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toongrrl-blog · 4 years

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Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s.

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons).

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd.

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season.

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy.

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves.

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses.

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate.

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered.

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was.

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men.

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function.

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner.

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband.

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy.

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents.

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”.

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper.

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome.

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts.

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s.

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!).

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor.

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are.

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife.

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case.

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed.

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off. As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies).

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him).

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family.

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings.

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring.

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here.

Also points on that bolder shade of pink.

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point).

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent.

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly.

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on.

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition.

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bgn846 · 5 years

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FFXV Vampire AU ft. Batio!!

I saw a piece of art done by Mintfoxmimi for her Batio AU and asked if I could write some short stories for it. Like this amazing one. So this little project was born. I hope you all like it and there will be more!!

A big thanks to @mintfoxmimi for letting me use her Vampire Batio AU setting (including extensive creation of the lore and human/vampire relations) for some short stories.

Please check out Mintfoxmimi's amazing art on their Twitter and Tumblr account!

Summary

Ignis is newly arrived in the small village of Insomnis and secures a job at the local hunters guild. He thinks things are going well enough until he meets a vampire one night. Things do not go as planned. Or a short story of how Ignis and Gladio meet for the first time.

Chapter 1: One Dark Night It All Started

The ancient adage of watching your life flash before your eyes when you were dying was true. In between the moments of intense panic and running frantically Ignis’ mind was awash with memories. Strangely, they only consisted of the past two weeks. Despite this fact he was still certain things were not going to end well. Being chased by a vampire was usually not a good thing.

Especially when said vampire stood at six foot six and had the muscles to match. He became dimly aware that he was being herded away from the town center. Ignis had only arrived in the bustling little town of Insomnis a few weeks earlier. A job position at the local hunter’s guild had awaited him courtesy of his uncle. Now though, he wished he’d never come.

Why was fate so cruel? He’d literally been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Witnessing a meeting between two vampires in the street after an evening stroll just didn’t happen. They were supposed to be far more secretive than that. Yet here he was running away after he’d seen one of them banish their fangs in a blink of an eye. Ignis couldn’t shake the feeling of his blood running cold when the vampire’s eyes had locked with his own. He watched in morbid fear as they easily returned to a human-like state.

Without thinking Ignis had turned and bolted. Only one vampire had given chase, and it seemed to know his name. Hence his current life threatening situation and why he was running like a fool. He was going to die that night and his poor uncle would most likely think it was his fault.

Ignis was trained as a fighter and could do quite well, but he was alone and this vampire was bigger than him. A feeling of immediate dread flooded his senses when the street he’d been running along suddenly ended. Ignis had run straight out of town and into a field of wheat. Astrals this was very bad.

There was no time to dwell on his bad decisions, when a growl from behind him nearly stopped his heart. Turning slowly Ignis was greeted by a truly terrifying sight. A giant monster now stood in front of him. Had the vampire shapeshifted or was this one of his minions? Staggering backwards Ignis managed to stay upright as he looked up in fear. Reaching for his daggers out of habit he assumed a defensive position. Maybe if he yelled like a man possessed, someone might come to his aid.

The looming shadow of muscle and teeth lunged at him the second he started screaming for help. What happened next was unexpected. Instead of having his head bit clean off Ignis was flying. Somehow he managed to hang onto his daggers after the creature had grabbed him. Two strong limbs held his arms firmly as they rose higher in the sky. The moon was low and provided enough light for Ignis to see what had attacked him. It appeared a giant winged bat was now carrying him away.

The illogical part of his mind wanted to try and slash at the claws holding his upper arms. He quickly dismissed that idea as he’d certainly fall to his death. Realizing that he was still yelling at the top of his lungs Ignis attempted to stop. He could barely breathe from the rush of adrenaline and screaming his brains out didn’t help.

What was going to happen to him when they landed? If they landed? This bat could merely let go and continue on its way. Ignis didn’t think he could take much more. He was already overly tired from working late the past week. Now he was going to die and that was depressing. Risking a glance downward it appeared the ground was getting closer. He’d been trying not to stare. No human ever reached these heights unless they were being carted off by a huge winged monster.

The decent back to Eos was controlled and slow. The air rushed past Ignis’ face in giant whooshes as the bat gently dropped him back to solid ground. The second its claws released Ignis’ arms he attempted to run away. His knees had other plans, they were like pudding. Crying out in desperation he collapsed on the grass.

His body felt like molasses as he tried to roll over and raise his daggers. The opportunity to fight was taken from Ignis a second later when the bat outright pounced on him. Surprisingly he didn’t get crushed, but his arms were pinned again. Slashing at the huge bat wasn’t going to work anymore.

Ignis felt light headed as he worked to breathe in enough oxygen to stay conscious. His heart was pounding furiously at the shock of the situation. The monster tilted its large head to the side and twitched its ears as if listening for something. Then without warning it leaned forward quickly and licked his forehead.

Momentarily stunned by the action Ignis could only manage a strangled guttural noise. Was this bat tasting him first before he ate him? The monster hovering over him was squeaking softly and sniffing his hair. On the third inhale it snorted and leaned back. Its long snout scrunched up and it sneezed.

Unable to stifle the yell he let loose Ignis tried to scramble away. The bat was now gone and in its place stood a man, no a vampire. He shook his head a few times and looked down at Ignis. The charismatic grin he flashed did not match the mood. Ignis was still breathing raggedly and trying to figure out if he was going to in fact, die.

“What are you going to do to me?” Ignis croaked.

“Nothing bad.” the vampire defended.

“Why did you capture me?”

“For a tactician you’re a little dense sometimes. I didn’t want you waking up the whole damn neighborhood with your yelling.”

“Wha? You attacked me! What was I supposed to do?” Ignis gaped, forgetting his predicament.

“No, you turned white as a sheet and then --.” The vampire made a point to stop and point at him, “Then you ran away.”

“I didn’t want to die.”

“I wasn’t out to kill you. Why would I do that?”

“I’m human!” Ignis shouted in frustration, “That’s why!”

“I don’t kill humans unless they deserve it. You are one of the good ones.”

Suddenly picking up on the fact that this vampire knew his job position Ignis couldn’t help but continue his questioning, “How do you know I’m a tactician?”

“I’ve seen you at work. I’m a member at the guild too, but we haven’t had a chance to meet until now.”

Shuddering at the idea that a vampire had made its way into the ranks of the guild Ignis groaned out loud. “Why me?”

“Bad timing I suppose.” The vampire offered, “Its better this way, now you can help me with my research. I see you slaving over piles of paperwork all day long. They gave you that job because you’re smart.”

“Why would I help you?” Ignis asked in disbelief.

“I may be a vampire but there are ones that are far more dangerous than me. That’s why I joined the guild. I needed to keep track of the bad apples so to speak.”

Ignis’ adrenaline rush was starting to wear off and he could feel his mind growing sluggish, “How far from town are we?”

“Close enough, I can fly us back in a jiffy.”

“NO! I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

“Well the walk might be a little longer.”

Sighing heavily Ignis attempted to right himself. This resulted in terrible things happening. He fell straight into the vampire as he was unable to support his own weight anymore. Having his body pulled in close to the vampire Ignis wondered if maybe the giant bat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Something strange was happening to his mind as they hobbled along the dirt path back to town. Things were getting fuzzy but he was fighting desperately to stay awake, “What are you doing to me?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Relax it’s alright. Let go and sleep.”

Ignis figured he should be terrified at being this close to a vampire, but he was oddly calm. His feet were dragging more and more as they slowly walked. He remembered his knees buckling and the vampires’ deep voice telling him everything was alright. Then nothing.

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The second Ignis’ body went slack Gladio picked him up. Poor human he’d only been at the guild for barely two weeks and was already overworking himself. Hoping his charmer spell for sleep would last Gladio took his time walking back.

Morphing into a bat once they’d neared town, Gladio was able to get Ignis up to his rooms above the guild headquarters. Using the front door wasn’t an option as it would have led to questions about what had happened. He also didn’t think Ignis would appreciate being carried inside like a sack of potatoes.

Ignis’ room was neat despite the appalling amount of paperwork he had lying around. Why did the guild have so much stinking paperwork anyway? All they did was hunt and kill. Shaking his head in wonder Gladio gently placed Ignis on his bed. Realizing he should probably take Ignis’ boots off started a chain reaction.

First the boots were removed, and then Gladio worried about his vest. Of course it came off next. Spectacles were not something one slept in so those had to go. His belt, that was lumpy with the dagger holsters attached, and not fun to roll around on. Astrals, Gladio had never thought about how much stuff encompassed an entire outfit. He was used to changing when his clothes needed it and that was that.

Finally when he was satisfied with Ignis’ comfort level he buried the man in blankets. Gladio was a pure bred vampire so he’d never known what it was like to be human. He did know they got cold and that was not something he wanted to have happen to Ignis.

Ignis was an interesting human. He’d arrived from the village of Tenebra a few short weeks ago without much notice. Gladio hadn’t been in that part of the Eos for many years but he remembered it being a large community.

Merely by word of mouth Gladio had been aware that Ignis could fight. The guild preferred him to manage their day to day operations. This meant he was stuck fixing years of mismanagement instead of out fighting. Gladio had recognized Ignis’ natural planning skills right away and had tried to convince Drautos to let him go on a few hunts. The captain had always refused citing Ignis was doing hard work for the guild. The poor human was so busy Gladio hadn’t even had a chance to introduce himself properly.

Their official introduction was less than stellar, but it did give Gladio a rare opportunity to discover something important. Ignis was a dulcis. When he’d shape shifted earlier the man looked like his heart was going to stop out of shock. Gladio did the only thing he could think of at the time to try and calm Ignis down. Lick him. Animals that licked people were cute right?

It was at that moment when Gladio had caught a whiff of something unique. He had sniffed intently to confirm his suspicions. Sneezing accidentally wasn’t part of the plan. It had been enough to convince him though, Ignis was a rare dulcis. Most higher ranking vampires craved humans of this kind.

Lore surrounding dulcis was varied and wildly inaccurate. Some believed if you drained a dulcis human of all their blood it would grant the drinker increased strength. Gladio knew this was untrue as he’d witnessed the act centuries ago. Nothing changed except an innocent human life was lost. It was somewhat comforting to know that Ignis’ dwelling was in the same building as the guild. There was always a hunter around or at least nearby.

Gladio was thankful he’d been present earlier. Ignis had unexpectedly come down the alleyway on his way back to his rooms. The other vampire he’d been talking to was a friend and Gladio wasn’t worried about him hurting Ignis. However, he didn’t need the new guild advisor running in hollering about Gladio being a vampire.

This thought brought up the issue Gladio had been pondering earlier. How to get Ignis to keep his secret? He wasn’t sure not killing him was enough motivation. Ignis was a tough character and did things the right way or not at all. The short time he’d been at the guild operations had improved drastically.

Resigning himself for a wait, Gladio pursued the human’s book collection and selected a volume. He could at least entertain himself until Ignis woke up. Taking a seat near to the window but not directly in front of it he cracked open the book. Being of noble descent meant Gladio had certain abilities. Shapeshifting was his specialty as he’d already demonstrated to Ignis. His other skills were not as honed but still came in handy.

The charmer spell he placed on Ignis to help him sleep was always useful. The thing he enjoyed the most was the benefit of being able to withstand sunlight. Granted he couldn’t handle a full day in the sun, but he could go out in the late afternoon and partake in hunts. This helped Gladio blend in with the humans and hunt the more viscous of his own kind.

Gladio was the protector of a vampire prince. His interest in human affairs stemmed from his desire to keep his charge safe. The more information he knew about both sides the better. Hoping Ignis would come around to the idea of helping him Gladio settled in for a nice read.

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

Sighing contentedly Ignis rolled over and kicked his blankets away. For the first time in weeks he felt truly rested. Waking up toasty and warm helped, though he was starting to overheat. Ignis didn’t normally use this many blankets. After a moment he remembered the terrible dream he’d had. Six it was so scary, he’d been chased by a vampire.

Stretching slowly he sat up and promptly yelled. Clapping his hands over his mouth he stared at the vampire sitting in his wing chair with wide eyes. The sound of stomping feet could be heard pounding up the stairs towards his room.

The door knob wiggled but it was locked. The guild captain’s voice rang out a moment later, “Ignis are you alright?”

“Yes.” He squeaked.

“What the hell is going on?” He continued not accepting the short answer.

Ignis had his eyes locked with the vampire. He was still alive and human so it had kept its word and helped him back to town. Taking a risk Ignis finally replied, “I’m sorry Drautos, I stubbed my toe badly.”

“Are you feeling okay? It’s not like you to sleep in so late.” The captain huffed through the door.

“Late night sir, I’m sorry.” Ignis hollered back.

“Take your time kiddo, you’ve been working hard.” With that final comment the conversation ended and Ignis could hear Drautos walking away.

“Don’t forget to limp later when you see him.” The vampire offered quietly from his chair. “Drautos will notice otherwise.”

“I could yell again and call him back!” Ignis hissed.

The vampire merely chuckled at him. Apparently his threats were amusing, “What is your name?” Ignis demanded.

“Gladiolus of house Amicitia.”

The vampire before him had a name Ignis recognized. He’d seen the name Amicitia on many old documents. This was no ordinary night walker, “What is your end game?”

“Keep my family safe.” Gladiolus announced.

“How do I factor into that?” Ignis queried with narrowed eyes.

“You are smart and have access to records. With your help I can better track the people that would cause my family harm.”

“Why would I help you exactly?”

“My family has been peacefully co existing with humans for nearly five hundred years. I see no reason to cease that arrangement.”

“That’s it? You like hanging out with humans and scaring the life out of them when it pleases you?”

“What?” Gladiolus frowned, “No, the only reason I picked on you last night was because you were running back here to tell everyone about me. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“You should be more careful when you reveal your true self.”

“For your information you don’t smell like a normal human, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Ignis couldn’t think of a comeback. No one had ever told him didn’t smell normal, “Do I smell bad?” he asked instead.

Gladiolus shook his head and smiled that disarming grin of his, “So will you keep my secret?”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Ignis asked since he really didn’t know how to answer the vampires’ question.

“I prove it to you. I did get you back here safely and still human.”

Humming to himself Ignis slumped back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he could work with Gladiolus. It wasn’t unheard of for vampires to be friends with humans. Hoping it wasn’t because he felt alone in a new place and simply wanted friendship. Ignis decided to stay quiet about the vampire in the guild, “Very well, I won’t tell anyone about you.” He sighed.

A quiet laugh and an even quieter utterance of thank you met his ears. Looking up to see if Gladiolus had anything more to say revealed he had disappeared. A small squeak garnered his attention and he spun around to its source. A small impossibly fluffy bat sat near his partially opened window staring at him. Ignis could swear it was smiling but that was ludicrous, bats didn’t smile. It squeaked again and then flew off into the afternoon sun.

Ignis eventually got his thoughts in order and got up to go back to work. Taking Gladiolus words into account he limped around his little office until most of the guild members had gone home. Drautos would give him a sympathetic look anytime he passed by. The memories of his encounter with Gladiolus flooded his senses for the rest of the night. Wondering when they’d cross paths again Ignis focused on his work. Burying himself in mountains of paperwork seemed to be the only avenue of distraction that worked.

#ffxv #fanfic #gladnis #gladio #ignis #batio

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Lies Untold

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: For generations, your family has been the protectors of mankind. You were considered one of the best and due to that reputation, you were sent on what could be the most important mission for the organization. Going under cover in a college to sniff out a particularly large and threatening wolf pack seemed easy enough. But when you meet one of the members, everything you’ve known since birth will be overturned and your loyalty to your family and heritage will be tested.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

Paper was strewn everywhere. A corkboard full of photographs and strings and sticky notes that would make any sane person think that a major conspiracy theorist lived here was currently leaning against a wall. And maybe that’s what you were, a person losing grip on reality as you tried to tie everything together. You still weren’t sure of the pack’s size or ranking even after another week of following them around. Confirming who was apart of the wolves was proving more difficult than you’d first imagined. Innie tended to hangout with the same group and they would mention others in brief conversation, but you couldn’t find faces to go with the unknown names.

One thing that you were at least ninety percent certain of was the fact that the professor – named Kim Junmyeon according to the university directory – was the alpha. How he was able to control such a large pack all by himself was something you couldn’t fathom, but somehow he managed it. You’d witnessed the others going to him for advice or permission for things and he just had that alpha aura radiating off of him. He wasn’t genetically an alpha, from what you observed. God, you hoped you never had to encounter one of those. Even with all your training, you didn’t think you could survive that fight.

Standing in front of the board that was currently giving you a headache, your eyes kept lingering on one wolf in particular. With his long, forehead-covering hair and soft, welcoming eyes, you found yourself in a strange struggle that you’d never experienced before. Granted, this was the first time you’d ever been this close to a pack before that wasn’t on a hunt. You were forced to be around them in their fake forms, their human forms, and you were pretty sure it was messing with your head.

No. You were strong enough for this. You could keep your focus. You would not fall victim to the façade that was their human shapes. They were monsters that shouldn’t exist. Your family’s history was enough to prove that.

But even now, your skin tingled where Luhan’s fingers had brushed up against your hand. The night before, he even made a brief cameo in your dream. You couldn’t remember the exact details of the dream; you weren’t even sure if there was a plotline or if it was just a bunch of random images. You do remember Luhan’s face making an appearance, though, and it was aggravating you.

Feeling your blood beginning to boil in your veins at your frustration, you swiped up your bag that was carrying your surveillance equipment and threw it over your shoulder before stomping out of the apartment.

You needed to get back in the game. You needed to focus on finding a way to get to the book and give your family the upper hand it had always been lacking. That’s why you were sent here. This was no time to start questioning your world view.

The only thing you could think of doing at the moment was taking another trip to the museum. Last time you were staking the place out, you’d noticed the curator and the girl who’s name you figured out was Kita disappear into a hallway guarded by a locked door. The only way in was with a key card. Perhaps spending another round in the building would help you create a game plan for getting one of those key cards without leaving a trail and checking out if the book was hidden in one of those off-limits rooms.

Instead of taking the bus this time, though, you decided to walk off the pent up energy in your muscles. It was a couple miles and would take you through the central business district, but that was just another stroll through the park for you.

Walking down the sidewalk, you had your headphones in your ears with no music playing to give off the illusion that you were not to be disturbed while you were able to keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. Many families and friend groups were taking advantage of this beautiful day, milling about among the shops and little locally owned restaurants. They all looked so happy, unaware of the secret world around them.

