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hezzabeth · 4 months

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The trumpets were old plastic souvenirs painted gold, so the off-key wailing was hardly surprising. A band of disheveled people marched onto the stage, still blowing on the plastic trumpets. Surprisingly, Isabeau was among them, her face displaying a bored, blank expression. They abruptly stopped once they reached the center of the scaffold, the wood creaking under their feet.

A man wearing green tights and a shirt reading "Medieval Christmas market 3345" on it walked onto the stage. His hair had been cut into a peculiar bowl shape with a blunt fringe, and someone had painted red circles on his cheeks.

"All hail Sister Morganna! Conduit of the one true god," the man bellowed in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.

“Did you bring your solar flare gun?” Dityaa asked.

“Of course I did! I never go anywhere without it,” Revati snapped back.

Revati had never seen Sister Morganna up close. During her childhood visits, Sister Morganna was a distant figure. Glimpses of her gloved hands could be seen waving from the castle windows. Every summer solstice, she would lead a parade across the park, carried by men in a gold and white carriage. Through the mesh curtain windows, her shadowy figure could be seen shifting about. Now, Sister Morganna was walking across the scaffold boldly and freely.

She was dressed in a sky-blue and emerald dress, with a thick red and golden scarf covering her scalp, the ends trailing down her shoulders. Slowly, she turned toward the waiting audience, and Revati gasped. Sister Morganna's skin was the same color as fresh lavender. A single round, circular eye glanced about—an eye that could see and understand everything, even things that had yet to be—an eye that could glance into the very nature of people.

“She’s an alien!” whispered Dityaa.

It was an eye that could read minds; no wonder she had successfully started a cult.

“Technically, she’s a human from a faraway planet,” Revati hissed back.

The "faraway planet" was the closest the solar system got to actual aliens. Over a thousand years ago, a group of scientists set off to colonize Pluto. Obviously, they vanished, the ship sinking into the darkness of space. Three hundred years ago, their descendants returned. They were, of course, different.

Sister Morganna calmly walked across the stage and raised her hand.

“Praise be to Marduk, son of the sun, radiant is he,” Sister Morganna said.

“Radiant is he,” the crowd echoed, their expressions blank.

“Who’s Marduk?” Hissed Dityaa.

Revati merely shrugged, completely confused.

“Today we bring forward two heretics, those who smother the great transition,” Sister Morganna said, gesturing towards Bridgadeiro and Aurora.

“Heretic? I don’t even understand what I did! All I said was 'Bless Goup' when my new friend sneezed,” Bridgadeiro argued, nodding at Aurora.

“And I didn’t do anything! I swear,” Aurora cried.

“Goup is a lie! A false prophet created by an ancient snake oil seller,” Sister Morganna said with a small, tight smile.

“False prophet? The rainbow mat of crystal light has been proven to work! It balances your mind, body, and spirit,” Bridgadeiro smiled, and Sister Morganna turned to him, her one eye slowly blinking.

“I can see you standing on that mat, praying to the dark,” she whispered. “Your brother, he drowned, didn’t he? On that hot summer night? You cried and prayed! You think it was her that brought him back,” she added, and the smile dropped from Bridgadeiro’s face.

“She did save him! Goup saved him,” Bridgadeiro said, and Sister Morganna shook her head.

“Oh, you’re a true believer... you poor little boy,” she sighed. “Some gods are lies, but Marduk is true and ancient. My people have lived on his surface! We have been blessed with his gifts! Praise Marduk,” Sister Morganna said.

“Praise Marduk,” the entire crowd screamed, including Revati, who found herself clapping her hand over her mouth. Sister Marduk had hijacked her vocal cords.

“Now repent and embrace Marduk or sacrifice your light to his glory,” Sister Marduk cried.

“I repent! All hail Marduk!” Aurora cried, bursting into tears.

“Well, I’m not repenting. Marduk is just another name for your home planet that blew up centuries ago,” Bridgadeiro said with a small shrug.

“Very well,” Sister Morganna said. Revati sighed, pulling out her solar gun and setting the final charge to maximum.

“Oh, you’re not going to…” whispered Dityaa, and Revati nodded, pulling the trigger.

The solar flare hit the stage in a blinding loop of ultraviolet light. Sister Morganna screamed, flying upwards and landing face-first in the crowd, her body twitching.

“Praise Marduk! This must be an omen!” Aurora smartly yelled from the stage.

The crowd, no longer under Sister Morganna’s control, began to scatter in all directions. Some stumbled towards the fallen leader, striking her with whatever they could find. Others pushed and shoved each other, stumbling over cobblestones.

Through it all, Bridgadeiro stood, completely confused, his hands still tied behind his back. People pushed and shoved, stumbling over each other and tripping on the slick cobblestones. Revati fought through the tidal wave of chaos until she reached the scaffold again. Bridgadeiro was staring down at her, completely transfixed.

“Did you just save my life again?” He asked.

“Yes!” Revati replied, climbing up to the scaffold.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen! He said it so quickly,” Aurora said as Revati began to undo her bound hands.

“It was pure instinct!” protested Bridgadeiro.

The crowd was starting to swarm towards the stage like ants around a sugar cube. From above, Revati could see the smoking, twitching form of Sister Morganna.

“What are they doing?” Bridgadeiro asked, and there was a faint creaking sound as Isabeau joined Revati.

“They’re probably going to kill her; none of them wanted to worship an ancient Babylonian god!” Isabeau said and then she smiled. An actual smile. “I can talk normally again! She’s really gone!” Isabeau cried with delight as Aurora pulled her hands free.

“She’s gone!” Aurora echoed, grabbing Isabeau. Revati watched them kiss for a fraction of a second before politely turning her head.

“Did she really control all these people with her mind? Why would she do that?” Bridgadeiro asked as Revati began to undo his constraints.

“The tornado and the second invasion messed a lot of people up,” Revati merely replied.

“You seem fine,” Bridgadeiro replied, and Revati chuckled.

“Trust me, I’m not fine,” Revati said firmly. Life on Baker Street before the tornado had been hard. But there had been drawing lessons with her father. There had been fairytales with her mother. There had been tea parties with Dityaa. Dityaa.

“Where’s Dityaa?” Revati said as Bridgadeiro tugged his hands free. There was no telltale flash of Snow White silk in the crowd. Everyone was dressed in shades of green and mud brown.

“She was out there before,” Bridgadeiro said, gesturing to the bottom left corner of the courtyard. Revati jumped swiftly off the scaffold, ignoring the pain searing up her ankles. People were pressing in from all sides, shrieking, laughing, and, in some cases, singing. A blur of purple skin and red fabric passed her head on outstretched hands.

“Did you see a girl in a white dress?” Revati screamed in general; no one answered, and the crowd pushed her forward. People were spilling out of the courtyard into the laneways. Someone had decided to start looting the shops. Revati felt herself thrown against a wall, crushed face-first into the bricks. A hand grabbed hers, calloused, well-worn fingers gripping her wrist.

“I saw her at the end of the crowd! This way!” Bridgadeiro ordered her.

“You’re helping,” Revati gasped; something hot and red was trickling down her cheek. Revati was bleeding.

“Let the crowd push you forward; don’t fight it and try not to stumble,” Bridgadeiro said firmly, still holding her hand. The crowd surged and pressed in. Revati could see nothing but gleeful faces, smell nothing but hot, foul sweat.

Then suddenly, the crowd began to break into pieces, trickling away like water. They had reached the back wall of Medieval Faire. There was a hole in the wall. A massive hole. Beyond the hole lay the freezing wilderness of Mars. People were climbing out of the hole, running into the cube-shaped snow. One of them was Dityaa, spinning around and dancing with the Duke of Io. Dityaa spotted them and waved happily.

“They’re all going to freeze to death,” Revati realized, marching to the hole.

“It looks like some of them had enough to steal jackets,” Bridgadeiro added. Revati and Dityaa rarely left the park. When they did, Amma always made them wear her old protective gear. Dityaa seemed oblivious to the cold. It was almost as if the Duke's love was covering her in a warm, sacred light.

The escaping people were beginning to join in with their dancing.

“Look! He was waiting for me outside the wall,” Dityaa yelled, resting her head on his shoulder. Revati stepped closer to the wall. Revati let go of Bridgadeiro’s hand and carefully climbed through the hole. The freezing winter of Mars blew around her, fighting against the park's atmospheric heating system. Snow began to blow around her chest, and Revati felt flushed and dizzy.

The Duke was dressed in the same outfit from the night before. The same thin jacket and trousers. Up close, his blue hair was a little too shiny. Up close, Revati could actually feel heat wafting off his body.

“The Duke was waiting for you… outside in that outfit?” Revati asked suspiciously. Dityaa’s expression froze for a moment as if considering this.

“Sissy’s right! Let’s get out of the cold, darling; I have so much to tell you,” smiled Dityaa. The Duke held up a hand. The tip of his finger turned blue.

“Ah, the sister,” he remarked, reaching towards Revati. His eyes glowed with the brilliance of true Ai, and darkness prevailed.

Here's the revised text with corrected spelling and grammar:

True, jet-black, soothing darkness.

For Revati, who spent most of her nights lost in nightmares, it was actually comforting.

In fact, Revati felt herself sink into it.

The darkness was as soft as the mattress she once slept on.

“Oh, don’t sink into it, Dimpy. It’s not time for that,” her father’s voice whispered in her ear.

Dimpy.

Revati was Dimpy, Dityaa was Rinky.

Jay would draw pictures of them flying across the stars with wings.

Dimpy and Rinky; the sisters were so close they could be twins.

“You’re not real. You died, and your consciousness is in a plastic box,” Revati muttered.

The darkness was warm and sleepy, lulling Revati into nothing at all.

“Some of me is in that box, but scientists don’t know everything. Some of me is also in you, in your sister, and in your mother,” her father’s voice said.

“And I’m guessing I’m dead?” Revati whispered.

“No, you’re just recovering from a traumatic brain injury. Someone has placed a standard issue healing pad on your forehead,” Jay’s voice replied soothingly.

“And how do you know that?” Revati groaned doubtfully.

A distant, tiny light had appeared in the dark.

A pinprick that seemed to strip away things.

“Dimpy, you know I was a nurse! Relax, your glia cells are busy repairing themselves. Look, they move like fireflies,” her father said.

He was right; more dots of light had appeared.

They buzzed around gently.

For a moment, one of them flashed, lighting up everything.

Revati, in that second, saw a much younger Dityaa handing her a doll.

“I remember that doll. I bought it the day Dityaa was born,” her father said.

“Dityaa tried to give it to me after we buried you. I told her I’d take the book of fairy tales instead,” Revati remembered.

“Once upon a time, in the ancient kingdom of Mithila, the earth yielded a miraculous gift. A baby girl was born. She was discovered in a furrow by King Janaka and named Sita. As she grew, her grace and beauty were matched only by her wisdom and strength of character.

One day, Rama, a prince known for his valor and virtue, won her hand in marriage by stringing the mighty bow of Lord Shiva.

Soon after the wedding, Rama and his best friend were exiled to the forest. Sita, full of devotion, followed.

The forest was dark and full of dangers.

The most dangerous being was the demon king Ravana,” a woman’s voice, the voice of the maternity droid, whispered.

The lights were growing stronger, and Revati remembered something.

“Dityaa’s in trouble,” Revati realized.

“Yes, she is,” her father replied.

Revati’s mind was so bright she could see her father.

He looked younger than what she remembered.

He was dressed in the blue protective outfit Amma kept packed away.

Standing next to him was a woman.

A familiar woman cloaked in a fuchsia and green saree.

“You’re the lost princess,” Revati realized, and the Princess nodded.

“Wake me up, wake me up, and I will find my daughter,” the Lost Princess insisted.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #science fiction #life on mars #saying farewell to armageddon #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #futurism #nibiru #spilled writing #writing science fiction #sci fi ya #sci fi

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mosaickiwi · 5 months

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Fall Unto Me

Meant to post this before Halloween except it got reaaaally long so I split it up. 🙈 It works as a standalone, though. I'll put the other parts up at some point hehe.

Actual!Angel and Devil!Ren AU (yoinked from da discord bot once again) One visit to earth turns into eternity. 1.4k words + GN reader

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

With pearly white wings and a halo of gold, you were a disciple in heaven’s endless library. Duty bound to organize records and histories of paradise and its worlds below. Though you’d never looked within those records, just being in their presence gave you curiosity about your god’s creations all the same.

Once every hundred or so years in your infinite lifespan, you sought to venture into the human realm before returning to your celestial duty. It was an odd request to your peers. None were as interested in mortals as you so each visit was a lonely affair. You never stayed more than an hour or two, merely observing how they had changed from a favored seat in the clouds above, lest someone spotted you. It was only meant to be a short trip as always. This time something felt different.

