For a fleeting moment, Bradley hesitates, unsure whether to interrupt the intimate exchange unfolding before him. But then, with a soft sigh, he decides to give them their privacy, silently retreating to allow them to cherish this precious moment undisturbed.

As Y/n and Jake linger in each other's embrace, their love casting a soft glow in the darkness, Bradley watches from a distance, a bittersweet smile playing upon his lips. Though he hadn't anticipated this turn of events, he can't help but feel a sense of happiness for his friends, knowing that they have found solace in each other's arms.

With a final glance back at the balcony, Bradley turns away, his heart lighter knowing that Y/n and Jake have discovered a love that will guide them through the trials to come. And as he sets off to continue their preparations for war, he does so with renewed determination, fueled by the knowledge that no matter what challenges may lie ahead, they will face them together, as allies and as friends.

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

@roosterforme

#top gun smut #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader x hangman #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #rooster x hangman #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #hangman imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #hangster #hangster x reader

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seraphiism · 5 months

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𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ┊ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 , 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

( AT THE END OF THIS STORY, I WALK INTO THE SEA & IT CHOOSES NOT TO DROWN ME. )

chara : scaramouche/wanderer fandom : genshin impact quote cr : jihyun yun a/n : contains scenes of drowning. reader is an angel. not meant to portray a romantic relationship.

ACT I :

A FUNERAL PROCESSION DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING WHEN IT'S YOURS. THE LOWERING OF THE CASKET / THE DIRT AND DECAY THAT COVERS THE ROOT OF BEING. IT IS VOID IN EXISTENCE, & IN PLACE OF WHERE A HEART RESIDES, THERE IS AN ECHO OF WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HUMAN AND WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY.

there is supposed to be a grief that accompanies acknowledgement of loss and death, but in the open wounds of mortality, flesh torn asunder in the killing of a body, a puppet feels nothing.

he stares at the funeral, desolate. it is his, yet he does not mourn. the sight before him is somber, but it is filled with deception, he thinks, and so he reminds himself over and over that he is the one that lies in that casket, dead.

it's easy to forget it's your funeral when everyone there is someone you don't know or someone who pretended to care until it was too late. he cannot recognize half of these faces.

if he opened the casket, would he recognize himself?

"you have experienced both life and death, dearest kabukimono. which do you find to be more beautiful?"

his train of thought is disrupted, gaze shifting to the figure beside him. you have always remained at his side for reasons unknown, denied the existence of guardian angels, but he cannot find any other explanation for the everlasting presence of some supposed divinity watching over him. he could laugh, really. even if you were a guardian angel, you were far too cynical, far too perfect a companion for someone like him.

"i have no heart." the words are filled with spite and hatred and devoured by anger, but beneath it, there is a loneliness, and the ache of it all almost makes you feel something. "you can't experience both if you were made to be a vessel of nothing."

you smile, amused. you study the crowd, its mess of black umbrellas and murmurs and cries. you hear the sobs, but you are certain that there are no tears shed.

"are they mourning for you?"

he laughs, bitter.

"no. not with that pathetic acting."

"they must be very selfish, then." you hum, words spoken more to yourself than anything. "it must be tragic, knowing that your funeral is not full of love and grief. i wonder what would have been more painful for you," you glance at him, but he does not dare look at you, "the absence of the mournful or the false pretenses of sorrow from those who never cared."

you stand next to each other, watch as the crowd disperses, until all that's left is a tombstone with a name he will soon rid of.

"desolate wanderer," your voice is soft, somber, "i am sorry for you. would you like me to say a prayer?"

he does not answer.

ACT I , REVERSED :

the scene changes. the black umbrellas blur into nothing. a coldness washes over him, envelops him entirely in something known as terror. suddenly, it is still. the wretched air is quiet, profound. frightening.

he stands in a body of water, the tides calm, the shore distant. he recognizes this feeling. it is not one he can forget, even when he tries. three times he has known this sensation, the creeping dread, the breaking of something deep inside the void in his chest.

you stand before him, watch as the water drips from your fingertips. your gaze is absent, unreadable, but maybe he sees something so incredibly sorrowful in it. he watches your reflections, notes the feathers that were once part of you. how they float on the surface, lonely and listless, and in the muddled waters, the pure white twists into something black.

"do not be afraid." you tell him, and he watches the droplets trail down your skin, descend into the water from which they came, one by one, slowly.

he could laugh at the words. he wants to say it's human nature to be afraid, but he stops himself-- he is not human, after all, so why does he succumb to fear?

"i'm not."

brash words. liar, you think. but that's okay. you tilt your head ever so slightly, lips curved in a subtle smile.

"are you ready?"

he nods. the water is cold, cruel, invades his senses. there's a numbness that sinks into his skin, but maybe that's an absolution, the cleansing, the awakening. you close the little distance between your bodies, hands cupping his face, tender. there is something in your eyes-- pride, maybe, but he denies himself the possibility. who would be proud of a failed creation?

he closes his eyes. the water grows colder, but there's something warm in his chest, and he does not know whether it is fear or hope he feels the most.

"good night, kabukimono." you press a kiss to his forehead. "may you find something greater on the other side."

your hands slide down, delicate in the way they wrap around his throat, fragile, and in meaning of divinity and reincarnations and sacrifice for something better, you pull him into the waves, further and further and further down until his body loses all sensation, until he can no longer hear the violent sea, until his breath is gone and he is no more.

ACT II :

"balladeer. scaramouche. kunikuzushi. harbinger." you mumble the names to yourself, keep track of them by counting with your fingers. "have i missed any? shall i grant you another warm, endearing title?"

the balladeer scowls at you, though you find it amusing. perhaps in a previous life, you would have surely teased him, pushed it a little further. but in this life, there is a different kind of danger in his eyes, a deeper misery. you do not think you care enough to provoke him-- he could not hurt you, after all, even if he dared.

you contemplate the possibility. he could not hurt you-- not because he'd care too much about you to do so, but simply because you carry the blood of a higher being. he would most certainly try if he knew he could harm you, should you push him to the brink.

what a bitter feeling. you smile faintly at the realization and he does not like it.

"why are you here?"

"i am always here. you've just been given the impression that i'm a thorn in your side."

"are you not?"

"in your search for power and vengeance, have i failed you? was this my fault, the twists and turns in your path to greatness? i can only guide you so much, and all this time, i have watched you walk down the road to destruction." you pause, watch his expression darken with a kind of fury, some kind of hurt. "every name you are known as holds your past. you change it, try to cleanse yourself, but the truth is that you'll always carry it, unforgotten."

"so what did the sea do for me, angel? did you kill my spirit for the sake of your enjoyment?"

you tilt your head once more, smile so exhausted and worn.

