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burned-out-match · 1 year

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Sparrowdow - an original story by yours truly (this is just a short drabble leading up to some more of the story - hopefully you guys like it!)

Night is underestimated and underappreciated. It was a concept that she had considered many times before, although tonight the idea seemed all the more prominent in her mind. Perhaps it was the way she saw a vast vermillion sky sink into the depths of a midnight hue, the sky submitting to the same depth she felt in the evenings.

She didn’t sleep often. While the idea of slipping away from her thoughts was appealing, there was something more appealing about exploring her own mind… something intriguing about confronting the beast… something exciting about entering the cave in which the dragon slept, poking and prodding at it until she got to see the vibrance of its breath of flame. So she did, many nights.

Picturing herself in this setting, she was in a haze that distracted her from the reality of her position. Her eyes were closed and her arms crossed, standing against a brick wall and only being pulled out of her fantasy by the feeling of a gush of wind across her face. The night was cold, and so were her hands, her ears, her nose… all flushed pink as if they were kissed by the wind and stained with rouge.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, so she figured she may as well stay put. She observed the streetlamp in front of her… the worn metal holding the bright light that cascaded over dirty roads.

“Excuse me?” The stranger in front of her seemed erratic, having a rather skittish nature about her and a very threatening presence, which was partially encouraged by the scar on her eye. The stranger was practically littered with scars, in fact, and her clothes were as tattered and worn as her skin. The only attractive thing about this person was the particular shade of jade iris in her skull.

“Do you know where I can find the nearest library? It’s urgent.”

“Whatever is the library for?”

“Well… uh… it’s for… um… things…”

“...I see you’re quite eloquent.” A smirk graced her pale face, a glimmer in her silver eyes that were shining in the moonlight. To the stranger, her eyes may have been seen as a silver blade, daring them to come closer.

“Follow me, and don’t get lost.” The elegant woman sauntered along the pathway before them, following it through the old town. Floors groaned and walls whispered, gossiping about the strange pair before them. A finely dressed woman, draped with purple silk and adorned with gems, being accompanied by a shabby nobody.

Their journey continued until they were no longer in the town, rather entering a forest clearing covered in moss and mushrooms. Fireflies flew about them and illuminated their path… a path guarded by vine covered trees and the sounds of scattering feet across dried leaves and dead flowers. A stone street emerged from the dirt after a certain point, and gradually, this street turned into a bridge complete with lanterns that led to a rather large mansion in the woods… the house was almost entirely wooden, seemingly carved from a rather large tree in the forest. The two wanderers continued onward to the door to the place.

“I figured we weren’t actually headed towards a library, but I’ll admit…”

They entered a grand foyer with statues springing up from the floors, still all wooden, and various paintings that were directly illustrated on the walls.

“You’ll admit what, exactly?”

The stranger realized that she was too stunned to speak. The grandiose nature of the place combined with the intricacies of its design… she felt as though she was standing in a living, breathing being. The elegant woman looked at her with a familiar mischief in her eyes and seemed to understand everything that she was thinking, all at once. The wood of the structure creaked and groaned as they stared at each other in silence.

“Now, on to the library-” The elegant woman was about to continue on, but she felt a calloused hand grasp her wrist as an exclamation met her ears.

“Wait! Wait… what’s your name?”

“My name, darling?”

“Yes. I would like to know.”

There was a brief pause between them.

“Theo. I expect you to reveal the same?”

“Arche.”

Theo led them into a musty room, clouded with the scent of musk and pine, with vines on the walls and filled with bookshelves. The sides of the bookshelves were trees, and the shelves themselves were composed of branches. This place was well and truly alive. The mass of literature in the room made it seem almost as if this was the mind of the house… each book representing a thought of the living being.

“So, what sort of book would interest you?” Theo was running her hands over the pristine leather of an array of books as she made the remark. She turned to Arche and quirked a brow.

Arche’s first thought was of how she could never reveal to this woman, who may be affiliated with the palace, her true identity. She could not, and would not, reveal what she was looking for and why she was looking for it.

“You seem to be a kindred spirit, Arche. Perhaps you were seeking to learn of the new mutations taking our world by storm?”

Arche was, indeed, seeking answers to questions that weren’t yet fully mature in her mind… roots of predicament that were nourishing an underdeveloped bud of pondering. These young considerations were, indeed, concerning the mutations that had recently infiltrated their world. The mutations that would turn a joyful mother horrified in a matter of seconds after the birth of their child. The mutations that would lead to elven ears, sharp teeth, large bones, eagle eyes, furry faces, and everything in between.

Arche was lost in her memories… the memories of things seen and words heard… and didn’t notice the book that Theo was holding until it landed on a nearby table with an audible ‘thud.’

The book was bound in white leather and pressed with golden letters. Theo’s hands, upon further inspection were covered in scars and possessed a rather sharp collection of nails.

“I’ve conducted meticulous research, along with a colleague of mine, and these were our findings. Our conclusions have been met, and therefore, we no longer have any need for the book. Consider it yours. Take good care of it.”

Theo’s words dripped like honey from her tongue, and there was something magnificent about the way her words graced Arche’s ears. Her voice was silk, slipping out from her lips and caressing the ears… the soul… of those who had the pleasure to listen.

Arche found herself staring at the gorgeous woman, and before she realized it, the house was descending back into the dirt, furniture and all. The wooden structure devolved into twigs on dirt until there was nothing left but a small sprout in the midst of where the house once was.

Distracted by the enigmatic disappearance of this grand mansion, Arche did not notice the woman before her revealing a somehow hidden pair of magnificent wings. Theo spread the mass of feathers on her back and ascended into the air. Arche’s thoughts were interrupted by a gust of wind that carried the creature in front of her upwards, into the clouds, and past the trees, until there was nothing to see but a twinkle of the sun’s rays reflected off of golden quills.

#sparrowdow #original story #original character #my ocs #my writing #my story

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doiefy · 2 years

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dandelion seeds // lee donghyuck

part of the visions series; inspired by and set in the world of genshin impact.

Childish wishes made in the wind.

pairing: lee donghyuck x gn. reader genre: angst, fantasy word count: 1.5k warnings: discussions around death and suicide, implied suicide, major character death

taglist: @jenoxygen @zlmzym @vantaecult (dm, ask or reply to be put on/taken off the masterlist for this series)

finally finished inazuma archon quest today. no clue why it took so long but sheesh the cutscenes still have me shaking in my boots.

YOU WERE SEVEN when you met him.

Your first glimpse of him had been beyond the cobblestone walls of the city, in the dandelion fields—where the wind whispered sweet melodies and foraged a shifting path through the tall grass. It carried the aroma of sweet flowers from the wilderness and freshly-baked bread from the bakery, and a multitude of golden specks as the children scattered the dandelion seeds. Hopes, dreams and visions carried off into a boundless expanse of sky; you’d always hoped one of yours would one day reach the gods. It was a common wish amongst the children, but apparently not for the boy who sat alone at the edge of the field.

He did seem rather sullen. Not exactly hostile or withdrawn from the rest of you, but sulky. He always looked a little too busy to join the others, poking images into the dirt with a stick and mumbling to himself. When you walked up to him, he had a single dandelion in hand—one that still hadn’t turned white and wispy, with yellow petals that matched the golden glow of his eyes. He was tearing the petals out one at a time in some sort of silent temper tantrum, flinging them into the tiny pile of sand and pebbles he’d collected earlier.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you told him bluntly. He looked up at you in surprise, and instantly froze—a stark contrast to whatever sass you were expecting from him. “Mother says dandelions are…” You wracked your brain for the word you remembered her teaching you the night previous. “Scared.” That wasn’t right. “Scar… sac… sacred. That means they’re special. So you shouldn’t hurt them.”

“And you shouldn’t tell other people what to do,” he mumbled, looking away once he’d overcome the initial shock and embarrassment of being confronted. The other children didn’t usually talk to him. “I’m making dandelion wine.”

The bitter yellow liquid adults drank. You looked down at his pile of rocks, and then the wooden cup of water he’d scooped up from the lake. “I don’t think you can drink rocks.” He looked unimpressed, so you stopped to think of a better argument. “The rock god made rocks for us to dig up and make into things like… houses and jewels and jewellery! Not to… drink.”

He scoffed. “I don’t believe in gods.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

“Oh.”

You’d never heard of anyone who didn’t believe in the gods. They were real. You knew they were. You could even see them in the sky: a jagged formation of stone and marble far beyond your reach, where all the greatest heroes went after their time on the earth.

“What’s your name?” you asked him curiously, though you had secret intentions of running home and telling your mother about the strange boy you just met. She would surely give you a lecture for being out at play while dinner grew cold on the table, but you already had the most wondrous stories dreamt up to recount to her.

The boy shrugged, but his eyes flashed with a sort of mischievousness: specks of gold in his iris like scattering yellow petals and amber bits of stone. He handed you the rest of his dandelion—albeit half-destroyed, but a silent peace offering. “Donghyuck.”

So began your friendship.

You were fifteen when you received your Vision.

Bright red, inlaid with flames, infused with a fervent passion and determination you didn’t even know you had. It appeared soundlessly on your desk while you were scribbling a letter to your older brother, and you didn’t even notice it until you’d returned from the postal office. Too tired from the day’s work, you could only attach it to your jacket and put out the candles with your newfound abilities before collapsing into bed.

“How come you get a Vision?” Donghyuck asked the next day, while the two of you skinned and cleaned the carcasses of the rabbits he’d hunted. He was a good shot; a single arrow through the eyes of all of them.

“It’s not like I’ll use it for anything,” you shrugged. “Why are you so upset? You don’t even believe in the gods. They’ll never give you one if you keep up with that attitude.”

“I never said I don’t believe in their existence,” he countered swiftly. “I just said I don’t believe in them. They’ve never been here for us. And they never will be.”

Donghyuck received his own Vision only a couple days later, and he immediately flung it off the highest tower of the cathedral. Though unsurprisingly, as a gem crafted by the archons themselves, it survived unscathed.

Donghyuck was only upset because the stone was turquoise and inlaid with the sigil of your own patron god, the one who’d disappeared long ago. In his eyes, it was mockery. A reminder of all the tragedy in his own life, and how the supposed supernatural beings in the sky had no intentions of doing anything more than giving him a stone and some vague instructions to fix everything on his own.

But he got over it quickly. Soon, he was dousing your flames with gusts of air strong enough to blow down the entire house. He was summoning wind currents and gliding around the city with you, grabbing your hand and bolting down the streets when the knights learned of all your mischief. He was charming girls in the park and stealing bread from the bakers simply for the thrill, running as free and wild as the wind in your hair.