In the quaint seaside town you were fond of visiting, you'd sensed a devil and dared to investigate. Of course, you'd never met one, so you had no idea what that uneasy feeling even was until your feet touched the ground for the very first time.

The devil seemed to be asleep in a field of blossoms, butterflies fluttering about. Spring was always in full bloom when you descended to earth. Pastel pink hair blended with the flowers, only making the black horns atop his head and the symbols scrawled along his arms stand out even more.

You approached with caution and curiosity. Though they were meant to be your sworn enemy, heaven's few rumors about devils already appeared untrue. The fauna and flora around him weren't withered and rotting, but full of life. He didn't smell of burning flesh, nor was he covered head to toe in the blood of his victims. If anything, his form seemed almost angelic.

He opened his eyes as you came closer, and their sky blue color welcomed you further. "Ah, could I be dreaming? Or has an angel come to rescind my eternal punishment?" he spoke wryly.

"Nay, devil. I want no trouble from you," you said in response, caught off guard by his casual, relaxed greeting. You took a few fearful steps away when he rose to lean back on his hands.

"Hmm... You have some holy divination or blessing to bestow upon this land, I assume. I've no intention of interfering." He smiled up at you, and those angelic features seemed even more prominent. Were it not for the pointed tail swishing with vigor behind him, you'd think this devil was one of your own.

"There's no mission I've been given," you explained with a shake of your head, "I'm only here to observe my god's world for a few moments, out of my own curiosity."

"Fascinating. I've never known angels to take interest in mortal affairs before their passing. Then, if no duty calls for thee—" he stopped to pluck a white bud that hadn't quite fully bloomed from the sea around him. "Might you grace me with your divine visage for one moment longer, little angel? I've called earth my home for millennia—and damnation is dreadfully boring. I could help with those curiosities, if you so desire." He held the bud out to you as an offering.

Though his words sounded sincere, you felt unsure. “...Do you take me to be so naive? I know your kind favor trickery.”

“I only offer my companionship,” he gave an innocent shrug. That heavenly smile was still fixed on you.

Your eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his face. Eventually, you took the flower from him. You could sense no ill intent on their part, so it wouldn't hurt to stay a little while. Nonetheless, you’d do your best to stay on guard.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as you lost track of time. Ren, you learned, knew far more of humans than you ever imagined. Your interest in them grew with each story he told of the world. At his urging, you'd gone to the beach to wander up close among them. It was a bit of a struggle to prepare—you'd never been told that your wings could retract or your halo could be hidden. But he coached you through it, not so much as flinching at the sting of divine power when you accidentally hit his arm with a wing on the first try. For a devil, he was oddly knowledgeable of things beyond his damned realm.

“You said your visits were always over in the late morning. So you haven’t seen this time of day, have you?” he asked as you both walked along the shore, waves glittering in gentle reds and pinks you’d never known the sun to make.

“I haven’t seen this terrain either.” Even with the occasional pausing stares of young children and animals—the only beings who could see your true form, as they were without sin—you were thrilled at the new experiences you were having. Your footsteps painted the sand rather unevenly compared to his. It was impossible to get used to the sinking feeling, nor the coarse sand getting into your sandals. You laughed at the sensation. “Heaven is all clouds and gardens. Here… it’s so different. The sun shines differently. But it’s still just as beautiful.”

He took your hand in his to keep you steady, pulling you towards the water’s edge. They were all too comfortable with the action, but you didn't spare it a thought. The guard you were meant to keep up had been thrown aside long ago. “I’m honored to show you such new experiences. And I only hope to give you more.” Ren’s face was bathed in a heavenly glow as he guided you into the water.

It was a stark contrast. The once warm sand turned to a bracing cold, almost slimy texture as the water slowly rose up to your waist. You raised your other hand up high to avoid it, still clutching the late blooming bud he’d picked for you.

The pink-haired devil brought you to a stop and nodded out at the setting sun with an unreadable look, “I’m sure you won’t be able to take your eyes away from it. I couldn’t, my first time seeing the sun disappear.” At his suggestion you turned your head to watch, barely aware of the way their tail wrapped around your hips to keep you close.

It was captivating as the sun began to fall further beyond the horizon, the hues of the day gradually shifting both in the sky and sea before your eyes. Golds, reds, pinks, and purples all chased after the light, leaving behind a blue as cold as the water felt. In what seemed like an instant, it was over too soon—not a trace left of the glorious sun that never set back in the heavens you called home. Strangely enough, your body tensed with heavy feelings. As if you were saying goodbye to a part of you. You stood staring out at the graying ocean for a long while, until the cold water lapping against your skin felt no different from the air.

“How was it?” he gently broke the silence. You felt his hand move to rest over your own, cradling the flower still between your fingers. The heat of his touch guided you to meet his gaze.

“Breathtaking, I think,” you whispered with a frown as you looked up at him. “And a bit sad? All that warmth disappeared—I’m not sure how to feel.”

“Breathtaking as the sun is, you’ll find on earth that some flowers show their true beauty without its watchful eye, my little angel,” he said to reassure you. The bud in your shared grasp opened slowly at his words, its tapered white petals unfurling to reveal pale lavender edges as the sky darkened further. His fingers traced behind your ear before he tucked the flower among the strands of your hair, seeming to admire it. “You’d never have known if you’d only stayed those few moments.”

You searched his eyes as his hand lingered at your cheek. Just as when you first met, there was no malice in their voice. A devil who appreciated your god’s work felt unheard of. From Ren's intense gaze he looked as if he revered them. He must've been a kindred soul—or the equivalent of a soul in demons. You wanted to know more about him as well, not just mortals.

Their fangs gleamed in the faint moonlight when you quietly asked, “What else can you show me?”

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #this feels vaguely different from my normal writing style i think?#i got too silly #who possessed me #i wanna infodump about my HCs in this AU so bad

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 3 months

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Yandere! Male! Archpriest x gn! Penpal! Ill! Reader

OOOH I've been waiting for this guy. He's been planned ever since the start, and I finally got to write him! Enjoy the convoluted world building between him and the other yandere men of Saphiri!

BTW: Liviticus has always been one of my beloved OCs with quite the lore, so forgive me if it did get a bit too confusing hshadad he is a priest, but I am not confining him to our existing religions of modern society. So it's up to you which religion, may it be made up or not, he is serving. I think this is also the first time i'm explicitly telling the physical appearance of the yandere? I don't remember. But yeah!

Yandere! God name: Liviticus

TW: Reader has cancer, death

BE WARNED, THIS IS LONG... LIKE MY LONGEST FIC.

Liviticus Obelia has always been a pious man.

He had everything in his life. Money, a loving family, anything he wanted, needed, and more.

With his extravagant life with his rich family, he had always thought that he should return the blessings he got to the people. But he doesn't know how though. First of all, he's an awkward man. He doesn't know how to interact that much due to being an introvert, and people avoid him quite a lot due to his Family's financial status being at the 1 percentile. Second, he had always thought that social aspects of society is not needed for people like him who is independently content with themselves.

Those words coming from the 10 year old Liviticus while sniffling from being rejected by a group of friends made his eldest sister, Koh, roll her eyes and pat him on the head, and his little sister, Kaoeia, giggle.

So, he found himself burying himself in books in the library his father owns.

Sure, there are more child friendly books there, but what got his attention was theology books about different religions.

He would religiously read all of them, immersing himself in the mythos of the gods he's reading on it. Even those of the olden and forgotten. His eyes would sparkle whenever he reads a book about them, maybe a holy scripture, and now, 15 years later, he graduated from his theology course.

Seeing as this was a good opportunity to now return the blessings he got from god, he enters the holy church of the religion of his choosing.

He takes the oath, and was quickly becoming a beloved member of the church.

With how genuine he is with helping people and "repenting" about having too much in his life, it's no wonder people and his fellow church personnel love him.

That, and his angelic looks was something that added to the his popularity.

With his long, ash golden hair that softly drapes on his shoulders like waterfalls, his eyelashes that almost looks white on his smooth skin, and his amber eyes that looks gold in the sunlight, he looks like an entity not of this world at all.

Everyone felt so compelled to rely on Liviticus. With his tall stature and strong build, added with his soft and understanding personality that will make even the most of the martyrs jealous, he exudes an almost godly energy in him.

He's genuine with helping too. He's that much of a good man.

That means, a lot of people wanted to be his romantic partner.

But when asked, he would just smile that partially blinded those who asked.

"I am not ready for that yet. I have devoted myself in serving the people right now."

Oh, how pious he is.

If they only knew.

Liviticus, is seen as a man who is extremely devoted to the religion he's serving.

With how he is and his high rank in the church, it is no doubt that he's a man of virtue and holiness.

It was true. He is a pious man. Someone who's serving his god/s with the full extent of his efforts, heart, and soul. He's also genuine with helping people and repenting on having too much.

But Liviticus was nothing short of just putting up a facade of devotion to god/s.

In reality, he's interested in religion, sure, but not in the devoted vision. He's someone who looks at every religion as entertainment. Just like how people treat Greek Mythology as stories, he looks at all of religions like that. No matter how widespread and popular it is.

Even the religion and church he's serving is nothing more than work to him and an obligation to serve.

He treats them as mere stories that fascinated a lot of people to the point of mass fascination. Was all of these true? Did all of these stories written in the holy scriptures of the religions he studied actually happen?

If they're fictional, how did it capture the heart of a lot of people? Did the author intend for it to be so big and so... Religious? How did they feel? Was the sensational occurrence changed something in them?

And, if they're actually real...

Then,

How can he be a god himself?

In a weird twist, Liviticus was so enamored with the godly figures in the religions he read that he wants to become one.

As unreasonable as it is, he doesn't care.

He's too in his head to think rationally.

So, him serving the people went from a genuine guilt to feeling like it's an obligation, a task to become a god. After all, he wants to be the helpful type of god.

In his mind, it was a practice in order to serve his future devotees.

The reason why he wants to be one?

Well, other than being an archpriest, he was an author beforehand.

He had created a world inside his high end laptop just like how normal fantasy authors have.

But in his case, he as an author, is a character in it. Nay, an active role inside of it as if the world is real.

He had created Saphiri. A world in which there's new currencies, new languages, new magic infused technology, entities, and of such.

Every single detail is well thought out. He even had different folders for different aspects. Like the languages folder has more folders containing new words, letters, and numbers. Magic? New runes and inspired elemental systems. Currencies? He has made a vector art of the coins and cash, and how it circulates between different countries.

He's too meticulous that it was almost unbelievable.

And his proofreader and the only other person who reads his works?

It's you.

Liviticus was rarely seen outside of the church grounds.

And if he was outside, it's usually to visit his family, or...

Liviticus sighed in content, reading the newest addition to his world. It was a person (not character. He hates that term) named Eros. He's still a child, but once he got your approval, he will work on Eros' upbringing.

The elevator dings, signaling that he reached his floor.

Once the doors opened, the smell of the sterile environment of the hospital lingers on his nose. He hears the nurses, doctors, patients and visitors alike walking and talking amongst themselves.

Thanks to his friend, who is the hospital chairperson here, Xavier allowed Liviticus to move you to one of the private suites.

You and Liviticus met when his family got a penpal for him. They saw how he's struggling with connecting to other people, and suggested penpals.

You were not that far, at least two cities away. And you're the same age as him too. That made it easier to connect with you.

Because apparently, he's shy when it comes to in person connection. He felt awkward staring into other people since he always felt a wall between them, let alone connecting with them. So, a penpal was more or less a cry of help.

And it worked amazingly. He liked you a lot since you love writing, albeit not in the theological sense like he was. You're an amazing writer, and has a keen eye when it comes to looking at plotholes. So, he regularly sends small drafts and manuscripts along with the letter with you.

You are patient with him, always treating him with kindness that he never felt from other people. Even when he's being rude and aloof, you patiently broke his walls down and now he's attached to you.

Being his only friend, he shared a lot of things to you. His desire to be god, the questions about religions, etc. He felt safe with you. You weren't judging him, and always answered his questions with a critical, neutral eye. Yet these replies still held the softness and friendliness he took comfort in.

Liviticus longed to see you in real life, but you weren't exactly as blessed financially as him. Sure, he's only two cities away, but your family didn't really want you going out and buying tickets or buying gas just to meet a penpal. He yearned to see your face finally, to see your face in real life and hold you close.

He wants you so bad that it's almost painful to breath. You were the only one who understood him. Even his family didn't understand him that much.

So, he took this yearning to another level.