"i did not kill your spirit, lonely wanderer. you already killed it long ago." your words hold a dreadful venom, bitterness on the tip of your tongue, rust lining your throat. "the sea could not save you, just as i could not."

he does not know how to respond. he hates that faint apathy you always manage to have, even when he knows it's only a facade at times. he hates that not even a higher power can help him -- but it's always been that way, hasn't it? just like everyone else, you've failed him too. that's what he'll tell himself because that's all he knows.

he turns on his heel, feels the razor edges of your brutality sink into his flesh. he walks, and he does not stop.

"we will try again." he states, command deep in his voice. "neither you or the sea are meant to save me."

you close your eyes, bow your head. somewhere in the silence, you say a prayer. you have never been a savior.

he is not meant for the saving.

ACT II , REVERSED :

the scene changes once more. it's the sea again, that familiar coldness that fails to abate. it's that strange fear again, that uncertainty. and then there's you, there's always you, he thinks. he stares at the reflections once more, distorted by the ripples of motion. your feathers look darker, the harbinger notes, and there are far more than before. he rests his hand in the water, watches as one floats into his palm. his grasp is gentle as he examines it, and there's a flicker of white, then black once more. he wonders if he imagined it.

"you didn't crush it." you comment.

"you thought i would?"

"i don't know." you reply. "you are not always made of carnage." and that familiar curve of the lips. "it wouldn't have hurt in the end, but thank you for your kindness."

his eye twitches, and you laugh. he doesn't know if you're being genuine, and he's going to dwell on this moment for a bit too long, he realizes.

the air becomes heavy once more. you wonder if he is certain in this decision. it is the second time, but the fear remains stagnant, unchanging.

"do not be afraid."

there is something you cannot quite decipher in his gaze-- determination? wrath? you are unsure. you don't bother to question it. you do it all over again, this familiarity-- the ripples in the water as you move closer, hands cupping his face once more. you press your forehead against his, close your eyes just as he does.

"good night, kunikuzushi. may you find something greater on the other side."

you open your eyes. your hands trail down, fingers wrapping around his throat in yet another means of reawakening. his hands rests over yours, eyes still shut, and you feel how they tremble ever so slightly.

the sea is cold, unwelcoming. the plunge is gentle, but the sensation still frightens him nonetheless. you are merciful even for an angel, comes the bittersweet thought, and maybe he isn't worth such benevolence. he's always wondered why you chose to stay by his side, anyway.

he feels the fight leave his body, feels the way your grip tightens to end this suffering just a little faster. your hands are warm, the balladeer thinks, and it is the last thing he remembers before it all goes void.

ACT III :

maybe you truly are not a guardian angel. you have not been at his side for a long while. he thought perhaps it was just that he had forgotten, that maybe you were nearby all along. but your absence has been all too noticed, and he does not like it.

it is... lonely, here. to be forgotten by all, to carry the weight of what was.

sumeru is vast. it is beautiful, bright, radiant. all the things he is not accustomed to. he stands on the highest of heights, watches the endless landscape below him. somewhere, he hears familiar footsteps : light, graceful.

"do you remember me?"

he stills. he's not sure if he wants to see your face, see that perplexed expression, see the way you tell him that you do not. no one else does.

you hum, deep in thought, and the sound is beautiful. how he misses it so. it sends an ache in the hollows of his chest, some kind of longing.

"won't you turn around? it's been a long while since i've seen that grumpy face."

you can practically hear him roll his eyes. it is a moment or two of gathering composure and courage before the vagabond finally turns, and of course, you have that same stupid smile on your face. this time, it is more genuine, and he's not sure how to quite process that.

"i remember you." you answer. "you're far too stubborn and annoying to forget."

he almost feels something beat wildly in his chest, but he does not understand the sensation. there is nothing there, no heart, yet some kind of heartache. you speak again.

"what do you call yourself now?"

he has taken many names, few of them significant. he has not granted one to himself-- no need, he thinks, though he knows that he would not rid of it if he had one. he thinks back to the sea, recalls your many conversations.

"wanderer."

you pause, and he notes that small flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"familiar and fitting." you muse. you close the distance just as you always have in the past, but this time, there is no water, no vicious wave to overtake him. "do you wish to see the sea?"

the words are heavy in meaning, but it is different this time. in your voice there is the quiet pondering of are you happy this time? have you found the right path? did you find it, that greatness? and he understands it.

he freezes. inhale, exhale. he stares at the sight before him, recalls when you once stood with him at his funeral. things have changed now. he is the same yet different, a harbor for sorrow and anger, but a home for something virtuous. his gaze shifts to you once more. this is not the outcome he intended, desired, nor expected. but there's forgiveness somewhere out there, and maybe he'll grant it to himself one day.

"no," he answers, and in his visage, there is just the faintest trace of kindness you once remembered from memories past, "i've had enough of you drowning me."

you laugh softly, see his lips curve just the smallest bit.

"i am glad, dearest wanderer."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #favoniuslibrary #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #this was so fun to write idc if it is abstract and doesn't make much sense ' o ' it's been awhile since i've enjoyed writing smth so much #.: writing

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sinful-godde · 1 day

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In the quiet of parted ways, where once our whispers twined,

I found the world a barren place, your absence unconfined.

We both fought to fill the void with echoes of the love we'd signed,

Yet in the silence of our hearts, it was you I'd always find.

We moved through life's vast canvas, each stroke a separate hue,

But the picture lacked the brilliance of the palette we once knew.

In every attempt to paint anew, it was your colors that always bled through,

A masterpiece unfinished, awaiting the touch of you.

Now, in the harmony of our embrace, where broken chords align,

Our symphony resumes its play, a melody divine.

We've grown in ways we never knew, from roots that intertwine,

Our love, a deeper shade of truth, forever to refine.

For in your eyes, I see the world, not as it was, but brighter,

With every shared sunrise, our bond grows ever tighter.

We love with a wisdom earned, our hearts both free and lighter,

In the dance of our reunion, every step is higher.

Our love, a testament to the power that we wield,

When two become one, in unity, healed.

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ckret2 · 10 months

Text

Failed to resist the urge to post a snippet from chapter 16. This is my way of 🤝ing @godsfavoritescientist over the "grieving ex-worshiper who never figured out how to fill the gap left by a false god" Ford characterization.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the neon sign of an eyed triangle hanging in the psychic shop's window.

Did the "psychic" who ran this shop actually know what that symbol meant, Ford wondered? Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned half a century ago? Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them knowledge of the future—did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on his life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtler glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled.