You were eighteen when you noticed.

Sometimes, Donghyuck jumped from the church towers and unfurled his gliding wings just a little too close to the ground. Sometimes he went diving off the cliffs and swimming in the freezing ocean water without telling anyone. Sometimes he walked too close to the edge of a drop, like he was just waiting for a breeze to knock him over. Sometimes, you thought the freedom his Vision had granted him would make him do something he regretted.

“Wonder what it’d be like,” he murmured to you one night, when you’d climbed up to the highest windmill in the city. He was looking up at the mountains, where the peak met the cosmos in a swirl of snow and ice. “To go up there.”

“How would you get back down?” you asked, without really thinking too much about what you’d just insinuated. The adventurers who loitered around the tavern—even the most seasoned ones—always said it was easier climbing up than it was climbing down. The winds made it too difficult to glide, and the slope was always noticeably more slippery on the way down.

And besides, Donghyuck would never go that far, would he? He was a trickster, a tease, a show-off; he jumped and did things he wasn’t supposed to only because he wanted to show off. Because he wouldn’t actually—

“Jump, I guess. Hit the ground hard,” he shrugged. “Or just never come down. They say the temperatures are low enough to kill you in minutes.” He took a thoughtful pause. “I’d reassure you and say I wouldn’t do something like that, but I suppose I can’t lie to you either.”

You couldn’t find any words, so he continued.

“Mom’s sick again. Holed up at the apothecary’s place with medicine that doesn’t work and people telling her she’s gonna make it when we all know she’s not. And you know Dad turns into a demon when she’s gone,” he laughed. “It’s selfish, I know. But I’m just so… tired.”

“It’s not selfish to want to avoid pain,” you said. “But you know, there are people who are willing to help carry those burdens.”

He gave you a soft smile, and again you wondered why he hadn’t been given the same red stone you wore on your back; Donghyuck was all warmth and comfort when he was with you, like an open hearth and a glass of dandelion wine. “I couldn’t possibly put you through that now, can I? Couldn’t possibly be selfish if it would hurt you.”

His lips brushed against your forehead like a cool breeze, ever comforting and gentle, ever reassuring—though some part of you felt as if he was simply holding off the inevitable.

You were twenty when he left.

Renjun arrived early at dawn with the news, teary-eyed and shivering in the frigid air of an early winter. When he’d gone, you went down to the field where you first met Donghyuck, where you felt as if there could be some remainder of his rocks and dandelion petals. The dandelions were gone this time of year, their seeds had already been carried off in the wind—but you knew his dreams were with them someplace beyond the horizon.

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moths-wc-aus · 2 years

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my personal prefix list

Acanthus, Aconite, Acorn, Adder, Agate, Albatross, Alder, Algae, Alligator, Allium, Aloe, Alpine, Alyssum, Amaranth, Amaryllis, Amber, Anemone, Ant, Apple, Ash, Ashen, Asp, Aspen, Asphodel, Aster, Atlas, Auburn, Avocet, Azalea, Azure

Badger, Barberry, Bark, Barley, Basil, Bass, Bat, Bay, Bayberry, Beach, Bean, Bear, Beaver, Bee, Beech, Beetle, Berry, Betony, Billow, Birch, Bird, Bittern, Black, Blackberry, Blackbird, Blaze, Blazing, Bliss, Blister, Blizzard, Bloom, Blooming, Blossom, Blotch, Blotched, Blue, Bluebell, Blueberry, Bluebird, Boar, Bog, Bolt, Bone, Borage, Boulder, Bounce, Bowfin, Bracken, Bramble, Branch, Brass, Brave, Bream, Breeze, Briar, Bright, Brindle, Bristle, Broken, Bronze, Brook, Broom, Brown, Brush, Bubble, Buck, Bug, Bull, Bullfrog, Bumble, Burdock, Burn, Burnet, Burning, Burnt, Burr, Bush, Buttercup, Butterfly, Buzz, Buzzard

Calm, Canary, Cardinal, Carp, Cave, Cavern, Cedar, Chaffinch, Char, Charred, Chasing, Cherry, Chervil, Chestnut, Chick, Chickadee, Chicken, Chipmunk, Chirp, Chive, Chrysalis, Cicada, Cinder, Cinnamon, Clay, Clear, Cliff, Cloud, Clouded, Cloudy, Clover, Coal, Cobalt, Cobweb, Cold, Comet, Comfrey, Condor, Conifer, Copper, Cormorant, Cornflower, Corvid, Cotton, Cougar, Cove, Cow, Coyote, Crab, Crane, Crawfish, Crayfish, Cream, Creek, Creeping, Cricket, Crimson, Crocodile, Crooked, Crouch, Crow, Cuckoo, Curlew, Cygnet, Cypress

Daffodil, Daisy, Dancing, Dandelion, Dapple, Dappled, Dark, Dawn, Day, Dazzle, Deer, Dew, Doe, Dog, Dove, Dream, Drift, Drifting, Drizzle, Duck, Dune, Dusk, Dust, Dusty

Eagle, Ebony, Echo, Eddy, Eel, Egg, Egret, Eider, Elder, Elk, Elm, Ember, Ermine, Evening, Eventide, Ewe

Faith, Falcon, Fallen, Falling, Fallow, Fawn, Feather, Fen, Fennel, Fern, Ferret, Fidget, Field, Fin, Finch, Fire, Firefly, Fish, Flake, Flame, Flare, Flash, Flax, Flea, Fleet, Flicker, Flight, Flint, Flood, Flounder, Flower, Flurry, Flutter, Fly, Flying, Foam, Fog, Forest, Fox, Foxglove, Freckle, Freckled, Freezing, Fritillary, Frog, Frost, Frozen, Fruit

Gale, Gardenia, Garlic, Garter, Gator, Gentle, Ginger, Glade, Gleaming, Glimmer, Glowing, Gloom, Goat, Golden, Goldfish, Goose, Gopher, Gorge, Gorse, Gosling, Grass, Gravel, Green, Grey, Grouse, Grove, Gull, Guppy, Gust

Hackberry, Haddock, Hail, Half, Hare, Harrier, Haven, Hawk, Hawthorn, Hay, Haze, Hazel, Heath, Heather, Heavy, Hedge, Hemlock, Hen, Heron, Herring, Hickory, Hidden, Hill, Hive, Hollow, Holly, Honey, Hop, Hope, Horizon, Hornet, Hound, Hush, Hyacinth, Hyssop

Ibis, Ice, Icy, Indigo, Iris, Ivory, Ivy

Jackdaw, Jagged, Jaguar, Jasmine, Jay, Jump, Jumping, Juniper

Kelp, Kestrel, Kindle, Kink, Kite, Knotweed, Koi

Lake, Lamb, Larch, Lark, Larkspur, Laurel, Lavender, Leaf, Leaping, Leech, Leek, Lemming, Leopard, Lichen, Light, Lightning, Lily, Lion, Linden, Little, Lizard, Lobelia, Locust, Long, Loon, Lost, Lotus, Loud, Lupine, Lynx

Mackerel, Magnolia, Magpie, Mallard, Mallow, Mantis, Maple, Marble, Marbled, Marigold, Marmot, Marrow, Marsh, Marten, Mayflower, Meadow, Mellow, Merlin, Midge, Milkweed, Mink, Minnow, Mint, Mire, Mist, Mistle, Misty, Mole, Monarch, Moon, Moor, Moorhen, Moose, Morning, Mosquito, Moss, Mossy, Moth, Mottle, Mottled, Mountain, Mouse, Mud, Muddy, Mulberry, Mumble, Murky, Mushroom, Myrtle

Needle, Nettle, Newt, Night, Nut, Nuthatch

Oak, Oat, Ocean, Oleander, Olive, Orchid, Oriole, Osprey, Otter, Owl, Oyster

Pale, Pansy, Panther, Parsley, Parsnip, Partridge, Passerine, Patch, Pea, Peach, Pear, Pearl, Pebble, Peeper, Pelican, Peony, Pepper, Perch, Peregrine, Periwinkle, Petal, Petrel, Petunia, Pheasant, Pickerel, Pigeon, Pike, Pine, Pink, Pipit, Pitch, Plover, Plum, Poison, Pollen, Pond, Pool, Poplar, Poppy, Possom, Posy, Pounce, Prickle, Primrose, Puddle, Puffin, Pumpkin, Purple

Quail, Quick, Quiet

Rabbit, Raccoon, Ragged, Ragweed, Rain, Raining, Ram, Raspberry, Rat, Raven, Red, Reed, Ribbon, Ridge, Ripple, Rising, River, Robin, Rock, Rocky, Rook, Rooster, Root, Rose, Rosemary, Rowan, Rubble, Rue, Rumble, Running, Rush, Rushing, Russet, Rust, Rusty, Rye

Sable, Sage, Salamander, Salmon, Salvia, Sand, Sandwort, Sandy, Sap, Scarlet, Scorch, Scorched, Scorching, Scratch, Screech, Sea, Seal, Sedge, Seed, Senna, Serval, Shade, Shadow, Shale, Sharp, Shatter, Sheep, Shell, Shimmer, Shining, Shiver, Shore, Shrew, Shrike, Shrub, Shy, Silent, Silk, Silver, Singe, Singing, Skip, Skunk, Sky, Slate, Sleek, Sleeping, Sleepy, Sleet, Slight, Slip, Sloe, Slug, Sly, Small, Smoke, Smudge, Snag, Snail, Snake, Snap, Sneeze, Snow, Snowy, Soaring, Soft, Song, Soot, Sorrel, Spark, Sparrow, Speckle, Speckled, Spider, Splash, Splinter, Splotch, Spot, Spotted, Spring, Spruce, Squirrel, Stag, Starling, Stem, Stoat, Stone, Stork, Storm, Stormy, Strawberry, Stream, Strike, Striped, Sugar, Sun, Sunflower, Sunny, Swallow, Swamp, Swan, Sweet, Swift, Swirl, Sycamore

Tabby, Tall, Talon, Tanager, Tangle, Tansy, Tawny, Teasel, Tempest, Tern, Thicket, Thistle, Thorn, Thrush, Thunder, Thyme, Tide, Tiger, Timber, Tiny, Toad, Topple, Torrent, Tortoise, Tree, Trout, Tulip, Tumble, Turkey, Turtle, Twig, Twilight, Twist, Twisted, Twitch

Umber, Ursinia

Valley, Velvet, Venom, Vervain, Vetch, Vine, Violet, Viper, Vixen, Vole, Vulture

Walnut, Wandering, Warble, Warbler, Wasp, Weasel, Web, Weed, Wet, Whirl, Whisker, Whisper, Whispering, Whistle, White, Whorl, Wild, Willow, Wind, Windy, Wish, Wisp, Wolf, Wood, Wool, Wooly, Worm, Wren

Yarrow, Yellow, Yew

#warriors #warrior cats #mod ramblings #warriors prefixes #warrior names #name help #my resources

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scarabiaa · 1 year

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2 for medi and val, 3 for navin and iris and 12 for lumi and ignis? >:3

YEAHHH LET'S GOOOOOO

2. Who is your OC’s closest platonic friend?

Meditrina - Her closest friend would have to be Lumi. Lumi's actually the first one to have noticed how much she's hiding and from that point on, she's never had to hide anything from her!