Seeing that you were so nice to him, he decided to adapt your personality in real life. Gentle, kind, friendly... Someone who's easy to talk to and is incredibly patient and heartfelt. Helpful and genuine, Liviticus felt closer to you as he took your characteristics as his own. It felt like you were there with him.

And, years passed by...

Finishing his degree and finally having the time and permission of his family, he drove his newly bought car to your city just to find you.

His heart pounding, he found your address that you told him years ago, and saw you on the stairs of your home, sitting and writing something on your lap.

A letter. His letter.

He smiles and runs outside of his car to meet you, hugging you without any warning that freaked you out.

But, when you saw who he was, you grinned widely and hugged him back.

The rest is history...

But why is he in the hospital in present day, looking despondent while slapping his face to gather courage?

Two years within meeting you in real life, Liviticus regularly visited you. Spending time with you and getting to know you more in a personal level.

But, heated glances and affectionate gazes weren't lost. Both of you were two hearts beating in sync, as if the world intended the both of you to be together. It was a natural pull, and if the concept of soulmates were real, you were his, and he was yours.

A kiss on the lips on your birthday, Liviticus' mind slipped from trying to become god momentarily.

He's so happy just being by your side.

But then...

When he had to train to serve the church he chose, he had minimal contact with you. But, despite not having a label yet, he knew you would wait.

You would wait, right?

Then, one day, his phone rang. It felt weird, since it was already 3am, but he answered it.

He found himself feeling like heaven fell on him as the phone dropped to the floor, cracking the protector on it. He grabbed his coat and ran to his car to your house, almost violating road laws on the way.

You suddenly collapsed that night while trying to drink water. Your stomach felt so painful, like it was eating you inside out. You were so pale and white, and with a trembling body, you collapsed on your kitchen, being found by your mother who got startled awake.

When you were rushed to the hospital, you were found to have colon cancer.

It was almost too much for you, making you wonder what you did wrong to deserve such an ailment on your body.

And Liviticus felt like it was cruel. Too cruel.

You were so good and sweet, so why did you get such a dangerous and life threatening condition? And at such a late stage too?

Then and there, Liviticus truly questioned everything.

If god/the gods is/are real, then why were you being tested like this? You didn't do anything bad at all. You can't hurt a fly, so why hurt you?

Is this punishment due to him questioning their existence? Is this a cruel revenge due to him being preposterous and daring to be god? Is this an unfair judgement on a person that has nothing to do with him being unholy?

He might as well be swallowed by hell than seeing you cry your eyes out with such painful wails of agony.

He forced insisted on footing the bill. You and your family were adamant, but he insisted. His family was willing too, seeing as they had the money to spend and that you were also loved by them. And, you were transferred to his city to monitor you closely and closer to the best doctors out there.

He regularly visited you, always making sure to treat you like usual. Reading manuscripts and making you judge them. He tried to be cheerful. He really did.

But, seeing you getting weaker and weaker everyday was painful. You looked tired, but still carried a smile to comfort him as he kisses your hand.

And everyday, he got more and more desperate praying to gods to forgive him for being preposterous. He wants you to be healed, or even just transfer the sickness to him.

Anything at all.

He did all of these good things, and forgot his want to be god, just to appease those up above.

Suddenly, he became religious.

But it was not enough.

He numbly stands outside your door. The doctors and nurses were desperately trying to wake you up. But your limp body didn't respond at all.

You were dead.

Everything became a blur to him.

One thing, he's calling your family, then him consoling them, his family consoling him, then picking your coffin, and then now he's leading the funeral, blessing your coffin as you got buried in a mausoleum.

He only snapped out of his trance when he's kneeling in front of your grave, in the dead of the night, with only the moon and candles illuminating him. The wind was still, so was the night. It's as if letting him snap out of his mind.

His lips trembled, and in his priest garments, he shuffled close to your grave and hugged it, tears silently streamed down his face as he cried without a noise.

Everything felt so... Dull.

He did everything for the gods to forgive him, but they didn't. If they were real, then they would see his repentance, right?

But now, all he could do is weep. His heart torn apart as it got buried alongside you.

If you wish, he wants to be buried along you too.

Then, anger came.

Why can't they see it? Why can't they see that he's doing his best for them to forgive him? Why were you dead? You were innocent in all of this! You were only indulging his sins and was not directly mocking them! Is this his punishment? To break his heart this greatly?!

Is it not enough to shatter him, but you too?!

You had so much to live for! You were an excellent writer, and had plans to publish your book!

And...

"I.. I didn't even get to court you properly..." He wept, shakily taking a breath.

He pressed his sweaty forehead on your picture, tears still silently falling as he placed a chaste kiss on your face.

He got home that night, and left an email to the church that he's quitting.

He can't kept pretending to be okay.

Rotting in his bed on the days passed, he wished and longed to be in your arms again. To touch you, feel you once more.

Maybe, it will be a good idea to do something to distract him. You won't like it seeing him so miserable, and he needed to make you proud even if you were in the afterlife.

Trudging to his desk, his once Luscious ash blonde hair was dull, and his white eyelashes were permanently wet. His amber eyes dark and lost of sheen, he looked at the Saphiri folder in front of him before opening another document.

With shaky hands, he finally wrote his document. His role as god in that world.

He wrote in which he's someone who desired to be god to entertain his lover, y/n. He created this world solely for you, and just you. He wrote that he came from a world called Earth, and that is ascension to godhood was to see if he can meet you again. He wrote that he got transmigrated to this world, and had the godly powers like a worldbuilding author. And that he had more than enough power to pull your soul back to life in that world.

He finished writing by 4am, and he got to his bed with a small smile on his face.

Not knowing that what he wrote birthed to a world where he's ascended to godhood.

When he woke up, he's in an endless void of an opal sheen, and he was floating in the middle of it.

His heart pounded, looking down at his outfit.

A white cloth draped over him to look like a robe, and a gold anklet.

"Where am I?"

The void in front of him rippled, and he flinched before gasping.

A tear in front of him appeared, and it was overlooking a planet so green and blue, like earth but different...

Somehow, this felt natural.

He raised his hand and tried to "zoom in". And just as expected, the "screen" zoomed in, making him look over what seems like an old England inspired Empire, but he can see differences.

Magic.

In awe, he looked and watched as people and different types of creatures, familiar and new interacted with one another. He's beginning to be entertained until he heard the newspaper boy yell.

"Saphiri news! Saphiri news! The Crown Prince Yuno had a scandal! A mistress? What happens to his fiancee?!"

Saphiri?

His heart pounded as he tried to do something more.

"F-find Duke Eros."

And, in command, the screen flew up high and went to a majestic chateau.

There was a man, also in early 20's, talking with his soldiers with a frown on his face.

It is Saphiri. His creation.

He stumbled back, but only got to sit in a chair that materialized behind him.

"Oh god..." He muttered, eyes wide with disbelief.

He did it. Godhood.

He became a god.

Not just any god, but the god of his own world.

He scoffs in disbelief, still in shock as he slowly internalized what's happening.

"No way..." He smirks, a bit excited, before remembering where the hell he was.

"Shit... Um, home?"

And indeed, another rip in the void happened. There's his room, just outside of the rip.

This was surreal.

He closed the void by running his hand down on the void.

He tried to remember what happened, but all he could remember now was...

"Y/n."

He gulped. He remembered writing down that he should have enough power to make you alive here.

So, he closed his eyes and puts his hand forward.

"Y/n, come back to my arms, please."

And slowly, light sprites danced around him, making his eyes shot up and look in wonder as it, your feet, materialized in front of him.

In an agonizing speed that drained his energy, he focused on bringing your soul to him. Sweat trickled his forehead as you appeared slowly, bit by bit.

And once you fully materialized, you fell down, making Liviticus catch you.

He caught the familiar whiff of the cologne you use, before you got admitted to the hospital. Your being overwhelmed his senses, as he found himself crying again.

"Y/-y/n?" He whispered, making you stir.

Oh god...

"Liviticus?" You whispered, eyes slowly blinking open.

He desperately hugged you tighter, sobbing loudly on your neck.

He missed you so bad.

"You're alive! Oh god you're alive..." He painfully said out, the hiccups making him seem like a lost child.

You were also in disbelief. You swore you died, but here you are, hugging Liviticus in a weird white robe. You wanted to question everything, but seeing Liviticus cry in your arms was enough to make you shut up and just sooth him, smiling and grateful to be alive. You weren't in pain anymore, and that's enough.

Liviticus explained the situation to you, and you were amazed. He became a god? And he revived you?

You felt so flustered and grateful once more. If it weren't for him, you're still dead. And, even if you were dead, you didn't get to thank him when he took care of you back in earth.

Speaking of, you tried to go back to Earth, but it's as if a barrier was placed when you tried to enter the rip. But you were satisfied here already, in this void with him.

Slowly, the void got filled with a small pocket dimension only the both of you knew. A light blue sky with a night and day cycle, cute creatures that both of you wrote about now came to life, a valley filled with familiar and new flora, and a small, cozy house on top of a hill.

It's as if you were watching a movie as you watch him affect Saphiri. He pulled a person from Earth and made him appear on the throne of the Emperor. He became Aeron.

You were shocked at the twists when Aeron became a Demon King, and be obsessed with his darling.

You also got invested in the love story of Duke Eros and his darling. The way both him and her curbstomped the shitty crown prince Yuno was amazing, and it made you hoot and holler like you're watching a soap opera.

And Callisto.

The fact that Liviticus made Callisto self aware was a twist you didn't expect, and after sending Callisto back, you tackled Liviticus and gushed about how insane it was.

Liviticus grinned, hugging you back and kissing your forehead.

He loves seeing you so happy and entertained.

But that's the thing.

Now, he's the one treating the world he created as if it was still a document on his computer. Forgetting they're real people that had lives of their own. And not just mere characters on paper.

He became the thing he detested back then.

Foolish gods who're just blindly putting unjust punishments for their own good, entertainment, or want.

Thousands of lives under this god who only has one goal, and it's to entertain naive you, who also shared his outlook that these people, this world is just something that they can mess with.

But who cares?

Liviticus is god.

And you were his deity, his soulmate.

You want to ruin Saphiri? Sure. Why not. Want it prosper? He'll do it.

The world is putty in his hands, and he's putty in yours.

So who is really in charge here?

But all you should know is that this omnipresent being is at your beck and call, so pull him closely. You don't know what he won't do for you.

Yandere! Male! Omnipresent! God x Reincarnated! Deity! gn! Reader

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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mx-monster · 6 days

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I have a lot of Horny Thoughts about the incubus. It’s such a cliche and so overdone but it’s just so hot. MM, corruption/virginity kink, a leetle dubcon, nsfw maybe one day it’ll become a full story but for now just enjoy my horny rambling

The son of a fire and brimstone preacher has been homeschooled all his life, with little interaction with anyone outside the church his father preaches at.

The church he’ll one day preach at.

He has a girlfriend but they’re waiting until marriage to kiss. He doesn’t understand why his peers are having such a hard time abstaining from the sins of the flesh. It’s easy for him. He’s never even watched porn. And aside from night time expulsions, he’s never had a proper orgasm.

He’s exactly everything he’s supposed to be. Free from sin. Free from failure.

Until the dreams start.

He feels weight on his chest. Something was laying on top of him. He blinked his eyes open only to have his breath stolen by a pair of brilliant gold eyes. The strangeness of the eyes didn’t stop with the color of the iris. Where the whites of the eyes were supposed to be, there was inky black. And instead of roundness the pupils were thin, vertical slits.

The eyes of a snake.

Of a demon.

He was in his bed with a demon sprawled out on top of him.

It had to be a demon. The creature had blue skin and a pair of horns that sprouted from its long, inky black hair. And yet, despite its alieness, he could not look away from the sharp angles and planes of the creatures face. So enraptured by the creature, he didn’t notice it begin to grind its sex into his own clothed cock until a wicked heat sparked deep in his belly.

“I see you’ve noticed my gift, sweet one,” the demon purred. And God that voice, “I’ve been blessed with two cocks. Do they feel good?”

Yes, they did, he loathed to admit. Bolts of electric pleasure sparked underneath his skin with every roll of the demons hips.

It was just a dream he could have this in his dreams

The sound of his own wrecked whimper broke him out of his lust induced haze.

“Get off me,” he snarled, scrambling out from underneath the demon. As the demon sat back on its haunches, the covers fell away revealing the demon in all its naked glory. Blue skin that stretched over lean muscle. Elaborate gold tattoos adorned the demons arms, torso, and legs. He traced the intricate patterns with his eyes until his gaze fell to the two thick cocks that stood at attention between its muscular thighs.