According to another faction among the organization - one that’s job was to keep an eye on any witch covens - there was a group of witches in the neighboring town. This college city used to have it’s own for several generations, but something happened about two years ago and they were all stripped of their magic, leaving the area to be completely controlled by the wolves. And every single human in this place was completely unaware of the transition.

Sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to be one of them, to not have been trained since the age of four on how to fight, to kill, to keep those you loved safe. What did that blissful ignorance feel like? Was it as happy as everyone seemed to make it?

You didn’t hate being a hunter. Never would you say that you loved it; that might sound a little sadistic and you saved that description for Johnny. It was simply your life and you’d never thought about trading for the other side for it before. You didn’t know what that other side was like. Not like your mother, who knew it very well. She came into this life after meeting your father. Well, more like she met your father because of this life.

She’d been walking home from an evening class at her university one night when an omega attacked her. Your father had been tracking it down and lost the trail for just a few minutes, but it was enough for the omega to find it’s next prey. She never went into detail about it, but to this day your mother carried the claw marks on her stomach. As your father nursed her back to health, they fell in love and she vowed to be apart of the fight. She acknowledged that she got lucky and that there were others that wouldn’t be. It was now her mission to make the number of unlucky ones decline as much as she was able to.

Your mother had always stated she never regretted her decision and she’s never looked back, missing her old life. So, that had to mean that you had the better end of the deal, right?

“(y/n)!”

No. Keep walking. Pretend you didn’t hear.

But the last person you needed to see right now kept calling after you. By the direction his voice was coming from, you knew he was behind you. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t speed up either, because that would be acknowledging the fact that you could hear him. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d give up.

That was not the case. He caught up to you quickly, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instincts kicked in and you grabbed his hand, twisting it as you turned around. You weren’t using your full strength and so you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he didn’t show any sign of pain like any ordinary human would. But you faked the surprise, mostly to keep up the act that you hadn’t heard him.

“Shit, you scared me,” you said breathily to add to the charade. You took out the earbuds and stuffed them in your pocket before he could pick up on the lack of music.

“I guess I should have yelled louder,” Luhan chuckled. You let him go and he ran his fingers through his blonde hair, still smiling at you. There was no way that hair could be natural, right? And why was he always smiling around you? You didn’t exactly give off the vibe of sugar, spice, and everything nice. “Are you feeling better?”

You blinked at him, confused. That day at the pizzeria was nearly a week ago. And he was genuinely asking you about your health? “Um, yeah. I think I just ate something weird that day for breakfast.”

He nodded. “Good, good.” Bouncing from foot to foot, he gave off a sense of nervousness. “Are you busy right now?”

“Oh. Um.” You frowned, biting your bottom lip. Was he about to ask to spend some one-on-one time with you? Would that be a good idea if you said yes? The museum would still be there to check out again on another day and you could gain some helpful insight on his pack by speaking with him. Shaking your head, you turned your frown upside down. “No, I’m not. Why?”

A laugh escaped him as if he was taken by surprise by your answer. “Do you want to grab a cup of coffee? With me, that is.”

“Sure.”

Did you just freaking giggle? That wasn’t even you acting as the sweet one. It just… came out after his self-correction. What the hell was going on?

Taking a breath, you pointed to a coffee shop just at the corner of the block and started for it. “There’s that one-”

“No, not that one!” Luhan shouted as he stopped you with a grip on your upper arm. You stared at him wide eyed at the sudden outburst. Clearing his throat, he started to tug you to another shop across the street. “Their coffee sucks. And I know one of the staffers. She’s really nosy and we’d hardly be able to talk because she’d be hovering the whole time.”

“Really?” You looked over your shoulder at the reject shop, mentally notating it in your metaphorical files. Was it a mate that worked there? That could come in handy later.

“Yeah, this one’s much better,” he replied as he pulled you through the crosswalk, careful to keep an eye out for any runaway traffic. His hand had slipped down from your arm to your exposed hand and that fiery tingle was back in full force. Your heart was pounding in your chest and this time… you didn’t think you could completely blame it on your curved fight or flight senses.

Once inside, he let go to which you were both relieved with and aching for more. You shoved your hands in your pockets to keep them under control. Luhan asked for your order, but you shrugged and told him to surprise you. He got a cheeky look in his eye and ran to the front, leaving you alone to scan the area. An empty table for two was sitting in a corner near the front of the store, but right when you took a step towards it, Luhan was back.

“Let’s sit back there instead,” he suggested, nodding towards a booth that was mostly hidden from the rest of the shops patrons.

You really wanted to laugh. Luhan’s attempt to avoid running into or being seen by anyone he knew was painfully obvious and amateurish. Maybe someday you could give him some pointers at subtly.

You blinked, stopping in your tracks. Why did that thought cross your mind? There would never be a someday. Once your mission was finished, you’d never seen him again. The world might never see him again.

Why was that hurting your heart?

“(y/n)?”

Luhan’s voice pulled you out of your mixed up thoughts. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” he asked, his head tilted to the side in a studying manner.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you insisted as you quickly slid into the booth.

Before he could sit down across from you, the barista at the counter called out, “Order for Luhan ready at the bar.”

He took off, coming back a few seconds later with two plastic cups of cream colored liquid, the sound of the ice cubes clinking against each other filling the silence that was settling between you two. Unsure of what else to do, you took a sip from the cup he’d set in front of you. The strange flavor mixed in with the coffee took you by surprise, strangling a weird sound of you.

“What is this?” you asked, your face surely twisting into a look of disgust. It wasn’t necessarily that gross, it was just… not normal.

“It’s raspberry mocha,” Luhan answered while laughing at your reaction. “If you don’t like it, I can go get you something else.” He reached out for the cup, but you scooted it closer to you instead.

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” For a moment, you just tapped your finger against the thin lid of the cup. You were searching for something to say, to get the conversation rolling, but you didn’t want to come off as digging a little too much, raising his suspicions. “So, do you-”

“Why did you-”

Luhan had started speaking at the exact same time as you and the two of you stop simultaneously as well. Short, awkward laughs came from both of you.

“Go ahead,” Luhan waved at you, palm up.

“No, you go ahead,” you insisted.

Lowering his head, Luhan sighed. He lifted his face again, sitting back in the booth, a half smile pulling up in the corner of his lips. It wasn’t even a full grin, but it was relaxing you where you sat. Whatever was going on inside of your chest, you still didn’t have a sane explanation, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t be going away any time soon. Especially if you kept letting yourself be around Luhan like this.

“Why did you come here?” he asked very bluntly.

The way he stated the question took you by surprise, almost like…. No. There was no way he could know. He wouldn’t be sitting across from you so relaxed like this. He would have told the rest of his pack and you would be dead. Besides, you’d been more than careful with your identity. Not even Innie knew the truth.

You shrugged. “I needed a change of pace. I’m from… I guess you could call it a compound, but that makes it sound a bit cultish, doesn’t it?” Yeah, some might say the organization could be a cult, based on the definition. “Basically, I’m from a small town and needed a faster pace in my life. Unfortunately, I’m not brave enough for the really big cities and Innie was here so that gave me a small foundation to start with.” Even as the lies came smoothly out your lips, it was leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

“And you do freelance design graphics, right?” he urged on.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a grin lighting your face up a bit. Playing around on photoshop had been a nice, unrelated-to-the-supernatural outlet that helped you unwind. You didn’t actually do any sort of business with it, but it was a fun little hobby where you kept all the end results to yourself. “It’s all online so that makes it easy to work my own hours and stay home.”

“That sounds nice.” Luhan took a long sip form his own drink before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

The space between you was at its smallest that it had ever been. You could see the flecks of ember in his dark brown eyes. They were so kind and inviting, practically begging for you to come closer. Your muscles were having a tug-of-war within themselves: closer, father, closer, farther, closer.

Farther won and you leaned back away from him, crossing your arms to recreate the barrier that he was doing a very good job of cracking.

Luhan looked a little disappointed at your response, but he just let it roll off of him. “So, what were you going to ask?”

“Oh, just if you enjoyed living here,” you answered nonchalantly. It was getting tougher to pretend this wasn’t affecting you in some way.

“I like it a lot,” Luhan said happily. But that initial joy slipped a bit. “I was gone for a little while, but being back has been the best decision I ever had.”

“You left?” Since when could a wolf leave a pack and then rejoin it?

Luhan nodded, turning his eyes down to his fingers and picking at his nails. “Yeah. My brothers kind of… got in a fight, I guess you could say. One of them decided to break out on his own, thinking it was best for everyone. I didn’t want him to be alone, so I went with him. But I missed this place every day I was gone.”

“Why do you love this place so much?” It was the first sincere question to leave your mouth. He spoke with such a nostalgic undertone, it was almost like a poet or a songwriter trying to describe their favorite color without saying the name. You found yourself leaning forward again, hands securely in your lap to avoid any accidental contact.

Luhan shrugged as he twirled his straw absentmindedly. “I don’t know if I can describe it, the reason why. Ever since I came here as a teenager, it just felt like home. Like I was always meant to be here and it would help me meet the people that were meant to be in my life.” At that last comment, his eyes flickered over to you just for a second before falling back down to the now empty cup.

“So, you didn’t grow up here?”

“No, I spent most of my childhood a couple hundred miles away,” he explained. “My family traveled a lot and it was kind of pure coincidence that brought me here.”

A nomadic pack. You’d encountered more than your fair share of wolves that chose to live that way. They were easier to spot than the ones that stayed put. That guilty feeling was starting to bubble in your stomach again. Had you run into his old running mates in the past?

You’d never been on hunts like that before. You were never old enough. The only times you went with the older hunters was to track down killer wolves, the ones who’d attacked defenseless humans. Those were deemed “safer” since it was normally a group of hunters verses one or two wolves. You’d never been the one to deal the killing blow, but you certainly had shot more than your fair share of injuring arrows.

“(y/n)?” Luhan reached out to your, but had nothing to hold onto with your wringing fingers resting on your thighs. “(y/n), are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied a bit shakily. “But, uh, I think… I think I should head back home. I’ve got work that’s piling up and I really should get started on it.” You jumped up to your feet and Luhan followed suit.

“Do you want me to see you home?”

“No!” you exclaimed, waving your hands in front of you. A bit calmer, you added, “I’m fine really. But… thank you for the offer. Really. Um, I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t necessarily hightail it out of there, but you certainly walked at a fast pace, hoping that he wasn’t following you. Once you hit the first crosswalk, you glanced behind, but Luhan wasn’t anywhere in your line of sight. That let you release a deep breath.

Back at your apartment, you locked the door up tight behind you and tossed your bag down on the couch before collapsing beside it, your face in your hands.

You can’t do that again. That stupid, blonde wolf was doing something to you. He was messing up everything you knew and… you didn’t know if you were strong enough for this inner conflict.

Ever since you were a child, you were told over and over the story of the beginnings of the organizations. You knew them by heart so you could pass on the knowledge to your own children someday. It was what drove you and kept your fundamentals stable. But how true was it?

Centuries ago, when hygiene was still questionable and kings and lords ruled the lands, there were a nest of little villages in a valley. They were all friendly with each other, trading goods and lending a helping hand when hard times fell over them. But the skies wouldn’t stay blue forever.

One night, a monster came into the midst of the smallest village, killing any human it came across. Innocent blood was shed and the villagers didn’t know what to do. The following night, the monster came across the next village, except this time, it had company. Over a week of hell, the five villages were destroyed, only a few families able to survive the massacre.

After banding together, the men of the families set out to track down the monsters so they wouldn’t hurt anyone else. When they found the monsters, they were frozen with shock. They’d witnessed the dog-like monsters transform into men, laughing and joking with human lips and human lungs. With surprise on their side, the men attacked the monsters, eliminating the threat for good.

Or so they thought.

As the five families traveled to find a new place to settle, they heard stories of giant wolves attacking defenseless villages. These stories were new, recent happenings and they realized that the threat was not gone like they thought and there were more out in the world. So they decided that since they knew the secret of the monsters, they should be the ones to stop them.

Over the years, they trained their children, occasionally bringing in others to help their cause. Once they deemed themselves big enough, they split to stretch across the globe to rid every country from this scourge. To this day, the five families, now factions of the singular organization, still fight to erase the supernatural from the world, to protect their fellow man.

But did every wolf deserve it?

Tradition told you that their human forms were just disguises, that they didn’t know what it was like to feel real emotions and that all they did was hide until they were ready for their next attack, their next killing spree. But in your research, the reports of wolf attacks were few and far between in this area. And it’d been decades since the last one was recorded. Then there was Luhan.

He didn’t seem like a killer. None of the boys did. And Innie seemed so happy with Baekhyun, hormones telling her to be like that or not. What was going on in your world?

Grabbing the bag beside you, you threw it across the room, not caring in the slightest if you broke the camera inside as you released a wordless yell.

You pulled back your sleeve to expose the tattoo that you’d proudly let yourself be branded with. It was an honor to be inked with the arrowhead triquetra. It symbolized that you’d passed every test and had dedicated yourself to the cause. But was it all a lie?

No, you didn’t believe it was a lie. There were plenty of legitimate reasons for the organization to exist. Your mother’s scars were proof enough for that. But maybe… maybe it’d gone too far. Maybe there needed to be a distinction between the ones that attacked humans and the ones that just wanted to live their lives in peace.

You scoffed to yourself. Look at you, thinking radical ideas and off of what? One conversation and a few interactions with a single wolf pack? They could still be dangerous, they could still be a threat to humans. They could lose control and hurt someone. Baekhyun could hurt Innie whether it was intentional or not.

A battle was beginning to brew inside of you and you had no clue which side was going to win.

Just focus on the book, (y/n). Once you get that, you can leave and go back to the organization. Go back to your family. They’ll get your head back on straight.

God, you hoped that was true.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #luhan x reader #luhan #lu han #exo series #exo supernatural au #Lies Untold #untamed wolf universe

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undertheinktree · 5 years

Text

Trust Fall (2/2)

part 1

The Archangel raised his right arm to show he was holding a scale. The plates, apparently empty, were tilted to the left, defying Earth’s laws of physics. “You will follow me without resistance or you will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”

*****

Aziraphale couldn’t sleep that night. Truth be told, he wasn’t very keen on sleeping in general. He did enjoy taking naps after hearty meals, but they rarely lasted more than a handful of minutes. The night the world hadn’t ended he had actually managed to sleep for a couple of hours before waking up excitedly yelling he had figured out what Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy meant. His sleeping record was set in 1865, when he had lost consciousness for almost six hours, his mind clouded by French wine, opium fumes and words of decadence – but he didn’t like talking about that.

That night, however, he probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he’d wanted to, caught up in the turmoil of emotions the afternoon had brought.

When they had got back to the bookshop Crowley had offered to stay with him – an offer he had phrased like “I’m too tired to drive to my apartment, can I crash on your couch?”, but that Aziraphale had understood was really a “Let me keep an eye on you”. He had refused, saying he needed some time alone.

Immersed in silence, with his mind free to wander and to conjure up images of flames and Falling angels, he started to regret his choice.

Unable to sleep, Aziraphale prayed instead. The human way: on his knees, with folded hands and eyes shut tight, whispering psalms and hymns someone else had written centuries before. The human way, he felt like his words were falling on deaf ears.

His sigh resounded in the silence of the empty bookshop and he was struck by an overwhelming sensation of loneliness. Stumbling on his feet he sprinted to the phone and picked up the receiver with shaky hands. He had already dialled half of Crowley’s number when something in his mind switched, and the fear that was quickly building up inside of him stepped into the light and showed itself for what it really was: resentment.

“No, this is not right,” he declared out loud, slamming the phone down. He started pacing the floor on restless feet.

“This is Your fault! I shouldn’t feel alone right now, You are supposed to be by my side in times of need, aren’t You?” he slurred pointing a finger at the ceiling, almost expecting the wooden beams to dematerialise and God Herself to descend to Earth just to answer to his accusation. It didn’t happen, but the thought of it was enough to make Aziraphale tone down the anger in his voice. He started fidgeting with his hands, torn between the need of answers and the aversion to open disobedience that, despite everything, was still part of his nature.

“Am I already damned, then? Or am I just so insignificant I don’t even deserve to feel Your presence?” he asked.

“Just let me understand. Is this somehow part of Your ineffable plan? Am I supposed to Fall? Or have I really strayed that far?”

The events of the previous twelve years had destroyed any faith Aziraphale had in Heaven and his fellow angels. Slowly, begrudgingly, he had faced the senselessness of their Manichaeism and their twisted moral code and had accepted that their system was broken. Nonetheless, he had always held on to the idea that everything since the beginning of time had been part of the Almighty’s plan. Crowley tempting Eve in the Garden, him giving Adam his sword, the Antichrist being raised by the wrong family, the averted Apocalypse, all part of an enormous game not even an angel’s intellect was able to understand.

Was this simply Her next move or had he got it all wrong?

“I mean, I know I have done…some bad things,” he admitted “I know that. I’m far from perfect. But am I really worse than all those who follow any order they’re given without wondering who could be hurt in the process? All those who wanted to completely destroy the Earth and wipe out the human race? Who tried to kill me and Crowley?”

Saying the demon’s name out loud raised another doubt in his mind.

“Is this about him?”

He immediately dismissed the idea shaking his head.

“You can’t tell me it’s about Crowley. You are the one who made me able to love. To love him. No, I refuse to believe that’s in any way wrong. But what is it, then? What have I done? Do You really want me to be punished or do You just don’t care if I am?”

He saw his own reflection in the big mirror leaning on the wall in the corner of the room. He looked very tired.

“Are You even there? It’s been so long,” he murmured, exhaustion echoing in his voice.

A shiver went down his spine at the thought of everything he had said up to that point being nothing more than a soliloquy, a stream of consciousness destined to remain unheard and unanswered.

“Am I asking too many questions?”

He stared at his image in the mirror. The face he had worn for thousands of years, usually lit by excitement, serenity and self-esteem, stared back at him with a mixture of doubt, pain and confusion. Behind it he could glimpse at his true form, the one he hadn’t fully embraced in millennia and had almost forgotten. An Angel in the truest sense of the word, who fully belonged to Heaven, was sure of what his purpose was and barely had a conscience of his own. For a moment his face morphed into an unfamiliar expression, blank stare, upper lip raised and nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Of course I am,” he spat out, “Angels aren’t supposed to ask questions, right?”