Valkyrie - It's Iris, they've been friends for a while now and Valkyrie admires her a lot for her inventions and everything she does. Although, she does worry sometimes about her, especially since she's in RSA and Iris is in NRC.

3. Tell us about a complicated relationship your OC has with another character?

Navin - He has a complicated relationship with Sebek, actually. He understands that Sebek has a naturally loud voice but dear God, can he ever shut up about Malleus? He admires the vocals Sebek has but also there are times where Navin is ready to throw himself off a cliff.

Iris - We all know who it is: it's Onyx. Her relationship with him is complicated because she just fixes him and nothing more, but something's telling her that he's hiding something from her. In real time, they hang out a lot and they've actually had vulnerable conversations with each other (she has never done that), but she pushes him away each time they get closer. She's terrified of hurting him because isn't she supposed to be the one fixing him?

12. What is your OC’s favorite event(s), what was their role?

Lumi - Her favorite event was the Ghost Marriage event, she literally had no role in it other than causing chaos and dancing amidst the chaos.

Ignis - It had to be the Beanfest event. He was on the Farmer team and he was actually really good with his weapon. You could see this man bouncing around like it was nothing, he was having WAY too much fun.

#🔮.oc talks !#the perfect healer: meditrina #the debonair captain: valkyrie #the masked golden flower: navin #the cold flower in the flames: iris #the logic in the ice: lumi #the pretty dragon: ignis #pov you're on the monster team and you just hear ignis giggling in the background #you gotta sprint for your life bro he'll go crazy

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beachbabey · 3 years

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BTS Fic Rec

Mature (smut/horror, triggering) - (M) | Fluff (F) | AU - AU | Angst - (A) | Series - (...)

Please check out all the writers i have mentioned and leave them feedback, remember, reblogs do more than likes

Read/Favourites - (I re-read most of these)

OT7/Poly/Multiple Members

The Dog Days Are Over by @therealmintedmango (OT7) (A) (F) Hybrid!au (...)

Hybrid House by @hollyhomburg (OT7) (F) (A) Hybrid!AU

Sanctuary by @btsreactsarchive (OT7) (F) (...) Hybrid!AU

Dance To This by @hollyhomburg (Seokjin) (Namjoon) (Yoongi) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

How To Mend A Broken Spirit by @we-be-writing-bts-stuff (OT7) (F) (A) Hybrid!AU (...)

Dulce Periculum by @forgottenpasta (Taehyung) (Jungkook) (F) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Sugary Sweet by @hollyhomburg (Taehyung) (Yoongi) (Namjoon) (F) (A) Hybrid!AU

Three’s a Crowd by @taecas (Taehyug) (Yoongi) (M) (F) (A) (...)

Sweeter Than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga (Jimin) (Multiple through the story) (M) (A) Vampire!AU (...)

Cherry by @go-gently-please (OT7) (M) AU (...) Vampire!AU

Lifeline by @forgottenpasta (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Vampire!AU Soulmate!AU

Routine by @daydream-hobii (Taehyung) (Yoongi) (...) (F) (A) Hybrid!AU

Safe Haven by @analovegirl (OT7) (F) (...) Hybrid!AU

Sandcastles by @hollyhomburg (Jimin) (Namjoon) (Yoongi (Hoseok) (F) (A) (M) (...) Wolf!AU

Butterfly by @hollyhomburg (OT7) (F) (M) (A) (...)

Moth to a Flame by @bang-to-the-tan (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Vampire!AU

Need by @bang-tan-bitches (Rap Line) (M) (...) Wolf!AU

Kitten’s Got His Tongue by @gardentulips (Yoongi) (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Unconditionally by @btsreactsarchive (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Wolf!AU

Tainting Purity by @sevenincubistolemyheart (OT7) (M) (A) (...) Demon!AU

Soul Meiteu by @bang-tan-bitches (OT7) (A) (F) (...) Soulmate!AU

String Of Fate by @minniepetals (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Mafia! AU

Call Me Yours by @hollyhomburg (Sequel to DTT) (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid! AU

Wild Ones by @justanotherbtsbitch (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Hyrbid!AU

Bunny Blues by @httpjeon (Yoongi) (Jungkook) (F) (A) (...) Hybrid!AU

Pandemonium by @chinkbihh (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Sugar Daddy!AU Yandere!AU

Candlelit Nightmare by @junqkook (M) (...) (OT7) Yandere!AU

What The Devil Doesn’t Know by @hollyhomburg (M) (...) (Jimin) (Namjoon) Demon!AU Magic!AU

eight’s a crowd by @baepsaets (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Soulmate!AU

Beautifully Misfit by @orphicbts (Maknae Line) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

I’ll Still Stay by @sugamoonv (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Hybrid!AU

At Last by @sugamoonv (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Soulmate!AU

Recrudescence by @chimchimsauce (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Yandere!AU Soulmate!AU Magic!AU

The Doms Next Door by @tatertotthethot (Jungkook) (Taehyung) (M) (...)

Datura by @girlmeetsliv3 (Taehyung) (Jimin) (M) (A) (...) Yandere!AU

Super Rich Kids by @exhausted-joy (OT7?) (M) (A) (...)

Hybrid Heart Attack by @daydream-hobii (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Forever Ours by @yougotnojams73 (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Soulmate!AU

Florescence by @jincherie (Taehyung) (Seokjin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid! AU

Bangtan Crossing by @mintedmango (OT7) (F) (...) Hybrid!AU

Lost in translation by @honeymoonjin (OT7) (F) (A) (...) Teacher!AU

Humanity by @bts-trash-blog (Jimin) (Jungkook) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Kings of The Campus by @lustjoon (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) College! AU

Discipline by @sinsforjeon (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...)

Blacklisted by @httpjeon (Jungkook) (Taehyung) (A) (M)

Heartbeat by @minniepetals (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Abundance by @angelicyoongie (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Alpha goes first by @hollyhomburg (OT7) (F) (A) (M) Wolf!AU

Roses and Thorns by @minniepetals (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Dragon!Au

Sunshine riptide by @jincherie (OT7) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Between the Bloodshed by @agustdakasuga (OT7) (F) (A) Mafia!AU

Lunacy by @jincherie (Jungkook) (Seokjin) (F) (A) (M) Wolf!AU

Until the last star falls by @minniepetals (OT7) (F) (A) (M) God!AU

Of Treasure and Adventure by @rosy-night-sky (OT7) (F) (A) (M) Indiana Jones!AU

Faerie Realm by @ddaengyoonmin (OT7) (F) (A) (M) Videogame!AU

Tangled Hearts by @writersrealmbts (OT7) (F) (A) Hybrid!AU

From Eden by @ddaenggtan (Yoongi) (Hoseok) (F) (A) (M) God!AU

Tuqburni by @solastia (Yoongi) (Jimin) (F) (A) (M)

Eunoia by @wishesunderthestars (OT7) (F) (A) (M) Hybrid!AU

The Return of an Empress by @you-are-my-joy (OT7) (F) (A) (M) Historical!AU

Individual Members

Ragdoll by @ausblack(Jimin) (F) (A) (...) Hybrid!AU

His by @taecas (Jungkook) (M) (F) (A) (...) Wolf!AU

Little Dove by @yminie (Taehyung) (F) (M) (A) Wolf!AU

Color by @midnightbts (Yoongi) (F) Blind!AU

Happy Helper by @chimtaesty(Taehyung) (F) Ghost!AU

a well oiled machine by @jincherie (Jungkook) (F) (A) (M) (...) Android!AU

The Firefly That Guards The Fox by @magicalsalamander (Taehyung) (F) (A) (M) (...) Hybrid!AU

Little Bear by @b-angst-tan (Jimin) (F) (A) (...) Hybrid!AU

Into The Woods by @exhausted-joy (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Yandere!AU

Of Fire and Love by @hollyhomburg (Yoongi) (f) (a) (...) Dragon!AU

Crimson by @detectivebts (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Soulmate!AU

Otherworldly by @sinning-on-a-sunday (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Coraline!AU

Pursuing Happiness by @akinnie75 (Yoongi) (F) (A)

The Promised Iris by @akinnie75 (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) Soulmate! AU

Discolorae by @akinnie75 (Namjoon) (F) (A) Fantasy!AU

Scary Hours by @exhausted-joy (Jungkook) (F) (A) (M) (...) Yandere!AU

Shadows by @re-sugance (Jungkook) (F) (A) (M) Venom!AU

Blossom by @flowery-hope (Jimin) (F) (A) (...) Historical!AU

Hope World by @personasintro (Hoseok) (F) (A) (...)

Lovebug by @httpjeon (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) Hybrid!AU

Flower by @readyplayerhobi (Hoseok) (F) (A) (M) (...) Punk!AU

Tentacledipity by @jincherie (Jimin) (F) (A) (M) (...) Alien!AU

Three’s Company by @godzillagirl-14 (Jimin) (Fem!OC) (F) (A) (M) (...)