The demon gave him a pacifying, nearly condescending, smile.

“Don’t worry, sweet one. I have no plans on forcing myself on you. That defeats the purpose. I plan on taking my time with you. To truly savor you. A meal like you is rare nowadays,” the demon reached out a clawed hand, tracing the preachers sons jaw with a long, black talon, “I’ll take you in my mouth first. And then you’ll take mine into yours. I’ll press your face into the pillow while rut into that virginal hole of yours and then I’ll turn you over and lavish myself on your cock until I’ve had my fill. I’ll have you in front of God and you’ll cry tears of ecstasy. But not until you want it. Until you’re crying for it.”

“I’ll never want it.” The preachers son growled through clenched teeth. Heart beating wildly with rage and perverse desire.

The demon’s golden gaze flitted down to the tent in his sweat pants. A grin bloomed on it’s face, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth, “we’ll see about that.”

#monster fucker #monster x human #monster lover #teratophillia #exophelia #terato #d #preacher son x incubus #incubus #demon #corruption kink #virginity kink

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ameiniateria · 10 days

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@sixteenth-day-event

Prompts: twisting the knife + a silent grave

(fic under the cut)

Sam is dead.

His corpse is propped up stiffly against the black wall, on the other side of the lava dividing them both. On one side, the prisoner, screaming and begging and bleeding out for the entertainment of a man with a gold toothed grin and a seemingly infinite amount of silky white dress shirts. On the other, his warden, not listening.

There's a knife stuck in his side as he lies there on his back with Quackity on top of him. His own sobs fall into background noise, mere set-dressing. The lava swirls and bubbles before him. Sam is on the other side. Suddenly that's all he can think about. Sam is on the other side, dead.

The warden's skin is pale and gray – he hasn't seen the sun in months, stalks the prison as a ghost does a haunted house – and his eye sockets are deep and dark as night. His hair is falling out. When he touches Dream, his hands are cold.

He never does anything at all.

"Who's gonna stop me?" Quackity taunts – twists the knife in one brutal jerk that rips a scream from Dream's hoarse throat. A tear rolls down his face. He can't breathe, for – "Who's gonna fucking stop me?"

The only man who could stop this monster of both of their creation is dead in the other room.

How long, Dream asks – the gods above, his own fate, whatever vague and unknowable thing men pray to when they can't think for themselves, when they are at their most hopeless and lost – will it take for this accursed cell to become his coffin as well?

It's not a question he would ever think, once. Back then in the sunlight, he had designed the prison as a safe harbor from the tumultuous, crashing waves of ever-present fear, the sea air clogging his lungs. He was desperate. It was his oasis, his escape route. His island of Calypso. The only place he could be safe – Sam wouldn't let anyone kill him. He had bet his life on that certainty.

The Sam he knew is dead on the other side of a wall of lava. Dream might be dead as well, or just barely clinging to the life that poured out of him with every slash of a blade or snap of rope against his skin. Every condescending sigh, every slap or hunger pang, or lies, a gentler form of torment that were crueler because of their subtlety. Unspeakable things had happened to him in that cell – and yet, he still lived?

No. He must be a ghost.

How many times had he thrown himself carelessly into lava? How many times had he passed out, bleeding profusely on the obsidian floor? How many times had he been told he should be dead?

He didn't remember much, now. He could have easily given up the Revival Book in some agonized, delirious haze. He would've died – he would no longer have been useful alive. He could no longer predict what Sam would or wouldn't do.

"You know how to make all of this stop, Dream."

Dream is silent.

He knows the game by now. He knows the lines, repeated over and over until they whisper in his ears even when he's completely alone. He knows they're just playacting. There is no paradise waiting for him. If Quackity gets his hands on the Book, then Dream will truly be dead, deader than he is already. He will go to Limbo. And he will never escape. Punz will not save him. Dream can't trust anyone. He can't trust even his oldest friends – did Sapnap not threaten to kill him? Has George ever even visited him, blessed Dream with some kinder presence? No. Everyone hates him, for he is a monster, the minotaur captured in a labyrinth of his own design –

Or perhaps this is already his limbo. He can't imagine a fate worse than this. It would be fitting, for his personal hell to be so like his living existence that he couldn't tell the difference between them.

He hates himself, too, in this cell. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, not even Sam who had seen so many of his vulnerable places. He hates the undead thing he is. He hates how dreamlike everything is – he's stopped even trying to count the days; he did, once, but then Sam started skipping meals, and Quackity started coming twice in one day every once in a while, and he didn't have a clock by then anyway. He lost count. Time died with him. But then, he spent both his days and nights screaming and bleeding and passed out on the floor, and there was nothing to look forward to, until the day that someone came to let him out and that he couldn't do anything about. What was the point of counting, anyway?

He hates that he's given up.

Sometimes, he puts his fingertips to his neck, just to feel his heart beating. He sleeps with one hand pressed to his chest to feel his breath rising and falling with each breath. He screams just to feel the vibrations in his throat. All of it could just be another lie – some charade made up by his subconscious mind to torture him further. Funny, that the man once best known by others for his mask and his web of lies and manipulations is now completely trapped by the lies of everyone around him. He's helpless, here. He knows nothing.

"You deserve this, you know that? You fucking deserve this."

He's lying.

"That's the only reason I'm here. Because you need to be fucking punished, Dream. You need someone to put you in your place."

He's lying.

But when he finally leaves, Dream doesn't complain to Sam. He doesn't say anything at all. He lays there, a silent body in a silent grave.

Sam's hands are as stiff and cold as ice despite the lava just behind him. You're not dead until you're warm and dead. Dream clings to that hope - that it's just the cold around them that has paralyzed them both. Someday they might see the warmth of the sun again, and then they could be friends again. The world could be perfect again.

Sam's breath smells like formaldehyde.

#sixteenthdayevent #dreblr #c!dream #c!sam #c!quackity #c!awesamdream #torture #my words #thanks so much for the prompts!#this was really fun even though I only came up with a good idea yesterday #<3

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ackerfics · 10 months

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FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act zero: the prince and the siren (wc: 1.3k) | masterlist

note: oh, and i forgot to mention, there is past daemon x oc in this oops | this is also posted on ao3

Ink on olden paper says two children were born from a great love that shook the realm.

A dragon rained fire, mountains were threatened, men were slayed — all were stepping stones to a hand being asked in marriage, to a union witnessed by the Fourteen Flames and the Seven themselves. The heavens rejoiced, sang their choruses high in the clouds bathed in ever-golden rays, as they blessed the kiss that bound their souls, bodies, and hearts into a single entity, as seen in every birth of their blood — the midnight hall shattered, igniting the spectacle of celestial bodies every pair of eyes marvelled at and years later, the most tumultuous of storms, carpeting the land with the most vibrant shade of viridian that lasted moons on end.

The Rogue Prince and The Siren of the Vale.

Daemon Targaryen and Aellara Arryn.

Every story started with a bold declaration.

For someone who loathed the jadedness of the Vale, Daemon found himself enthralled with the enigma of The Siren of the Vale who was rumoured to be the most bewitching woman to exist in this age, having only heard reminiscent tales from his good-sister, Aemma Targaryen, and songs spread from the mouths of bards. Men would trek the highest mountains to reach Eyrie in hopes of catching a single glimpse of the veiled beauty. It was the very reason why he blatantly rejected his grandmother’s impending proposal to a Bronze Bitch he wouldn’t dare touch in this lifetime, with that fucking sneer on her face as if he was the dirt and she was the god. If only he could shovel her face into the dirt and be done with it. Instead, he longed for the object of everyone’s desire, and that was the youngest child of the House that boasted a falcon for their sigil. Having The Siren by his side would surely sway the public’s favour to lean more toward his side. It would mean ensuring his place as his brother’s Heir; she is of Targaryen blood after all. To have the woman of everyone’s dreams as the Queen Consort would give him the power he never thought Daemon had, which had him singing prayers to the gods he believed in even though he wasn’t a pious man.

With no potential bride linking to him since The Good Queen Alyssane nearly betrothed him to Rhea Royce, Daemon had all the freedom a young man could ever want and need. Pleasure houses were frequented (he had more lovers than any of the noblemen combined — probably even had bastards running around), lands were flown over by the Blood Wyrm, and positions were given to him by his brother (all of which never actually reached a moon at most — fucking Hightower cunt). He had it all. But all it took was a little slip through one of the towers of Eyrie while on dragonback and he was back to the first tile.

There was no other reason for him to propose a marital union with one of the Arryn daughters than to solidify his claim on the throne.

That was all.

There was nothing captivating with the periwinkle blues owned by such a woman of ethereal enchantment. He didn’t trail his eyes from the effortless waves of her white gold hair (every piece of ornament she tangled with her tresses was pure art) down to the pleasing curves that couldn’t be concealed with her flowing dress. (It was almost like the Maiden was born in the realm; Daemon nearly groaned in front of Eyrie’s family seat). His mind wasn’t occupied with conjuring the most sinful images concerning the young woman — he didn’t picture out mapping a constellation of red peonies on her skin or tasting the drink of the gods she very much possessed. Of course, he didn’t gulp down an unnecessary collection of nervousness down his throat when she placed her godly gaze on his worshipping, undivided attention. Fuck, she was so beautiful that he was now covering his crotch with linked hands. Her father was talking yet their joined eye contact sent an impulse of static energy, just enough for The Rogue Prince to feel a jolt down his spine.

But he wasn’t the only man this ambitious to steal the Maiden from her heart and home.

“Prove that you’re devoted to taking my daughter’s hand under your protection, Your Highness. Prove that you are a worthy man of my greatest treasure.”

Bloodshed reigned; there was a battle between the suitors of Aellara Arryn. It was almost called a tourney if not for the condition that for a victor to emerge, the opponent must be decapitated and unable to make a sound except for noises of demise. And with too much blood on his hands, Daemon Targaryen walked away from the bodies as the winner, hastily taking a single stem of a sapphire rose from a jittering squire and (surprisingly) placing it behind Aellara’s right ear with the tenderness befitting a man ensnared by the most dangerous curse known to the realm (but not before making sure there wasn’t a single drop of blood on her skin; as much as he loved seeing blood on someone’s skin, it was almost a crime to see it on hers). Daemon crowned Aellara as the Queen of Love and Beauty without being told to, seven Hells, this trial for her hand in marriage wasn’t even a tourney needing a beautiful woman to be crowned. Yet he did it anyway. All to sway her to his side.

But was it really?

He found his breath hitching when Aellara smiled. It was seeing the glory of Old Valyria right in front of his eyes. His chest pounded against his will as she lifted a dainty hand, a handkerchief in between her hold, and dabbed it on one of the blood splatters on his cheek, erasing a sign of his ruthlessness with her divinity. The shade of blue owned by the rose contrasted deeply with her blonde hair, lighting up the shine innate in the periwinkle hues of her eyes. She was a fucking vision and he never desired anything more in his life until he met her.

With the Siren out of the chambers of her House’s seat, Daemon Targaryen wed Aellara Arryn at the beginning of the 105th year After the Conquest in the ways of the Seven and Old Valyria.

The premise of this romance was worthy of ballads yet it was the start of something so cruelly beautiful for one of them.

From wailing a loss of a person so dear that a large part of your soul broke away; going away because of a loved one’s exile; bearing the heir of the Prince of Dragonstone and relishing in the cocoon of appreciation in enveloped you; gaining two stolen dragon eggs for the twin babes; watching the love of your life flying to war while giving birth under the shattering night sky; suffering the betrayal of your husband’s unfaithfulness and disloyalty, breaking every bit of the vows made in front of fourteen pairs of eyes; to accepting yourself leaving this world in the same way it took your sister.