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

#gravity falls #grunkle ford #bill cipher #(and even though this is technically platonic I think it's worth tagging—)#billford #(—since like the intensity is there)#about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(and four sentences later ford discovers bill pilfered some research from his briefcase and scribbled a coded message in purple crayon)

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1ovede1uxe · 3 months

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09. just something to think about┊ ┊⋆ beyond the stars

series synopsis - you've been sent to join the joestar crew on their mission to defeat dio by... dio? y/n is an undercover stand user who joins the sdc to report back to dio their findings and notes about their stands, up until a few moral dilemmas get in the way of your original mission.

ch. synopsis - hold onto your socks bc theres some accusations being thrown around and nothing but airpods separating the romance blossoming, + light fluff

italicized text is your thoughts!

Five arduous hours later, your hand crafted dune buggy of a car was up and running. You only prayed that your father's extensive knowledge on cars he attempted to pass on to you was somewhat accurate.

Everyone toppled into the car, up until you yelled out "HOLD IT!" Everyone's heads snapped toward you, a look of concern decorated the men's faces.

"I want shotgun." Everyone let out a sigh of simultaneous relief and annoyance. "What? I made the damn car let me sit up front in it."

"Oh good grief. "

"You're gonna give this old man a heart attack!"

Polnareff got out of the shotgun and squeezed himself into the trunk, the only remaining space. For the first time in a while, an awkward silence settled in the back of the car, each occupant lost in their own thoughts and/or devices.

The hum of the engine seemed louder than usual, filling the void left by the absence of conversation, until Avdol broke the silence.

"So (y/n), tell me about your stand in full. I'm truly curious, especially since it's not aligned with the tarot."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, caught off guard by the sudden inquiry. "Uh, sure," you began, trying to gather your thoughts. "I named it after a song I liked. As for its power..."

As you delved into the description of your stand's abilities, Avdol listened intently, nodding along at certain points as he absorbed the information.

"So forgive me for asking, but how did you and Kakyoin end up together?" Avdol's question came out of left field, causing you to nearly choke on your own spit. You whipped your head around to gauge Kakyoin's reaction in the back, only to find him seemingly unfazed. "HA!" Polnareff chuckled from the trunk, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Both Jotaro and Kakyoin had noise-canceling earbuds for car rides, much to your relief as you mentally thanked whatever divine force prevented Kakyoin from hearing the question.

"Oh, Mr. Avdol, Kakyoin and I aren't a couple," you clarified, trying to mask the discomfort in your voice.

I mean I wouldn't really mind. Even solidification of his feelings for me would be nice.

Avdol seemed taken aback, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Forgive me, I had just assumed over his gaze at you as he complimented Midler earlier on, as well as spending time together on the island."

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling the weight of the misunderstanding hanging in the air. "Yeah, I guess we do spend a bit of time together," you admitted, taking a sip of water to fill the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"I guess its just something to think about."

Mr. Joestar finally had caught up with the conversation after another minute or so. "Wait you and Kakyoin aren't a couple?!" You sighed and facepalmed as Polnareff continued to giggle to himself. You had returned to your devices until you reached your destination

previous chapter // next chapter // masterlist

Mariah is on private so the crusaders don’t see her tweets 🤞🏻 also aw kakyoins finally figuring out his feelings :3

Sorry for the shorter chapter! Tried to make this one a little more social media based, I'm honestly struggling to write out Iggy the Fool and Geb's N'doul. Hopefully it'll be out soon! I have a very busy month, so I wanted to get this chapter out a little earlier than usual in the month. I'm also beginning to edit some of the earlier chapters. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated. taglist is open! you can request through message or askbox!

Thank you to everyone on my taglist and all of you who interact, your support means the world <3

taglist: @kerto-p, @pancakesyrupthief, @kakyoinslastcherry, @marvelmayo

#jjba #Kakyoin x reader #beyond the stars #jojo no kimyō na bōken #kakyoin noriaki x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #jjba headcanons #noriaki kakyoin #stardust crusaders #self insert #jjba smau #modern au #Polnareff #muhammad avdol

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cliozaur · 2 months

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The Waterloo digression is drawing to a close as this chapter circles back to the time of the novel's beginning, setting the stage for upcoming developments. With the fall of the empire and the restoration of monarchy (the divine right) the narrative portrays a shift in power. The depiction of the empire casting an obscure light is striking: “It had diffused over the earth all the light which tyranny can give—a sombre light. We will say more; an obscure light. Compared to the true daylight, it is night. This disappearance of night produces the effect of an eclipse.” This reminds of the imagery of Napoleon himself leaving behind the darkness in his shape.

The portrayal of Paris undergoing change after the return of the Bourbons evokes a sense of melancholy reminiscent of 1817.

However, the restoration of the old regime across Europe fails to fill the void left by Napoleon's absence. People soon begin to forget the tyranny and yearn for the lost glory. With Napoleon's fall, the future of France becomes apparent—it's Liberty (despite the monarchical present). Hugo outlines what lies ahead: “The glowing eyes of all young generations were turned on it. Singular fact! people were, at one and the same time, in love with the future, Liberty, and the past, Napoleon.” Hello Marius and Les Amis! Yet, the final paragraph transcends both past and future, focusing instead on the Infinite, indifferent to all this.

#les mis letters #lm 2.1.18 #les miserables #waterloo

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yourlocaltreesimp · 4 months

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Chapter one: The something that is

Part i : Of mortals and men

First *ੈ✩‧₊˚ Next

Saviour of Souls masterlist

tw: Blood, Violence, implied death

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“At the beginning of every story there is nothing- at least, nothing noticeable. To have this nothing… It is something of a necessity. For with it, it gives everything meaning. You appreciate that you have so much more when you had nothing to begin with.

Much the same to our own universe, at the beginning, there was nothing of particular note. A vast sea of this nothingness —potential— with no one to observe it. Such things may not be inherently nothing themselves, existence gives meaning. But observation makes meaning. An existence of something means nothing if there is no one to appreciate it. And so was the fate of our universe, to lay dormant. That is, aside from three sisters. Their minds grew restless with the potentiality of their lives. To sit, and to wait until something changed at last. And within their vast expanse of nothingness, they combined together the best of their attributes to make something. To make a change.

Din, the eldest of the three, with her fiery persistence and rage moulded earth. She made rock and mountains, a raging volcano left as the mark of her magic. With all her power, she created land. The middle sister, Nayru, known for her wit and intellect, doused the stiff earth with water. She softened the grounds and made rivers, oceans, clay and soil. And with the water she brought upon the world, she placed her magic within the highest, coldest peak. With her knowledge, she nourished the earth so that it may persist. And the youngest sister, Farore, known for her strong will and bravery, used her magic to inhabit the land. She made trees for Din’s earth and fish for Nayru’s rivers. She populated every plane and mountain with a small piece of her magic. With all her courage, she made gifts to the world, rather than a gift to herself.