“Come with me.”

Aziraphale turned around stumbling on his own feet. The menacing glare of the angel behind him was enough for him to immediately put on the polite smile he was so used to showcasing with his former bosses.

“Michael,” he said, trying to suppress the terror in his voice with a cheerful intonation “I wasn’t expecting you.”

The Archangel raised his right arm to show he was holding a scale. The plates, apparently empty, were tilted to the left, defying Earth’s laws of physics.

“You will follow me without resistance or you will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale’s fake smile faltered. He was sure he had already seen that same expression in the Archangel’s eyes once, long before the beginning of Time, when he had faced and defeated what was once God’s most faithful servant.

“Already?” he asked, the reality of the situation slowly dawning on him.

“You were created with a great deal of divinity inside of you, principality. You have squandered it.”

“All right, then.” Aziraphale took a deep breath and straightened his spine. “Let us have done with it.”

***

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel’s smile was as broad, as bright and as condescending as usual. Behind him, dozens of angels were lined up facing Aziraphale, making it clear that if he had tried to do anything stupid he wouldn’t have had any chances of succeeding.

“Is it actually you in there? If I’m not mistaken last time we saw you you were possessed by a demon.”

Aziraphale replied with a smile just as fake. “Last time you saw me you tried to kill me, if I am not mistaken either.”

Standing beside him Michael gave him a push, in a silent threat.

“I’m sure you understand we were in an emergency situation,” Gabriel explained as if his and Crowley’s extinction was just business as usual. “We had been in an arms race for six thousand years and were suddenly placed in disarmament. Order had to be re-established as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale could taste his scorn for the Archangel on his tongue.

“Moreover, I believe you now wish we had carried out the execution, don’t you?”

Gabriel’s smile widened even more, but the malicious twinkle in his purple eyes made Aziraphale turn pale.

“It’s been ages since the last Fall,” he continued. “It’s a bit of an inconvenience of course, losing one of ours to the other side. But we do what we must.” The confident façade Aziraphale was already struggling to maintain began to crumble under Gabriel’s mellifluous voice. “I must admit, it will be interesting seeing how much Hell is going to affect you. It’s almost a shame. So soft and weak. I imagine it won’t take much to break you.”

“You are cruel. Why are you even doing this?” he asked, unable to dissimulate the shakiness in his voice. Gabriel shrugged.

“We cannot keep a demon in our ranks.”

“But I am not a demon!”

Just like the previous afternoon, Aziraphale found himself dizzy and short of breath, his mind clouded by quickly approaching panic. Was he becoming a demon? How bad would it be? Crowley was a demon. Was it a good thing, then? On Gabriel’s lips the simple word sounded like the worst of insults.

“I’m an angel…” he murmured. He realized that word said out loud sounded just as degrading.

“Are you?” Gabriel scoffed “I believe Michael’s psychostasia said the opposite.”

Aziraphale remembered the unbalanced scale the Archangel had showed him in the bookshop and whatever hope he had of being absolved by the jury of angels in front of him vanished in thin air.

“This makes no sense,” he muttered. “I’m a good person.”

“That’s the point, Aziraphale, you are not a person. We are supposed to be better,” Gabriel replied, patronizing. “Let’s see. That old shop of yours. All the things you hoard in it. Not only it’s frankly disturbing, it’s Greed. That’s a sin, you do realize that.”

The jury angels all nodded in agreement.

“What about Sloth? Have you ever really put any effort in the work the Almighty assigned to you? How often have you actually, actively performed Good?”

In response Aziraphale just shook his head, unable to form a sentence.

“Gluttony. That’s a big one for you, isn’t it?” Gabriel resumed “All that disgusting organic stuff you are ceaselessly ingesting…”

“It’s just food. It tastes nice,” he managed to say.

“You don’t need it! It’s just a human thing. You see, that’s a big part of your problem.” The Archangel wagged his finger at Aziraphale, who recoiled. “You are too invested in humans and their oddities. You have always been obsessed with them. I would dare to say that you wish you were just like them. Which brings me to Envy.”

“Stop it, Gabriel, please. All of this is ridiculous.” Aziraphale could feel tears springing up behind his eyes, while the Archangel’s accusations dug grooves in everything he thought he knew and everything he thought he had learnt in thousands of years. Was Gabriel right?

“Now, Lust. We obviously heard your little ‘I love you Crowley’ rant last afternoon, so…”

Aziraphale felt his whole body freeze in an instant.

“You heard?”

“Of course, what did you expect? We’ve been observing you these last few days. We needed to know if you were actually, irredeemably corrupted. And as you can see…”

“But that’s not Lust!” Aziraphale was able to collect enough air in his lungs to stop muttering and begin to yell instead. “It has nothing to do with it, Love is a good thing! It’s the good thing!”

Michael’s grip on his arm tightened.

“Oh. Is this Wrath?”

“Wra- this is common sense! Love is not Lust! Why would Love be wrong?”

“Aziraphale…” Gabriel’s voice wasn’t far from the voice an old woman would use when speaking to a toddler “We’re talking about a demon.”

An outraged muttering rose from the jury.

“You will not convince me that Love is a capital sin, Gabriel. What do you even know about it?”

“Mind how you speak, Aziraphale. We are angels. Love is our essence.” The Archangel took step towards him, dropping his over-polite demeanour. His voice was still calm and controlled but it had dropped an octave and sounded more menacing to Aziraphale’s ear. “You are basically a demon by now, the farthest thing from Love there is. You are the one who will no longer sense Love. You will no longer receive it in any way. You will no longer feel it.”

To everybody’s surprise, including his own, Aziraphale broke into a harsh laugh. For a moment he thought he could hear an echo of Crowley’s voice in his own.

“I must say I pity you, Gabriel. You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You think?”

“I know. You are not making any sense.”

“Sure. Pride, that’s another big one for you, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. All the terror and self-doubt he had felt until a few minutes before had reached their peak to the point all he could actually feel was weariness.

“This is absurd. You are just making up excuses to toss me out because, for whatever reason, you have always hated me.”

“We’re angels, we do not hate.” “Well, then I see why I’m not an angel anymore.” He was getting nauseated and just wanted that pointless inquisition to be over. All the questions he had been asking himself for hours, what was really right and wrong, how much he would change, what he would or wouldn’t still be able to feel, all of that didn’t matter anymore.

“Once I Fall, will you leave me alone?” he asked with a deadpan expression.

Gabriel scoffed “The farther we will be the better I will feel.”

“All right, then.” With a yank Aziraphale freed his arm from Michael’s grip, who left his side to reach Gabriel’s. He tried to pull himself together the best he could, fixing his linen shirt and taking deep breaths to choke back his tears one last time. He managed to put on what was the shadow of his old, phoney smile and found relief in the thought that he wouldn’t need it anymore.

“You know, I wish you were able to understand how wrong you are. I will pray for you, Gabriel.”

The Archangel wrinkled his nose “Yeah. Please don’t.” He turned to face the other angels.

“Shall we?” he asked. The jury nodded in agreement.

Immediately Aziraphale could feel a surge of energy whirl all around them, tingling on his fingertips and making his hair stand. The dazzling light of Heaven began to quickly fade, leaving as the only light source the bright halos of the angels, suddenly visible.

The ground under his feet started to shake but he was the only one who had to struggle to keep his balance: the others were standing perfectly still, staring at him with their eyes glowing so brightly he was almost blinded.

Gabriel’s three sets of wings cut through the planes of reality and appeared fully spread, their umber feathers ruffled by a non-existing wind. When he turned again and spoke, his voice came straight from a Time so remote that the meaning of the words he pronounced had been forgotten by all the other angels.

Dazed, Aziraphale stepped back. When his foot landed in the void, he had just the time to take one last look of the angels that were pushing him to his damnation.

Then he was Falling.

He hurled through the air at an unbearable speed, his arms and legs appearing and disappearing from his view as they pointlessly spun around as if with a conscience of their own. Instinctively he opened his wings to break the fall, but to no avail.

He kept his eyes fixed on Heaven, above him, farther and farther away, blurred by the tears that he had finally allowed to fill his eyes.

When his white feathers caught fire he tried to scream, but the wind pushing on his chest was too strong and his voice died before reaching his throat.

The excruciating pain within him matched the one on his skin, numbing both his senses and his mind.

He stopped struggling.

It is said that when a man dies he can see all his life flash before his eyes, as if Death operated by pressing the rewind button on an old VHS recorder.

Aziraphale wasn’t a man and he wasn’t actually dying; nevertheless, during his apparently endless Fall a huge amount of images and sounds flooded his mind, mixing up and chasing one another, presenting him the evidence of all the Sins he had been accused of. Books, tea, Crowley’s eyes, warm wool sweaters, sponge cake, Crowley’s laughter, vinyl records, Crowley’s wit, choosing to help, Crowley’s light-heartedness, choosing to disobey, Crowley’s hands, drinking with Crowley, magic tricks, Crowley’s thoughtfulness, sharing lunches with Crowley, listening to Crowley’s rants, running his fingers through Crowley’s hair, Crowley’s kindness, Crowley.

Crowley was a constant in so many of these thoughts that when a pair of black wings wrapped around Aziraphale’s body he thought for a moment he was only imagining them. Then he thought that he had pictured him so intensely he had accidentally summoned him. Then he thought that of course Crowley was there, ha had promised he would catch him.

Then they crashed.

***

Crowley’s shoulder hit the ground first. He heard the snapping sound of bones breaking, but he immediately willed them back in their place before his body could register the pain.

He held Aziraphale tighter as they tumbled in dirt and dust in a remote, godforsaken corner of Hell.

When they finally came to a stop, all of Crowley’s muscles went limp and he collapsed on his back, trying to steady his breath. Above him, the ground that had recoiled at their passage was closing again, blocking any view of Heaven and the sky, just like it had done thousands and thousands of years before.

It took him a couple of minutes to come to his senses and realize Aziraphale was clenching his shirt, eyes shut tight and face buried in his chest, still bracing for impact.

“Hey,” he said, slowly sitting up. “It’s over. You’re all right. It’s over.” Carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal, he touched Aziraphale’s cheek with the point of his fingers.

When he turned to look at him, startled, Crowley’s stomach dropped.

Beneath Aziraphale’s pale skin soiled by grime and soot, bright red streaks ran through his right arm, starting on his fingertips, climbing his shoulder and his neck and reaching his lobe, branching out like hundreds of tiny capillaries. Still, what struck Crowley the most were Aziraphale’s eyes. In particular what struck him the most were his pupils, them too bright red as if in a photo shot in darkness with a bright flash.

A moment later Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley’s waist and hid his face in the crook of his neck. His shrill scream pierced through Crowley’s head and through his heart. Crowley felt the urge to squeeze him with all the strength he could muster but, knowing the pain he was in at the moment, he just carefully wrapped his arms around his shoulders and gently caressed the back of his head. He gathered all the energy he could from the Hell that surrounded them and focused it on Aziraphale, hoping it would soothe an ounce of his pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, feeling Aziraphale shake in his arms and his tears wet his collarbone “I couldn’t stop it. I tried. I didn’t know how.”

He cradled him for what felt like forever, whispering apologies, curses and words of comfort.

Every time he laid eyes on his white wings, broken, bleeding and smouldering, a sharp pain in his chest brought to his mind the idea he was ignoring at all costs: the Aziraphale he had known for six thousand years was gone. Crowley knew too well what Falling felt like, he remembered how deeply and abruptly it had changed him, and the thought that the same thing had happened to his Angel filled him with anger.

Like thousands of years before he felt a surge of loathing towards Heaven and all those who had just decided to ruin the Universe wasting what he knew was the best thing of all Creation. Fury grew in him but he strived to keep still and just clenched his teeth, pressing his lips to the top of Aziraphale’s head, keeping him as close as possible while he could, afraid that the moment he would let him go everything he was dreading would become real.

“They will regret doing this to you,” he hissed “We’re gonna make them pay for this.”

“There is no need.” Aziraphale’s voice was so quiet Crowley barely heard him despite their proximity. Something in it, however, instilled a drop of hope in the middle of his anger and despair.

“What did you say?” he asked, pulling Aziraphale away from his chest just enough to look at his face. The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth were curled into a smile. Crowley looked at him in shock, unable to fully process what he was seeing.

“There is no need,” Aziraphale repeated. “I don’t care. They will leave us alone. I’m all right.”

Crowley gaped at him and cupped his face with shaky hands. Aziraphale’s blue eyes were puffy from crying and the unnaturally red pupils were impossible to ignore, yet they were just as bright, soft and kind as they were the day before.

“It’s you,” Crowley croaked, squeezing Aziraphale’s cheeks in excitement “It’s still you. Actually you. How is it still you?”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale laughed softly, pulling Crowley’s hands away from his face.

“I don’t understand, it can’t be you… You were an angel, you’re not an angel anymore, you’re a demon. Are you a demon? You’re not a demon. Why are you not a demon? Are you still an angel? You should be a demon.”

“Crowley, please.”

“Yes. Slowing down, yes. Just…It’s you,” he sputtered, nearly shaking in exhilaration.

“My dear…” Aziraphale wiped tears off his face with the ripped sleeve of his shirt, then he squeezed Crowley’s hands. “I’ve fallen for you in every way was possible,” he said with a hoarse and weak voice. “If there is something I’ve learned it’s that Grace is overrated. Words like Heaven, Hell, Angel or Demon… They really don’t mean anything. Angels can be cruel, wicked and vengeful. Demons can be loved. I don’t care what Heaven decides to call me, I don’t belong there just like I don’t belong in Hell.”

“But,” Crowley said “It makes no sense. You were an angel and you Fell. Doesn’t that mean that now you are… Just like me?” His lips twitched: after being a demon for millennia putting Aziraphale at his own level felt like the worst blasphemy he had ever spoken.

“Crowley, can’t you see? I have always been.”

Crowley realized he was crying only when Aziraphale caressed his cheek, rubbing a tear away with his thumb. Then he delicately pulled him down towards him and softly kissed his forehead.

It wasn’t a blessing, it couldn’t be, not anymore, yet it felt like one. All of Crowley’s worries and doubts instantly dissolved in the knowledge that Aziraphale would never change, and he breathed a sigh of relief he felt he had been holding for thousands of years.

“Well,” Aziraphale said. “I believe it’s time we go back to Earth, what do you say?”

Crowley nodded with a smile. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

“Come on then.” He got to his feet and offered him a hand. “Let’s go home, Angel.”

That would never change either.

***

The sun had already started to set when Aziraphale put on the kettle in the little kitchen in the back of his bookshop. For the first time in millennia of existence he had slept for over twelve hours, slumped on the couch in a position that would have been deleterious to any human being’s back. Admittedly, Aziraphale’s whole body was sore, but he suspected that was mostly due to Falling from Heaven rather than uncomfortable cushions.

A pang of burning pain between his shoulder blades made him wince and almost spill his cup of boiling tea. He moved his head from side to side in hope of releasing some tension.

“It hurts?”

Crowley appeared from behind a bookshelf as if he had summoned him.

“Just a bit,” he answered.

A moment later Crowley had slithered behind him and placed a hand on his back. Aziraphale immediately felt the pain miraculously ease, and he sighed in relief.

“Thank you.” Gratitude warming his chest, he flashed a smile at Crowley, who replied with a dismissive wave and leaned against the counter beside him.

“I threw away your flask of holy water,” he said causally, pretending not to see the dirty look Aziraphale threw at him. “You know, the emergency supply you had in the cabinet upstairs.”

“Crowley, are you out of your mind?” Aziraphale hissed. “What if the lid was unscrewed for whatever reason? What if you dropped it? You could have at least waited for me to wake up.”

Crowley groaned. “Relax, I was careful. Do you have other?”

“Obviously not, I would have told you.” he replied, piqued.

“Angel, you have to stay away from that stuff too, from now on. You know that, right?”

The honest concern in Crowley’s voice softened Aziraphale, who sighed.

“Yes, of course.”

The mirror in the corner made it clear that even though Falling hadn’t had the impact he dreaded on his mind and his heart, it still had changed some things.

He stared in silence at his unfamiliar reflection for a few minutes, sipping from his cup. He followed the red lines on his neck with a finger, frowning.

Crowley bumped his shoulder with his own. “Don’t rack your brains. You’ll get used to it.”

Aziraphale nodded with a slight smile. “I guess I will start wearing turtlenecks.”

“Why not? Might suit you.”

“I’m not gonna lie, the red pupils are a bit creepy. Will I have to wear sunglasses?” He scrunched up his nose “They’re not really my thing.”

“There’s no need. Humans hardly ever notice,” Crowley scuffed. “You look fine anyway. I mean, your eyes. They’re nice. I mean. Red pupils, kinda cool. Yeah.” He coughed.

“For crying out loud, wear whatever you want, that’s my point.”

Aziraphale finished his tea. He put the cup down on the counter and took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Crowley. For everything. Really, I owe you so much.”

“Shut up.” Crowley crossed his arms and turned away from Aziraphale, but he was still able to catch a pleased smile.

They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the comfort of each other’s company.

Crowley was the one who broke the silence clearing his throat.

“Angel,” he said tentatively, gazing at the floor “That thing you said yesterday…”

Aziraphale tilted his head towards him. “I’ve said a lot of things yesterday. It was a pretty eventful day.”

“You know, about… me. Well, you. And me. What you said. About what you felt.”

“The fact that I love you?”

Crowley cleared his throat again. “That’s the thing.”

“What about it?” Aziraphale asked, feeling his chest tightening slightly.

Crowley kept his head down but glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Did you mean it?”

Aziraphale looked at him with a fond smile.

“With all my soul.”

Crowley pursed his lips and nodded.

“Is it still true?”

“Why?” Aziraphale asked “Can’t Fallen angels love?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Aziraphale stepped away from the counter and placed himself in front of Crowley, leaning in to catch his eyes.

“It would make sense, though, Gabriel told me so. Could a demon ever love?”

He batted his lashes with a naïve expression. Crowley leaned back and kept shifting his gaze from the floor to the wall to the ceiling, unable to suppress a grin.

“You bastard,” he said. “Stop it, I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” Aziraphale teased, “You’re the expert here, I’m only asking questions.”

“You’re a natural at this, aren’t you?” Crowley laughed. He placed his hands on Aziaphale’s shoulders and softly pushed him away.

“Okay, fine,” he sighed. “Yes, I know first-hand that a demon can love. A whole lot, as a matter of fact.”