And it left behind three children with no titles, no protection, no family — it was the world against their little faces, so naive at the slimy fingers of faux niceties and always on the receiving end of reptilian smiles and hollow pity. The hourglass is letting the sand trickle in, waiting for the moment the scavengers pluck out the lingering, pulsing ache that will never be forgiven and forgotten. Because all the while The Rogue Prince created another bubble of domesticity across the seas, a son grew up too soon, a daughter stepped up to become the caretaker, and a young babe never had the chance of a complete family.

rory speaks !!

the reason why this sort-of prologue is so short despite carrying so many things is bc daemon and aellara are not the main focus of this story. i wanted to give a glimpse as to what is the nature of the main characters' parents' relationship; the main thing summarising everything is that daemon is a huge whore and is power-hungry for the title that given to him ... so, poor aellara. and having her die from childbirth is another thing to add to daemon's suffering bc this man has seen enough of it to last a lifetime (his mother, his sister-in-law, wife, and future wife; don't know how he keeps fathering children when this is what he experienced yikes). another reason why this is short is bc we're mostly seeing the events play out in the kids' (aesira, aether, aegon, and aemond; the furious ae's) eyes so, the information is limited when it reaches the twins' ears. bc let's face it, we always sugarcoat things when we tell a little bit of info to kids.

damn, and i had to post it here; let me prepare myself for the backlash woo

#— rory's passages 🌼#— family line | hotd ☀️#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon x reader #aegon x oc #aegon ii x oc #aegon targaryen x oc #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader

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post-uwuifer · 27 days

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According to all known laws of aviation,there is no way a bee should be able to fly.Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.The bee, of course, flies anywaybecause bees don't care what humans think is impossible.ANumber2Pencil, Dec 7, 2016#1dinocerosDonatorMessages:7,482Likes Received:29,999Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.Barry! Breakfast is ready!Ooming!Hang on a second.Hello?- Barry?

to make one decision in life.But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?Why would you question anything? We're bees

No one's listening to me!Wait till you see the sticks I have.I could say anything right now.

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was… Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!Let's open some honey and celebrate!Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae.Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!I'm so proud.- We're starting work today!

Today's the day.Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone.Yeah, right.Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal…- Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side.- What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!Wow!Oouple of newbies?Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!Make your choice.- You want to goetting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.Wax monkey's always open.The Krelman opened up again.What happened?A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!Oh, this is so hard!Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should… Barry?Barry!All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine…What happened to you? Where are you?- I'm going out.

Out? Out where?- Out there.

Oh, no!I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?Another call coming in.If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rdthat gets their roses today.Hey, guys.- Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.Really? Feeling lucky, are you?Sign here, here. Just initial that.- Thank you.

OK.You got a rain advisory today,and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.So be careful. As always, watch your brot thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Behold the handmaid of the Lord: Be it done unto me according to Thy word. They drive crazy.- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

Some of them. But some of them don't.- How'd you get back?

im back UwUcifer, can i enter my own contest?

ah, stwuck again by wengthy ask anon! Mad wespect, yes yoo may UwU

#shitpost #gimmick blog

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birgittesilverbae · 11 months

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hi so since shannon survives in babea au 🥺 would she and mary ever think of getting married?

v normal about this

in the wake of losing the halo, shannon remains a sister warrior for a few months, but it doesn't feel right, the way she feels rejected by god, the way beatrice is barely on speaking terms with her, the pitying looks she gets in the halls of the convent. she leaves the church quietly, mother superion giving her blessings and her understanding, but remains with the order in the way the mary exists within it, as an outsider standing at the periphery, held only by a handful of a commandments and the family she's found amongst her sisters

she moves in with mary, has been dating her for about five years at that point, but is more focused on doing what she can to keep bea safe from vincent than she is on their relationship, which is a homecoming and a safe haven and on the backburner for two women trying to protect the teens they love. (the visions, the knowledge of the betrayal, come earlier in this 'verse because vincent is giftwrapped a warrior nun who has grown up under his care, who he has groomed to be the warrior nun adriel needs).

ronda happens, and bea's relationship with shannon resettles, and bea allows herself to listen to what shannon's been trying to tell her all along. that vincent cannot be trusted. that trusting him would lead to her downfall.

vincent gets squared away, and bea can focus on becoming number one efficient warrior nun, and mary and shannon can relax a fraction, relax a hair (can never fully relax when bea is a reliquary and a raw wound and a scar). they learn to live with each other in their new normal, shannon in the first freedom she's ever truly had

it's mary who raises the question late one night, after a family dinner at which lilith had made some jab or another about them basically being married already. it's just an initial conversation, she says, just seeing whether they're on the same page about where they want this to go (mary, her trust shattered by vincent, always, always hedging her bets), but shannon takes mary's face in her hands and forces her to make eye contact and tells her this is the only place she wants to be. that if mary feels the same way, then there's no point wasting time not being engaged

they go get rings the next day, matching white gold bands and chains to wear the other's on around their neck when they're in the field. they quickly end up getting silicone rings too for daily wear, spend most of their time wearing the other's engagement band around their neck. they keep it quiet, beyond telling bea and by extension lilith, and bea snaps into action planning their wedding

it's a small affair, on the overlook in ronda, where the four of them had stood in the early dawn so many months before and revelled in their survival. lilith stands for shannon, their bond grown so much closer in the aftermath of shannon losing the halo and lilith being passed over for bea. bea stands for mary, feeling every year between them in the ache in her heart, at mary's shoulder the way mary has so often stood at hers. bea has both their rings tucked in the breast pocket of her suit (having been ragged on for being the ring Bearer for months), and mary squeezes her hand affectionately when she passes them over

mother superion conducts the service, tries desperately to contain her tears but to no avail, and shannon holds a hand out for her to take, to support her, to remind her that at least one of her girls has made it out of the meat grinder alive, that at least one of her girls has found safety and happiness

#ask #'anon'#myfic #mywn #babea au #mary x shannon #warrior nun

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phvntom-limbs · 1 month

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Blessed Concubine

☽ AO3 link

I remember arriving in Rome in chains. Horrible things that bit into my wrists and ankles, and struck my back and legs with every movement, beating pale skin red. My hair, dark and too-long had hung freely down past my shoulders, matting and catching where metal grinded metal. I was dirty, then, but I was washed when I arrived, the warm water stung my skin - as did the pale robe they slipped over me. It stung, too, knowing I would die but to the Romans, I would have died beautifully, as some bittersweet sacrifice to a god whose name did not come to me. I had prayed, I had whispered gentle, pleading requests into the warm air. Hera and Artemis, to protect me as a woman. To Ares, to bless me with courage. Hermes, in the hopes he could lend me his cunning. Demeter, to send drought between each crop in Rome should I die. Every deity had felt my desperation as my feet dragged.

The wind had whipped the white fabric around my bruised ankles as I stood by the dais. I had thought of all the women - girls, truly - untouched and unmarred by the cruelty of men dragged up to platforms like this. I thought of the cows, sheep and goats, too. The moment I was led up the steps, I became akin to livestock. Something that the Greeks and Trojans alike had held over stone, desperately spilling blood from throats split like pomegranates to appease a god. But I was not to be sacrificed to bring winds back to Aulis. I did not know who I was to be sacrificed to. I did not understand, not then. I did not speak Latin, yet.

Standing there, I saw the crowd, I heard the voices in the language I did not speak. I saw him. Him. Draped in finery, sharp eyes and beautiful yet severe features framed by golden locks. My gut twisted; The Emperor.

He could stop this, couldn’t he? If he wanted to. I fought against the strong hands that held me back, turning to face him as my pale eyes widened fiercely. I had cried out in a language mostly foreign to the crowd below me, begging him to let me go - he could take me as a bed slave, he could make me wipe the dirt from the floors and blood from his armour if only he would not kill me.

“ Let me go!”

My chest felt heavy with the weight of it.

“Let me go, please!”

He stared at me, not misunderstanding, perhaps ignoring. His gaze went through me.

“Rome will burn!” The cry tore through my throat, tears pricking my lashes. I was not sad, I knew he would listen. Ares’ blessing of courage burned in my veins.

Piercing, his eyes met mine, jaw tightening.

“Rome will burn,” I repeated, “Drought will plague your fields. Then starvation will plague your people. Animals will die, and the waters will run rust-red with the old blood of Rome.”

My voice came from beyond me.

The soldier had raised a blade to my throat, by then. The cold metal nicked my skin and made the hair on my nape stand alert. The emperor - whose name I did not yet know - raised his hand.

“Stop.” I did not need to know Latin to understand this.

The soldier stalled, the blade removed from my throat.

Then, the emperor stood - all muscle, glimmer and power as he straightened up.

“Do not sacrifice her.”

This, I did not understand. But the soldier shoved me away and that was clear. I would not be sacrificed today.

“Bring her to my chambers. There will be no sacrifice.”

He will make a bed slave of me, I had thought.

I was taken to his chambers, the beautiful room barely warming my wind-struck skin. Gold does not deter the cold.

When he came, after the crowds had dispersed from around the dais, he raked his gaze over me like I was a banquet table - white cloth laden with meat and fruit and wine.

“You are pale for a Greek,” he said.

“You are pale for a Roman.”

His brows tugged together, and I thought I’d misspoken.

“What is your name, Greek?”

“Elizabeth,” I replied simply.

He hummed, a sound coming deep from his chest. He did not reply.

“And yours?” I had asked.

The emperor looked down at me, sharp eyes narrowing, “You don’t know?”

I shook my head, “I don’t.”

He seemed angry at the suggestion that I wasn’t aware. I did not admit that I had ignored most discussions of Rome, back in my homeland.

“Dio.”

“Dio,” I echoed, “Dee-Oh.”

My brows tugged together as the name rolled from my tongue.

“Are you going to lay with me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. If he wanted to, I could do little to argue.

“No.”

Not yet, I heard. Unspoken, but there.

My mouth opened to question his intentions with me, with a foreign slave, but he interrupted.

“You said Rome would burn, if you died today,” he said, watching me closely.

Did I confess that I had prayed? That I had interlocked my chained hands and asked Demeter to curse the land I stood on now? What would become of me, if I did?

“Yes.”

“How would you know that?”

“The gods told me.” It was not a lie.

“Your gods don’t hold power here.”

“They are the same. You use names I don’t recognise, but your gods are mine.”

He squinted at me again.

“Do you have any skills?”

“I can read and write, and sew, sing and play the lyre,” I listed.

The emperor seemed to consider these, for a moment. Perhaps, I had thought, If I am lucky, I can live out my days as a court entertainer. Perhaps I can spend my time doing nothing but plucking and tuning strings, writing music and being beautiful. A muse or nymph made flesh.

“You do not know Latin,” he said, it wasn’t a question and yet I nodded, “you will learn.”

Then, my suspicions were confirmed. I was alive but not free. I would learn Latin, I would become a Roman. I would bear a child and send them to die, someday, but I would never see Greece again. I steadied my breathing, and nodded.

Dio seemed pleased, now. “Then I will take you for a mistress.”

I was, in some ways, a spoil of war. No different from Briseis on show to Agamemnon’s armies, saved from the clutches of pent up warriors by a half-God and the man he took for a lover. I had stood before a man close to half-god himself, and he had taken me from the dais just the same. Safe , I thought, Safe but for how long? I was suddenly in the tales I loved so dearly. Did Achilles or Hades hold my life, now? Was the palace behind Roman walls a tent in a sea of tents, held by rocks and full of fighters and their women? Or would this place hold me, cold and unyielding save for once a year? I looked to the emperor, and I did not know.

Slowly, I was shown to his court, like one may show off a prize. But he had not won me, not yet. The faces of the men, yet unknown to me, all held the same expectation: he had not won me until my stomach swelled. He had claimed me, that was all. I met his advisors, those closest to him, and his blood - three sons that he introduced with a thick coat of shame and a fourth, younger son with the same blond locks. My hands absently brushed my abdomen, picturing a small, crying, blond thing growing there. Lastly, was Diego - his younger brother. He was handsome, not unlike his elder, but with an Apollonian brightness that Dio didn’t carry. The emperor was harsh, chiselled; his brother’s edges were soft no matter how defined. His flaxen hair framed his face not like an altar, but like a canopy. A youthful gentleness to contrast Dio.

A part of me was disconnected that day. In some way, I had won - I lived - but there was a sharp hollow in the distinct shape of Athens where the chambers of my heart should be.

He did not lay with me the first night. Despite myself, I questioned it. Had he changed his mind? Was I going to be cast off, after all? He did not lay with me the second, or third night either. I was left to explore the palace myself, every inch of it. I touched every petal on every flower during those days, memorised every vein on every blessed leaf - I felt the approval of Demeter shine down over Rome as the blood pumped through me.

Three days became seven, and I met Rydia - another lady of the palace. Beautiful, caring and radiating a warmth I hadn’t felt since I was small. I was glad to find her company inside those unfamiliar walls. The solitude fell from my shoulders, then.

The second week began, and he called for me. A weight was lifted.

I remember, once, being warned that it would hurt. They did not wholly lie, but I did not bleed as they had warned. The bedsheets saw sweat, not blood, and he was not gentle but I hadn’t expected him to be. There was a moment, in the midst of shaking gasps, where he looked like a god above me, blond hanging across focused eyes, light from windows dashing his hair a rich gold, strong chest rising and falling with steady, quick breaths. He was beautiful, and I clung to him like a magpie to polished metal.