The crimson shell by @angelicyoongie (Jungkook) (A) (M) (...) Yandere!AU Merman!AU

welcome to the underworld by @krookedkoo (Jungkook) (m) Demon!AU

Under the sea by @bloomsuga (Jimin) (M) Merman!AU Yandere!AU

Beloved by @bang-tan-bitches (Yoongi) (M) (A) Historical!AU Yandere!AU

Fish are friends by @httpjeon (Taehyung) (F) (A) (M) Hybrid!AU

Room 109 by @lavishedinjimin (Jungkook) (M) Wolf!AU

Cold by @ddaeng-181338 (Yoongi)

Crimson by @your-kpop-fantasy-land (Taehyung) (M) (A) Ghoul!AU

Lay Me Gently by @ddaenggtan (Seokjin) (F) (M) (A) God!AU

As We Go Along by @ddaenggtan (Yoonji) (F) (A) (M) Min Yoonji! AU

#bts #bts reactions #bts au #bts angst #bts hybrid au #bts yandere au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts wolf au #bts fanfic #bts poly #poly bts

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child-of-hurin · 2 years

Text

For it is hard to discover the winged vertebrates of prehistory embedded in tablets of slate. But if I see before me the nervature of past life in one image, I always think that this has something to do with truth. Our brains, after all, are always at work on some quivers of self-organisation, however faint, and it is from this that an order arises, in places beautiful and comforting, though more cruel, too, than the previous state of ignorance.

How far, in any case, must one go back to find the beginning? Perhaps to that morning of January 9th, 1905, on which Grandfather and Grandmother in ringing cold drove in an open landau from Kloster Lechfeld to Obermeitingen, to be married. Grandmother in a black taffeta dress with a bunch of paper flowers, Grandfather in his uniform, the brass-embellished helmet on his head. What was in their minds when, the horse blanket over their knees, they sat side by side in the carriage and heard the hoofbeats echo in the bare avenue? What was in the minds of their children later, one of whom stares out fearfully from a class photograph taken in the war year 1917 at Allarzried? Forty-eight pitiable coevals, the schoolmistress on the right, on the left the myopic chaplain and as a caption on the reverse of the spotted grey cardboard mount the words “in the future death lies at our feet,” one of those obscure oracular sayings one never again forgets. On another photograph of which I possess an enlarged copy, a swan and its reflection on the water’s black surface, a perfect emblem of peace. The botanical garden around the pond, to my knowledge, is situated on the bank of the Regnitz at Bamberg and I believe that a road runs through it today. The whole leaves an impression that is somehow un-German, the elms, the hornbeams and densely green conifers in the background, the small pagoda-like building, the finely raked gravel, the hortensias, flag-iris, aloes, ostrich-plume ferns and the giant-leaved ornamental rhubarb. Astonishing, to me, the persons also to be seen in the picture: Mother in her open coat, with a lightness she was later to lose; Father, a little aside, hands in his pockets, he too, it seems, with no cares. The date is August 26th, 1943. On the 27th Father’s departure for Dresden, of whose beauty his memory, as he remarks when I question him, retains no trace. During the night of the 28th 582 aircraft flew in to attack Nürnberg. Mother, who on the next day planned to return to her parents’ home in the Alps, got no further than Fürth. From there she saw Nürnberg in flames, but cannot recall now what the burning town looked like or what her feelings were at this sight. On the same day, she told me recently, from Fürth she had travelled on to Windsheim and an acquaintance at whose house she waited until the worst was over, and realized that she was with child. As for the burning city, in the Vienna Art-Historical Museum there hangs a painting by Altdorfer depicting Lot with his daughters. On the horizon a terrible conflagration blazes devouring a large city. Smoke ascends from the site, the flames rise to the sky and in the blood-red reflection one sees the blackened façades of houses. In the middle ground there is a strip of idyllic green landscape, and closest to the beholder’s eye the new generation of Moabites is conceived. When for the first time I saw this picture the year before last, I had the strange feeling of having seen all of it before, and a little later, crossing to Floridsdorf on the Bridge of Peace, I nearly went out of my mind.

W.G. Sebald, “Dark night sallies forth” in After Nature (1988) Translated by Michael Hamburger (2002)

#w.g. sebald #dark night sallies forth #after nature #poetry #memory #the apology of history #queue cutie

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

all or nothing (it’s a game no one can win)

AO3 Link

Realization was a cold, viscous curl in her gut.

Her thoughts were racing, but they passed through her grasp like wisps of smoke—like illusions. None of them stuck where terror turned her mind into a slippery slope.

Eyes locked on Caleb’s, Beau imagined that his expression of horrified comprehension was mirrored on her own face. Her chest felt tight, ears ringing to where she could barely hear Fjord’s worried questions. His confusion meant little to Beau at the moment.

She and Caleb stood scarcely a foot apart from each other, bare feet planted to the floor and vulnerable in every sense of the word. Dressed in their sleep clothes, chests heaving from the dream—the nightmare. Caleb had torn his shirt off over his head and stood facing her with a naked chest. They had been asleep and still they were marked with those horrid eyes. Beau hypothesized they marked one for death—Lucien had died once already, Molly died, Vess died.

A curse.

Her thoughts were racing, but one clear, overwhelming emotion stuck at the back of her throat. It burned like the brink of nausea—that hint of relief. A sick part of Beau overwhelmingly grateful she wasn’t alone in this. That she had Caleb beside her like always. But she saw the heavy panic settling into the lines of his expression that tore through Beau with guilt.

The rest of the party stirred around them, and the tension snapped in Beau’s chest with all the force of a broken rib.

On instinct, Beau’s eyes flicked to Yasha where she leaned up against the door. She couldn’t face Yasha with this—not yet. Beau still didn’t want to face this, and she was the one with the unwarranted tattoo on her hand.

Seconds after Yasha’s eyes opened, she seemed to understand something was wrong. Jester’s sleepy question only enhanced that sense. Her muffled, “what happened?” against the pillow she pressed into spurred Yasha to shove to her feet, alert already, always a light sleeper.

She wasn’t ready. Beau moved faster than all of them.

Grabbing Caleb’s wrist and his discarded shirt, Beau yanked him from the room. Sleeping in Yasha’s bed had filled her with warmth, a sense of security. Now her fingers felt like they had been left out in the snowbanks of Eiselcross overnight, and her heart along with them. Her skin seemed too tight, too little to contain the frightful chaos underneath. Her breaths came with rapid fervor as she fled like an animal cornered to the worried calls of their friends.

Still clinging to Caleb’s wrist, Beau leapt off the platform into the middle of the tower and they began to ascend.

“Beauregard,” Caleb said tremulously at her shoulder.

“Take us to the eighth floor,” Beau said, her tone sharper than intended. At least it masked the tremor that wracked her chest.

Caleb unlocked the iris that lead to the upper floors with muttered Zemnian that Beau understood but couldn’t process. The contraption slid shut behind them with a soft shink that echoed against Beau’s nerves. Releasing Caleb’s wrist, she slid her hand into his and frantically intertwined their fingers.

“The first door,” Beau whispered. “Where was it?”

Caleb went rigid beside her, but Beau struggled to force her gaze to focus on anything at the moment, to even try looking his way.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in labored silence before Caleb finally took that infinite first step. He led her to a door and pushed it open with heavy intent. Somewhere among the tangle of threads, Beau understood. She just couldn’t seem to parse them apart long enough to comprehend anything beyond the exact second she was living in.

Standing just inside the door, hand in hand, shaken to their core, Beau and Caleb lingered.

Beau closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath. Dairon had told her in one of their training sessions that when she needed to find her center, find a foothold to begin, to start with a breath. Inhale, and look forward.

She breathed in again, deeper and steadier, swore she tasted the salty air of Nicodranas on her tongue. With a tremulous exhale, Beau opened her eyes and latched onto the teacup sitting on the tiny, worn kitchen table. She could scarcely make out a hairline fracture against the lip of the cup in the dim light. There were flowers and vines painted against the fired ceramic, faded with use and more so in spots that welcomed fingerprints.

Caduceus.

The kitchen was stocked with necessities as far as Beau saw, so she inhaled once more and laid out a brief roadmap in her head.

She found purchase.

Turning to Caleb, Beau almost flinched at the expression of hollow dread etched into the exhausted lines of his face. Beau pressed his shirt into his hands and gave Caleb a nudge toward one seat at the table. He sat without protest, but Beau’s palm felt cold and empty without the weight of his presence there.

With a shake of her head, Beau mentally checked off the first step and turned to the kitchen.

A quick heft of the kettle on the counter found it full, so Beau set it over the fire crackling quietly in the hearth and returned to the counters. There was one other mug, faded brown clay that was chipped in so many places Beau was surprised it still held water. A tiny tin box held a scant amount of mint leaves, but it was enough for two mugs of tea.

She worked through the motions of brewing—the way Caduceus had shown her. It was a grounding sort of practice, almost like meditation. Each step required just enough attention to banish all other thoughts from creeping in.

Minutes later, Beau sat across from Caleb and hooked their ankles together beneath the table. Somewhere in Beau’s process, Caleb had attempted to put his shirt back on. He had gotten as far as pulling his arms into the sleeves before giving up, since it sat in his lap, his hands poking through the ends of the sleeves. Two steaming, steeping mugs of tea sat between them, steam curling lazily from the surface.

“This isn’t good,” Beau pressed out, her voice thick in her throat. That hint of nausea still lingered at the back of her tongue, accompanying the sensation of vertigo still spinning in her head from the dream.

“Nein,” Caleb said, voice hoarse.

“What do we do?”

Caleb was silent for a long, suspended moment before, “I don’t know.”

Beau had seen the way his fingers brushed and lingered over the eye on his shoulder, then the scars on his arm back in Yasha’s room. The marks on his arms were paler skin than his usual complexion, raised and puckered slightly—tangible things of torture endured and surmounted. They were evidence of something removed.

The eye against his shoulder was flat, etched and inked into skin with a permanence that neither of them had ever had the privilege or sanctuary of knowing. Beau imagined the mark against the back of her hand felt much the same, but she couldn’t even find the courage to look at her hand again.

With frustrated resignation to their fate, Beau curled the fingers of her left hand around the steaming mug before her and held fast. The weight of the eye on her skin stung like a caustic burn.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to her hand at the movement, his expression doing something complicated before he made a wounded noise. The sound came from the back of his throat, like a creature accepting its fate. He pressed his face into his hands, shirt dangling between his elbows.

“Scars and eyes,” Caleb muttered from behind his fingers before Beau could find her voice. “I’m becoming more and more like our purple friend every day.”

“Shut up,” Beau choked out near immediately, eyes narrowing. Her anger wasn’t for Caleb, but she was angry. At Trent, at Lucien, at everyone that had ever made him and her friends feel inferior, defective, and worthless. “Don’t you dare.”

“Beauregard,” Caleb dropped his hands to his lap again, eyes tired and dark. She hated this expression. “I know you care for me, but be realistic. My appetite for knowledge bears frightening comparison to Lucien’s…” His fingers drifted toward his shoulder, face turning bitter.

“It’s only a matter of time, it seems.”