“First-hand, you say?” Aziraphale beamed, scrunching his nose.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Come on, you’ve always known,” he muttered.

“I might have suspected it, yes,” Aziraphale said. He gently caressed his cheek, feeling warmth spread under his touch.

“Good Lord, are you crying now, my dear?”

“I’m not,” Crowley lied, burying his face in his neck.

“There, there, it’s all right.” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him with a laugh.

The burning pain in his back where his wings would be still hadn’t worn out and seeing his own reflection in the mirror still felt somehow wrong.

Yet, in that moment, Aziraphale felt the closest to Heaven he had felt in thousands of years.

#good omens #good omens fic #fallen aziraphale #ineffable husbands #i can't believe i finished i may or may not have cried while writing this #i write stuff

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larpwhump · 5 years

Text

Proverbs 20:30

This is Noncanon beautiful fiction written by @highheelsinblood.

James was starting to become very familiar with the ceiling of Elizabeth's medical bay. The lights were dim, a scattering of red lamps like dying stars as his vision focused. His head was pounding and he couldn't remember getting here ... did somebody knock him out?

The Nation went to open his mouth, to call for his Handler, but his jaw wouldn't move. Was he gagged? Muzzled? He didn't feel anything on his face.

But he could hear, and his ears picked up the gentle clattering of metal tools, and Elizabeth's footsteps as she walked around. He couldn't turn his head to look for her though. Panic began to crawl up his throat as James went to move anything - his arms, his legs, fingers - but nothing was working. Everything felt heavy and tingling but he couldn't do anything. James could feel a whimper in his throat, along with something else, not his Chain of Command, but cold and sharp.

"Oh, you're awake." Her blond curls popped into his view, Elizabeth looking down at him like a cat looked at a dying mouse, and chills ran down his spine.

'Elizabeth, please, why can't I move?' he could hear himself think, but couldn't hear his own voice.

"Are you comfortable? Not like you can go anywhere." Her laugh was slow and wicked, and James felt her hand on his jaw as she turned his head ever so slightly to look into her face.

"Aren't you impressed? Xer taught me about poisons while I was with him last." She smiled sweetly, running her thumb along his cheek. "He told me that wolfmonk weed and devil's salt can make a great paralytic."

A paralytic? She poisoned him?! James wanted to scream, but only heard a tiny gurgling noise come from his mouth.

"Is that as loud as you can be?" Elizabeth giggled again, and the flash of metal appeared - she was holding the knife he usually carried in his tasset. "Can you even scream, Holy Man?"

'No, no I can't, what are you doing!?' He watched the knife vanish from view, right into his chest. The hot pain that exploded in his chest and holy fuck he wanted to scream, to squirm, to do anything to distract himself from the slicing Elizabeth was doing to his torso. He could only see the side of her face and the top of his chest, bright red blood appearing on her hands and a smile on her face.

'Elizabeth are you well? You're not well again, are you? What did you do?'

He saw a chunk of his flesh be folded back and the edges of his vision blurred with red - oh God he might pass out, oh God.

"You know what will stay with you even more than your scars, Holy Man? Carvings." She folded back another flap of his torso skin, and his whole chest burned like he'd been flayed open. "And you know what carves beautifully if you know what you're doing?"

'You know I don't,' he thought between the waves of agony.

"Bone."

She smiled, standing up straight and wiping her dark red hands over her smock, walking out of his viewpoint while she kept talking to him.

"I got bored and went through your things some time ago. Don't get upset, I didn't see anything embarrassing. But I did find this."

A familiar book appeared in his view, soft green leather cover. His Bible, now with his blood on the page ends.

"This is some interesting stuff, I tell you what," she said, taking the book away. He could hear it being opened and the pages turning. Despite the pain, the churring in his stomach was weirdly excited - she was reading the stories of God. Not the circumstances he wanted but still.

"Seems like your book here is really into cleansing away sin. Whatever that means. But I have an idea. Here, look, do you see this part?"

She held the book up to his face, tapping the thin paper with a bloody finger. It was Proverbs, the section that almost read like poetry. Beautiful prose of worship and commands, the directions for how to lead a fulfilling life. It took him a moment to focus - even his eyes hurt somehow - and he tried to read the section she was showing him.

'Lashes and wounds purge away evil, and beatings cleanse the innermost parts...'

He almost felt embarrassed, like she had found a private note of his. The book closed with a snap in his face, and James could feel whatever she had shoved through his neck twitch. His fingertips burned.

"We'll have to talk to your ranking officers about how you worship. But later. Now, you worship with me, in my mercy." James saw a new tool in her fingers, like a screwdriver but not. It took a few moments and the dread in his gut threatened to choke him. It was a chisel.

"Don't worry, James, I know exactly what to scar your bones with."

He would have killed 10 people just to be able to scream at that moment, to let the pain outside of his body, but the only noise that came out behind his shaking teeth was a sad bubbling of blood and whining - whatever was inside his neck was pressing his throat almost all the way closed and burning him up. His feet were burning, his hands were burning, he was going to die from the pain, he knew it, Elizabeth was going to kill him with that hammer and chisel. Every strike of the tool sent a shock up his chest and his muscles managed to tense up just a little.

"I wish you had more space on your ribs, James - I'd just chisel out the whole line. But you don't. Small mercies I suppose."

‘Small mercies indeed, thank you Lord,' he prayed, trying to ignore the voices inside his ears. The Angels had finally started to visit him again in his agony while Elizabeth worked on him in his worship, and he tried to listen to their whispers.

{Say it.}

{You brought salvation.}

{Say it!}

{How can they stay faithless?}

James whimpered again, feeling liquid inside his mouth but he struggled to breath, oh God, he was drowning in his own bile, his own blood, oh God oh God-!

'Elizabeth, help me, help, I can't breath,' he prayed to her, but she didn't turn her head as his vision started to blur again, the lights meshing together as he choked, his lungs on fire, they needed air, they needed air --

His head was suddenly jerked to the side, and he managed painful coughing, watching bloody spit pool up under his cheek as Elizabeth squeezed his face, forcing the liquid up. "I guess we have to take the spike out now. Pity."

The sliding of metal against his spine almost made James throw up, but the immediate pressure off his throat was sweet relief - he caught sight of the offending instrument. A railroad spike. Lord Commander, where did she get that?

"It's almost too big, I think. I'll have to find something smaller for next time." She dropped it with a sigh, letting it clank on the floor before going back to his chest. James could almost turn his head to follow her now, the poison finally starting to wear off. He could move his fingers freely, but his arm was still so heavy and dead.

"We're almost done, don't suddenly start thrashing on me. Pray, check out, do what you have to, but I'm finishing this carving."

"E-Eli--"

James almost managed to speak before she went back to chiseling his bones, and without the spike against his throat he could finally scream, scream against the pain, scream against the restraint of his own flesh. The Angels hovered in the edges of his vision, flashing symbols with their open palms as he screamed.

"Fucking shit, fuck, stop, stop, please!"

{She never stops.}

{Faithless one.}

{You can't stop.}

James felt the tears burning his eyes as he kept screaming. "She has to stop, she has to stop!" he cried, and Elizabeth, as usual, paid him no mind. She just chiseled, one elbow propping her up against his twitching and bleeding body.

"If you shake too much, I'll puncture a lung." She briefly glanced up at him, a splatter of blood on her face, a stark contrast to her soft eyes. "Stop moving."

"It fucking hurts!" he snapped.

"I'll put the spike back in James, I swear to fucking God."

His fingernails were biting into his palms down and he looked up at the Angels above him, their faces almost visible, taunting him.

{Don't move, just watch.}

The symbols burned his eyes, his chest was threatening to dissolve, he could hear Elizabeth far far away, he could hear her screaming, hear her laughing, Mack was somewhere nearby, oh God Almighty help me --

A shock of cold water hit him right across the face, and the angels vanished like smoke, Elizabeth's face taking their place.

"You were convulsing," she said flatly, but her eyes betrayed her worry. His lungs greedily ate up air, and James could feel his limbs again. He pushed himself a little in the chair, testing his freedom to move. Elizabeth stopped him from sitting up. "Hold on, Holy Man, I'm not done stitching you yet." She put her hand in her pocket, pulling out her compact mirror, and held it up over James, angling it down.

'Prvrbs 20:30' was carved into his upper rib, by his sternum. His breathing stopped again, staring intently at his own bones, glistening with his blood, twitching and alive. He was alive. So this was worship with her now.

"Tha.... thank you Elizabeth."

"You're welcome." She snapped the mirror closed and set it down. "I have to stitch you back up now. Try and breathe." Her hand found his forehead and pushed him gently back into the Ottoman's. James closed his eyes.

#James and Lizzy #whump #medical torture #medical whump #religious torture #dystopia rising #in case nobody realized James is absolutely nuts

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tokoyamisstuff · 6 years

Text

Scars Ch. 11 - Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU

Based on the Soulmate Prompt where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

A/N: I’m sorry. ): Jk not really tho. Suffer like I did while writing this lmao.

[Masterlist]

Summary: Everything was doomed to end like this from the very beginning.

Warnings: Angst. Cussing. Violence. Strangulation.

Words: 4759

Chapter 11: Separated

Over the following weeks, Bucky found himself to be more and more himself again.

His old self however could never come back 100%, but you assured him you’re fine with it. He’s been through so much and it was okay for him to have anxiety or feel let down sometimes. And still: With you, he felt like he’s finallly gaining ground under his feet again, after decades of falling.

Everything felt so normal, it made so perfectly much sense. Both of you couldn’t even remember how you dealt with life before you got united with your other half.

Today was one of those days where Bucky needed some space. To be alone with his thoughts for a while.

You didn’t mind. Just as you told him - you never did. And he believed you, so he could go without feeling bad about it.

This morning, Bucky went to do a little bit sport in the woods, where no one could see him. Just to be sure, he covered his face as best as he could with a little disguise you bought. So you were home alone at the time, until he’d come back.

“I should call Steve” he thought as he kicked some trees to let off some steam. “Haven’t heared of him in a while.”

The call was short, as always. Steve had a feeling that S.H.I.E.L.D or the UN were up to something. He was at least sure they knew about a traitor being among their ranks. And right now, no one would believe Captain America anyway. His reputation had suffered some damage after the latest incidents involving himself and the Winter Soldier, after all.

On his way home, several hours later, Bucky thought about what he could do for your birthday. It was nice to think about such simple things. And to him, the day of your birth was something great. He secretly thanked you for simply existing every single day he was allowed to spend with you.

Bucky absendmindedly picked up some pretty flowers from the lonely sidewalk in the middle of the woods, thinking you’d like them. After his little training session, he wished to finally hold you in his arms again.

That’s why you were so understanding. You knew he’d always come back to you. No matter what.

And you’d wait for him - even if it takes forever.

Little did he know that your peaceful days would soon find their abrupt ending.

The time he spend with you made him forget about the threat that was still outside in this world - coming from several directions.

When Bucky arrived at your house, he realized that the door stood wide open - seemingly kicked in. Entering the living room, he found many furniture pieces to be destroyed. His gear wasn’t there anymore as well, so he was left almost defenseless.

Bucky’s heart fell into his chest that very second, and without waisting much more time, he took the pistol you once inherited from your parents from it’s secret storage. Steely eyes darted around the house, clearing every room - yet he didn’t find anyone at first.

It was all silent. They were experts. No trace left from the outside of the house.

Who was it? HYDRA? S.H.I.E.L.D? When he opened the door to your bedroom, he knew the truth - it was the goverment. Professionals, send by the UN. Not impossible that those people were mercenaries, he thougtht after taking a second look.

Luckily, they didn’t have the order to shoot at sight. But their methods were questionable nonetheless.

He didn’t care about all the guns pointed at him - but the sight of their leader pointing a knife towards your throat made him gulp so hard he thought everyone could hear.

“Drop the weapon, or she’s dead meat” the man snarled, without the slightest hesitation in his voice. The cold metal hit your skin and made a single drop of blood run down your delicate skin. How could they dare to defile such a wonderful being...

So Steve was right. They did listen to the phonecall. Somehow they managed to backtrack it this time.

And they were quick to find out that Bucky wasn’t all that psychotic - he cared for someone. For you.

And that would prove to be his greatest weakness.

“Please, just run Bucky...” you muffled, the gloved hand of the man covering your mouth. Fear was written on your face. But it wasn’t fear for your own life - you just wanted to know him to be safe. “I know you can get away if you want.”

Seeing your tear-stained face plagued Bucky more than he could ever seem possible. It made his abdomen ache and his entire body shaking violently. Face pale and eyes standing out.

All of his previous, repressed fighting instincts kicked in once again. Senses sharpened, mind fogged by rage and sorrow.

The image of losing you to his past right in his head.

This war was far from over. Yet he still let his guard down. And this was his first mistake.

If looks could kill, they all would drop dead at his glare. He wanted you to never cry because of him again - but here you are, experiencing horrible things again. And it’s all his fault.

“Enough!” Bucky screamed in rage, with a voice so grim, not even the Winter Soldier sounded that evil. Seeing him like this made even your own blood run cold.

Right now, he was so furious that he wanted to tear anyone apart who’d dare to hurt you.

But instead, he put the gun down to the floor, kicking it out of his range, before kneeling down with his hands held high. He couldn’t risk them to do so much as to lie a finger on you.

“I surrender. Please, let her go.”

“As if we’d let a crazy woman who hid a wanted criminal run freely” the man shrugged, kicking your leg to make you hit the floor, too. They put handcuffs on both of you, and you sobbed so hard it was too hard to understand a single word they said. The soldiers pressed your face to the ground so harshly, it scraped the skin on your cheek it wide open.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky!” you sobbed, feeling as if you had failed him.

You were too careless. When you heared something, you thought it was simply Bucky coming back home. The thought of enemies coming didn’t even cross your mind. You should’ve warned him, so he’d never come back home in the first place.

No. It was his fault and his fault alone. He shouldn’t have made that unnecessary call. He should’ve stuck to the plan and wait for Steve to get a new cellphone. He should’ve just waited for his friend to contact him instead of doing things on his own.

Looking back, he should’ve done so many things differently than he did. Beginning with not starting a relationship with you in the first place.

He knew it would have to end like this. Bucky Barnes was a man doomed to get all of his happiness stolen from him - unable to do anything against it.

One of the men balled a fist in your hair and pulled your upper half upright again. You were but mere meters away, kneeling on the floor - yet still so far away from each other.

“Hush, babydoll” he breathed with a voice so gentle and caring that even the soldiers around you got silent all of sudden. Bucky knew you were having a panic attack at this very moment. It reminded you of your childhood too bad. “Look at me, Y/N. It’s alright. They won’t hurt you.”

This whole situation was so exhausting that you just went unconscious again. As if your mind flipped a switch to protect itself. But his last words got burned into your mind - together with that fair, devoted eyes of his.

“I’ll protect you. Just rely on me. I love you more than anything - and I’ll get you out of there.”

Next thing you knew, you were lying on the back seat of what appeared to be a police van.

Who knows just how long you’ve been asleep. But it looked like you were in Germany, judging by the big word ‘POLIZEI’ written on the uniform of the officers guarding you. They didn’t seem like ordinary policemen, though - rather like special forces. This was just how afraid they were of the Winter Soldier’s power.

It still felt so unreal. The man that’s constantly crying in your arms being so dangerous, whole countries would do everything to make him disappear.

Remembering some important buildings of the country, you guessed you were in their capital. And their government was part of the UN.

“This isn’t going to end good, isn’t it?”

You thought it best to not ask any questions. The officers never even once lowered their rifles, instead holding it into your face this whole time. Not really intimidating, though, but you knew they wouldn’t give you an answer anyway.

The only thing that mattered to you right now was Bucky. Where was he? What are they going to do with him from now on? Will you ever meet him again?

Your head was spinning - but you needed to be strong. For him.

Just as he was for you.

He’ll save you. And you’ll save him, if necessary.

When you got dragged out of the car, one of the men would grab your upper arm painfully, causing you to winch a little.

Turning around to look at that place, you saw Bucky, directing a deadly glare at the soldiers touching you so roughly. He was alive, at least. But he was so heavily restrained you could cry at the sight alone.

Like a wild beast in a cage. And everyone would look at him with so much hatred, you wanted to punch them until they’re enlighted about their wrong judgement.

Through the thick, bulletproof glass, it was impossible to hear what he said. But you tried to read his lips as good as you could:

“I’m so sorry.”

You tried to answer him, stretching every syllable on your lips to form silent words.

“And I still love you.”

Bucky looked woefully down, before he could see you smiling at him. He was ashamed of himself. Because he couldn’t protect you.

Then, they took him away. Just like that. Your Soulmate was gone.

Where to, you wondered. A cage in a basement and then throw away the key? Something like that, probably.

A man made his way towards you, followed by some more guards. He introduced himself as Everett Kenneth Ross, apparently from the CIA, and also Deputy Task Force Commander. Huh, is there any agency on this damn planet that doesn’t want to see your Soulmate dead?

Yet he seemed trustworthy, to a certain extend. And then again, you thought you couldn’t trust anyone here. Steve told you that even S.H.I.E.L.D was infiltrated by HYDRA, up to their highest ranks. Those people were trained to play cheap games with your mind. They knew all the tricks.

“What’s happening to him now?” you choked on a whimper, trying to hold back your tears. They must not see how weak you are.

“The same I wish we could do to all of you: Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

You didn’t answer. There was no reason to comment on this.

“Y/N!” Finally, a familiar voice.

Seeing Steve run over to you was one of the biggest reliefs you could be experience right now - meeting Bucky would be top notch. He instantly ran over to you, ignoring all the soldiers telling him to stop. When he embraced you into a deep hug, you couldn’t surpress your tears any longer.

“Steve, they got Bucky. It’s all my fault. It’s-”

“No, Y/N” Steve whispered with great care, “You helped him so much. I can’t express my gratitude for that, Y/N. I’m glad to call you my friend.”

“There’ll be consequences for you too, Mr. Rogers” Everett Ross interrupted you. “Holding back information - especially in a case this severe. This’ll be a long sentence.”

They led Steve back into the office he was attended to, now being under constant supervision. “Well meet again later, Y/N. It’ll be fine.”

You believed him. At least you wanted to.

“We all will get out of this.”

Your eyes were blurry, and your whole being looked so damn tired. Tired of everything.

Commander Ross led you into a small interrogation room, even offering you some water. But you didn’t say anything.

“You’re probably exhausted” he observed, mimicking a caring expression as he leaned over the small table that was separating the two of you.