For a while this world was content, and the goddesses watched adoringly as the earth would shift, eras coming and going, tides pushing and pulling. But with their gift of creation, they brought destruction. With somethingness, there was nothingness. With light, there was dark. With life, there was death. This absence pulled at them, punishing them in some odd way for their creations. The void gave birth to the sisters, its power split between the three and equal to that of itself. But in making their world, they’d tipped the even scales of fare past what the gods could control.

Watching their beloved creation fall apart, the goddesses agreed to use their power to keep their creation whole. They scattered what was left of themselves, leaving parts of their divinity marked upon the world. And though their power was thinned and death clawed at their fading forms, they left two final gifts to us. They left the triforce, their very presence focused down into nothing more than a relic, capable of granting any wish. It’s said to hold a shard of each goddess’s heart and is bound together by their love in one another and for the world they managed to make. But such power could not coexist with the destruction seeping across the world. They created a protector, Hylia. A goddess so kind that she embodies the best attributes of each goddess. She holds Din’s burning determination, Nayru’s sense of keen judgement and Farore’s daring kindness. Through the seams of reality, that evilness that festered in the cracks of the world had not settled, and too, gave two faults. Ganondorf, a being of Demise, hungering for the power of the triforce that he’d stop at no mortal law to possess. For every kind gift the goddesses gave, Demise sought to destroy. And the grace of Hylia bore Nir. A goddess of fickle wishes and born without a heart. Where our goddess brings us light and life, Nir brings darkness and death. But so with the world, light prevails. Ganon struck down by a hero wielding a blade of divine light and Nir chained down by Hylia’s spirit. Now, Hyrule as we know it lives in content balance. And while the night still falls, we can revel knowing that the sun will soon rise.”

Link smiled down at the group of kids all crowded around his feet. Their scrawny, underfed frames contrasted by beaming wide grins with missing teeth. The sight was uncomfortable. The children of Castle town were far different. Their clothes had no holes and he couldn’t see their bones through their skin. He’d never have stopped here if it weren’t for the spirit sightings. Sure, the kids were cute, but he’d have to watch his rupee bag.

“Oh! Is that how you got your sword?!”

“What about Zelda?!”

“I wanna know more!”

Soon, each little child chirped up, hungering for another story atop the many he had already told. The children at his feet bickered with one another as he tried to pick a story out that would satisfy them. The stories of his predecessors? Perhaps. But the Heroes of Legend were well known throughout even the smallest secluded hamlet. It made no difference this one was wartorne. He hardly even made it past that thought before the door to the small hut was slammed open, the rotting wood splintering.

“Th-There’s-“ The old man at the door sputtered and held his abdomen as one of the children ran at him.

“Opa? Opa!” The old man slumped over, sinking to his knees and rasping out bloody breaths. Link moved before he could’ve thought to stop himself. Such a skill had afforded him his life when he killed ganon. Sometimes, bravery leaves no room for forethought. Such is the way of courage.

“Sir, what happened” The man hacked and hacked, his hands trembling as they clutched his ribs. Removing the cold bony joints was probably not wise to the room full of children, the skin greying and peeling from his wound in a fashion Link had come to know well.

The dusty streets weren’t bustling with idle chatter and the poor folk running their errands as he’d grown accustomed to during his stay. There was a stark silence like that of nightfall, when the world is supposed to be still. His blade was familiar in his hand, ready to cut down what opposed him. There was an ear-splitting screech and his gut sank. Skin stealers. He felt the chipped teeth gnawing at his skin, sawing past his clothes. It skittered to the ground with a fleshy smack, its hollow eye sockets flexing around nothing. It chittered its teeth, waiting for a sound to hunt down. It’s bones popped and cracked as it circled, a warbled coo coming out of its undulating throat. Link didn’t let the waste of a soul live. The grey patchwork of its skin wouldn’t likely let it anyway. Its death would bring it back to Nir. Where she’d find some way to send her wicked beasts upon him again— he’s sure. Looking at the bony corpse, Link felt curiosity above the disgust. Such vile things waited until night until they could not be watched by Hylia. They preferred the silvery glow of Nir and her cover of darkness. But this one was out among broad daylight. The cloudy sky cleared and the voice of his goddess was warm in his mind, drowning out the panic of his thoughts.

“Hero…”

“Link…”

“Hear my call upon you…”

“… Or the sun may set on Hyrule again”

#legend of zelda #loz sos #sos au #Legend of Zelda: Savior of Souls #link x reader #link x you #fir’s library

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mpregstory · 1 year

Text

Lonely Night (Monologue)

In the dimly lit room of a small, abandoned House, a man sits alone, consumed by thoughts of the imminent arrival of his child. Anxiety courses through his veins, as he contemplates the daunting journey that lies ahead. His gaze fixates on the flickering candle in front of him, its feeble flame mirroring the flickering hope within his heart.

His mind is a tempest of doubts and fears, battling against the torrent of responsibility that awaits him. With each passing moment, the weight on his shoulders grows heavier, threatening to crush his spirit. He replays conversations in his mind, the ones that promised support and presence, only to be left with echoes of broken promises and shattered trust.

The man's hands tremble as he clutches a worn photograph, his only connection to a time when love and unity prevailed. The image evokes a bittersweet mix of longing and sorrow, reminding him of the fractured relationships that now haunt his solitude. The absence of those who should stand by his side amplifies his sense of abandonment and intensifies the gravity of the situation.

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, he finds solace in the memories of his partner, whose departure left an irreplaceable void in his life. A surge of love and admiration washes over him as he recalls their shared dreams and the bond they once shared. Yet, the ache of their absence echoes in his heart, as he prepares to face the labor of childbirth alone.

The room grows colder, as the man's anticipation transforms into a haunting fear of the unknown. He envisions scenarios of complications and pain, his mind torturing him with vivid images of worst-case outcomes. Doubt creeps in, whispering in his ear, as he questions his ability to weather the storm that lies ahead.

But amidst the darkness, a flicker of determination ignites within him. He straightens his posture, takes a deep breath, and confronts his fears head-on. He finds strength in the knowledge that countless generations have faced the same trials and emerged victorious. With an unwavering resolve, he embraces the role of both mother and father, ready to weather the storm and bring forth new life into a world of uncertainty.

And then, as if in a moment of divine intervention, a sudden gush of warm fluid spills between his legs. His eyes widen, a mix of shock and excitement flooding his face. The moment has arrived. The breaking of his water signals the onset of an irreversible journey, one that will test his strength and resilience in ways he never imagined.