He had won, after that. My stomach bulged beneath my stola, and my nights were full of hushed prayers for a son - a soldier, with the smarts of Athena and all the strength of Ares. I would make offerings to altars and though in Rome they were Minerva and Mars, I called them by the name I knew well. I felt I’d asked too much, too fast. Protection and courage and life, and now a son as strong and battle-ready as a demigod. But they listened to my devoted requests, and a boy was born - with strong lungs from the moment the open air touched him. Our sweet Dorian.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Rydia belongs to @hammerofspace ☽

Inspired by and accompanying the latest fic from @swallowed-teeth.

#my writing #honey bats extended universe #jjba #dio brando #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure

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issybettyx · 1 year

Text

Angel Duo Au (except idk what it is so uh enjoy? Ig?) (I just read an sbi god au where Tommy was a temple hand and i have gods running through my brain

- // blood, injury

Gods have many jobs. The main one is to make sure their domain is in check, for example God of the Ocean makes sure the tides are perfectly aligned. Another job they have is to make sure humans are surviving, although that one was trickier especially since the dawn of the God of War, it was something manageable.

However, when Gods are created, they are told everything they must do during their godhood; one of which is to create a being tailored to their domain.

Phil remembers when Techno - The God of War - created the rabbit, bright red eyes with fluffy fur, and he remembers the pride on the man’s face as he held the thing up to his face, the widest smile on his face he’d ever had the pleasure to witness.

He also remembers what Wilbur - The God of Music, primarily - created, although tedious and having to spend weeks showing presentations to Death, she finally agreed to create spirits, a cross-over between life and death on Earth.

Every time something was created, Phil saw it, because he was the God who had to accept it onto Earth. Being Creation was a difficult job, but when he had his Gods to create their own additions to Planet Earth it made his job a little easier, if only by a little.

“Dad,” Wilbur had asked him one day, mindlessly stroking the fur of Techno’s white rabbit, rightfully named ‘Floof’, “What was your main creation?”

“What do you mean?” He returned with a raised eyebrow, leaning his chin on his palm as the God hummed in thought, rhythmically tapping his foot to steady his thoughts.

“Well, I made ghosts, Techno made these bitches,” Wilbur laughed out, continuing to run his fingers over the animals back, feeling as it sank into the affection, “You’ve made many things, and as a God your duty is to create a being, to put your heart and soul and mind into it, what was yours?”

Truthfully, Phil hadn’t made one.

He’d created many things; Earth, mother nature, the moon.

Yet none of them held a piece of himself.

“Don’t have one yet.”

The other seemed very shocked at the answer, eyes wide as he paused stroking the rabbit beneath him.

“How?!”

Creation could only laugh, grinning as his blue eyes shimmered in amusement and fondness. “I’ve never really thought of something good enough, y’know?” He replied, running an absent hand through his hair as he thought, Music staying quiet as he let the God filter through his thoughts, “I’ve had an idea for a while though, but considering the state of Earth I don’t think it would be a great idea.”

“What do you-“ Wilbur started, before drifting off, looking at the wrinkles in the corners of his father’s eyes before it finally clicked in his head, immediately frowning, “That is a terrible idea.”

“I know.”

“Fill me in,” Techno practically ordered Wilbur as he fell next to him, Floof immediately hopping into his arms despite the brunette’s protests, “What’s such a terrible idea.”

“Dad wants to create a human!”

Techno didn’t seem to have an issue with it. Or maybe he just didn’t fully grasp the situation. “Wil, he created humans centuries ago, you’re a bit late to stopping him.”

“No!” He replied, groaning as he toppled onto the other’s lap, running his hands across his face into his hair in an annoyed fashion, “As in his main creation, that he puts a piece of his soul into? Like your rabbits.”

And then it clicked. “Phil.” Techno started, red eyes flicking up from Wilbur towards their Dad, the God sat on his throne as he hid his smile behind his hand. “You are genuinely, and I mean this in the most respectful way possible, the most stupid God I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“But wouldn’t it be awesome!” Phil immediately retaliated, now adamant on the concept of creating a blessed human after thinking too much on it; his boys remained avidly against it. “He could have hair as gold as the sun, and blue eyes like the sea.”

“We’ve been forgotten already.” Wilbur sighed out defeatedly, Techno humming back in agreement.

“He’ll be as talented as Music and as strong as War,” the God continued, and that seemed to shut the other two up immediately, “He’ll hold Death’s kindness and Creation’s determination.”

The room fell into a considering silence, a conversation made up only of flickering eyes between twins and Creation forming an image in his mind of this boy who only grew more perfect to him by the second.

“Would he be a god?” Techno asked after the moment grew too long, and Phil pondered it for a moment, shrugging.

“I think we could give him the option to be when he turns 16, so he can decide between mortality and godhood.”

It was safe to say that Creation got to work bright and early the next morning, flying down to Earth before sunrise as his pitch black wings helped him blend into the night. The God landed silently beside an abandoned forest hut, and he swiftly made his way inside, moving onto the balcony only to watch as the sun rose between a valley, casting a perfect golden glow across the treetops lining the grassy land before him.

Using the light, Creation brought his hands in front of him, shutting his eyes as he let the familiar power hum beneath his veins, taking a piece of his soul and placing it into the glow in his mind, adding pieces of everything that made him happy, everything that made him who he was and everything that woke him up in the mornings.

A smile that could challenge the brightness of the sun.

A determination that could rival that of Creation’s mind.

A talent of humour and singing, enough to make Music want to watch from afar.

An inner strength to help him overcome any challenge faced, crafted especially to help him earn a fond nod from War.

Death appeared whilst he was creating this being, leaving a piece of her behind to make sure he could heal swiftly, and if he couldn’t the Gods would be alerted.

The being was created by sundown, and the moment the light disappeared over the horizon a small blonde child fell into Phil’s arms, and he caught him easily, looking into his shimmering blue eyes with the widest smile he could muster. Though he had to hand him over to the humans, Creation made sure to invite his sons over to meet their brother, and Phil saw the very moment Wilbur knew he would never let anything hurt the child. Techno had never liked kids, but the way his red eyes softened in the baby’s direction was enough to bring a smile to Phil’s face.

“What’s his name?” Wilbur asked with a smile, letting the baby grab at his hand as Phil smiled at the two, running a careful hand through the few golden hairs on the baby’s head.

“Tommy.”

“Welcome to the world, Tommy.” Wilbur cooed, lightly brushing his index finger across the baby’s cheek, his smile only growing when he giggled, reaching out to grab the finger.

Cautiously, Techno took another step closer, squinting at the child as if he was scared it would pounce.

He muttered something under his breath that the other two gods didn’t quite catch, but knowing Techno surrounding his family, Phil could only assume it was a vow of protection.

Out of all the blessed creations, Phil knew Tommy was his favourite. Maybe he was bias, or maybe he was simply correct.

The hardest thing he ever had to do happened that night, and that was to hand over the child to the humans, and it was the only thing that made him want to reconsider. But, looking at Tommy, he knew the kid deserved to live a normal life, and being raised by a God certainly wouldn’t help at all.

In the end, he knew it would be worth it.

——

Tommy let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding the moment he slipped into the alleyway, chest tight as he listened to footsteps run past him and into the unsuspecting crowd. Running was never his strong suit, but he’d learned he needed it to survive.

The plan was never to ‘survive’, but Tommy was nothing if not adaptable.

He remembered when he was 7, (at the time he was constantly running from the orphanage, and despite his several - 198 - attempts to run that year, he’d been dragged back every time) and he’d gained a nasty gash from tripping onto something that definitely shouldn’t have been lying on the floor.

The guardians had dragged him back to the orphanage, a trail of blood following his leg as he blue a twirl of hair out of his face, the frown on his face hard to keep up despite the disappointment sitting in his bones. They’d spoke to each other in a quiet fashion as they walked, and Tommy was nothing if not an eaves-dropper.

“That’s going to take weeks to heal,” one had said, her tone partially concerned and partially annoyed, “I won’t be surprised if he has a limp when it eventually does heal.”

“The scar is gonna be horrible,” the other responding, earning an agreeing hum in return, “The kid will never want to wear shorts again.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, it had healed fully after two weeks, no scar in sight.

Ranboo had deemed it a miracle.

Tubbo had deemed it super-powers.

Tommy had deemed it his absolute awesomeness, and somehow Ranboo couldn’t find himself disagreeing in his shocked daze.

And now he made police officers chase down a fifteen year old, but it wasn’t his fault he had to feed himself; if he had a choice, he would have no hunger, he would then finally be well and truly unstoppable.

Everything else he needed he already had, so he was practically unstoppable. A charming smile, an ego of steel and horribly fast healing abilities. On late nights, he’d wondered if he would heal fast enough to bring himself back to life - it was a distant thought that drifted with his mind, but it kept returning, kept thrumming through his veins, kept nagging and bugging and poking.

And the reasons only bugged him more; because yes, there was a chance he healed horribly quickly because he was so incredible, but according to Ranboo that wasn’t a scientific explanation? Or something dumb like that anyways.

Tubbo said it was the Gods, Tommy called him stupid because the Gods didn’t have the ability to grant humans such things, Gods had better things to do than involve themselves in the lives of measly mortals. And then also added that his handsomeness would be enough to convince War to end his ways, and that conversation ended swiftly by Tubbo’s demand.

Tommy hissed as he looked at his arm, seeing a slash all the way up it and hoping his swift healing wasn’t a one time thing, before ducking into the maze of the alleys, winding through them with practiced ease as he listened to the conversations around him.

“- a child, he can’t possible have gotten away so-“

“- she was so nice, she gave me a flower! Look at-“

“- it’s said that Creation created the perfect human being, or perfect for him anyways.” A familiar voice whispered, and Tommy paused at hearing Niki speaking so seriously. “Apparently he took everything he loved most about Earth and things he created in general to create a human fit to rule the skies.”

“If he added everything he created,” another voice started to question, another woman and not a voice he recognised, “Does that include attributes of Gods? Like Music?”

Niki hummed in a thoughtful agreement, “Possibly, but the Gods didn’t give us any hints as to what this human looks like or how old they are.”

Tommy moved on, deciding that conversation wasn’t him before finally making it to the forest, grinning as he spotted his makeshift home in the clearing, sprinting to it before falling onto his dirtied blanket, sighing as he turned onto his back to look at the blue sky, clouds passing by. Some people had said his eyes were the same shade as the abyss above, and he’d taken the compliment and ran miles with it. Tubbo and Ranboo were fuming that week.

“Oh, hello.” A voice cut into his thoughts, and Tommy immediately rolled away from it, jumping up to glare at them, but the sight that met him made him falter. The man who was stood there had a soft smile, blue eyes concerned with his blonde hair tied back into a ponytail using a green ribbon. His clothes were… strange, nothing like anything he’d seen anyways but who was Tommy to judge. It was a white robe, bandages tied up his legs and forearms, sandals on his feet with a necklace around his neck holding two trinkets; a red heart and an emerald. A green and white striped hat was in his hands, and his head was cocked to the side as he looked at Tommy.

The calm feeling Tommy felt was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but let his guard down, making sure to furrow his eyebrows at the man.

“Are you sleeping out here?” He asked slowly, looking around him as he scrunched his nose in distaste, and Tommy immediately got defensive.

“I think my home is pretty poggers.” Tommy spat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow at the man who chuckled at his words, “Who the fuck are you?”

He missed the man’s flinch.

“I’m Phil,” he introduced, holding his hand as a fond grin sat on his face. The entire situation was strange in a way he couldn’t quite place, and he could only squint at the hand held out to him, “It is very nice to meet you.”

———

Is there more i want to write for this Au? Absolutely. But this one is getting long, so i’ll probably do another post another time to continue it, because angel duo in this au <3

#dream smp #mcytblr #tommyinnit #sbi #sleepy bois inc #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #angel duo #god au

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savage-rhi · 7 months

Text

Mending Shadows // Chapter 18

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Ardyn felt the chill wind of the fall season card through his hair like delicate fingertips. His skin prickled with a tingling sensation that could’ve easily lulled him to sleep while he sat in the tall grass. The fields were becoming a stale gold, signifying that harvest would come to a close. He contently chewed on the end of a grass stalk while contemplating the best way to go about keeping himself warm while traveling the country. Healing the sick was hard enough during the summer season, and the bitter cold was more relentless than the scourge itself. Ardyn furrowed his brows at the thought. Knowing that many would perish from the elements before the plague would ever take root.

A shuffling noise in the distance pulled Ardyn out of his thoughts. His eyes quickly darted up to meet the source. The soft eyes of Aera greeted him as did her genuine smile. Her blonde hair tangled in the wind as the dead grass drifted across her white dress. She waved at him, exclaiming her relief to have found him out in the fields.