“Where’s Bucky?” you whined, waiting for an answer that would never come.

The commander sighed deeply, frowning in frustration as he looked to the few datas they had about you. “Y/N Y/L/N, right? I want to understand why you did this. Maybe we can get you out of this. There are no records of any crimes, and you seemed to have lived a pretty normal life up until now. So why?”

Yes, you did. But that life was just an empty facade, covering your own past and all the dephts of your mind that had been caused by it.

“Please. I just want to know where he is...” Everything was just too much for you. In opposite to Steve, Bucky and the others, you weren’t used to those kind of situations. How even? You were weak - a mere, normal human without any special abilities. All of this frightened and overchallenged you. You just wanted to see him again.

“We kept him secure in the deepest part of this building, under heavy surveillance.”

“He’s done nothing wrong!” You gave him a sinister look, causing him to rise an eyebrow at you.

“Are you really that gullible? That man is still the same one that killed your parents twenty years ago.”

How the hell did they know? Well, consiering the identity of your lover, they probably did their research on you very well to understand your connection.

“Y/N” his eyes were much more soft and compassionate now. “Did he force you? Threaten you into helping him? It’s okay now, I want you to know that. We locked him away. He can’t hurt you anymore. Do you understand that?”

Commander Ross placed a hand on your still cuffed one, and you instantly pulled it away. “Fuck you!” you hissed. “You don’t know shit! He’s my Soulmate, goddamn it! Are you pleased now? Leave me alone!”

The man seemed to be thinking about many things at once - you saw it in his eyes. Then, he jumped up, the way his facial features having become more hard again.

His reaction told you this was the wrong choice of an answer. Not that you didn’t know this before. But that outburst of emotion was much needed right now.

“Okay, so...Either he’s done horrible things to make you follow him - or you were a psychopath too, from the very beginning.”

“Don’t presume to know anything about him! Steve gave you all the details, didn’t he?! He was forced to do this! They mangled his mind over and over again. Can you even imagine how painful this was for him?! So shut your foul mouth! I don’t care who you are, just stop talking about him like that!”

“The data Captain America has brought to us needs to be confirmed as real. Until then, it’s probably just a fake. Both of you are desperately trying to save that man. Your emotions make an objective view on things impossible. The man Bucky Barnes is long gone. He died on the train seventy years ago. But the Winter Soldier is still out there, in this world - and we can’t let him run free anymore. He’s a threat. You may cooperate, and I might even set you free under certain circumstances: One being that we’ll never lose track of you and your activities. But we can talk about this later.”

Tears dropped down your face and on the back of your hands, who were clenched and resting in your lap. “Mr. Ross, I beg of you...just five minutes! I’ll do anything you ask of me. Even tell you anything I know - but I need to see him right now!”

Maybe it was sympathy with a girl that’s been destroyed by things she had no control over in the first place. Or it was his hope of gaining some information while listening to your talk. But he did agree to your conditions.

“Alright. But we’ll be monitoring you this whole time.”

The basement was cold and scary. Ugly. Draining on your hope.

“There it is” the soldier who accompanied you said emotionless, pushing open a heavy metal door with the words ‘Highest Security Level’ written on it. You rushed inside to find Bucky still being imprisoned by that iron cage.

“Bucky!!!” you cried out as soon as you saw him, running towards the man and hammering onto the glass.

“Y/N...” a defeated voice answered you, his eyes being empty and almost absent from any positive emotion. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, obviously” you mumbled with a voice so pure, so innocent it shattered his already aching heart.

“Y/N, you need to forget about me. It’s impossible to get out of there. But you can still do it! You can have a normal life!” His voice cracked at the thought of losing you - but to him, it was the only way.

“I told you I’d wait for you, no matter how long it takes!” you said silently, but with great sincerity. Turning around to look at the guard, who sat on a chair in the corner of the room, you asked “Please, can you open the cage? He’s restricted anyway, right? There’s no way he can escape.”

The man looked a little confused, and wanted to make fun of your demand - until Commander Ross’ voice halled from the loudspeakers. “It’s okay. Do it.” For some reason, he found this oddly entertaining.

Ross had heared stories about the Winter Soldier ever since his youth, and he thought it to be mere fairytales until a few weeks ago. But he’s nothing like everyone described him. The words were still on the tip of his tongue until this day: Brutal, remorseless and merciless, with an utter lack of conscience.

This man, however - the one he could see on the monitors - seemed like he’d have a mental breakdown at any given second. He looked so strained and deeply agonized that Everett could clearly feel his emotions - even though he wasn’t even in the same room as him.

Right now, the Commander saw the broken man Bucky actually was. And it was hard to stay strict at this scenery.

When the door of the glass cage opened, you jumped inside in less than a second. You then instantly started to wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck and stroke his hair with your hands, like you’d always do to soothe him. How badly did he want to hug you back right now - but his arms were nailed to the chair he was sitting on.

You leaned your forehead on his, your noses touching each other hesistantly, until you couldn’t take the tension any longer and gently placed your lips onto his.

Many, small and loving kisses followed. To remind him you’re here.

You won’t go away.

Everything will be fine, just as you promised each other.

And like that, his stony expression dropped.

“They’ll send a very important psychologist to evaluate your mental health, okay?” you whispered hopefully, chin resting on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bucky. Please don’t try to resist. Soon, everybody will know you’re innocent. We’re all on your side!”

This time, you’d place his face in between your palms and give him one last, passionate kiss before they informed you that the time was up. Turning around, with the soldier poking his gun’s riffle at your back to keep you going, you could still clearly hear his desperate sobs.

“I’ll miss you, my hero.”

“So you’re Y/N, huh? I’m Sam Wilson, but you can just call me Sam. Steve told us lots about you. He won’t shut up about it, to be precize.”

“...Sorry...” You sat in their ‘office’, which was just a fancy word for them being imprisoned in the common sense. They weren’t allowed to go outside and were monitored and guarded 24/7. But at least you weren’t handcuffed any more.

Sam used the height difference to rest an arm on your head, making Steve raise an eyebrow at him. “Now don’t be so gloomy. We’ve got everything in control, okay? Promise.”

You felt Steve placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as well. “He’s right, Y/N. We just need to wait.”

“I’m glad you’re okay” you answered Steve, still quite dejectedly. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. You too, Sharon. Actually, Steve told me quite a thing or two about you” you winked at her with a light smile, trying to banish the tension that filled the room.

“The pleasure is all mine, Y/N” Sharon said as she shook your hand. Her look was so sympathetic, it made you cringe. “Too bad it has to be at these, well...unfortunate cicumstances.”

They were nice and all, and made you feel at ease just a little more. But still - there was a feeling at the pitch of your stomach. Something that didn’t allow you any rest. And it only amplified your need to get him out of there as fast as possible.

“Why would the Task Force release his picture to the public anyway?” Steve didn’t want to alarm you, but he found something about this strategy to be very off.

“To mobilize as many eyes as we can?” Sharon stated the obvious. “You said someone framed him to find him”

While you were silently listening and observing, Sam sat at the table and played with a pen between his fingers. “We searched for that guy for two years and found nothing.”

“Well” Steve added, “We didn’t bomb the UN.”

“But it still doesn’t guarantee that whoever wants him would find him. It would only make sure that we would.”

All of you stared at each other in realization: The person looking for Bucky. It was here, somewhere. They have already been infiltrated.

Something isn’t right. You felt it clearly as you saw the assumed psychologist sitting down on a table in front of your lover’s cage. This time, there were no guards around. He was allowed to be left alone with him. And all of you watched the screen in tensed anticipation.

“Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, havent you?” You turned your head to look at the screen once again. That man had an unusual accent. That’s certainly not German. But the doctor they wanted to send was supposed to be German, wasn’t he?

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Yes, that answer fits your Soulmate.

The man continued. “You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Is that assumption correct?”

Steve saw you tensing up. Jaw clenched so hard that he heared your teeth cracking, and fists balled so hard it began to hurt your fingers.

You began to panic.

That man wasn’t good. Something felt wrong about him in the first place.

“Don’t worry” he said. You had to pinch your nose with an annoyed groan at the man’s arrogance. “We’ll only have to talk about one.”

“What is he talking about? Which one?” Your thoughts didn’t even have time to be expressed out loud, before all the screens went black.

“No.

Nononononono NO! Fuck!”

“An electricity cut? Here?!” Sam jumped up from his chair, and Sharon expressed your greatest fear: “The source...Sublevel Five. East Wing.”

“Bucky...”

Obviously, Steve and Sam were much more faster than you. They told you to stay away, because it’s ‘too dangerous’.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Bucky is not dangerous. It’s Bucky, after all! Right?!

You run after them, as fast as your legs could take you. Past many soldiers who seemed to have been knocked out by someone. Are they dead? You shouldn’t think about that right now.

There he lied - the man who did god knows what to your Soulmate. On the cold floor, acting like a victim.

“Help me” he shrieked, only strenghtening your rage a thousandfold. But Steve got him first, pinning him against the next wall.

“Who are you? What do you want?!”

His answer, even though short and unspecific, send shivers down your spine.

“To see an empire fall.”

Sam already went to the room where Bucky was supposed to be held in check - but the sound of punches and kicks made your only amplified your sorrows.

“Y/N, go get Tony and the others” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and stared deeply into your eyes, shaking you awake from your thoughts. “We’ll protect Bucky. You’ve got my word! Okay?!”

You nodded understandingly, trying to surpress your emotions for the time being. You knew it was for the best - but it was really difficult to accomplish. More than you could’ve imagined.

Suddenly, you saw Bucky coming out of the other room - his metal arm lifting Sam like it was nothing. You felt the need to fall on your knees, but your shaking body stood stock still as his deadly glare lied directly on you. Eyes like you’ve only seen once before.

This isn’t Bucky.

It’s the Winter Soldier.

This is the monster you’re afraid of, and he looked exactly like the man that you’re so madly in love with. And it hurt so much.

Why? Why does this need to happen?

Somehow, he seemed to remember you - yet not in a positive way.

He threw Sam in a corner and made his way towards you with firm steps, until Steve tackled him down and tried to buy you some time.

“Y/N, run!” his words broke you from your panic attack as he struggled to keep the Winter Soldier in place.

Your vision was blurrred from tears, silently streaming down your face. When the sobs stopped wracking through your body, you tried to brace yourself for one last, desperate attempt to get through to him.

“B-Bucky?” you asked, defeat lacing in your voice.

“You” was his sole answer, and he sounded deep and rumbling while saying so. His expression unreadable, but absent of the man you knew.

“Bucky, I won’t leave you alone. I promised. So please stop doing this!” you now yelled, watching his features drop for a second. “I’m not afraid of you!”

After a second, the Winter Soldier had collected himself again. And even though Steve tried to keep him from getting close to you, he got punched into an elevator well, not being able to come out just yet. Meanwhile, Sam was buried under some rubble.

He shot an angry face towards you as you let out an surprised gasp, until your last, heartbreaking scream filled the room.

Was this how you’d die? At the hands of the person you loved most in the world?

How ironic. Everything about your relationship was.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t able to have many coherent thoughts of himself. But one thing he was sure to connect in his mind: You were the girl he was supposed to kill twenty years ago. He failed his mission. And failing his mission meant that HYDRA would bring him pain even more unbearable than the one of being ‘erased’.

Bucky packed your throat firmly with his human hand, having you gasp for air and wailing in agony.

“You’re my target” he grumbled while looking anywhere but your eyes.

The sensation of all air being absent in your lungs made you struggle, kicking with your legs and trying to get his hand away from your trachea. You grabbed your throat where his fingers dug into your neck, as you unsuccessfully tried to keep your breath.

“No” you gasped, feeling how you slowly began to faint. “I’m your girlfriend!”

You placed one hand on his heart, half smiling as you got out your last words - before everything around you went black.

“I’ll never stop loving you, Bucky.”

[Part 12]

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therake-1996-blog · 6 years

Text

Revelation Ch. 16

Chapter 16- Zuben

Zuben Past POV

“Lord Zuben, would you mind looking over these documents and signing them?” My vice-minister came up to me one particularly slow afternoon and handed me a small packet of papers, each needing the Minister of Punishment’s signature.

“Of course, Prin. There’s no deadline?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll have them to you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you, Zuben.”

As I nodded, he turned and began away, passing another high-ranking god.

“Oh, Ichthyo!” I called.

“Lord Zuben,” He smiled as he walked over to me, and we shook hands in greeting.

“I heard that your wife just gave birth. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So do you have a son or a daughter?”

“Ah, we have a son. We’ve named him Ichthys.”

I chuckled.

“Appropriate name. I wish the best for you.”

“Thank you very much, Lord Zuben.” Ichthyo bowed to me, and we bid farewell before I went toward my office, sifting through the papers my vice-minister had given me. Hm. I didn’t realize remodeling the dungeon was something that needed the minister’s signature, but alright.

Shortly after I entered my office, I heard a ringing in my head.

Please report to the throne room, Zuben.

The king? What could he have wanted?

I made sure my uniform was in order and headed out toward the throne room. On my way, I passed a group of students hoping to join Punishments led by my son. Top student, excellent performance in work, very serious…I was relieved that he wasn’t as carefree as his mother, but I did wish he was a little more relaxed. He seemed to try too hard, and I didn’t want him to stress himself.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“How are the students today?”

“They are all doing well, fa—er, Lord Zuben.” Zyglavis cleared his throat when a couple students began giggling. “Though, some of them may need discipling.” I smiled.

“Try not to be too hard on them. All work and no play makes for a very stressful job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Have a good rest of your day.”

My son bowed to me, and I continued on to the throne room.

If I had known that that would be the last time I ever saw my son, I would’ve told him that I loved him, how proud I was of him. How I knew he would make a fine minister in my place.

But how could I have known then?

When I neared the throne room, the ornate doors opened on their own for me, and there the king waited, his eyes sharp like always. I bowed.

“You wished to see me, your majesty?”

“Yes. I have a very simple mission for you, down on Earth. I need you to find a girl for me.” I blinked.

“A…girl?”

“Yes.”

“Um…pardon me, your majesty, but why me?”

“Because I know you are the only one who can do it. It’s quite easy, really. A simple ten minute in and out job. It won’t be that difficult, will it?”

I felt my fingers curling into my palms. I knew the look on the king’s face right now, and it was one that I did not like. It was a look that told me this mission wouldn’t be as easy as he claimed it would be. But…I couldn’t say no. I didn’t have the right to. I took a breath.

“Where is the girl?”

…

Strange.

I had gone exactly where the king told me she would be, but the house she was supposed to be in wasn’t there. In fact, the entire city she was supposed to be living in didn’t even exist yet. I looked around, frowning deeply. I could feel the dimple in my left eyebrow forming. Was the king just playing a game because he was bored?

All that was around me was forest and field, a few cows grazing lazily.

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, my eyes closed.

Rustle, rustle.

My head snapped up.

The temperature around me seemed to plummet, and the cows that were grazing mooed frantically, hurrying to get away. My body picked up on a threatening aura, and I slowly looked around, but couldn’t find anything out of place. Perhaps there was a dark god nearby?

Suddenly something hard hit me, snapping across my back with the force of a thousand tons and knocking the breath right out of me. My body went hurdling to the ground, my head knocking against a sizeable rock. The sky above me blurred and spun, the clouds mixing into the grey color. My back rang out in pain, and I tried to roll onto my front to pull myself to my feet. The hard object knocked into me again, sending me rolling a few feet. I could hear the cows still panicking.

Before I could even think of moving, my wrist was snatched up in the blink of an eye. As my mind struggled to catch up with what just happened, I saw a mouth open, baring sharp, pointed fangs. That mouth closed over my wrist with no regard for my sleeve.

And then came the pain.

Like a hot knife slicing into my skin, followed by the feeling of boiling water spilling into my veins, any will I had to struggle vanished. All my mind could comprehend was the pain, the burning, and I let out a loud scream that only lasted a millisecond before the creature’s hand clamped down over my mouth.

I still screamed against his palm, but my voice was greatly muffled. My body twitched, my legs curling up in agony and my torso seizing, my free arm thrashing against the damp ground under me.

No…no! I had to fight! I had to get back to my wife, to my son! I was not to die here!

Somehow I found the strength to lift my left hand and snap my fingers, my shadow slithering off the ground behind the creature slowly killing me.

Shadow, I thought. Follow my orders. Get rid of it!

My shadow obeyed, it’s hands reaching out and grabbing onto the human-like creature’s hair and yanking, pulling it’s mouth from my wrist. The pain didn’t stop.

The creature—male—let out a shocked yell and whirled to his feet, crouched. My shadow began morphing, turning into a giant ogre and splitting into three more as the pain in my hand began crawling up my arm, moving to my shoulder.

The thing didn’t even bother to fight. He just turned and darted away, moving quicker than my eye could follow. My shadow slid back into its place under me.

Now, I had a new problem. The pain. The unbearable burning, like there was a fire raging in my veins, like someone dumped acid straight into my body. I writhed on the ground, flopping about like a fish out of water, strangled cries escaping my lips. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

The pain felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn’t shoulder it, even though it wasn’t even at twenty-five percent of my body yet. My heart took off like a kick drum, making my back bow off the ground in an unnatural way and making my breath hitch. I could hear the swirling torrent of blood rush through my head, feel it in every inch of my body. The insidious pain crawled down to my chest and crept to the other side of my body, slowly taking over my upper half.

All I wanted at this point was to die. To have never been born. Everything I had done, the whole of my existence, did nothing, nothing to outweigh this pain. Working beside the king for years, marrying my beautiful wife, even having my pride-worthy son…none of it, none of it, was worth this pain. Not worth living through one more single heartbeat.

Kill me…please, just let me die.

I couldn’t tell when the pain even began anymore; just that it was. It felt like the pain had existed since the beginning of time, just one endless moment of torture.

It slowly travelled to my lower half, igniting my hips and legs in fire and razing me until I thought I should’ve been nothing but ash. My voice tore from my throat, echoing hollowly through the forest, to be heard by no one but myself.

And I burned forever.

…

I don’t know how long I burned.

It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, years…it all felt the same to me. But finally, it stopped. Everything just stopped.

Although I was convinced that I should’ve been a pile of smoldering ash, I wasn’t. My eyes took in everything with crystal clear precision; from the smallest speck of dust to the tiniest microbe, I saw everything.