In that extraordinary instant, as he feels the undeniable force of life surging through him, his fears and doubts fade into the background. A surge of adrenaline replaces them, fueling him with an unwavering determination to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

With each passing second, the intensity of the situation grows, and a fierce sense of purpose fills his being. In this singular moment, he embraces the power of creation, ready to welcome his child into the world, no matter the circumstances.

In a secluded house, engulfed by the darkness of the night, lies a man in labor - alone, without any help or solace. The shadows amplify his fears and cause his thoughts to spiral into bleak scenarios. He feels the pressure of contractions, like sharp claws digging into his abdomen, draining every ounce of strength from his body.

The silence around him is suffocating, intensifying his sense of isolation. No comforting words, no soothing touch to anchor him in this agonizing moment. Only cries of despair echoing within, as with each breath, he ventures further into the ominous unknown.

Time stretches out as the pain relentlessly escalates. He clings to furniture, walls - anything that might offer support. His bones feel brittle, as if they could shatter at any moment. Tremors of fear and pain course through his body as he forces himself to carry on, even as every fiber of his being screams for respite.

The man's mind is plagued by ominous premonitions. What if something goes wrong? What if he can't endure it? Fear of the unknown permeates his thoughts as he gets lost in the chaos of shattered dreams and unfulfilled hopes.

His memories of the support he once had now become a painful pang in his heart. The sense of betrayal by those who left him behind amplifies his loneliness and despair. He feels abandoned, forgotten by the world, as with each breath, he takes another step toward uncertainty.

Finally, amidst this dark drama, his body gives way. The cries of birth intertwine with his own pain and desperation. In one last desperate act of strength and determination, the man brings his child into the world - an act of tragedy and hope entwined.

The room fills with a heavy silence as the man cradles the tiny being in his arms. Exhausted and wounded, yet filled with a tender spark of love breaking through the darkness. It's a moment of redemption, a glimmer of light amidst the anguish.

#mpreg #fanfiction #birth

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buwheal · 4 months

Note

(ignore this if the other anon sends their story I suppose) I am new, not the same storyteller, but I can still give you the end you look for.

CONT.

And the stars said to the boy as his body in the dream became charred under their gaze yet, "We see all things the world upturns, and know how nothing ever returns. Your grief and despair have swayed us. We have seen you turn your head towards our domain since before you even knew what we were. We have watched you grieve and watched you yearn, for things that never were, and thus can never return. And so, we will offer you one boon, little one who mourns."

And to the stars the boy said, "I cannot bear being trapped on the ground. Please, can't you make me like you? I wish to be untethered from the cold mud and colder oceans in which I feel drowned. Let me shine and sing, hung up in the heavens with the stars and moons that dance like angels. That will be my wish, to be freed from this indifferent and sodden mound that pulls me down. If you could make me bright and gleaming like you, I could find what I grieve and what I mourn."

The sky accepted his wish to be cut away from his home and strung up, woven into the sky, but not without a warning.

"You should know: that to be a star is to be a fire that eternally burns. There are so many things that a star can never be, places that can never be visited and thus never returned to. Nor are the void of our skies Heaven, nor are they Hell. Such places exist, but both are empty. Our home however is so, so full and so, so loud. What you grieve and what you yearn are not things that your wish will earn. Though determined as you are, we will help you search and help you learn how to find a way to return to a home never built. And when you burn, we will be there, beside you in the sky."

The boy heard the stars, but did not listen to their words because the sight of his dreams blinded him. Blithely he pleaded to the heavens for instruction on becoming divine.

The stars answered in turn, "Travel to the tallest mountains where the air is thin and the rocky peaks are so sharp they could pierce the hearts of giants. Then, look for the darkest cave upon the mountain and crawl into its narrowest passage. Once you are there, gouge a small groove into the wall until from the stone gushes sticky ink that shines so brightly it hurts to look. For one year you must drink nothing but the sanguine ichor that bleeds from the carving. Through this you will be transformed, and become like us."

The boy asked the stars why the mountains bleed light.

"Long ago, a god abandoned its body and hurled the hollow vessel upon the mountains so that it may become mortal. The gilt and rotting tallow that melted from the carcass made the mountains last eternal, and now within the stone burns the same molten power that we in the sky radiate," the stars sung to him.

When he awoke, the boy obeyed the stars' orders and it twisted him, but not into a star, nor into a moon. His parents grieved his absence, and yearned for his return which would never come. The mountain blood scalded his tongue and throat and sat cold and heavy in his stomach. If from the pain he allowed rivulets to spill down his face, it melted and burnt his skin, searing lines down from the corners of his mouth to the bottom of his jaw. Still he persisted, unable to put to rest that which never was, and will never return. By year's end he felt heavy and strange, the ichor in his system like leaden weights upon his limbs and his voice, stretching and breaking his body into bizarre proportions. He did not care. He believed it would earn him everything that he grieved and everything he mourned.

Waxen wings made of the soft and pure gold of the abandoned god's rendered tallow sit upon his back.

The stars gladly welcomed him into the sky, but upon finally meeting his heaven face to face, their light and their heat set his golden tallow wings ablaze like candles.

As his wings melted, the stars were saddened, but offered him another boon, in hopes he could be saved from such a nasty fall. The boy wished for another chance to sit in their sky. The stars thought quick, and wove ropes and cables from the tails of green comets. The boy was gifted the cables, and he gladly tied them into harnesses on his own body. The stars hung his cables from his world's moon as a pale reflection of their own light and every day they sung their songs to him as he swayed in step with the tides of the oceans he tried so hard to escape. He saw his parents, who grieved upon the muddy ground he ran from, but had no body of their child to bury. He saw all the presents and treats they left to rot at the headstone of an empty grave. He watched his parents tell the people who asked: We grieve. We yearn. For our child who could only bear to be turned towards the sky and now will never return.

- 🥩🕊

answered

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rotworld · 8 months

Text

17: Rotten Fields

(previous)

jamie's advice on how to deal with a querrow comes in handy.

->sexually explicit. contains gore, noncon, non-human genitalia, spiders, terato, body horror, mentions of breeding, mentions of hard vore, religious content.

The shift came shortly after you fell asleep. It trickled into your dream, hissing and viscous, pouring fractals into the void. There were stars but they were inside out and strings of unwound clouds. The thing in the dark said nothing but there was pity in its great eye. An aurora curved tenderly around you.

In the morning, Jamie talks with the doctor. You’re given a bottle of anti-parasitic inhibitors to take by mouth twice a day. It’ll help, he says, but it’s not a permanent solution. You get changed out of the hospital gown and Jamie is quiet, looking out the window into the foggy parking lot. You expect a fight, an argument over what’s best for you, why you should stay.

Instead, they ask, “Where did you want to go?”

Anchor is east, says the heart. Nelton is south, says the divine. “West,” you say. “I need to go west.” It feels important. More than a delivery, more than homecoming, this is something you have to do. “What are you going to do?”