The anger banished Beau’s haze of panic entirely.

“What about me, then?” Beau bit out at him. He flashed her a look of confusion and Beau released her mug to wave her left hand in his face.

“I’ve got scars and eyes and a need to know everything I have no business in. Am I going to turn into Lucien, too?”

“No,” Caleb said, sounding strangled at the very notion. “No, Beauregard, you’re different.”

“How?” Beau fired back, the furrow of her brow daring Caleb to put himself down in front of her. “Am I different because I’m younger, I’ve got more time to make it right? Is it because I wasn’t manipulated as a child the way you were? Or maybe I’m different because you assume I’m not afraid. Well, newsflash, asshole—I’m fucking terrified.”

Caleb blinked at her, lips parted slightly as he stared.

“We both know I’m blunt and I don’t have a filter,” Beau said by way of preamble. “But if you truly think you’re more like Lucien than you are like me, then your intelligence is fucking wasted. Lucien clings to that book because he wants the power he thinks will come of it. We,” Beau gestured empathetically between them, making the steam from their tea waft in erratic spirals. “Went into that book looking for information, for a foothold to understand. We’re sitting here like this because we don’t want this.”

Beau sucked in a tremulous inhale, her eyes stinging as she glared at Caleb. “So fuck you for implying otherwise.”

Caleb seemed at a loss for words, his jaw snapping shut, a muscle twinging beneath his cheek with the force of it. He looked down at his hands in his lap, tangled in his shirt, and said nothing. Dashing at her traitorous eyes, Beau didn’t even try to be subtle about the tears she furiously wiped away. The silence pulled, and they let it, the crackling logs being devoured by flame an undercurrent of white noise.

“Why are we up here, Beauregard?” Caleb’s haggard voice pushed through the silence between them.

Beau stayed quiet for a beat before answering. She weighed her options, wanting to tell Caleb everything that had been in her head since they were up here earlier. She just wasn’t sure if this was the right time.

The eye on her skin burned, and Beau remembered Fjord’s words from a couple nights before.

Who knows how long we have.

“Because I don’t think Lucien can get up here,” Beau replied to the surface of her tea. She paused and made her choice. “And I needed to tell you I understand now.”

The snap of Caleb’s eyes finding her was palpable, but infinitely more comforting than the stare of that stupid eye from their dream.

“Caduceus said you were going about this the wrong way. Jester said it was a punishment rather than a memory—but this isn’t here as a punishment, is it? You put this here as a reminder, so you don’t forget where you came from. So you don’t forget them. This is here because you’re scared you might forget them the way you forgot those years after you were tricked. You have this here so that it exists because it’s the closest thing you can get to without actually going back. You keep thinking about this past, about what it would cost to go back and fix things.”

She looked up finally, and the jarring lock of Beau’s gaze into Caleb’s previously fixated stare almost threw her. There was desperation to his eyes, a longing sort of hope that Beau might manage to put his way into words.

“I’d give up quite a bit for the chance to fix a few things in the past now, too,” Beau murmured. “So yeah, I understand why you keep this place around, why it’s hard to let go.” She looked around at the simple kitchen, at the cheerful hearth. “Jester’s right, it is a nice house. None of us were trying to judge you or shame you for it, Caleb. But you understand why we were worried before, right? Everything comes at a cost—even the right thing.”

They sat silently for a long moment, staring at each other in the dim. The press of Caleb’s ankles against Beau’s a warm, comforting weight.

“Caduceus asked you if you thought Lucien had a room like this,” Beau whispered. She could all but sense the amount of effort it took for Caleb to not flinch at her words.

“Even if he does, Caleb,” Beau spoke in a measured, firm tone. Her grip around her teacup tightened as she leaned in marginally to keep his gaze on her. “You aren’t like him. And I won’t let you be, either.”

Caleb held her gaze for a lengthy, tenuous moment before he seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. The furrow between his brow eased, and he raised his arms to tug the shirt fully over his head. He scooped up the clay mug before him with a trembling hand. The eye on his shoulder hidden away for now, but Beau’s still glared out at them with red intent.

“So how do we fix this?” Caleb asked, accented and gruff. His ankles pressed with more resolve against Beau’s where they were locked together. “Going forward.”

Hope was not a swell in her chest. Instead, it was the heated comfort of a mug of tea against her palm and Caleb’s warm hand covering her knuckles. His fingers obscured the eye etched into her skin, and Beau could almost pretend for a moment that it wasn’t there at all.

Inhale, and look forward.

#cr #critical role #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #empire kids #empire siblings #writing #my writing #m9 #c2e122 #i'm just emotional about them okay

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Text

at least I’m trying

➜ pairing: rengoku kyoujuro x reader ➜ warnings: struggling with addiction, blood, death, angst with happy ending. ➜ words: 5k ➜ a/n: i post more of my works at @thgreatestblue!

@redgokus hi!! i worked very hard on this piece and i’m very pleased with how it turned out. i hope you like it as well!! happy holidays! ❤

summary: Smoking was almost like breathing underwater. Not that you didn’t feel like you have been drowning all your life. A gentle hand is all it takes for you to finally realize that maybe staying underwater wasn’t the best option.

The night was cold as the winter was right around the corner - the landscape changing ever so slowly but gradually. When you first came here, the flowers were blooming and growing strong in the garden while the bees flew by each one of them. The colors of the spring painted a beautiful portrait, making the scenery more lively than ever. The soil was a healthy shade of brown and the grass around the State was as soft as your feet could tell.

Mitsuri Kanroji was kind enough to let you stay. After she saved you from a Demon attack, you were brought to her house, and she took you under her wing - since there was nowhere and no one for you to return to. She had been so overwhelmingly kind and thoughtful of you - taking care of your injuries every day, cooking your favorite food - that to retribute her generosity, you decided to join the Demon Slayer Corps.

However, the memory still lingered like bad perfume. You father shielding you from demonic claws that attacked you two one night when coming back from the restaurant he used to work. All you can remember is the strong scent of cigarettes coming from him as he hugged you one last time.

And maybe that’s why you ended up here. With a cigarette between your lips, gazing at the sky on a peaceful night. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds as the atmosphere darkened without its shine. Smoking was almost like breathing underwater. Not that you didn’t feel like you have been drowning all your life.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

A strong and very familiar voice comes from beside you - making you curse internally. His tone wasn’t particularly angry, but the indication was there. You turn your head to the left, lifting your body from the wall you were leaning on to face the owner of that voice - who has been on your mind more often than you would like to admit. The Flame Pillar was standing at the entrance of the house, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you.

And you could swear every time he looked at you when there was a cigarette between your lips, his eyes would darken to a different shade – as if he was trying to burn the devil on your tongue through sheer power of his stare.

Sometimes, you wondered if that was even possible. Sometimes, like today, you were sure of it.

“If it’s going to put your heart at peace,” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your voice; it was almost like second nature by now, building walls around as soon as someone tried to take a look inside - and truth be told, it was quite a mess. You slowly blow the smoke out your mouth and nose, “I don’t do this frequently.”

Mitsuri’s State was one of the most frequented by the Pillars, since she was friends with probably all of them. Her personality was bubbly and sweet, it was easy to be around her - that’s why you had stayed in the first place. It was common to see them coming and going, mostly Obanai, Shinobu and Kyojuro.

Kyojurou’s bushy brows furrowed deeper. It wasn’t the first time you threw snarky comments like that at him. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you smoking either. Though, every time; without failing, he would hold his intense stare at you for a few seconds, a disapproving look written all over his face.

You would just shrug it off; making sure to take another drag before fiercely returning his stare with the same intensity. Sometimes he would look away first, sometimes you did. Although it was easy, pretending it didn’t turn your stomach all over and made you sick – thinking you didn’t have his respect - it still burned your wounds like fresh water.

This was the first time he decided to speak his mind, though.

“What about your lungs?” He asks, stepping closer to where you are standing, eyes fixed on your hand that is holding the cigarette. Something twists inside you, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t every day that a Pillar - the Flame Pillar above everyone else - would step in your personal space with accusing eyes that burned holes in your face. “It’s going to damage your breathing.”

You shift from one foot to another, looking anywhere but at the man who was right beside you now. Not that it made any difference; Kyojurou had a strong aura surrounding his being - it was overwhelming - the way he was graced with such a powerful presence and unshakeable will. The air is thick around you; the warmth of his body is noticeable even though there is a small distance between you two.

Out of habit, you bring your hand towards your mouth for another drag. Anything to numb the confusing anxiety; the rise of your heartbeats, the heat on your neck that spreads to your cheeks that intensifies every second that his attention is on you.

Before you could reach your mouth though, Kyojuro stops you, holding your wrist midway. It sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t back off; nor let it show how a single touch from him made you react so intensely.

“I’m going to die before facing the issue that comes with smoking, Flame Pillar.” You challenge him by trying to shake your hand off his grip, but it’s firm and strong, imprinting the heat of his big fingers on your bare skin. You knew you weren’t going to forget the feeling of his hands so soon; after all, fire always leaves imprints.

“What?” Finally looking at him, still annoyed by his interference but not exactly angry. It was a mix of feelings you didn’t want to separate and catalog just yet.

Kyojuro’s golden and beautiful eyes stare at you with a piercing gaze; you don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. This close, you catch a hint of red at the seams of his iris that you’ve never noticed before - you have never been mere inches from his face before as well.

You can’t help but stare at him in return, silence falling between you two. His eyes burn bright against the dark of the night, consuming you all together. Kyojuro gently takes the cigarette from your fingers with his other hand and throws it on the ground, making sure to step on it to make his point as clear as water.

You take a long breath, running your free hand through your hair, all this situation making you even more nervous. “You know I have more cigarettes with me, right?”

He sighs but doesn’t look resigned. Yet. For a second, you think he’s going to back off and continue on his way. Instead, he takes a deep and long breath, squeezing your wrist so slightly that if you weren’t so self aware of his touch you wouldn’t have noticed. Your heart skips another beat.

“I’ve seen what addiction does to someone,” Kyojuro speaks, almost like a whisper; making you shiver with his lower tone, so close to you. Something crosses his eyes, a hint of sadness dripping down onto his words. “I would hate to see you going down that path.”

You swallow down, throat suddenly going dry. It wasn’t a secret, at least between the Pillars, that his father was addicted to alcohol; one of the reasons why he had dropped from the positions a few years ago. It wasn’t a secret that his wife’s death was such a low blow that never allowed Kyojuro’s father to get on his feet ever again.