I heard the call of the birds and the rushing of the river seventy miles from my location, as well as a deer grazing lazily a few meters from me. And the smells. Lavender, pine, moss, oak, something rich and tangy…And with the smell came the taste. I liked all of it.

At first.

If only I knew that this curse would separate me from my family. I never would’ve thought it interesting.

As I played with my new abilities, a sudden, bright white light surrounded me, and when it faded, I realized I was brought back to the Heavens. Before me was the king, looking entertained, but simultaneously grim.

How he managed to do that, I’ll never know.

“Your majesty…” I mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

“Zuben,” He replied. “Feeling better?”

“You…you knew,”

“Indeed.”

“Then…why didn’t you stop it?”

“I cannot stop what is already set in motion, my child, you know that.”

I fell silent. I did know that. Still, it would’ve been nice if he dulled the pain, even a little. His mouth turned up the slightest bit.

“Zuben.”

“Yes?”

“You are a vampire now.”

I blinked, frowning.

“I’m…a what?”

“A vampire. A creature that feeds on the blood of other living creatures. You no longer have a heartbeat, and will live on without aging for eternity. Humans become vampires as well, so long as they aren’t killed by one first.”

Confusion wracked my mind. But…I was a god. Could I have been both a god and a vampire? Apparently reading my mind, the king sighed heavily.

“No, Zuben, you cannot. I’m afraid that, because you are now a vampire…you have fallen from grace.”

I went rigid.

“What…?”

“I’m sorry, my child, but one cannot be both a god and a vampire. Vampires are tainted, unholy creatures, and gods must not kill, you know that. Vampires kill in order to survive.”

“But! What of my wife? My son? My position in Punishments?”

“I shall explain all of that to you. It will take some time.”

The king narrowed his golden eyes, a spark within them. Anger grew inside my gut as something told me he knew that this was going to happen.

“I apologize, Zuben. Truly.”

…

I trudged to the home I shared with my wife and son when I knew that only she would be home. I couldn’t let Zyglavis see me this way. I knew it would break him.

Looking up at the grand mansion, I felt the familiar sting of tears in my eyes.

This would be the last time I saw this home.

I went inside.

The house, which was usually cool, felt neutral to me as I stepped inside, listening for my wife. The king explained that I was allowed to say goodbye to Lyranna, but not Zyglavis. The reason for this was because once I left, there would be an emergency ordaining ceremony for Zyglavis to become both the Minister of Punishments and the god of Libra. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he knew the exact reason why I fell; it would just be too much for him.

But her…I knew I would crush her heart. Break it into a thousand pieces. I swallowed tightly.

My head hung low, I followed the sound of my precious wife’s heart to the kitchen and entered, staying near the entry. She turned toward me.

“Hello, darling.”

She said with a radiant smile, one that I could not return. When I didn’t reply, nor return her smile, she instantly knew something was wrong.

“Zuben? Honey, what’s wrong?”

She approached me, reaching a hand out for me. I hissed.

“Don’t touch me!”

I heard her lungs inflate quickly, the breath hitching in her throat, as she gasped sharply, shocked that I would speak to her in such a way. Her hand was frozen, inches from my skin, seeming like it would never move again.

“Zu…ben?” She choked. There were tears in her voice.

I could feel my throat closing off, nothing short of sheer agony washing over me powerfully, like the waves of the angriest sea, as she stared at me with hurt on her face. How I hated this. How I absolutely loathed having to do this to her. The one I had spent the last millennia with.

“Lyranna,” I whispered. “I love you. Please…always remember that.”

“Zuben? What’s wrong?” Now her voice began rising, teetering on the edge of hysteria. She shuffled forward a few steps, and I backed away from her, keeping her appealing scent at a bearable distance. “Zuben, please, you’re scaring me. What happened? What’s…”

And then she saw it. The difference in my eyes.

My eyes, once the color of amethyst—Lyranna’s favorite color—were now the color of the brightest rubies, glinting as I backed into the light of the sun shining in through a window. My skin was no longer bronzed, but instead, sheet white, my black hair standing out in stunning contrast against it.

I managed to smile.

“I am so sorry, my love. I’ve fallen.”

A mix of emotions crossed my wife’s face. Horror, agony, loss, pain, sadness, anger, more horror. And then all that took her perfect face was nothing but grief and despair.

“No. NO!”

She lunged for me, throwing her arms around me and pressing herself against my body. I stiffened, everything about her sending my new instincts into overdrive. Her impossible, mouthwatering scent, her warmth, her extreme softness, and then to top it all off, my overwhelming love for her…I could feel the venom fill my mouth to the brim.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to taste my precious love’s blood.

“Get OFF!”

As loud and harsh as my words may have been, I forced myself to be so meticulous, so careful, as I placed my hands on her arms and pushed her from me, forcing her to stay put when she fought to get back to me.

“Let me go! Let me hold you!” She demanded, tears streaming down her face.

“No, Lyranna.”

“Tch…”

Finally, she gave up and sank to the floor, slumping her shoulders and sobbing softly.

“Why?” She whispered. “Why, Zuben?”

I clenched my hands into fists.

“The mission. I failed it. I was turned into a vampire.”

“A…?”

Her head snapped up at that word, her eyes wide and glimmering. My heart broke at her face; red, cheeks tear-stained and eyes puffy. I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but knew that I could not touch her.

“If a god is made anything other than a god, we fall,” I whispered with a morose smile. “And I fell.”

“But…Zyglavis…! What of our son? What will you tell him?”

I turned my eyes to the ground.

“Zuben!”

“I am forbidden to see him.”

“What?”

Now Lyranna was angry. I could’ve almost laughed, if this had been a laughing matter. When it came to protecting our son, to preserving his tender heart, my wife would turn into the most lethal creature, something I hoped wouldn’t change once I left.

“Once I’m gone, our son will take both my position as God of Libra and the Minister of the Department of Punishments. If he knew the truth of what happened to me, it would be too much for him to take. He must be content with simply knowing I fell and became human, that I remember nothing of my life as a god, and that I will live and die as a human, not continue on forever. If he knew…it would destroy him, Lyranna, and you know that.”

Lyranna fell silent. She did know that.

“But…I don’t…I mean I can’t let you go,” She whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

The fault line in my chest rippled, something inside me splitting open just the tiniest bit. It hurt. So, so much.

“I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t stay here, not as I am. I am tainted.”

“No, you’re not! You’re perfect!”

Lyranna reaches for me again, but I flinch away from her. A sob wracks her body.

“Please, Zuben. Please, let me touch you.”

What little willpower I had completely diminished, and I knew it. I had to leave. I had to leave her, now.

“I must go.”

Spitting those words through clenched teeth, I spun on my heel and began for the entryway, but Lyranna grabbed my wrist. I felt my control snap.

I spun around and shoved my wife against the wall, pinning her wrists over her head. Right as she gasped, my mouth came crashing down on hers, hard. Her heartbeat spiked, increasing my lust for both her body and blood, but I knew I had to be satisfied with just this. She was warm, which was quite a surprise seeing as she was always cool to me before, her body soft like cotton and so easily breakable.

My mouth moved frantically over hers, making her struggle to keep up.

“I love you,” I growled against her lips. “I love you so much, Lyranna.”

“Zu…ben…”

I shoved away from her roughly and bolted from the house before I did something I regretted, darting into the forests surrounding it.

Dammit…dammit! Why did this have to happen? What did I ever do to bring down such wrath? What did my family ever do? As the rage, agony, pity, and hatred took over my mind, my sanity slowly began slipping away.

…

The king himself walked me to the Forbidden Gates leading down to Earth. It was where gods went to become human, where humans went to become gods…or in my case, were vampire gods went to just become vampires.

“You will lose your ability to return to the Heavens…I’m sure you understand why.”

A small growl escaped my lips. The king no longer deserved my respect. I heard him chuckle.

As we came to the doors he turned to me, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“It may take some time, but…perhaps, if you find the girl, you’ll be able to return to the Heavens.”

“What?” I bit out.

“You heard me, Zuben. I am not without mercy, and you were quite the upstanding god. Find the girl—and I’ll know when you do—and I’ll bring you both to the Heavens. Simple, correct?”

For whatever reason, I didn’t believe him.

The king stepped to the side and the doors of the Forbidden Gate opened, a forest on Earth waiting on the other side. I threw a glance over my shoulder back at the Heavens that had been my home for so many years, then looked back at the Earth’s forest, my new home. The hatred inside me grew stronger.

Growing colder, I stepped past the door.

…

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mother?”

A man stood outside a set of grand doors leading into his now widowed mother’s bedroom, his hands and forehead resting against the white wood.

“Please…I know you’re in there. I need to know, mother, I can’t do this just by having courage on its own. I don’t even think I can do this…I’m not ready. I can’t be…the god of Libra. I’m not like father. I’m not good enough. Please, mother, I need your help. Please…let me in.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling into his palms as silence fell in the hall, no response from his mother. His breath came shakily as he fought to keep the tears at bay. The shock of becoming the god of Libra and the Minister of Punishments had finally faded, and now reality had set in. His father had fallen, and why, no one would tell him. Not the king. Not even his mother. She had locked herself in her room for days, not coming out even when he begged.

He had to do it alone, and he wasn’t sure if he could.

Lord Zyglavis, new Minister of Punishments, new god of Libra, stood outside his mother’s bedroom door for hours, wishing she’d tell him why.

#zyglavis #star crossed myth #star crossed myth fan fiction #otome game #fanfic #voltage inc #voltage fanfic #scm #scm fanfic #scm zyglavis

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thosewhoruleegypt · 6 years

Text

What Followed the High Priest Home (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Characters/Ships: Puzzleshipping/Blindshipping (Atem/Yugi); Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Puppyshipping/Revertshipping (Priest Seto Kaiba/Jounochi); Atem, Yugi, Thief King Bakura, Ryou Bakura, Priest Seto Kaiba, Jounochi Katsuya Rating: M (WARNINGS for steamy fade-to-black moments, banter of a sexual nature, and some abuse of lotus wine) Length: Chapter 3 / 7; 3600 words

Summary:

Upon his homecoming, Priest Seto Kaiba certainly didn’t expect to find a statue of the Thief King in the middle of the palace courtyard, right where the Pharaoh’s statue ought to be. He also didn’t expect the stray puppy he picked up on his travels to follow him all the way home.

In the meantime, the Great Royal Husband, Yugi Mutou, makes a new friend, one Jounochi Katsuya, and Pharaoh Atem wonders when the power dynamics around his palace got so difficult to navigate.

Sequel to “For Love of Pharaoh and King;” “The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden—Part I” accounts for the time between the two works. Can be read separately, but will make more sense with context.

Full Story Begins Here! Read on AO3 Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Chapter Three: Thief King’s Court

The Thief King sat down heavily on the ground. "I've defeated your god, Priest Seto—I've won my pride, and wounded yours. So I won't play spoiler to your duel with Horus any longer. I forfeit."

Atem paled to an entirely unnatural shade of gray, mouth falling open, and Ryou trotted over to embrace the Thief King. Diabound, too, slithered over to its master, even as other cards—including the pendant that had hung around its neck—began to flutter down around them.

"Are you proud of me, my gem?" the Thief King murmured, his face buried in pure white hair. Ryou nodded and murmured an affirmation into his chest. Bakura laughed when Diabound nudged him in the ribs; he scratched the snake on the head. "Right? I thought so too, my friend. Thanks for the great fight."

"I'll kill him. I'll kill the bastard thief..." Atem muttered, even as Yugi trotted over to congratulate the Thief King and Jounochi ran to Priest Seto.

"Well, you won, technically," Jounochi said with a shrug, and the Priest lashed out at him; Jounochi, anticipating it, skipped backwards.

"This was no victory," Priest Seto snarled, then strode across the field to stand over Bakura. "You've robbed me of my victory, thief, and for that I won't forgive you!!"

"Robbing people is my specialty, as a thief," Bakura said, with a chuckle. Diabound, curling around him, hissed at the High Priest.

"And why in the gods isn't that thing dissolving?!" Seto demanded, flinching back as the snake stretched his jaws wide.

"He'll leave when he feels like it," Bakura said, patting Diabound's back. The snake bumped its head sideways into Bakura's ribs, and the Thief King chuckled.

Still fuming, Priest Seto turned to Atem. "I'm not pleased with this," he said darkly. "I refuse to call it a victory, in truth. But the fact remains—I'll have my rematch, Pharaoh. And you won't be able to slither out of being crushed like this filthy thief did."

"You didn't have the duel won, by the way," Bakura added helpfully. "I was down to 100 Life, but Soul Absorption was still on the field, plus Dia, of course, with Dark Pendant. You still had Luster Dragon, but it was no match for Dia. If you'd somehow managed to destroy him, before he finished you, Dark Pendant's effect still would have dealt you 500 damage, bringing you down to 100, and in my deck I still had—"

"Shut up!" Priest Seto snapped, and Pharaoh Atem said, "Enough!" simultaneously.

Bakura laughed. "Fine, fine... I'm just saying I surrendered because I wanted to, not because you had me beat. Plus, I just didn't want to see Dia hurt, after he brought down a god. I mean, that was a magnificent performance from him, don't you think?"

A fist sailed; Thief King Bakura yelped as it cracked into the back of his skull, and Diabound twisted to snap at the attacker. Jounochi Katsuya sprang backwards, crying out as the snake's fangs closed on empty air.

"You didn't beat him!" Jounochi yelled, though he kept his distance from the hissing serpent. "You're the one who gave up, so shut your stupid, ugly mouth!"

Bakura turned; gently disentangled himself from both Ryou's arms and Diabound's coils. The snake hissed, but held it's position as Bakura advanced. Jounochi, defiant, didn't retreat.

"You're his guard, or something? The dog that sleeps at Set's feet?" the Thief King rumbled, his grin twisting into a mocking curl that contorted the scar on his cheek.

"Yeah, I am!" Jounochi snapped, his fist drawing back again. In a flurry of expensive fabrics, Priest Seto was between them, and there was the <i>crack</i> of flesh on flesh as Bakura's fist met Seto's palm. Jounochi staggered backwards; thudded to the ground, and Yugi rushed to his side.

"Well hello, Set," Bakura purred. "Come to defend your puppy?"

"I've had about enough of your yapping, thief..." Priest Seto growled, and brought up his other hand to catch Bakura's free fist as it swung for his head. They struggled against one another, for a beat, and then sprang apart. As soon as there was space, Pharaoh Atem planted himself between them.

"Enough!" The Pharaoh looked smaller than usual, between the two larger men, but no less fearsome for his stature. "You've had your duel! It's been settled!"

"It hasn't been!" Seto objected. "He—!"

“It's been settled!" Atem repeated forcefully, swinging his head to face his High Priest. "I will duel you, Seto, as per your wager with the Thief King, so let this drop!"

Seto, after a defiant beat, lowered his head. Bakura stuck out his tongue.

"And so help me, cur, I'll have you whipped if you start any more trouble today!" Atem snapped, and Bakura looked duly unimpressed. "Publicly, right out by that statue you're so proud of, how about that?"

"Pharaoh, don't be nasty..." Yugi said silently, as he helped Jounochi to his feet. He squeaked, a moment later, when Priest Seto rounded on him.

"And you? Who are you? Some high-ranking serving wench?"

"That is my husband, Kaiba!" the Pharaoh said.

"He's my friend, Kaiba..." Jounochi said, at the same time, gripping one of Yugi's upper arms.

The High Priest swung from Atem to Jounochi and back again. "... The Great Royal Husband?" he asked Atem, at last, and the Pharaoh nodded.

"I know it was out of ignorance, but if you ever talk about him in that way again, I'll have you stripped of every honor I've ever given you," Atem said, seeming to have forgotten Bakura entirely. The Thief King stuck his tongue out at the High Priest again, from over the Pharaoh's shoulder.

When Priest Seto turned back to the Great Husband, Yugi extended his hand. "My name is Yugi, Yugi Mutou. I'm sorry for all the trouble, regarding your return."

"Why in all the gods are you apologizing?" Atem demanded, exasperated.

Seto inclined his head slightly, though he didn't accept the handshake. "I am Priest Seto. I am sorry, as well, but certain matters should be dealt with immediately."

"Our duel is not one of them," Pharaoh Atem said, his voice leaving no room for argument, and he appeared at Seto's shoulder. "I will honor the wager that you and the thief made, but not today. Today, you will report to me, as High Priest, regarding your mission, and then rest. We will have our duel tomorrow, and that is my final word."

Seto looked like he might argue, then lowered his head. "As you say, Pharaoh."

"Coward!" Jounochi jeered, although he still had a protective grip on Yugi's arm. The Royal Husband pulled Jounochi slightly closer as Atem's sharp gaze switched to them.

"He's my friend, Pharaoh. I stand by that."

"Why does your 'friend' mock me so, Yugi?" Atem's irritation was palpable, even without their mental link.

"Why did your cousin just call me a serving wench? I think everyone's a little confused—and a little tense."

Atem's eyes flashed. "Everyone, get out," he said, straightening his back to the point of near snapping. "Yugi, go to our room. Seto, see your disrespectful little attendant to your own chamber, then come to the throne room. And you two thieves, don't let me see you again tonight, or I may just take this all out on you."

Ryou caught Yugi's eye; nodded, and took Bakura's arm gently. The Thief King, though he'd been poised to say something—and likely a provocative something—looked down.

"Let's go, Thief King," Ryou implored, and Bakura softened visibly.

"See everyone tomorrow, then," the Thief King said cheerfully; waved. He caught Priest Seto's eye; pointed at him. "Good duel! I mean it. It was fun. I had fun! We should do it again sometime!"

Seto didn't respond, only glowered. Atem, too, sent Bakura a sideways look, and the Thief King held up his hands.

"I'm being honest!" he said, and Ryou pulled more insistently at his arm. He yielded, waving again and calling, "Good night!" as Ryou all but dragged him off. Diabound, who still hadn't dissipated, gave one last hiss before following its master from the duel field.

"Intolerable..." Atem muttered, then turned to Seto. "I'm sorry your homecoming turned out this way, Seto."

"Think nothing of it," Priest Seto sighed, massaging his forehead with one hand. With the Thief King's exit, the atmosphere between the two men eased considerably, and after a moment they grasped one another's arms; embraced, albeit briefly, and then parted.

"How are you, Cousin?" Atem asked. "Were your travels prosperous?"

"I am glad to be home," was the High Priest's reply. "And yes. Very."