Jamie frowns, brows furrowing in confusion. “Go with you, obviously.”

“I thought you’d want to get back to the University.”

“Not unless you’re going.” They shrug and look out the window again, frown deepening. “The last couple shifts had barely a day or two between them. That’s extremely unusual.”

“You sound worried.”

They look up at the sound of your approaching footsteps and smile. They kiss your hand with the same desperate tenderness as yesterday. They’re right; the last few shifts came quickly. It feels like you’ve been on the road together for months now. “I am worried. Because I know you don’t care. You’re going to get back out there either way, so I’d better go with you,” they say.

Intimacy between you is easy, almost automatic. Jamie kisses you and it’s chaste, fleeting, just a quick peck on the lips, and it makes your heart flutter. The thought of them leaving, of an empty passenger seat, leaves a sick feeling in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, “I guess you’d better.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: BLACK MILK BY MASSIVE ATTACK]

Routeless driving is dangerous. You have no way of knowing how far it’ll be before the next town, if there even is a town. Some roads go nowhere. Couriers don’t talk about it much but you know it’s something most of you do at one time or another, a pilgrimage made in the wake of disaster. Your mourning is done across miles. In the absence of home, the road will always welcome you.

“I think I’m starting to get it,” Jamie says. “The road, I mean. It’s not like anywhere else.” They have a textbook open across their lap, an enormous hardback with creased, dog-eared pages and a worn spine. Drift parasites of every shape and size adorn the pages. “The last few days have been awful, but…we can always just leave. We’re doing it again, right now. It’s freeing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got courier instincts after all,” you say. “Most people would call it running away and say I do it too much.”

“Of course they say that. They have a home to go back to.”

The terrain becomes hilly, the road rising and falling over frozen waves of asphalt. You see open plains in the valley ahead, swaying green and gold. You see rows of corn and tomatoes, a patch of eggs growing in grape-like bunches. Spun hay bales dot the landscape. A weathervane squeals atop an old but well-maintained farmhouse, a truck parked off to the side.

“You don’t think of the University as home?” you ask.

Jamie smiles bitterly. “I don’t remember what ‘home’ is supposed to feel like for us. I have a house there. I have family, you could say. The other flukes have always looked out for me. I don’t feel like anything’s wrong, really. Just that…maybe I’m not done looking. That’s the home that was chosen for me, but I didn’t choose it.” They look away, guilty. “I’m sorry. That’s insensitive. You didn’t choose your home, either.”

You shake your head. “No. But maybe I should. Maybe we all should.”

Something stirs inside you; a flutter in your chest like a second heartbeat. The God of Nelton tries to lure you back into its comforting embrace, every pulse filling you with waves of warmth and adoration. “You chose me, angel. My love. My paradise. You chose.”

You didn’t choose. You were desperate and grieving, too heartbroken to fight back. And as angry as you are, as violated as you feel, you do feel a shred of sympathy and understanding. You saw those boys in the church. You felt their fear. “Home wasn’t kind to you, either, was it?” you murmur. You think of Compass Hill more and more these days, how much of an anomaly it is in the Drift and how unfortunate that truly is.

“I’d like to tell you not to feel bad for that thing, but then I’d be a hypocrite,” Jamie sighs, leaning against the window. “So much for a worm-free zone, huh?”

“Are you jealous?” You mean it as a joke, but you find Jamie leering at you through their lashes, a sharp and hungry expression you’ve come to associate with the influence of the fluke.

“‘Jealousy’ would imply a desire to have parasitized you myself, which is inaccurate,” they say. “No, courier. I am not ‘jealous.’ Simply lamenting missed opportunities. I respect your refusal of fluke implantation. I admit, it makes you more difficult to predict and manage, but I—we would have you no other way.”

“That’s sweet in a weird way.”

Jamie laughs and starts to say something, but the thought is cut off mid-sentence. Your gaze follows theirs down the road further to a frightening, familiar sight. The road is wrong. It splinters off in a dozen directions, circling back on itself, curled in impossibly tight spiral turns. You notice, increasingly, the rotten smell of death but you don’t see anything. You’ve passed several unremarkable farmhouses and there’s another ahead, a red barn behind it. You don’t see the typical signs of abandonment or subsequent Verlindan acquisition; there is no equipment lying forgotten and rust-speckled in the field, no crumbling roofs or gaping, glassless windows.

But it is quiet, you realize. No one seems to be home. There is no one in the field or the barn, no animals roaming the pastures. A full harvest waits on stalk and stem. Some of it has gone bad, unpleasant notes of musk and rot laced through the alluring fragrance of fresh vegetables. If something happened, it was recent.

“Anchorware malfunction?” you wonder aloud.

Jamie sits up straighter in their seat. “Pull over,” they say urgently. “We can’t use this road.”

There’s nowhere else to go. You pull over beside the wooden fence running the length of the field. The air is strange here, sticky somehow. “Something’s not right,” they say. They’re out of the car and hopping the fence without another word. You rush to follow, shoving your way through the cornfield after them.

“What do you mean not right?”

“That’s twice now that we’ve seen this kind of malfunction in just a couple days. I don’t think I’d even heard of anchorware failing for decades before this.” Jamie hesitates, waiting for you to catch up. They look nervous. They grab your hand before they start moving again. “I didn’t want to say anything before, obviously. You were already having a bad day. But I’ve dealt with people from the anchorware labs a few times before. I don’t trust them.”

You reach the edge of the field, stepping out of the corn and onto a dirt path, heading up to the porch of a two-story farmhouse. The exterior paint is old and flaking but there are ripe pumpkins on the front steps, neatly-trimmed shrubs beneath the windows. Jamie knocks on the front door and waits, glancing back at the road.

“I tried to get to Anchor for years and never could,” you say. “It’s not just the tunnel. Every road into that city has the same malfunction. That seems…”

“Deliberate,” Jamie nods. “That’s what I thought, too. Odd for a company so concerned about the spotless reputation of their product.”

This shouldn’t be the way to Anchor, though. This is another place, the outskirts of a city if it even is one, falling victim to the same problem. You’ve heard anchorware has a built-in alert system. That’s how repair technicians respond so quickly, even without anyone reporting malfunction. Did it just happen, too recently for anyone to respond yet? Is it too remote for them to care?

Jamie knocks again, harder this time. You don’t hear any movement inside. “Nobody home,” they mutter. “I was hoping we could ask someone what happened. This is a worse malfunction than the tunnel. We might need to drive through the field, just to be safe.” You both notice a slightly flattened portion of the field behind the house, tire tracks splattering blackened stalks of corn. Jamie walks alongside the tracks with a pensive expression, pausing now and then, closing their eyes. Sensing the way out, you assume. You’d rather not be alone so you jog after them, pausing at the sight of another trail.