Mitsuri once said he had become a shell of himself, slowly drowning in his own grief between each bottle of alcohol. He had become a bitter man, nothing could make him happy, not even seeing his own child becoming a strong soldier, worthy enough to take his place. What once was pride and joy now was aches from a flame that burned too bright but lost its power too soon.

Was Kyojuro worried that you would take the same path? Was he looking after you all this time, hoping he could change at least your fate? Does he truly care about you?

The back of your neck burns hot with the thought, your cheeks following after. The mere thought of Kyojuro thinking; worrying; looking after you is enough to send you to a dangerous place where you never dared putting a single foot on it.

“I can stop whenever I want.” You look away, defeated.

“Then do it.” Kyojuro encourages you, almost pleading. He cups your hand between his, the warmth of it is pleasing, soothing. “If not for you, do it for me.”

It’s almost comical how fast your eyes met his again, mind going blank with the request. If you were going to say something, you don’t know anymore. The only sound you can hear comes from your own heart, rapidly beating in your chest - and you hoped Kyojuro couldn’t hear them. If it wasn’t for his pinning stare and the weight of his calloused hands tenderly holding yours, you would be gone in a minute.

Actually, you don’t know for how long you stayed there - lost on a trip to the sun. Where the golden rays burned your skin, stripped you down to the bone. Igniting an old purpose, almost faded from your memory - now catching fire and spreading throughout your whole being.

He offers you a gentle smile, one that you can’t help but reciprocate, small and weak but as gentle. Kyojuro squeezes your hand one more time before letting go. You don’t want to admit, but his touch still lingers like a fresh burn scar, one that you would gladly ask for more.

Only when you watch him walk away, you notice you weren’t breathing.

It’s a different type of drowning, you decide.

II.

You didn’t mean to. You really didn’t.

However, it happened. And now you felt like a complete idiot. The words came out of your mouth before you could slow them down, before you could chew them, making it easy to digest. A rampage you didn’t see it coming, which made everything worse.

It’s been two weeks since you stopped smoking. And even though you tried to convince yourself that you could do it at any given time; it turned out to be a far more difficult task than killing Demons. And above everything else, the lingering feeling that your father was slowly disappearing from your memories was something you couldn’t take.

In the first few days it was quite easy; ignoring the way your body asked for just a simple drag. The way your mind started to play tricks with you, demanding a cigarette between your lips. Words of self-loathing, degradation; depressed thoughts that were a rarity; clouded by the smoke. Now, they were being whispered in your mind constantly - there wasn’t a barrier to stop them anymore.

The chatter started to become louder, progressively making your mood worse each day that you chose to not open your father’s small metal case filled with cigarettes before heading out to work. Not having something to hold on to, to distract yourself when an innocent life was taken, when blood dripped down your katana, when the sun would take too long to appear in the sky again - it was too much. The smell was the worst part, once clogged by the scent of nicotine, now was hitting your nostrils like a bullet – another barrier gone, leaving you out in the open.

You hadn’t noticed until now how smoking had become a part of your routine - part of who you were. How much you felt safe in the arms of the addiction. It helped you go through your job without problem, without a second thought. However, now you felt like a veil had lifted from your eyes, and you could see the world less misty, less foggy at the seams.

You weren’t sure if that was a good sign. Actually, no. It wasn’t.

The shakiness of your hands began to make it difficult to hold your katana. More often than not you found yourself missing the target, your eyes playing tricks with your vision, the anxiety taking over your body. A thin thread was the only thing holding your patience and self-control all together.

Until Mitsuri pointed out your strange behavior that night. Although you knew she hadn’t meant to call you out; you were on the verge of a dilemma you didn’t want to be. Trying each day to stay clean was starting to seem impossible at this point. Anger and annoyance were bubbling inside you, every day waking up with a headache because you couldn’t sleep; having to deal with fatigue throughout the night - the thoughts about your father were driving you to the edge.

All it took was a small push for you to dive in. And the commentary - even though unharmful - was enough to finally push you into the abyss. Irritated, something inside you snapped, making you shout things you didn’t mean to, but came out of your own mouth anyway. Remembering the look on her face was enough to make you cry.

“Damn it!” The punch on the wall wasn’t enough to distract you from the growing conflict inside you. Dawn was coming soon enough but the night was still a nightmare.

Smoking never bothered you, so why were you trying anyway? Why were you going through this torture if it wasn’t a problem to begging with? Everything was fine, you were doing fine. So why were you putting yourself through such pain and regret; when the only thing you got from this was even more problems?

You don’t think twice before grabbing the small metal case from your pocket. Even though you stopped smoking, you still carried it with you, it was enough to bring relief on days that the chatter in your head was too loud – having something to ground yourself in reality again.

With shaking hands, you open the case. There were still a few cigarettes inside, and like you did countless times, you picked one. The familiarity of the acts brings a sense of melancholy; putting the cigarette between your lips, lighting up the match.

However, this time you hesitate. The weight of the cigarette on your lips is heavy. The warmth of the fire next to your face isn’t as welcoming as it used to be. It was like coming back home but finding out that it’s empty, there’s nothing you can hold onto to make it better.

You stare at the flames; the fire flicks with the wind, dancing between your fingers as it burns down the match. Still, you don’t light the cigarette. Dawn reflects on the embers and it reminds of big, golden eyes, vibrant red at the seams. Shining in the night, like a beacon. Warming up the day, like the sun.

You remember his words, his voice engraved in your mind when there was nothing to keep the spiraling thoughts at bay; cutting through them like the sharpest sword ever made.

Do it for me.

It’s so gentle that it makes your heart throb; the fragile state of it cracks, marking the intrinsic shape of your heart with thin fissures all over the form. But it doesn’t break. Yet.

“Dam it, Kyojuro.” But there is no anger in your voice.

You close your eyes, leaning on the wall. There’s a pleasant breeze hitting your face as the morning finally comes.

Resigned, you throw the cigarette on the ground.

lll.

When the first snowflake fell from the sky into the cold of the night, your body shivered from head to toe. The haunting of the hills penetrating your clothes, into your skin and down to your bones; like the frigid weather of the winter. As the snow fell, you watched little puffs of white air coming out of your mouth; condensing into a misty plume, dancing in front of you in a torturous memory of smoke.

You tried to steady your breath, but not even the purest snow could bring you peace.

The cold air burns your throat, pouring waves of agonizing cold into your lungs; burning on the inside. As you try to steady your breath, it starts to become a painful task at each minute; your hand is gripping the material of your clothes over your heart, the feeling of the beats reverberating through the night.

The contrast between the heat of your body and the icy feeling of the snow is enough to make you melt, transforming you in a puddle of your own self as your knees hit the ground in a muffled thud.

Winter is at its full, the moon casts a phantasmagory glimmer and everything seems like a faded memory from the past. One you tried to forget, but like a ghost, it never ceased to haunt you. Never allowed you to stray too far away from shore.

Two bodies lay in front of you. A father and a daughter. Staining the pure white snow with an evil shade of scarlet red. It’s ugly.

You watch helplessly as the blood slowly covers the snow; growing darker and bigger; the puddle of the still hot liquid hitting your knees sends another shiver down your spine. It makes you want to puke.

The air doesn’t burn your throat anymore, but your lungs scream for something you can’t pinpoint. You watch as the streams of blood pour down the mountain, a river flowing down from its source; everything becomes faded as the shadows grow darker around the corner of your vision. The grip on your clothes is so tight your knuckles turn white.

There’s an incessant feeling in your stomach; turning and shifting from side to another. Flashes of memories overflow your mind; pouring down your heart and filling your veins like poison. At this point you should be used to drowning in those feelings, but they still take your breath each time nonetheless.

Nothing makes sense. Everything makes sense.

“Y/N, breathe.” Someone calls your name; a faded sound in the background of a total cacophony of thoughts still overflowing your head.

It’s heavy, it hurts.

Then, there’s a firm grip on your shoulders and suddenly the scene is covered, but the imprint of it still remains on your memory. The shadow of a failed mission hits you harder than ever before. The smell of blood is unbearable, black dots appear on your vision, making it hard to focus, to see.

“You need to breathe, Y/N.” The voice tries again; touching your chin, lifting you face so you could stare two golden eyes shining bright in the night.

Kyojuro gently cups and holds your face between his hands, tender eyes looking at you. His palms always seemed to hold the heat of the sun somehow. It warms your freezing face in a few seconds; melting the snow that had started to cover your heart. A welcoming change of season that puts you on rotation again.

You breathe in. Breathe out.

“Just like that, breathe.” He says, encouraging you with small strokes of his thumb on your cheek. It’s a delicate movement, wiping away tears that you had shed without knowing.

Your lungs scream in pain; this time because of the cold air entering them, not the lack of it. The shadows around the corner of your vision slowly diffuses, leaving you with a clear view of his face, so close to yours - so beautifully full of alive.

Fatigue begins to settle down on your bones. You’re tired. Tired of trying; tired of fighting everyday against an evil you know you can’t defeat, not alone. It’s a battle you showed up with only a wood sword while the others were wearing shiny armors and swords made out of steel.

Kyojuro’s hand runs down your neck, bringing your face closer; slowly guiding you to put your head on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around your body in a half hug; hand caressing your back. You feel like crying again. The heat of his body involves you - it reminds you of a fireplace, comforting and keeping you warm throughout the harsh winter. Kyojuro’s hands, although calloused, are more than welcomed to touch your face.

Feeling like something is missing, your shaky hands reach out inside your Haori, grabbing the little metal case that once belonged to your father; it finally grounds you in the moment with a last sense of comfort, but you don’t open it.

Instead, you take a deep breath. Deeping your face on his shoulder, breathing in Kyojuro’s smell. it’s soothing; like staying in the sun when it’s cold; when the hot tea runs down your throat and warms your entire body.

“You’re really doing this for me, aren’t you?” He whispers in your ears, thumb still rubbing your cheeks in a slow motion.

You couldn’t get enough of this feeling. When was the last time someone had held you this close with such tender care? You couldn’t bring yourself to return the hug, hands still gripping the case. However, you really did appreciate his touch. Lighting every single part of your body that was still in the dark, reaching even the corners you didn’t want to visit.

“I’m here now,” Kyojuro’s tender words make your heart beat fast, doing wonders for your broken spirit. It’s so gentle that it’s enough to bring your walls down; make you open your door and let him in.

“And I’m going to take care of you.” Kyojuro kisses your forehead.