Ardyn rose to his feet, and he didn’t hesitate to sprint toward his beloved. It had been three months since they had seen each other. Three months without written word aside from Ardyn’s exploits being paraded around the kingdom. He smiled so big it hurt his cheeks. Aera looked as beautiful as the day he had fled the citadel and took to exile to escape confrontation with Somnus. He couldn’t say the same for himself. His hair was disheveled, his facial hair had sprouted into rough patches, and his clothes were torn from the elements. Living among the poor and deprived, Ardyn knew he appeared less than, yet the faithful gaze Aera held for his eyes made Ardyn feel like a king. He never needed a crown, not when he had her.

As Ardyn ran toward Aera, he reminded himself of his goal: he would prove to Somnus that sacrifice wasn’t necessary. The people of Eos could be saved if everyone looked out for each other, and if he were allowed to use the gifts the gods had bestowed upon him. Ardyn knew in his heart of hearts this would work. It had to. Why else would the gods put him to the task? Even if he were to die in the end, his own sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. So long as the sun could shine upon people like his beloved, he’d do what was necessary. He acknowledged the blessings of the six for being united with a human being who understood his possible end fate, and yet, still encouraged him to do right by his heart. Ardyn almost always cried thinking it over, the weight of responsibility that Aera had entrusted to his principles.

A sound of broken flesh and bone pierced through the sky of the fields. Ardyn’s joy turned to shock as his body froze. His eyes widened with terror, seeing a giant blade sticking out of Aera’s abdomen. Her gaze was lifeless as was her body that was bleeding out, staining a small group of white sylleblossoms that were in her path.

“Aera!” Ardyn shouted with agonizing rage. His throat scratched from how loud he projected his voice. He snapped his body out of the trance it was in, and used the force of all his might to reach her.

Just before he could bend down and pick up his beloved, the pool of blood surrounding her body began to combust into flames. Like the scourge, the fire ran up Ardyn’s limbs like serpents and made their bites. Ardyn screamed until the air in his lungs ran dry from the scorching heat. He was encapsulated by fire, and plunged into an oblivion that not even his library of memories could fathom. The world disappeared into light and shadow, and he fell into a deep darkness.

Somehow, he felt gravity return to him and landed on his stomach with a thud. He coughed many times, dry heaving like a fish out of water as he scrambled to his knees. His body quaked, realizing that the fire had been just his imagination, or so it seemed.

Ardyn gasped when he became encircled by a ring of reds and oranges. Speckled bits of green cackled against the flames, adding to the foreboding presence the fire invoked.

“What is the meaning of all this?!” Ardyn bellowed. His terrified confusion ushered out reason as he stood on his feet, trying to find an exit. After spinning in circles a few times, he felt a whoosh of air brush past him, knocking him back onto his knees. Through an agonized groan, Ardyn looked up.

Ifrit the Infernium stood tall not more than a few feet from him. His intimidating horns upon his head, decorated like a massacred crown of bones, glimmered against the cast shadows of the flames. Anger chiseled his features as he scowled toward the immortal who had become his captor.

“You again!” Ardyn exclaimed. “If it’s vengeance you seek for what I’ve done to you, fine, but leave Aera out of it! You dare use memories of my beloved against me?!”

Ifrit nearly looked insulted as he shook his head, and continued to stare Ardyn down as if he was a puny bug that deserved all the weight of his foot. The red in Ifrit’s eyes grew as he took in a deep breath, and made his proclamations:

Thy suffering is your own undoing, Lucis Caelum. I need not lurk into one’s sentiments to bring forth harm. You do plenty upon yourself. I merely seek to deliver a message through reckless dreams.

“Then what is it that you want?!” Ardyn yelled. He could feel Ifrit’s rage radiating off of his skin, matching the intensity of the flames that began to dance around with more fervor.

A reckoning is coming for thee, Adagium. Thou giving courtesy where thy didn’t bequeath unto me. You will see soon enough. This is but a taste of wrath.

Before Ardyn could snap another question, Ifrit gestured with his arms and guided the flames to a singular point. The fire twisted, bending like metal until it was a roaring sword, and Ifrit let out a snarling scream as he rushed and jabbed the entire weapon through Ardyn’s body. Like the vision from Verstael's laboratory, Ardyn wailed as his heart and flesh melted off his very bones. He could even feel the microscopic end of his nerves combusting into ash.

Rising from the bed, Ardyn yelled. He let out a grunt, feeling his body collide into something soft yet formidable; another body. His hands immediately went for the shoulders, grabbing onto them with the intent of forcing more of his weight onto the intruder. His movement ceased the moment his blurred vision came to, and he was staring into the startled eyes of Y/N. He was too stunned to move, unsure of how to properly respond. Through the haze of waking up, and feeling the remaining terror of his vision, Ardyn spoke.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

Y/N let out a breath, trembling under his touch. “I heard you from the hall. You sounded awful, and I got worried. I tried to wake you.”

“Oh dear…” Be it exhaustion, or feeling awkward, it was the only response Ardyn had at his disposal. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to discuss what had caused him to leap from slumber as if he had fallen on a bed of nails. His right arm lazily let go of Y/N’s shoulder, and he sighed into his palm while rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes, not believing he had dreamed again so recently. The skin on his chest quivered from how cool the room was, and how it contrasted with the warmth that still lingered from Ifrit’s touch.

Ardyn let out a small gasp when he felt Y/N seamlessly pull him into an embrace. His face and chin rested in the crook of their neck while he felt their arms wrap around his shoulders. Their fingers felt through the end strands of his hair, sending a pattern of goosebumps along his spine. Warmth blossomed in Ardyn’s pulse as he made a face against them, while adjusting his head so he wasn’t so intimately attached. His amber eyes held confusion while he glanced at the doors to his chambers.

“A relative of mine used to hug me like this when I had a bad dream.” Y/N murmured. “You look like you needed something to keep you tethered.”

“I could’ve snapped your neck.” Ardyn forewarned tiredly. “Next time don’t be hasty to see what’s wrong. I have instincts that I can't control.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I stop what I’m doing to give a crap about you.” Y/N countered in jest, grinning for the moment against him. He didn’t sound amused, but the small smile he wore as his lips pressed to their shoulder suggested a part of him was humored.

Ardyn sighed, closing his eyes for the moment while he gathered his thoughts. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had held him in this fashion. The only soul that came to mind was Aera. He felt compelled to remain still, if only to sense a fraction of what that used to feel like. Sadness briefly plagued his eyes when it dawned on him that Aera wasn’t holding him, but another. His heartbeat dampened, before his ears began to fixate on the gentle murmur of Y/N’s pulse, and the soft exhales of their breath. He felt like he could fall back asleep against them.

His nerves stammered all throughout his body, and Ardyn felt his scourge and the terrible entities within himself hum with a pleasant vibration that traveled over every inch of his form. It felt so overwhelming to be touched that his brain felt drunk off of it. The pleasure soon came to a grinding halt as he grimaced, and gently pulled away.

“While I appreciate the compassion,” Ardyn cleared his throat. “I didn’t consent. Next time warn me if you intend to do something like this again.”

“My bad,” Y/N muttered, gazing elsewhere out of embarrassment.

“Quite alright,” Ardyn nodded. He gestured with his chin toward the door after earning Y/N’s sight again. “Why don’t you run off? I’ll be out in a little while. I need to gather myself.”

Y/N glanced over his face, occasionally stealing a glance of the scars on his chest before they smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to talk.”

“I’ll take you up on the offer.” Ardyn mused for the moment. His eyes followed Y/N as they climbed out of his bed and headed out of the room. As soon as Ardyn heard the familiar click of the door close, he let out a deep breath he had been suppressing. He fell backwards onto the mattress, and adjusted his legs. Feeling an uneasy tug in his pants. Two thousand years, body to the brim filled with daemons and darkness, yet he was still just a man at the end of the day, in all the ways one would think. He was livid.

Ardyn made a show of coming into the kitchen an hour later. He enthusiastically shoved the door open, nimbly traveling along the tile floor as if he were a shadow. He strolled through with a one track mind, barely registering Y/N who was sitting on a stool by the kitchen island. They watched him carefully, noticing he seemed more peculiar than usual. It wasn’t out of the realm for Ardyn to be quite odd in the morning. Being of a nocturnal breed, the sun wasn’t kind to him and neither did it offer pleasantry to Y/N given both their sicknesses. Sun allergy, as Ardyn liked to playfully call his aversion, didn’t seem to foot the entire bill for his behavior.

“You alright?” Y/N piped up, their voice casting a subtle echo in the kitchen as Ardyn hummed in reply. He ignored the question, gesturing to a black mug that was steaming with a citrus scent that roused him.

“You made tea?”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled with a nod and pointed to a plate nearby on the stove counter. “I made you a breakfast parfait. I don’t see you eat much in the morning, but I know your sweet tooth is borderline criminal if last night is anything to go by. I figured I couldn’t go wrong there.”

Ardyn chuckled, shaking his head. “How maudlin of you.”

Y/N gently blew against their own glass of tea they had prepared and graciously sipped while Ardyn gathered the food, drink, and a utensil. He then took a seat across from them. Their eyes curiously went over his appearance. He looked like a mess; tussled hair, sleep still sticking to his eyes, and his body draped by a thin robe that he didn’t bother to tie up properly. He looked like an ordinary middle aged man, and not someone with begrudging power. Still, he was beautiful in his own right. That much Y/N would allow themself to admit.

“I see you have taken to surveilling me with great precision.” Ardyn mused, briefly meeting Y/N’s surprised gaze before he experimentally tried out a morsel of the parfait.

“How do you mean?” Y/N asked curiously.

He looked at them as if it should’ve been painfully obvious. Nevertheless, he grinned for a brief moment after finding satisfaction with the flavor. “A parfait and a lemon tea have never been so on the nose. You must find me fascinating enough to dedicate to mind detail such as this.”

The tired glare Y/N shot at him had Ardyn chortle.

“It’s only because you're predictable,” Y/N said in their defense. “Every morning you either have lemon tea or a can of Ebony. Evenings, you usually inhale enough wine that would kill twenty men. ”

“I do hope you’re aware you’re only further proving my point.” Ardyn countered in jest.

“At least it goes to show that I do pay attention to detail, despite someone hinting otherwise.”

Ardyn smirked at their bold sarcasm. His eyes darted between theirs and the cup they held. “Perhaps I could return the favor?”

“Oh?” Y/N raised their brows at him, smiling soon after. They felt childish as did he.

“Oh yes,” Ardyn slyly countered. He didn’t say a word, letting the anticipation run its course while he ate a good portion of the parfait. It was only when Y/N looked on the edge of their seat and their confidence waned did he speak up again.

“You seldom eat breakfast because it upsets your stomach. I only assume you’re bearing the brunt right now on my behalf. Sometimes you walk on your tip toes down the hall, thinking no one will hear you sneak into the library. You’re quite fond of nonsensical subjects and theory. When comfortable in the presence of company, you act quite featherbrained, and if its any consolation, you’re quite adept to listening to others at your own expense.”

Y/N felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a moving vehicle. Too stunned to say anything. He truly had been paying attention to them, despite his body language suggesting he couldn’t care less most days.

Ardyn suppressed a laugh, quite please with himself. “I believe I’ve offered plenty in compensation. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Shut up,” Y/N murmured against the rim of their cup, taking another sip. It was the only thing they had to help them save face. They ignored the laugh that left him, and went about eating their own breakfast.

With no Imperial Help running around, Ardyn’s residency felt dormant but not in a way that was uncomfortable. Y/N felt an amity with it just being the two of them. The peace seemed to have an effect on the scourge as well. Y/N could feel it slither within their veins, but not at its usual grinding pace.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Y/N asked. They watched Ardyn furrow his brows, seemingly unimpressed while his schedule began to line up in mind.

“I have a meeting with the Tenebrae Ambassadors from the Gala, and of course a recap of the night with the Emperor. I may or may not meet with Commander Pierce. That all depends if I’m feeling favorable after all is said and done. How are you on your medication?”

Y/N dug through the pocket of the robe they had been wearing, pulling out the small tube. They popped the cap open and counted, making a face.

“Six left.” They muttered.

“I can run by Verstael and fetch you more.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Ardyn shrugged, and gestured for Y/N to continue.

“Why don’t you let me go to Verstael for the suppressants? Zegnatus Keep is out of the way from where you normally go for work.”

“Is your first impression of him still the same from last night?”

Y/N gave it some thought. “I would say so.”

“Then you very well know why.” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. He offered a small smile to lighten the blow of his firm tone.

“From the way you’ve talked about him before, I thought you two were friends.”