They’re not tire tracks, but something did pass through and drag over the crops. You see gouges, something narrow and slightly curved raking through the earth, and the broader shape of something being dragged. They start near the house and curve around it, the dirt recently disturbed and cracked.

Crumbling, you realize too late. Unstable. A trapdoor entrance disguised with loosely packed dirt. You don’t get the chance to fall. Something surges up from below, something sharp slices your leg, and you are dragged down screaming.

Everything is pain and confusion, the world dark and spinning. Your skin scrapes raw against hard, snaking roots. Your head knocks against sudden turns and tightly-packed mounds of dirt as hard as concrete and you groan, disoriented and dizzy, unable to tell up from down. The pain in your leg gets worse with every dragging movement that pulls you further You weren’t just cut, you realize, you were skewered through the thigh. Something speared you through the flesh and now it drags you like bait on a fishing line deeper into the depths. The smell of blood is strong. You feel it, both freshly slick puddles and old, sticky scabs, lining the narrow passage.

Eventually, you hit the bottom. The landing is hard and agonizing. You feel like there’s an enormous, serrated knife stuck in your leg, shredding skin and muscle every time you flinch. It moves just slightly and you scream, blood gushing on the underside of the wound where the pointed tip pierces the ground, keeping you anchored to the spot.

Something jabs you in the side. It feels like a bite, a quick puncture that makes you wince but is over thankfully quickly. Numbness spills across the side of your body and spreads quickly to your limbs, cool at first and then boiling, hot enough to make you start to sweat Your breathing evens out and your heartbeat slows even as fear overtakes you. Your head lolls back into the dirt.

Something clicks and chitters above you. You hear something moving; the crunch of soil, the leathery squeal of something thicker than skin creasing. Hot breath fans across your face. There is something right in front of you. Close enough to kill you, if it really wanted to.

“Yessssss,” you hear, an animalistic hiss. “I have you. I have you, destroyer. You are mine.”

Hands caress you—human hands? Not quite, you think, close but too long and spindly, the skin smooth like glass and hard like bark, the tips pointed like needles. And too many. One is on your face and one is on your neck and one is tugging at your shirt, and there are more still groping and fondling. The more you try to struggle, the more the numbness spreads.

One of your hands flails weakly, brushing against a body that is nearly human. Bony shoulders and broad pectorals; a long abdomen with strange, thick protrusions down the sides, bony but flexible growths that shiver when your fingertips graze against them. One flexes and the pain in your leg intensifies. A limb, you realize. A leg. The footsteps you hear are like the driving of a stake into the ground, weighted, heavy, but the point of contact is small. You wish you could see anything in this subterranean darkness.

A burrow, you realize. That’s what this is. It laid a trap, struck when you got close enough. You never saw it coming. Jamie told you about these, you think. They’re called querrows.

That spreading numbness and the feverish heat building beneath your skin must be neurotoxin.

“Why return? Arrogance. You are weak now. You are helpless. You take from me. You take and you take.”

The sharp appendage driven through your leg suddenly wrenches loose with the wet, ripping sound of your flesh tearing open wider. You have just enough strength to sob quietly. The wound is gaping, blood puddling underneath your body. You’re starting to understand that you aren’t really numb. You still feel everything from the uncomfortable grit of the ground under you to the blood sticking to your hands. Too old to be yours, too far from your leg. The rusted stench of slaughter fills your nose. You are far from the first to end up down here.

“Now,” the querrow whispers, voice lilting with glee. “Now you will give.”

You try to scream. You try to beg. You try to crawl in any direction. All you manage is a slurred murmur and a slight twitch. It lifts you easily. Turns you over, leaves you face-down in the dirt without regard for your comfort. It’s a monumental struggle to turn your head far enough to avoid suffocating against the ground. Suddenly, it’s gone. Not far, but its hands vanish and you hear it pawing at the soil behind you. Digging? Burrowing deeper?

Help me, you beg the God of Nelton. You can’t do this alone. Can it move you? Can it burn through the poison in your veins? You feel a surge of helpless frustration. It can’t. It has tried. It has made your eyes a beacon of holiness but this thing cannot see well enough to be swayed. It is sad and afraid and angry at itself, thinking of home, of Malachi, of all the faithful. It has never been so far away, it admits. It didn’t know, didn’t realize the dangers of the world. You feel it twist itself up like an angry snake, but there’s no time for guilt or regret or self-flagellation. You need help.

“I will bring you salvation, angel. I will not let you die.” You can feel it unfolding across space, a cry echoing into the dark. It’s looking for Jamie’s fluke. You just have to hold on until it can find them.

The scraping sounds stop and something looms over you again. “P…please,” you manage. You can’t get all the sounds out properly, can barely understand yourself. “Don’t…don’t…”

Something stabs the dirt so close to your face that you feel the air shift and smell the stink of old blood right in front of your nose. “Please! Don’t!” it mocks you shrilly. It rakes its claws over your head and takes a fistful of your hair, dragging you head off the ground and making your scalp burn. “I am to listen to these sad sounds, am I? Why would I owe you my ear, destroyer? Why, when you would not lend yours to my kin!”

You have no idea what it’s talking about. Someone else must have been here recently—someone it feels has wronged it. “Not me,” you mumble. “Don’t…don’t know.”

You’re making it angry. The hand in your hair starts to pull and you are dragged across the ground, bruising and bloodying your knees, tossed against a mound of earth that digs painfully into your stomach. Is this what it was doing? Not digging, but shaping something from the soil? You can’t figure out why until it shoves you forward and you’re draped uncomfortably atop the mound, your head bent uncomfortably against the ground and your lower body elevated. Claws rake your back and your clothes unravel easily. It doesn’t undress you so much as it rips what’s in its way.

Sharp hands grasp your hips, yanking your legs apart. Your heart skips a beat. Jamie said they’re vulnerable, but where? On the legs, you think. Something about the exoskeleton being flexible, moving around when—

when they’re about to mate.

The querrow sinks its claws into your shoulder and you choke on a whimper, feeling yourself splitting apart on the sharpened ends of its fingers. “Did you think I would forget your scent?” it hisses. “How could I? You have been gone so briefly your smell still lingers.” It moves all around you, skittering limbs piercing the rocky walls of the burrow. Anchoring itself, hovering just above you. You inhale shakily at the sensation of flesh against your back, all segmentation and strange, bumpy ridges. This part of its body is far wider than its chest, easily eclipsing your entire form. It rubs clumsily against you. You feel the same rigid sharpness that pierced your leg return with gentler attention, dagger-point limbs arranging your lower half with surprising dexterity, hiking your hips slightly higher.