And just like that, your heart throbs again; painfully aware of the impact of those words. What they truly meant. The cracks in your heart grow bigger, snapping at the seams that were still holding the fragile organ together.

And you break.

But this time, Kyojuro’s there to hold your broken pieces.

IV.

When the colors of the trees started to look more vivid by each day, slowly growing leaves and making the landscape more friendly, more inviting. When you could see hints of buds of flowers fighting to grow in the backyard of the State, when the bees came out of their houses more frequently – making Mitsuri plan her next honey production - you knew spring was coming. The change of season came, changing the scenario, changing you.

Those past few months were a journey you never intend to go. If you were being honest, you would’ve never followed that path. At some point you even looked back, took a few steps backwards; not knowing if you were close to the end, or still in the start.

Then there was Kyojuro, gripping your hand so tight you couldn’t think about letting go; pulling you further the path. When you thought it was impossible to keep going, he would sit down with you and hold you in his arms. You couldn’t overcome your addiction in one day, it was a long path, one that he was willing to stay and make some company as you put yourself back together.

You weren’t alone anymore. And that made your journey so much easier.

The sun was high in the sky, the spring had just arrived and you couldn’t wait to taste Mitsuri’s famous honey again – this time you would truly appreciate the taste - couldn’t wait to sit in the garden and take care of the flowers while watching the butterflies fly around you. Spring has always been your favorite season, there was a magical feeling to it; bringing everything back to life; the colors; the animals; nature. A promise of a fresh beginning for everyone, mostly for you.

The water is cold against your body as you swim carelessly. The day was warm; the sun in all its glory in the sky. The river at Himejima’s State was always a degree colder than it should be, but after some time you got used to it. It had been a while since you swam, you liked the feeling of being afloat, how the water made you feel lighter and cleaner.

Cleaning your mind after the storm that crashed through was a tough task, one that took quite some time; but with the need to wipe the place and rebuild everything from scratch, there were some things you found you had long forgotten, hidden underneath broken furniture and shattered glass.

One of them was your love for spring, for calmness and for swimming. Long gone were the days you spent with your father by the lake next to your house; where you two would spend the day washing clothes and splashing water at each other. However, it wasn’t a bitter memory. Not anymore.

“Hey! I see that you’re starting the day quite well!” Kyojuro’s voice is recognizable even from afar, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he was approaching. Your heart though, was another story.

“You found me.” You say with a smile on your face, still not daring to open your eyes.

Kyojuro had become a great friend after the day you broke down in front of him. You knew the Pillar was a kind and honorable man - Mitsuri had only good things to say about him. However, there was always a tension when you two were in the same room; it was heavier as the days passed and his eyes on you weren’t as welcome as you wish they were.

Your paranoia played a great part in your relationship with him. Only when your walls came crumbling down and he was the first to step in; showing that all this time, it was just concern behind golden eyes, you stopped putting traps along the way, letting him in without a fight.

“How are you holding up?” His voice is closer now, probably by the riverbank.

You were good; for the first time you weren’t telling a lie to yourself. There was no desire to smoke anymore, not when you knew how it felt being clean. How you could taste Mitsuri’s food better; not smelling like smoke all the time. And most important, you had got so much better at the breathing technique. All the missions you went were a success, and you were proud of yourself – a foreign feeling that you were still getting used to.

“I’m…” You trailed off, getting caught up by the sight before you. Kyojuro was stripping down his clothes, his perfect toned chest glowing as the sun framed his perfect form. Your face is a shade redder as you quickly averted your eyes “…Good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You hear the sound of splashing water, followed by some movement from beside you. You take a deep breath before looking at his direction again. He’s close now, submerging up to his chin. You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relived. Maybe a mix of both.

“It’s cold!” He shouts, a ghost of teeth chattering as he swims next to you, testing the waters.

“Of course you would say that,” You laugh softly, arms moving at your sides to help you stay afloat.

The river wasn’t too deep, if you stayed close to the riverbank you could easily enjoy the coldness of the water without worrying too much. However, as you swam to the middle, you needed to make a little bit more of effort; it was the best part of the river for you though.

Suddenly, Kyojuro’s smiling at you; so bright and full of care that for a moment your mind goes blank.

Not knowing what to do with his gaze on you – truth be told, you never knew what to do but blush – you shove your hands forward, making a wave of water to splash against his unguarded face. After the first initial shock, Kyojuro laughs so loud that every part of your body lights up with a satisfying feeling, you liked his laugh, his voice. Him.

Not letting you go without revenge, he splashes you with a cascade of water that has you coughing for air; the difference between your waves and his are so ridiculous that at some point you have both of your arms shoving water in his direction. You two look like children playing in the river, and it’s not a bad portrayal; it’s quite soothing as the forest is filled with both of your laughs.

The moment lasts, until he grabs your wrist, stopping you from splashing another wave of water at him again. Your body freezes in the spot as his other arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Just like the sun, Kyojuro had a magnet on him, too compelling, too strong. He had a way to pull you closer without even noticing, as if you had always been gravitating towards him; You would inevitably come crashing into him someday.

The warmth of his breath hits your face, making you shiver from head to toe - something you thought was impossible due to the coldness of the water. Kyojuro purses his lips, slowly closing the gap between you two.

And instead of fighting against the anxiety building up inside you, the familiar feeling you always felt when he was too close. The beating of your heart, too fast to pass unnoticed. You close your eyes and let it go.

Kyojuro’s lips are soft against yours. His hand grips tighter your waist, making you sigh against his mouth. He releases your wrist, involving you with both arms, his muscular naked body against yours awakes something in the pitch of your stomach. Kyojuro tilts his head to the side, just enough to sink into the kiss even more.

Your hands quickly travel along his face, enveloping his neck in a strong grip, pulling him closer. Showing him that yes, you want this as much as he does. He kisses you gently but still manages to take your breath away.

Pulling away slowly, you still hold his neck in a tight grip; an attempt to ground yourself from the drunk feeling growing in your chest.

“You taste like cinnamon.” Kyojuro whispers, lips so close that it brushes against yours.

“Do you like it?” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it seems fitting. As if any louder word would break the spell of the moment.

“It’s delicious!” Kyojuro says with a huge smile on his face, and you can’t help but smile too.

He brings a hand to your face, touching your cheek tenderly, and without thinking twice, you lean into his touch. A welcomed act that has your heart and body demanding for more.

Bad habits are hard to break; and maybe you have found a new addiction to hold on to for the rest of your life. Only this time it was healthier. It was love.

*****

Secret Santa from @thgreatestblue to @redgokus ! Happy Holidays!

#kny secret santa #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #submission

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

Gambling man //Yandere Idia Shroud Gang AU//

This has got to be one of my longest fics so far, if only because I tried to stuff it with Greek mythology references. Let me know how many you guys can find!

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I met you once, I loved you twice that's the way this tale begins

You took a deep breath, straightening your black dress for the third time that minute. You weren't supposed to be here, this wasn't something "good girls" did. They didn't lie to their mothers just to sneak out to casinos run by one of the seven notorious gangs of Night Raven city! But what choice did you have? Money was tight, you're mother's flower store was barely surviving. No one wanted freshly picked Forget-me-nots or bouquets of narcissus and roses! Any "normal" person in Night Raven city didn't have enough money to buy dinner for their families let alone an assortment of flowers. The truth was that no one in the city could ever make ends meet, not with the amount of "protection" money the seven gangs demanded. Each territory had a set price range, all inhabitants of those territories had to pay that exact price every two weeks, failure to do so would lead broken bones, burnt homes and as a last resort dead family members. Each time gang took over a rival gang's territory the price would increase as a sort of punishment for the residents. It was cruel, unjust, but then again so was the world.

You and your mother lived in the current "Purple territory" run by the Octavinelle gang, the greediest out of the dreaded seven. Ever since someone tipped the local cops off about a gang-related kidnapping, the "protection costs" had risen by 20%. Whoever was barley scavenging money back then was surely penniless at this point. So that's why you were here, hoping to somehow win enough money to pay at least a quarter of the next "protection rent". The blue division nicknamed the underworld was one of the better divisions. People there paid less, lived more prosperous lives, businesses their earned fair income somewhere even booming with business. One of the blue divisions most alluring aspects was the Night Long casinos, a place where people from all over the city tested their luck.

The skull doorknobs were icy to the touch, sending shivers up your spine upon contact. It was almost like you were willingly walking to your death. For a split second you closed your eyes, grounding your thoughts. This was stupid, everyone went to the casino when they were short on money. Of course if they actually gained anything -or lost what little they had- was all up to faith.

the bright lights glared from every corner. Blinding any who dared to open the metallic black door. Music reverberated off the walls, rushing to crush the guests. Everything was blinding and uproarious, beyond overwhelming for any newcomers. Your body shook, torso feeling too heavy for your frail legs.

"Fist time kid?" You turned around rapidly, a cold sweat broke over you, had you done something wrong? How could that even be possible? You just got here! When your attention shifted to the source of the voice you were momentarily stunned. Sitting behind a desk, a blue screen floating close to her face, was the most exquisite girl you had ever seen. Tiny black skulls decorated her curly blond hair, her fair milky skinned hand carelessly swiped through digital documents on a hovering Netscreen. Her Olympic blue eyes circled with heavy dripping black makeup, were fixed on you, bearing right through your soul.

Your voice refused to leave your throat, words stabbed the inside of your neck sticking themselves to your throat forbidding air through. The girl behind the receptionist's desk let out a haughty giggle before outstretching her arm beckoning you forward. Hesitantly you stepped over to her, body trembling with every step. As you approached she leaned forward a playful smirk shining over her face. "You're new here aren't you sweetie?" inelegantly you nodded. For a second a look of sympathy fashed over her divine features. "Money's tight huh?" again you nodded, head half away up something shined in the corner of your vision. A blue and back armband fastened tightly around her bicep. She was a member of the Ignihyde gang, not just some lowly secretary. The girl didn't seem to notice your staring, her eyes were darting across the packed rooms. "Those two bottom feeders seem to be occupied" she mumbled more so to herself. "That would just leave Ortho," cupping her hands around her mouth she yelled over the roaring music and endless chatter. In moments a young-looking boy skipped over....except he wasn't a boy at all! You're eyes frantically scanned the boy's stark white body. His feet resembled hooves more than usual feet. Half his face was covered by a muzzle of sorts that blended in the snowy appearance of his torso.