“Within an arms reach,” Ardyn corrected. “Verstael is the man who freed me from Angelgard. I owe him a great deal, nevertheless, he’s a politician and a war monger. Not someone whom I can fully rely on. I may have stepped on his toes last night as well. He was none too thrilled about my decision regarding the war fund allocations. Knowing him as well as I do, he’ll be sour for a time. I don’t wish for you to take the brunt of his vexation. Hence, why I’ll continue to obtain your medication myself.”

“Oh,” Y/N made a face. It seemed the more they learned about the ins and outs of politics, nothing was as it seemed. Partnerships were acts, and friendships were evidently a means to an end. They had no idea Verstael was the one to have found Ardyn, and that spurn on many questions they were too tired to ask.

This revelation surprised Y/N, and they couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hold Verstael and Ardyn both had on each other. One thing was certain though, Ardyn was in the hot seat and it was their fault even if he didn’t say it out loud. The comments Ravus made too also danced around in Y/N’s head from last night, especially the bit about Ardyn using them in the end. Despite contradicting the prince of Tenebrae, Y/N knew he was right. They had made their peace long ago that this partnership with Ardyn was one of mutual benefit until the end game. Nothing was personal. Except, it slowly felt as if it was becoming more personal. Their heart and mind muddled in the confusion of it all.

Ardyn debated with himself before speaking, seemingly catching onto the fact that Y/N was thinking more deeper about the subject than they should’ve .

“Did you have any dreams?”

Y/N’s mind immediately traveled to Ardyn’s tongue generously licking at their neck and biting with reckless abandon. It took every ounce of will power to keep their face from giving away their shame.

“Not that I can think of,” Y/N lied. Thus far there was nothing in their bond that suggested telepathy could be an option, and for that, Y/N was thankful. “Yourself?”

“A nightmare,” Ardyn admitted. He finished the last of the parfait, and took a long sip from his lemon tea.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Ardyn said with a slight glare, though not at Y/N. "I must say it was rather grotesque if anything.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“I enjoy making small talk?”

“I’m calling bull on that.”

Both Y/N and Ardyn chuckled at the formers remark. He sighed in defeat, deciding to enlighten them with an uncomfortable truth.

“Not everything is your fault nor is it about you. So take your mind off whatever contrition you’re self imposing.”

“I need to remember that I’m a reflection of you.” Y/N said aloud, repeating what he had told them last night.

“Exactly.” Ardyn murmured.

There was a warmth in his eyes that seemed to be battling a darker side of himself, and Y/N couldn’t tell if they should have been feeling scared or honored at the fact.

The serene moment took pause when the doors to the kitchen flew open ceremoniously.

“Good morning!” Tuti sing-songed with a high pitch shrill.

Ardyn grimaced and took a long drink from his lemon tea to hide his disdain. Y/N too scrunched their face, and offered Ardyn an apologetic roll with their eyes toward their mutual friend. He merely held up a hand, shaking his head and smiled for a brief moment to let Y/N know they had nothing to fear before he went quiet.

“I managed to catch the tail end of the after party, and it was a hoot! I hope you two had fun at the Gala! Everyone looked so stellar, even if I was running back and forth between the kitchens and toiletry closet!” Tuti exclaimed, brimming with energy that could rival the rays of the sun itself.

“Glad to hear it, Tuti.” Y/N smiled. They raised a brow, gesturing at the vase with red flowers in it, and a golden silk ribbon tied neatly round. The shape of the flowers reminded Y/N of the flared buds of sylleblossoms, but to their knowledge, such plants only came in blue.

Tuti did a double take, giggling when she realized she neglected to speak up about the present she had been parading around.

“Y/N, these came in for you this morning! I found them near the entrance to the Chancellor’s residency!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Come have a see!”

While Y/N got up from the table to inspect the flowers, Ardyn felt the blood drain from his face. His whole body began to tremble as his eyes fixated on the red petals.

“Who are these from?” Y/N asked curiously, still in disbelief as they read the little note that was attached to the vase. “Thank you for your companionship last night. You are a light Niflheim should aspire to be. Sincerely yours, Loqui.”

“Red sylleblossoms are not even in season! It must’ve cost a pretty gil to pull this off!”

“Man, if one dance can do that…” Y/N mused with a murmur, laughing to themself as Tuti joined in.

As the two divulged in conversation, Ardyn couldn’t hear them. Their jolly voices were drowned out by a series of sounds. A sword slashing across flesh, the gushing pulse of blood hitting marble, and screams beyond reckoning. Then came her face. His Aera coiled up in his arms, clinging to the last of her life. The citadel of two thousand years prior, and the field of wheat blinked in and out of time, but the tragedy remained the same. The laughs of his brother, Somnus, vibrated through Ardyn's body and the scourge screeched inside him as he saw blood dripping from his beloveds mouth, staining her skin.

Ardyn was shaking so much that he didn’t notice himself dropping his cup of tea. He didn’t hear it crash to the ground as he got to his feet. He didn’t hear the startled gasps from both Tuti and Y/N. He didn’t hear Y/N attempt to plead with him as rage boiled behind his eyes to where he had a spark of madness. He couldn’t focus on anything but the damned flowers, and their rich color. He couldn’t separate Aera’s blood from the petals, and he wanted nothing more than to destroy them in one fell swoop.

“C-Chancellor I’m--I’m---!” Tuti stammered as Ardyn came barreling toward her with his arm raised high. She was too shocked to move out of the way, and in a single motion, Ardyn made his strike with all the resentment and anger that engulfed him.

Tuti tumbled to the left, somehow managing to save the flowers and vase as she fell down. Shock carried across her face when she didn’t register any pain. Dumbfounded, she looked to where she was once standing, and gasped in horror.

Y/N was slumped on the ground, writhing in pain as they clasped the side of their face. Their body quivered from the force of Ardyn’s impact. The scourge further amped their shocked nerves, causing them to let out an agonized groan when they attempted to move their jaw. Blood pooled down their nose and dripped into their mouth, and as Y/N tasted their own fluid, they began seeing the very images that provoked Ardyn along with something else.

Y/N blinked rapidly from shock, and time shifted.

They found themself locked in mortal combat with a man who wielded a blue sword. There was a determination in his eyes that was frightening, and all Y/N wanted to do was to end the battle quickly without bloodshed. Nonetheless, it seemed their opponent had another intention entirely. He was kin, and he had every instinct to kill. Despite years of wisdom, and years of lessons with the sword, Y/N felt fear begin to take hold of their resolve. The man counterstriked, and pierced their left shoulder with a spear that tore through flesh like a knife to butter. Y/N gasped aloud. They felt their heart shattering much like the bones in their chest from the impact. Their blood felt so cold against their skin that they quaked. Y/N stumbled backward, holding onto the spear while attempting to gather themself. They could hear the rushing sound of footsteps coming for them, but hadn’t the strength to look up. They braced themself, knowing a blade would be coming down their neck if they didn’t pull the weapon out in time. “Stop!” The grueling sound of steel cutting flesh and cloth tore through Y/N’s ears. They stared helplessly at the blue eyes of the blonde woman, and watched the light in her gaze begin to fade as she fell. Horror didn’t amount to the emotions that flooded throughout Y/N’s body. They tore the spear out from their shoulder, fell to their knees, and desperately cradled her in their arms. The shocked screams from the audience fell on deaf ears, as Y/N held onto the only voice in the world that mattered. “Ardyn…” She weakly whispered. Her hand shuddered as she reached up to touch Y/N’s cheek, right at the spot where Ardyn had struck.

A pounding headache had Y/N blink rapidly, and they found themself no longer on the kitchen floor, but in the living room bundled up on the couch. As they came to, they slowly began to register Tuti who was fanning them with her right hand while her left held a cold compress to their face. For a split moment, Y/N wasn't seeing Tuti but the woman who had perished in their arms. Her face and Tuti's kept molding in and out of each other, like one rewinding a tape to play it back again.

“Aera?” Y/N muttered, feeling the name slip past their tongue as if they had known it for years.

“Y/N!” Tuti exclaimed, ceasing her motions.

“Tuti?”

“Shh, try to be still.” Tuti sniffled, wiping away at her eyes before going back to her ministrations. “I finally got your nose to stop bleeding. I didn’t think you’d wake--”

“Ardyn…where’s Ardyn?” Y/N swallowed, feeling their eyes tear up from moving their mouth. It felt as if their whole jaw had been crushed. A part of their subconscious feared it was broken.

Tuti furrowed her brows. She averted her gaze, casting her angered yet morose expression away from Y/N. It was as if she wanted to spare them her own ill feelings.

“He’s…out. He’s at his meetings for the day. He won’t be back until nightfall.”

“I need to see him--”

“Shh,” Tuti shook her head, glancing at Y/N warmly while trying not to cry all over again. Her eyes were so pink that it worried Y/N that she may have popped a few veins.

“For now, let’s get you to feeling better, hmm? Please, just take it easy. You gave me half a scare.”

Y/N sighed and the world began to tilt on its axis. Their left eye throbbed with a heaviness that was comparable to a rock being chiseled away by a dull hammer. It was futile to argue with Tuti in this state, not when they felt like they had experienced being hit and stabbed in one go. The showdown in the old palace couldn’t have been legitimate, yet it felt so intimate that Y/N’s brain had difficulty differentiating between what was real and not.

Ardyn hit me… Y/N repeated to themself, trying to get their mind to see reason. Adrenaline continued to pump through their body as did the scourge. They softly gasped when the thick black tendrils of the plague crept up their chest, zigzagging to their face until it reached the point of impact and nestled there. Y/N grimaced while a writhing throb could be felt underneath their flesh. It made the hairs on their arms stand at attention while imagining worms crawling in and out of bloody pockets of skin.

“I’m…” Tuti sniffled, feeling herself choke up after seeing the scourge consume a chunk of Y/N’s face. Feeling overwhelmed, Tuti let go of the compress against Y/N, and used both her hands to wipe away at her eyes.

“What’s the scourge doing to you?”

“I’m not sure…” Y/N admitted. “It feels weird. It’s like its excited.”

“Oh Y/N…”

“I’ll be alright,” Y/N hoarsely said, furrowing their brows. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I’ll be fine.”

“Did he knock out a few of your brain cells, how can you say that?” Tuti whispered in a harsh gasp. “I feel so awful. You shouldn’t have got in the way. He was after me, not you.”

“The flowers.”

“Beg pardon?”

“It was the flowers,” Y/N swallowed. The corner of their eyes began to tear up. “Something about them, set him off.”

“If this is because of Loqui being kind to you, I don’t care if he’s the Chancellor, I’ll wring his neck if he tries to hurt you over something so damned trivial! His behavior wasn’t an excuse!”

Y/N had never seen Tuti this lit up before. Her anger was a quiet rage. Y/N imagined years of indoctrination from the empire had ingrained into her that women were not to show great resentment, but now Tuti’s kettle was starting to boil over.

“Tuti,” Y/N pleaded while reaching a hand to gently clasp Tuti’s left wrist. “I’m not excusing what happened, I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t think he meant to hurt either of us. I could see it in his eyes, something spooked him.”

“You’re damned right it’s crazy!” Tuti exclaimed. “Oh gods, Y/N, he hit you so hard you were screaming at the top of your lungs. I thought he caved in your skull! Your nose was bleeding so much…”

“Tuti,” Y/N murmured. It dawned on Y/N that it was a meaningless effort to explain their theory, especially when they realized it would require having to divulge to Tuti that they were bonded to Ardyn through the scourge. It wouldn’t take too long to put the pieces together that Ardyn was Adagium, and then both parties would be jeopardized.

No matter how loyal Tuti was, nor sincere, Y/N knew they had to keep this to themself. It didn’t mean the situation wasn’t frustrating any less, especially when they felt alone while trying to untangle their consciousness from another. The battle was scary, but even more so was that Y/N couldn’t tell themself from Ardyn. They were one in the same. A single heartbeat and mind, converged into a vortex of sensations that the human brain couldn’t fully fathom.

“Bleedthrough,” Y/N whispered to themself, feeling their nerves twitch from shock. Y/N dwelled on Tuti’s earlier words, how they were screaming at the top of their lungs when they couldn’t recall anything like that transpiring. It would make sense, that the body would be in full panic while the mind was trapped elsewhere.

“Tuti?”

“Yes?” She whispered, tampering down her anger for Y/N’s sake.

“Did Ardyn…react in any way?”

“Y/N, I really don’t want to talk about him. Right now, I just want make sure you feel better.”

Tuti had set a boundary, and Y/N didn’t have the heart to break it down. Y/N furrowed their brows in defeat, and once more Tuti began to fan their face while ensuring the cold compress was tucked comfortably against Y/N’s sore cheek.

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