"Your old chambers have already been prepared—I ordered it done before we left the throne room," the Pharaoh said. "Reports can wait. Everything else can wait, too. Why don't you go rest? I'll have food and drink brought to you straightaway. We can have a proper feast to celebrate, once this business is all settled. I've been looking forward to celebrating your return."

Seto bowed slightly. "My Pharaoh is a kind god."

"Alright! I get to see your room here at the palace, finally?" Jounochi asked, pulling slightly away from Yugi, and Seto fixed him with such a glare that he stumbled back.

"You are not welcome in my room, dog. Find someone else to tolerate your whimpering. I didn't ask you to come here."

Yugi pulled on Jounochi's arm. "Don't worry," he said softly. "You can stay with us."

Jounochi didn't respond to him, but instead stretched forward and called out, "You jerk!" even as the High Priest began to stride away. "You don't know the first thing, Kaiba! And you lost this duel today, you know that?! You had it lost, by the time that Thief King surrendered!"

High Priest Seto didn't respond, only gave another nod to Atem and vanished up the stairs. Only then did the Pharaoh round on his Great Husband and the strange newcomer. Jounochi bit his lip; drew slightly closer to Yugi.

"Your friend?" Atem demanded, and Yugi felt an insistent prod at his memories. He threw up a hasty mental wall.

"My friend, Pharaoh."

Atem's lip twitched as he pushed against the mental resistance, and for a moment the two stared at one another in silence. "Let me see, Yugi."

"No! It doesn't matter what—"

"Why is your neck bruised?"

Yugi cringed; Jounochi, oblivious to the conversation, looked at him curiously. "... It doesn't matter."

"Did your 'friend' do it, Yugi? I won't tolerate people who hurt you."

"You don't need to protect me, like this!" Yugi objected. "There are things I can deal with, like matters of my own friends! He didn't know any better, when he—"

"My cousin doesn't seem very fond of him, either," Atem said, "and if anyone should vouch for him, it's Seto. What do you think that means?"

"I don't know, exactly..." Yugi admitted, "but their relationship isn't... I mean..."

"Their relationship is none of my business, or yours, unless it effects the goings-on in the palace," Atem asserted. "But as far as I'm concerned, the second he laid a hand on you he became my enemy."

"Pharaoh..." Yugi appealed again, but Atem ignored him.

"You cannot stay with us," he told Jounochi, who cringed slightly.

"What did I ever do to you, Pharaoh?" the newcomer muttered, and Atem took a step forward.

"Pharaoh, stop it!" Yugi appealed aloud, and Atem turned to him.

"He hurt you, Yugi!" "What else do you expect me to do, but this?!"

"I expect you to be understanding. To take the context into account. He was confused, same as Priest Seto, and things got out of hand. He didn't mean to hurt me, and he's no threat to anyone, now."

Atem glowered, but then turned back to Jounochi. "You can stay at the palace, then, but I want you nowhere near Yugi. Or me."

"Where the heck am I supposed to sleep, then?!" Jounochi demanded, and Atem looked pointedly away.

"I don't care. Sleep out in the gardens, or ask the servants if they have a spare room." He turned; began to walk away, then paused and called, "Yugi?"

The Great Husband sighed; patted Jounochi's arm, and whispered, "I'll slip away later, and we'll figure something out. Wait for me out in the courtyard. Okay? I promise." Then he trotted after the Pharaoh, calling, "Coming!" and Jounochi alone was left in the duel ring.

... ... ...

Some time after night had fallen, Yugi slipped from the royal bed. Atem, though only half awake, felt him go and didn't object, only gave a mental order to be safe. Yugi kissed the Pharaoh's temple, then stole out into the courtyard.

Jounochi had settled himself on a little half-wall off the side of the palace; his head was tilted upwards, and he looked handsome, gazing upwards with his face bathed in starlight.

"Jounochi?"

The named turned; smiled at the Great Husband. "Why did I come here, Yugi? I'm just some punk kid. I don't belong here."

"You followed Priest Seto here," Yugi said gently, coming to stand beside the wall. He leaned in beside Jounochi. "You belong here because it's where he is—just like I belong here because of Pharaoh."

"You're the Great Royal Husband," Jounochi said dryly. "That's different."

"I'm only the Great Royal anything because Atem married me," Yugi said patiently. "I wasn't born into any of this. I never thought something like this would happen to me, not if I lived a thousand years." When Jounochi didn't respond, Yugi reached up and tugged gently on his sleeve. "Come on, let's head in. I know where we can go."

"Serket!" Thief King Bakura greeted Yugi in an unnecessarily loud voice, flinging his arms wide when he opened the door. Jounochi cringed back in surprise. "And the little puppy! Welcome!"

"Thanks," Yugi said, pulling Jounochi gently into the room. Ryou, on the bed, waved, and Bakura closed the door behind them. "Pharaoh's said he won't let Jounochi stay in our room, so I thought we'd come here."

"Of course! The pharaoh-ling Yugi is welcome at any hour, in the court of the Thief King," Bakura purred. "And his friends, too," he added, with a grin at Jounochi. The newcomer smiled weakly back.

"Sorry about him," Ryou said, from the bed. "Pharaoh sent up some lotus wine with our diner."

"The dear Pharaoh's way of apologizing, I assume, and do tell him I accept, Yugi," Bakura said, with a chuckle. He motioned to the table, still littered with roast meat and vegetables. "Are you two hungry? He sent up an incredible amount of food, too. Horus knows how to mend my wounded feelings, that's for sure."

"I had supper with Pharaoh, but I'm sure Jounochi is," Yugi said, and nudged his friend.

Jounochi nodded vaguely. "Yeah, I... could definitely eat, I guess..."

"You should always be able to eat, kid," Bakura said, picking at some of the leftovers as he did. "Even after a splendid feast, you should be able to eat even just a bit more. That little bit more might make the difference, when you find yourself starving, the very next day. Good appetite means you've got a will to live, y'know."

"I guess... yeah, I guess that's true," Jounochi said, and sat cautiously down at the table. Bakura pushed a bowl of wine over to him.

"Drink. Relax. We aren't near as uptight as Pharaoh Horus, here in the court of the Thief King, believe me."

Jounochi kept his eyes down. "I... tried to fight you..."

"That's good, too!" Bakura said, biting down on a pork bone. "Will to live—that's what it's all about! I'd never hold a grudge over something like that. Now, if you'd tried to slip a knife between my ribs when I wasn't looking, I'd be a little annoyed. But coming right up to me and challenging me, like that? That took guts, and I respect that. We'll have to have fair fight, one of these days! One on one, snake vs dog, whatdya think? Eat up!" he urged, pushing a plate across the table. "Gotta keep up your strength. I won't pull my punches just 'cause you're a scrawny little pup!"

"Bakura, dear, you're drunk," Ryou said gently, coming up behind the Thief King and wrapping his arms around the larger man's waist. "You're embarrassing yourself, dear."

"No embarrassment!" Bakura scoffed. "This kid's a good kid! He's gotten himself good and drunk a few times, and he's gotten into some good fights before, and sometimes he's gotten into good fights while he's good and drunk! He's just a pup, but he gets it. I can tell. He gets it!"

"That's true enough," Jounochi admitted, tucking into the lukewarm meat. He mumbled something under his breath, then cursed. "Damn, palace food is too good...!"

"Palace food is great," Bakura agreed, thudding into the seat across from him and pulling Ryou off balance. Ryou struggled to keep his feet, for a moment, but was dragged into Bakura's lap with a squeaked objection. "Yugi! Pour yourself some wine! Come join us!"

The young Great Husband smiled; shook his head slightly, and returned his gaze to the window he stood beside. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."

Bakura didn't push, instead engaging Jounochi about the finer details of street fighting. Ryou, though he tolerated being held and hand-fed on Bakura's lap for some time, eventually disentangled himself and moved to stand beside Yugi. He held out a glass of wine.

"It's not the lotus wine," he said with a chuckle, when Yugi gave him a sideways look. "Don't worry."

Yugi nodded; relaxed, and took a sip. "Thanks."

"You're going back to Atem tonight, right?"

Yugi nodded.

"Don't worry about Jounochi. He can stay here, of course."

"Thanks, Ryou. You're a good friend."

Ryou smiled—a soft smile, comfortable and well worn. "Not like you, Lord Yugi. This is the least I can do."

They stood in companionable silence, sipping wine and watching the stars creep across the night sky. Some time later, the sounds of conversation between Jounochi and Bakura were drowned out suddenly by a crash, and Ryou and Yugi both turned to see them wrestling playfully on the ground, a chair having been knocked to the floor a moment before. Ryou, with an alarmed squawk, handed his wineglass to Yugi and hurried to intercede. Yugi chuckled as Ryou pleaded with his King to have a bit of dignity, and, in Bakura's lapse of concentration, Jounochi landed a soft punch on Bakura's jaw from where he was pinned beneath the Thief King.

Not long after, Yugi excused himself; embraced Ryou, and bid Jounochi and Bakura a good night. He crept through the silent, dark halls; slipped into the room he shared with Pharaoh Atem, and then crawled up into their bed. Atem gave a sleepy murmur of acknowledgment, turning over and wrapping his arms around Yugi.

"How can you sleep so soundly, Pharaoh...?" Yugi whispered, returning the embrace. Atem mumbled something unintelligible. Yugi pushed at his shoulder until he rolled over onto his back, then crawled up onto Atem's chest. "Wake up for just a second. Please?" He nuzzled into Atem's neck; kissed and then nipped at the skin. "Please?"

"What...?" the Pharaoh mumbled, reaching up and giving Yugi's shoulder a cross little shake. "Wha-what-what's so important...?"

"We're going to duel Priest Seto tomorrow, Pharaoh?"

"We're going to duel Priest Seto tomorrow, Partner..."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm anxious. I'm not scared."

"Do you think he'll challenge you for the throne?"

"I don't know..."

"Do you think we can beat him?"

"I do, Yugi. I do."

Yugi pressed his lips to the Pharaoh's; Atem kissed him in return, and wrapped his arms loosely around Yugi's narrow shoulders.

"I love you, Partner..."

"I love you too, Pharaoh..."

"As long as you're with me, there's no duel we can't win. I'm certain of it."

"Then I'll stay with you forever. And no one will ever defeat you."

... ... ...

High Priest Seto was awoken by a familiar weight at the bottom of his bed; by an intimately familiar shape crawling up over him.

"Oh great Set..." the Priest groaned; rolled onto his back as Jounochi burrowed into the crook of his neck. "What are doing here, you stupid pup...?"

"What do you think?" Jounochi's voice was breathy; labored, as he stripped away Seto's nightclothes. The High Priest caught his wrists, and Jounochi allowed himself to be held still.

"Is that lotus on your breath?"

"What if it is?"

"Palace wine can be a bit more potent than what you're used to, hmm?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

Priest Seto stretched up; kissed Jounochi, passionately. Jounochi groaned softly with the satisfaction of it.

"We have to stop doing this..." the High Priest breathed, when they parted.

"Who says...?"

"I'm the High Priest, Joey..."

"So what?"

"I said this was over, that I wouldn't do this again once I got back to the palace..."

"You've said that a lot of times..."

They kissed, again, and this time High Priest Seto was the one doing away with Jounochi's robes. They fell in a tangle of flesh, teeth nipping at skin and hands grasping for purchase. As Jounochi's back hit the mattress, he laughed cheerfully.

"This bed is something else!"

"I've missed it," Seto muttered, busying himself with marking Jounochi's neck thoroughly. Jounochi's breath caught.

"Wouldn't be as nice without me in it, would it?" he asked, with a chuckle.

Seto growled. "It certainly wouldn't be as crowded."

"Shut up."

"You asked, pup."

"But I can stay?" Jounochi wrapped his arms around Seto's neck, pulling himself up to rasp the question close to Seto's ear. The High Priest shivered.

"Just for the night."

#revertshipping #puppyshipping #gemshipping #blindshipping #puzzleshipping #thief king bakura #pharaoh atem #yugi mutou #jounouchi katsuya #bakura ryou #priest seto #what followed the high priest home #WFtHPH #those who rule egypt #TwRE

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i-w-p-chan · 6 years

Text

Entering the Playing Field Blind

Summary: Akechi Goro confronts the Thieves with the incriminating evidence he’s gathered on them. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t mean he maintains the upper hand for long. Prequel to Whatever Happened to Akechi Goro.

Note: one day I was like, what if I do a prequel to Whatever Happened to Akechi Goro? and this happened. Enjoy :D

Warnings: Self-Indulging Yet Again, Prequel To Whatever Happened to Akechi Goro, Feels In Hindsight, Goro’s Raging Crush On Akira, Info Dump, These Kids Are Very Chatty, Not!Black Mask!Akechi.

Disclaimer: Don’t own P5.

“I know you’re all the Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” Goro declared as he stared down Kurusu and his group, “And I have proof!”

Kurusu’s group looked dubious, so Goro smiled sickeningly sweet and continued, “When you were at Okumura Foods’ HQ, and transported yourself to the other dimension, whatever you call it, I was incidentally close by and pulled along with you.”

As the group stared at him in varying degrees of shock, he added, “I was almost attacked by a robot.” He crossed his arms and scrutinized them all, “But I somehow managed to leave the place.” He reached into his pocket and removed his phone, unlocking the screen and scrolling until he reached the page containing the ‘MetaNav’ app, he showed them his phone’s screen, and they all zeroed in on it, their eyes widening as they no doubt caught sight of the app.

“I assume this app is linked to your work as the Phantom Thieves, as it contained only one bookmark when I found it on my phone after I escaped the robot and that strange space station- Okumura Kunikazu, Okumura Foods HQ, space station- which disappeared ten days later. I assume it indicated that you stole his heart?”

Goro pocketed his phone and took out the photos he took of the Thieves’ incriminating presence at Okumura Foods HQ, “I even have photographic evidence that you were there.” He placed the photos on the desk near him and stared intently at the Thieves.

They opened their mouths, no doubt to deny, but a high-pitched voice interrupted them, “He has a lot of evidence against us, it’s no use denying. Besides, we can’t have him run around the Metaverse freely.”

Goro pressed his lips together and prepared to respond scathingly to the speaker about his last remark when he stopped cold, “Wait… who said that?”

He scanned the group and room around them but he couldn’t find anyone else except for himself, the Thieves, and Kurusu’s cat.

There was a sigh, “I’m right here.”

Goro frowned; while the voice came from the same direction where Kurusu’s cat was perched on top of a box, there was no one else there.

“Jeez, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of smart detective?”

Goro’s eyes widened in shock, “Kurusu-kun” He spoke faintly, “Did your cat just talk?”

The cat frowned at him, and there was no mistaking the expression for anything other than a frown, while its tail lashed through the air behind it in agitation, “I’m not a cat!”

“He does that sometimes.” Kurusu chose that moment to speak up.

Goro turned his attention back to Kurusu, “And the talking cat is connected to the other world?”

Kurusu nodded; the Thieves around him were just as agitated as the cat, clearly disliking the direction this conversation was headed in.

Goro nodded and gathered the photos into his hand, “Alright, I’m going to make a deal with you: I don’t turn you in, and you take me with you to the other world and answer my questions.”

“Answering your ‘questions’ is too broad a phrasing,” Niijima interrupted, “Please specify what kind of questions.”

Goro repressed a sigh, but it wasn’t like he was in any position to make any more demands- especially since they were the only source of information he could find at the moment, “Questions about the other world, the app, how you steal hearts.”

In different circumstances, he may even ask them to disband, but he was already pushing it with his requests, so he had to settle for just this.

The Thieves looked at each other and started murmuring between them.

“What do you think, Mona-chan?” Okumura asked the cat softly.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any other option,” The cat spoke, tone regretful, and the Thieves shared on last look between them.

“Alright, we agree to your terms,” Kurusu said, tone as neutral as ever.

Goro suppressed a smirk; the first step was complete, now to the second.

“Good. Where to begin with the questions?” Goro hummed thoughtfully.

“Are you sure it’s a good place and time to have such a long discussion?” Kitagawa wondered.

“We should go somewhere else,” Takamaki mused.

“Ugh, but where?” Sakamoto questioned.

“How about Leblanc?” The cat interjected, “We already gather there, one more person won’t be that out of place. And Akechi already frequents the café, no one bat an eye at him going there.”

“That’s a good idea. All in agreement?”

And that was how Goro found himself in Leblanc’ attic.

Otherwise known as: Kurusu Akira’s room.

Goro regretted so many things in his life, walking with his own two feet to his crush’ room without knowing so beforehand ranked pretty high up that list of regrets.

Someone kill him already.

His eyes darted around the place, taking in the box of clothes near the stairs (holy shit this was where Kurusu changed out of his clothes!), the couch (oh god that was where Kurusu would recline!), the work desk in the corner (Kurusu worked on that desk!), the clothes lines above his head (in the name of all things holy, Kurusu was naked in this space!), the bed-

(For fuck’s sake, Kurusu slept there! Kurusu probably did dirty things there! What if he brought partners to this room?! What if he Did The Deed with Other People right on that bed?! Maybe that couch too?! What if on the desk or-?!)

Someone fucking kill him already!

“Hey, uh, yo, you okay there?” Goro’s head snapped to the side to stare uncomprehendingly at Sakamoto who was giving him concerned looks (and it had to be bad if Sakamoto noticed, snap out of it, Goro!).

“I’m perfectly fine.” Goro all but chirruped, his smile unnaturally wide on his face, “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I’m in Kurusu-kun’s room why wouldn’t I-“ Goro snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat, surreptitiously checking the Thieves’ expression and seeing all of them sans Kurusu, who was blank-faced as usual (did he notice? Oh god, please no), were giving him concerned looks. Takamaki was giving him a sympathetic smile as she looked between him and Kurusu, and Sakura snorted.

Goro’s faker than Kurusu’s glasses smile almost twitched at the corners; he had to salvage the situation- and fast.

“My questions?”

“Right,” Kurusu said before he silently started rearranging the furniture alongside the Thieves to turn it into a suitable meeting space.

“Your questions.” Kurusu pulled the chair near his work desk towards the table he sat up in the attic and sat on it, “You can start asking them now.”

Goro looked around the space, wondering where he could position himself so that he would be close enough to hear and be heard, before he slowly stepped to stand behind Kurusu, a hand tentatively settled at the back of the chair.

The Thieves sent him amused smirks, as if something in where he chose to stand entertained them greatly; Kurusu didn’t even twitch.

“So, the app. What can you tell me about it?”

The Thieves shared a look before Niijima spoke up, “It allows us to move into and out of the other dimension, and check for the names of people who need a change of heart.”