Smaller limbs, the length of your forearm and curved like fangs, clamp down on your waist. You hear a cracking sound followed by that same leathery creaking. The querrow slides itself up and down your back until you feel a damp spot along your spine. You mistake it for blood at first, something that rubbed against your injury, but its thicker than that. Slime-like, dribbling from an opening in the querrow’s body. Another back and forth motion, settling more of its weight on top of you, and you feel something emerging from that opening. A warm, wet pressure. A tapered head and a throbbing length of flesh covered in fleshy bumps and knobs.

“Do you plant the eggs of your kin, or do you lay them?” the querrow rasps. Its cock keeps emerging long after you think it should be done. It’s long, impossibly long, its heavy girth slapping heavily along your back as it shifts again, repositioning. It pulls back and then lunges forward, its enormous length stabbing between your thighs. Your heart skips a beat. That thing can’t go inside you. It won’t fit. You won’t survive. “Let me tell you a secret, destroyer. It does not matter.”

It rocks forward and even outside of you, without penetrating, the movement is brutal. Its body shoves you forward, grinding your stomach painfully against the mound you’re bent over. Its length is slick with the same disgusting slime that trickled out of it and all over your back, and you notice a tingling sensation spreading wherever it touches.

The legs. You have to hit its legs. You can feel them, their soft undersides where exoskeletal plates folded away, but you can barely lift your head. The querrow rocks back again and that thin, tapered head slips past your entrance. It growls. The grasping limbs on your waist lift you just slightly. The next thrust is a sharp jab that knocks the breath out of your lungs. It doesn’t miss this time. The tip of its inhuman cock punches inside you and it’s almost more than you can take. It hesitates. You feel it stiffen, hear it moan.

“You will…make me a father,” it grunts, its breathing labored. You’re begging for mercy, trying to scream with a constricted throat, as it lunges forward. More of its monstrous cock forces inside. You wouldn’t be conscious if its strange, sticky fluid wasn’t numbing your insides, soothing every scalding movement. It fucks you like it’s trying to kill you, every thrust a vicious stab. You’re full, beyond full, bulging around its hot, twitching flesh, and it’s not even halfway inside. “Your flesh will bear my eggs and feed my young. Your blood, their milk. Your bones, their nursery.”

Its body sways and your hands clench weakly into fists as you’re stretched even further, its cock churning your insides. To your horror, the ridges ringing its length rub against your inner walls in a way that sparks pleasure at the base of your spine. It shouldn’t feel good, none of it should. But every predatory lunge and softer, teasing thrust, every small movement it makes is accompanied by whispers of pleasant friction. It’s deep enough to touch things that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head, deep enough to pound against them mercilessly. You don’t think it knows, don’t think it even cares, but it has you shivering and whimpering under it.

The legs, you think dimly. You need—need to do something. Need to—to do something, but you can hardly think. The querrow settles into a predictable rhythm; back and forth, in and out, and then it pauses, swaying back and forth in a gently rocking motion that you are ashamed you push back to meet with your hips. It makes you relax and let it in even deeper, that line of bumps along its cock dragging by that spot one at a time. It makes your mind go blank.

“You smell willing,” it rumbles. It breaks rhythm to reward you, a slow, circular grind against your hips making you whine and arch your back. “You break easily, destroyer. Look at you. So eager for my eggs and my seed. Why did you ever leave when you were made to be a querrow breeder?”

There is a voice in your head that is screaming, calling you angel, angel, my angel. It says you have to fight but the querrow pounds into you again, pumping another thick, viscous load of numbing liquid into your abused entrance. It says you have to run but the querrow is swaying its body and you are swaying with it, your mind melting from the sweet, filthy praise and the strangely soothing glide of its appendages along your sides and back. It says Jamie is up there waiting for you—

Jamie. The name is like ice water down your back, sudden clarity. Jamie said its legs are its weak spot. You can move but not well, not with precision. You don’t trust your legs. You might need to crawl out of here. You’ll only have one shot, you think, because the second it realizes you’re not paralyzed it’ll bite—sting—whatever it did before. You have to put everything you have into this strike and claw your way to the surface. But you don’t know which way is up, or which way is out, or how—

The querrow slams into you, the pleasure just edged out by pain. You ask the God of Nelton to guide you. The next time the querrow halts its merciless pace to grind softly into you, you lean slightly, feel where the nearest leg is—thick with a soft, fleshy underside right where it connects to the body—and you kick as hard as you can.

The sound the querrow makes leaves you momentarily deafened, your ears ringing for a long time after. It’s nails on a chalkboard amplified, a screech like a car crash echoing all around you. You feel it collapse because the whole burrow shakes from the impact, legs flailing, a claw raking your side as you make yourself twist and turn and get up to run.

Your legs give out after barely a few steps but you crawl, bruised hands and bloodied knees into the dark. The God of Nelton is your eyes, a steady voice in your head tells you where to go, when to turn, urging you onward even when your wounded, weary body wants to give up. You feel things—soft things, dead things, wet and rotting—but you have no time to think or worry or linger. You make yourself crawl until the tunnel starts sloping gently upward, and then sharply, yanking on snaking tree roots and stones lodged in the earth. A speck of light shines like a single star overhead.

Below you, not far behind, there is an enraged, earth-shattering screech. The burrow quakes with terrifyingly swift movement, a dozen long, graceful legs sprinting right for you. You know you can’t outrun it and you can’t outclimb it and you’re dead if it catches you, throwing yourself forward, higher, pushing through the acidic burn in your legs, the crackling heat in your lungs, your palms scraped raw and bloody, your nails breaking on the crumbling wall of dirt in front of you.

A hand catches yours just as you start to slip. Jamie hauls you out of the burrow so fast your heart feels like it’s in your throat. They sling your arm over your shoulder and then they’re running the best they can with you half-dragging beside them, shoving through the barn doors and out into the pasture. Your car is running in the middle of the corn, driver’s door hanging open. Jamie shoves you into the passenger seat and lets you handle the door, sprinting around to the driver’s side. Rotten corn squelches under your squealing tires.

You hurt everywhere. You twist around in the seat trying to find a position that doesn’t send searing agony up your spine. Jamie looks sympathetic but doesn’t risk taking their hands off the wheel to soothe you, too focused on navigating out of the field and the anchorware malfunction.

You look back just once, a quick glance in the rearview mirror. There is something in the field but it doesn't follow beyond the crops. An enormous spider-like limb pricks the ground, hesitates, and slowly retreats back into the corn. The thing must be the size of your car.

“You’re on thin fucking ice,” Jamie says sharply, making you flinch. “But yes. I am grateful.”

There’s a warm sensation in your chest, a proud little squirm from the God of Nelton.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

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