“And this other dimension is called what, exactly?”

“The Metaverse,” Morgana piped up, blue eyes boring into Goro, “It’s another layer of reality that is based on human subconscious and cognition.”

“Cognition?” Goro zeroed in on the term, “Do you mean by that a manifestation of people’s perception of reality?”

“Indeed.” Kitagawa nodded his head, “Our bigger targets tend to have quite a distorted view of reality.”

Goro frowned as he digested the information, his brain linking it with the facts he knew, “So, that distorted view of reality is what you change by changing someone’s heart?”

“Yes.” The Thieves nodded.

“How do you change someone’s heart?”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain?” Haru wondered out loud, “When someone’s heart is quite distorted, they form what we call a Palace.”

“Consider the Palace like their very own corner of the Metaverse,” Takamaki added.

“And they’re the rulers of that place,” Sakamoto interjected.

“We infiltrate the Palace, and look for the root of the distortion,” Sakura spoke up, and Goro almost jolted; he almost forgot that she was in the room with them.

“After we find the Treasure-“ Sakamoto picked up after Sakura, and Niijima interrupted.

“Which is the aforementioned root of the distortion.”

“-we send the calling card.” Sakamoto completed.

“Why do you send it? Why not just take the Treasure, as you called it?”

“We can’t steal the Treasure if it’s not manifested,” Morgana responded, “We send the calling card to make our target aware that their heart is something that can be stolen, which will cause the Treasure to take a form, and then we can take it, which will cause a change of heart after we leave the Palace.”

“How long does it take you to take a Treasure?”

“It depends on the obstacles we face while infiltrating the Palaces,” Kitagawa said, “Aside from fatigue, some obstacles require from us to leave and cause a change in our target’s cognition.”

“And that would be?”

“When we were going to steal Kaneshiro’s heart, we couldn’t even access his Palace before we made him see us as ‘customers’ of his,” Takamaki said.

“I see…” Goro hummed thoughtfully, “So, how long do you take to steal a heart after sending out a calling card?”

“Not very.” Okumura shook her head.

“We do it within the next day,” Sakamoto said, “Because the Treasure doesn’t stay in a shape for long.”

“The effect of the calling card isn’t permanent.” Morgana nodded.

“And if you fail, can’t you try again?”

“We can’t, because we can only cause the Treasure to manifest only once,” Niijima added.

“And that’s for your bigger targets; people like Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Okumura. What about your ‘lesser’ targets?”

“They’re the ones we pick through our daily life or forum request. We hear about someone causing harm to others and we check if they have a distorted heart, and then we steal it.”

“I suppose they have their own Palace?”

“A collective Palace, if you will,” Morgana said, “Their distortion isn’t strong enough to form an independent Palace, so they reside in Mementos: the collective human unconscious and shared Palace of the populace.”

“And they’re easier to handle because we only have to confront their Shadow selves, instead of all the details we have to go through in each Palace,” Takamaki said.

“Shadow selves?”

“Their subconscious, their selves that reside in the Metaverse.”

“Oh? Have any of you met any of your Shadow selves before, then?”

The Thieves all shook their heads.

“I have.” Goro heard Sakura say and he turned his head towards her; she was staring in front of her at her linked hands, “It was only short lived, though, and my Shadow self disappeared soon afterwards.”

“Does that mean that meeting one’s Shadow self causes it to disappear?”

The group shared a look between them, “We don’t know that for sure,” Okumura said, “None of us ever met our Shadow selves aside from Futaba-chan.”

“And her Shadow self didn’t so much disappear as change,” Niijima interjected.

“A metamorphosis.” Kitagawa hummed.

Futaba looked Goro in the eye, a first, and her eyes burned with a familiar fire that both fascinated and terrified him.

Being face to face with your subconscious… Goro couldn’t imagine meeting the manifestation of all of his innermost thoughts and desires.

(He figured his would look ugly and repulsive; it made sense with the desire for revenge lurking under his skin, and the rage burning in his veins.)

Shaking his head as if to dispel the thought, “And how do you check your targets? You mentioned that you use the app for that, but you didn’t explain how.”

“We enter the name of the target we have.

Sakamoto took out his phone and opened the app before he put his phone on the table.

“For example,” Niijima started, “If you start with someone like, say, Futaba.” She leaned forward, “Sakura Futaba.”

The app remained as it was, and Goro frowned, “Is that because her Shadow self changed?”

“More accurately, it became an integrated part of me now, so she’s not dwelling in the Metaverse anymore. But if you take the name of someone normal, no strong distortion whatsoever. Like Sojiro.”

“Sakura Sojiro.”

On the app, a destination bookmarked as ‘Mementos’ flashed once.

“See that?” Takamaki waved at the phone, “That tells you that Boss has a normal Shadow self in Mementos.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a viable target…?” Goro wondered.

Morgana shook his head, “It’s only natural for people to have a Shadow self, it’s just when their desires become distorted that they become a viable target.”

“I see… How does the app react when you do have a target in… Mementos, was it?”

The group looked between them again, “Well, we don’t have the name of a target right now, so.” Takamaki shrugged, “We don’t have a name to check.”

“Hey, I have an idea!” Sakamoto grinned widely, “How about we try your name, Detective Prince?”

Goro felt his stomach twist into knots and his heart lodge into his throat, dread filling him up at the sight of the hesitant looks the Thieves sent him.

He let out a deep breath and spoke clearly, “Akechi Goro.”

The app pinged.

Silence.

Goro averted his eyes, not daring to meet the eyes of the Thieves, not under these circumstances.

“Detective?” Kurusu’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and caused him to turn his head to stare at his crush’s face; a futile endeavor, as he had never been able to read Kurusu’s face, but still- the sight of it made him gather his courage again and take a deep breath before he returned to facing the Thieves, meeting their concerned stares head on.

“So, is that how you figure out a target in Mementos?” He asked, and the Thieves nodded. “I see.” He swallowed thickly, “If that is the case, does it mean you are going to change my heart then?”

The Thieves shared meaning-laden looks before they turned to face him again.

“I don’t think we should,” Takamaki started, “You’re not hurting anyone. So, no, I don’t agree to changing your heart unless you want us to.”

“I’m in agreement with Ann,” Kitagawa said, “Even if your heart is distorted, it’s not the only target criteria we have.”

“I don’t think we should change your heart unless you ask us for it, as well.” Niijima nodded firmly.

“Same,” Sakura interjected.

And so, the Thieves all chorused a similar opinion between them.

Kurusu turned to look at him, “You know our stance on the idea now. We won’t change your heart just because you have a distorted heart.”

“Why?” Goro frowned, “Your criteria?”

Okumura smiled, “Yes. It’s not just having a distorted heart that makes us pick targets. We only change the hearts of those who hurt others, because our goal is to help those who are in need of help but don’t have the strength to help themselves yet! Just like we were.”

“That said,” Morgana added, “We will stage an intervention and change your heart if your distortion ends up hurting you.” The Thieves all sent Goro determined looks, appearing to be in agreement with what the cat-like creature just said.

Goro had to take a deep breath and do his best to suppress the blush climbing up his neck.

After a moment of silence, Goro cleared his throat, “There is something else I need to ask you all for. It’s about a potential target.”

After hearing what Goro just said, the Thieves stood at attention, “A target?” Sakamoto frowned.

“Yes. It’s…” Goro hesitated before he forged on ahead, “Niijima Sae.”

“Candidate found.” The app chimed, and Niijima bowed her head.

“That… That means she has a Palace?”

“Yes.” Kitagawa looked grim as he and the rest of the Thieves looked at Niijima.

“Mako-chan?” Okumura asked, her tone full of worry.

Niijima took a shuddering breath, “I knew for a while but…”

“You didn’t know how to bring it up?” Takamaki asked softly.

“What makes you ask about Makoto’s sister, Akechi-san?” Kitagawa asked.

“A lot of things are happening at the moment. You’ve heard about the reward for capturing the Phantom Thieves, yes? Furthermore, Sae-san is leading this case with quite the determination; there is a lot riding on her success, but I have heard whispers in the SIU’s head quarters and I fear there is a high chance they may resort to planting evidence to frame someone innocent just to have a scapegoat.

“And there is more to what’s going on than that. What happened to Okumura was suspiciously timed. It doesn’t match what usually happens during confessions induced by heart changes, but with mental shutdowns. Besides that, it happened at just the right moment to make you all fall from favor with the public, and, this is conjecture at the moment, make you take the blame for the mental shutdowns.”

The Thieves stared at him, wide-eyed.

“That’s…” Morgana’s tail twitched behind him, “There is someone pulling the strings, and we played right into their hands.”

“And you think changing Sis’ heart is going to help?” Niijima stared at him with a terrifying glint in her eyes.

“Not changing her heart,” Goro corrected, his expression grim, “Not like you do. From my investigation, each of your target ended up out of commission for some time while they recovered from the effects, and afterwards came clean about their actions, wanting to repent. Can you make a guess about what would happen to Sae-san if she underwent such change?”

Niijima gasped, her mind whirring with the implications of what Goro said, “If someone is pulling the strings, and they’re not above murder and framing someone else for it, they might…”

“That’s correct.” Goro clenched his jaw, his hands flexing with the need to punch something; god, he hated corrupt people in position of power with fiery passion, “They may kill her to avoid her causing trouble for them in the future.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Kurusu spoke up, jarring Goro from his angry haze.

“I… is it possible to make her undergo a gradual change?”

The Thieves perked up, “Gradual change?” Sakura looked particularly interested.

“Yes.” Goro smiled thinly, “Can we make her change her mind by herself without stealing her treasure?”

“I’m thankful that you’re considering my request,” Goro said as he walked along with the Thieves, heading towards Sae’s Palace.

“Yeah?” Sakamoto said, “Just stay back. Don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

Goro pressed his lips into a thin line at the reminder; the Thieves had filled him in about the other type of Shadows, the ones they had to fight during their work.

It was one part he was going to be absolutely useless in.

It didn’t take long for the group to reach the Palace proper, and Goro grimaced at the sight, because a casino? Sae saw the courthouse as a casino?

Granted, a part of him knew where she was coming from, what with the corruption and money changing hands, but it didn’t change the fact that it made anger surge through his chest.

Goro hated coming to the Metaverse with the Thieves. Didn’t regret it, because he needed to see firsthand how they worked in the Metaverse, but it sure as hell made him want to punch something, preferably Kurusu’s- Joker’s- handsome mug.

(No one had any right being that attractive, doubly so while wearing the same attire Joker paraded around in.)

The rampant cheating made him clench his teeth, Sae’s Shadow made him scowl, but the thing that made him snap was his… ‘Cognitive Self’.

A card dealer, polite and nice to a fault, with a gentle, soothing voice, and a comforting smile.

Goro hated him on the first glance.

“Ah, welcome!” The Cognition spoke, features soft and welcoming, but they soon turned into worry, “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here? It’s not safe. You shouldn’t be here.”

Goro bristled and strode forward, not letting any of the other Thieves respond (because this? This was personal.)

“Oh? And why is that?” Goro ground out.

“You’re standing out. You’re not listening to orders. You know what happens to those who don’t conform.” The Cognition’s eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“And you do?” Goro snarked.

“But of course!” The Cognition looked surprised that Goro would even ask, “I’m a teenager working for the police, I already stand out as it is. No need to bring more unwanted attention my way.”

Goro clenched his fists, “What about our goals then?”

“Goals?” The Cognition looked surprised, “But you can still help the weak like this, right?”

“Help the weak?” Goro spat out, his voice rising in pitch as pain lanced through his head, but he ignored, “Don’t make me laugh! I’m not some selfless knight in shining armor who is there to help others!”

A voice whispered into his head and he began chuckling, the ominous sound slipping from his lips as he bowed his head, feeling a weight settle on his face.

“That doesn’t mean shit to me! I’m going to throw corrupt people in power of their high horse and watch them suffer in the aftermath of their fall. No one is going to stop me, not you, and not Sae.” His fingers curled around the mask that formed on his face and he tugged it off, uncaring for the pain it caused or the blood that splattered to the ground.

He raised his head to stare at his horrified Cognitive Self in the face, a deranged grin spreading across his face.

I am thou, thou art I.

“COME! LOKI!”

Extra:

“So, Loki. The Silvertongue.” Joker stared at Goro contemplatively, “Is this because you’re skilled with your tongue?”

Goro spluttered, his face exploding into a violent shade of red.

End

Casual reminded that this is a prequel to Whatever Happened to Akechi Goro :D

#persona 5 #p5 #akechi goro #kurusu akira #takamaki ann #sakamoto ryuji #kitagawa yusuke #niijima makoto #sakura futaba #okumura haru #morgana #p5 morgana #entering the playing field blind

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gladboyaesthetiq · 7 years

Text

Imagine you're the Witch-King. You and the lads have been hunting down the One Ring for months now, ever since that creepy gangrel fuck told you to go look in The Shire. You know that the Ring is in the possession of a halfling, but fuck me, the little cunts are too short to register in your line of sight. Eventually you track them to Bree after one of them is stupid enough to put the Ring on, and just when you think you've got them, they run off with some homeless cunt who looks an awful lot like the heir to the throne of Gondor. You find them again after the fucking numpties light a fire on the edge of the only elevated ground for miles around in a wide open plain, and now it seems like the homeless man gave them some filthy old shivs. You and the lads figure "Fuck it, we've been at this for months", and decide to mess with them by weakly parrying their blows before knocking them to the ground. The ringbearer, like the fucking idiot he is, then tries to hide from you by putting on the Ring, so you stab the fucker with your Morgul blade for being a twat. Just before you can take the Ring from him, the homeless fucker shows up again and starts setting your Gucci robes on fire, and even throws a flaming torch into your mate's face. You extinguish the flames, but by the time you get back, they're all gone. You almost have them before some she-elf with a vagrant fetish shows up and starts riding off to Rivendell with the somehow-still alive ringbearer. You chase her to the river on the border, but are reluctant to violate the NAP with Elrond, remembering that time he right well fucked you back in Dol Guldor, so you ask her to give you the ringbearer. She offers amnesty from the NAP to allow you to claim him, but while you're crossing the river, she summons a fucking tsunami of horses to trample you and the lads. You get washed down river, the halflings get away, and you really have no choice but to cut your losses and go back to leading the armies of Mordor in the destruction of the world of Men. You trade in your water-logged horse for a fellbeast, run some reconnaissance outside of Mordor, before heading back to make final preparations. One of the lads reports that he saw two halflings in Osgiliath, but got shot by an extremely disappointing man before he could kill them and check for a ring. You figure they'll probably die there in the coming days as you seriously ramp up the offensive, because there's no way they'll make it through your lines, and it's not like halflings from the Shire would have any knowledge of the secret tunnels under the city. So you focus on leading the army of Minas Morgul to attack Minas Tirith, and successfully drive those fuckers out of Ithilien and are in the process of routing them all before that meddling cunt Old Greybeard starts shining a bright light in your eyes, like a dickhead, blinding you. So you let them escape and begin the attack on the city, grabbing the occasional poor bastard and flinging him over the battlements. Eventually that ugly fucker Gothmog brings out Grond and makes his way into the city, driving the defenders inwards, so you turn your attention to killing Gandalf, as his continued existence is becoming increasingly irksome, rallying the hopeless men of Gondor to protract the process of their inevitable death. You find him riding his horse on one of the upper levels of the city, surprisingly far from the battle, where he starts getting smart with you, as though he isn't seconds from death, so you blow up his walking stick as a final "Fuck you" before killing him. Your fellbeast gets briefly distracted by a mouse or something, and doesn't kill him immediately, so you urge it forward to do so, but in that second, a horn goes off and you get struck by the smell of horse. You figure "Fuck it, what's this old cripple going to do without his cane?" and fly off to engage the newly arrived Rohirrim. They charge and absolutely decimate your army, and even manage to rout them briefly before those lazy fuckers from the South finally show up on their elephants, who somehow smell even worse than the Rohirrim. You think to yourself, "Fuck me, when will this day end?" and start making sweeping runs through the ranks of the horsemen in an effort to disrupt their charges, before spying their king. You swoop down, kill his horse, and knock it on top of him, pinning him to the ground. But before you can get your fellbeast to kill him, Generic Rohirrim #8759 somehow musters to courage to stand in defiance of you, the lieutenant of the single most evil thing in existence, you who cause grown men to shit themselves and scream in terror just with your mere presence. You tell that oddly effeminate-sounding horselord to just fuck off, because you really don't have the time to deal with more bullshit on this already shit-filled day, but then the cunt somehow moves faster than your fellbeast can strike, and cuts the useless fucker's head off. Fan-fucking-tastic. By now you are so absolutely fucking pissed, and seething with rage, that all you do is just in inhale sharply before attempting to bludgeon the fuck out of that cheeky son of a bitch with the ridiculous over-sized mace that recently appeared on your Nazgûl Utility Belt, because you're too fucking angry to just stab you; it is absolutely necessary that you completely obliterate this smarmy fucker, even if it is highly ineffective to swing such an unwieldy flail at such an agile target. Eventually you catch them on the arm, splintering both their shield and their bones, and knock them to the ground. You pick them up to strangle them to death, informing them that it was a waste of their time, because no mortal being, such as an individual from the Race of Man, could even hope to kill you without enchanted weaponry, like an Elvish weapon, or those really ancient blades made by the Dunedain that have long since disappeared. Just as it looks like this Eru-fucking awful day is finally looking up, suddenly, a fucking halfling, who you'd entirely forgot existed up until this point, comes up behind you and stabs you in the calf. No biggie, but oh wait, it's one of those Dunedain blades, because OF FUCKING COURSE that homeless cunt who set you on fire before just happened to be casually digging around in the Barrow-Downs and found four daggers perfectly suited to a Hobbit-sized bitch. He falls over, screaming like a pint-sized cunt, and you hit the deck because it hurts like a motherfucker. All of a sudden, the aggravating horse cunt who you were in the process of killing, stands up, takes of his- no, HER, helmet, and completely misinterprets what you said before, as though a penis was some magical ward that protected you. Before you have the chance to correct her bullshit, she stabs you in the fucking face. That's it. You hit breaking point. You no longer give a fuck, and let out an autistic screech to end all autistic screeches, reaching such a pitch and volume that it causes your physical form to collapse in on itself like a black hole before exploding in a wave of pure rage. Fuck this day, fuck everything, and especially fuck hobbits.

#lotr #from the witch kings perspective

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