"Ortho, be a dear and show this young lady around, she's new and wants to earn some quick cash." No sooner had the words left her mouth that her attention jolted back to the hovering screens, back to scrolling through names and credits. "Right this way miss" The young boy, who you presumed was named Ortho called, somehow he'd already skipped ahead. You rushed over to him, following this the shine that the metal of his body emitted. "And this is the blackjack table, my big brother is in charge of running games, let's stop by and say hi!!" "O-okay"

In the past nineteen minutes that you had met Ortho, all the young boy talked about was his "amazing older brother". How wonderful this man must be to have engraved his presence so deeply in the mind of such a young...child. Steadily you followed Ortho over to a green table in the middle of the room. Arching over the soft green table was a black neon sign with bold white lights spelling out the word "BLACKJACK". Tiny money chips and playing cards flashed around haphazardly.

Ortho ran up to the table, slapping his palms on the fuzzy surface, sending frail cards flying in all directions. "Big brother! I met a new girl a the door! She's so nice, a bit quiet but she's so sweet! Hey, big brother do you want to meet her? Do you? Hey (y/n) come over here! This is my big brother Idia!"

Dame that boy really could talk a mile a minute couldn't he? Tensely you eyed the tall man that Ortho was talking to. It took a minute for everything to click. The blue hair that resembled wild flames, dark yellow grief-filled eyes, and teeth as sharp as a shark's, it had to be him!

Idia Shroud the inherited leader of the Ignyhide gang, sister organization to the avaricious Octavinelle and owner of the Underworld casinos.

The man was rarely seen in public, it was rumored that he suffered from a strange curse which is why he remained locked up in his mansion most of his life. Yet here he was, nodding along to the ramblings of his....younger brother? For a split second his golden orbs darted towards you, absorbing every detail of your frame before returning to his brother. You stifled down a yelp, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. Endless minutes seemed to scurry by as Ortho drowned on about every little thing he had noticed about, every theory for why you walked like there was a gun pointed at your head, or why your eyes lingered longer the 0.58 seconds on every someone every time they started celebrating their victories. It was mind-numbing, you wondered how Idia could just nod along without bang his head on the table out of annoyance.

"Hey" You felt a sharp tung on your arm, almost knocking you off your feet. Subconsciously you let out a loud welp, casing the two Shroud brothers to turn to you. You craned your neck trying to look behind you. A tall slender man's fingers where wrapped suffocatingly tightly around your forearm, causing the appendage to turn white. "Are you here to play or just stare at Idia-sama?" his voice bordered in between a threat and a question. His honey-colored eyes glared daggers at you.

You tried to for a coherent answer, your throat only pushing out a few syllables repeatedly like a broken record. "Actually Pain she was just getting ready to play blackjack with me" Idia's voice was creaky and horse, it was like his words were coming from the inside of a damp cave. The flame-haired man's lips pushed apart forming a smile of sorts, displaying his fang-like teeth. The man quickly let go of you, pushing you slightly towards the two brothers. Obediently you took a seat on one of the tall stools. Idia began to shuffle a deck of grayish blue cards, his eyes never once leaving your form. "Come one Pain let's go get them some drinks" Ortho cheered as he capered over to the taller man and guided him into the sea of players. "How much do you want to be?" Idia queried, his long fingers rearranging the deck in a mesmerizing manner. It suddenly occurred to you why you had even come to this suffocating place in the first place. To win some money, to help mother. You shuffled through your purse and scavenged out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, nervously you leaned over the table to pass it to Idia. His thing fingers grasped the bill and shoved it into the pocket of his tuxedo pants. Half-heartedly he tossed you two blue chips and a green one. "Um I think you made a -" he brought a finger to his lips and made a "shushing" noise. You simply gulped and awaited him to pass you your cards.

Hours ticked by, people began to leave, the once crowded room had been reduced to a bored-looking secretary, two bodyguards tossing cards back and forth and a little robot who gazed at the pair at the blackjack table. Glee and sheer excitement pooling in his electronic iris. The game had started out in utter silence, every single sound around the two of you had by some magic faded into the abyss. You had surprisingly one three rounds gathering a total of one hundred thirty-five dollars, not nearly enough for even a quarter of next month's payment. The next two rounds were one by Idia who didn't even seem to be paying attention to the game. It was around this time that he had reluctantly asked you why you were here. It might have been the optimist in you or maybe the drinks that Ortho and the bodyguards kept serving periodically. But you had cracked, told him everything. How you're mother couldn't make enough to afford three meals a day, how she starved her self to be able to feed you a minimal breakfast and lunch. How the Octavinelle gang had risen the prices on their "protection money" and how you just wanted to help! You were desperate to make life just a tiny bit easier for your mother! Every time one miserable story came to an end there was another waiting to take its spot. Sometimes you swore you saw pity and sadness cross over Idia's features but again that could just be explained by the drinks you had consumed.

It must have been the third round, Idia had won for the fourth time in a row. You were about to push the few chips you had to his side, when the Ignihyde gang leader slammed his hand on the table, imitating his brother's action from earlier. "I can help!" he blurted but then quickly recalled hunching his shoulders. "I can pay your mother's debts!" Your eyes widen, ears ringing with the mystical words you had just heard. No No No! There was no way in hell that a heartless mob boss would agree to help your family. "W-what do...what do you mean!" for the first time his golden eyes locked with your (e/c) ones. "I'll tell Azul to lower the prices a bit and I'll pay your mother protection money" You jumped to your feet about to hop over the table and hug him! Joy coursed through your body your brain spinning in every direction trying to make sense of what you had just been told! How could a descendant of the "Lord of the dead" harbor such kindness in his heart! "THANK YOU IDIA I--" before you could finish or even get close to him he stuck out a pale arm. "But there's a price", sadness and threads of shock washed over you, of course there was a price. There was always a catch with everything in this city, even kindness didn't come for free. Your eyes lowered staring at your shoes, then his shoes, and back to your shoes. "Which is?" you mumbled. Horrific thoughts flashed through your mind. What was he going to make you do? Force you to work as a waitress in the casino? Maybe a stripper for the VIP lounge? Would he force you to become a prostitute on the street to repay him the money he had so "graciously" offered you!?

A cold sweat began to glisten over your face, just what had you gotten yourself into? You could feel Idia's icy slender finger pinch your chine as he gradually tilted your child up. There was a look of uncertainty on his eerie face. His lips would part, move even but no words would fly out. The once comfortable silence had now turned rotten and began to decay. Finally, the tips of a word became to clumsily fall from his mouth."S-s-stay....stay here with--" his eyes fell to the floor, the quickly swam up to stare into yours with also much faux courage as he could muster up. "Stayherewithme!" he blurted out in a single outstretched breath. It took a moment for your brain to nitpick the words apart, analyze each jumble to comprehend what they meant.

"The lord of the dead use to have a queen, it was said that dispute her being a powerful goddess she could not obstruct the dreadful curse that the Lord of Olympus had bestowed on his younger brother. But her mere presence was more than enough to subdue the pain that he felt." Idia leaned forward, his greying chapped lips brushing against your soft ones, for a second it resembled a kiss. But before your lips fully touched he slithered both hands up, to cup your cheek as he rested his forehead against yours.

"But why me?" You quizzed. After all you had just met him a few hours ago. It didn't add up! From the distance you heard an exhausted sight before a silvery voice yelled.

"You the first girl to talk to him, since he was a kid. So the idiot thinks it's destiny and you are meant to be the spring goddess to his god of the underworld!"

Your eyes went up to meet his, all you had to do was stay with this man until your mother, had saved enough money to lead a comfortable life. Then you could escape and reunite with her once more. Either way he wasn't really leaving you much a choice, even if you decline he could order those two brutish bodyguards to drag you to his mansion and chain you up there. You closed your eyes tightly, he may not show it outwardly but he really was a cold-hearted monster, a fiendish salesman through and through. Dangling you and your family's fortune in front of you and pretending like he was giving you a fair choice.

"I really don't have like time to bat this around I'm kind of on a schedule I got plans for august I need an answer like now!... Going once...Going twice1" Idia declared as his once blue flamed hair began to taint a fiery orange-red.

Your eyes and mouth seemed to have made the choice for you, the second your eyes flashed open your mouth parted and said...

"ALL RIGHT!"

I've never been a gambling man, I've never had the winning hand but for you, I'd lose it all!

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enigmas-artdeck · 3 years

Text

The Cold Felt Familiar

(Skitters in) HEY Y'ALL WANT ANGST?

Related to this, it’s quite the time with his bud, but not for long~. Buckle up buckaroos, angst is coming.

Also on AO3!

He should've seen it coming, he's used the same trick before. Promises of improvement, strength, power-

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to get him back? You were so close back then, before he was granted his empty title-"

He'd wanted nothing more to burst in and pull 2 havocs in Heaven himself for the sheer disrespect from the Heavenly Court. Bi Wa Men, a lowly stable keeper, wasn't a wonder why he stormed out. Oh yeah, giving him the title Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, only as a way to keep him complacent, that won't turn out bad at all.

"-Being trapped under Five-Finger Mountain-"

He swore, he screamed, he declared, he did everything without care for volume and respect once he found out about the imprisonment. Scoured that mountain for decades, never finding a trace of his friend anywhere. Ran himself raw, searching and pleading for anything or anyone to grant him mercy and let him find his lost companion.

They never did like him anyway.

"-Going on the journey with Golden Cicada and his disciples-"

His blood boiled at that, the journey being the sole reason Wukong was…different. He was still impulsive and hearty, going to Heaven for bi-yearly fights, unafraid to fight anything, chaotic as ever.

But in the fight at the mountains, after stealing Monkie Kid's powers, he knew Wukong was holding back. He heard all the tales (however scrambled they became over the centuries), and had seen himself the power he held. He could've leveled the area and be done with the dispute in mere minutes. They fought, that's true, but the only reason he was beat was because of the kid.

Wukong didn't even have the dignity to strike him down himself, relying on a trainee who'd needed his powers locked up.

It was downright laughable, nay, pathetic at how Wukong was holding back because of one journey.

"-Before he struck you dead."

Oh.

Ah, the one experience he had with death. The one where even after blotting out and ripping his name from the book had him checking over his shoulder and hiding in the shadows for a century in f- caution. It was that long before he realized Wukong did the same thing and no one went after him again (the others don't count, that was Heaven trying to remove his immortality).

Every time he saw his scar, he couldn't help but flinch. It still seemed fresh, still felt raw. His red facial marking didn't help either. (Keeping the glamor was second nature to him after all these centuries. He likes causing nightmares, not having them.)

Wukong didn't hold back then.

He took a deep breath, frosty air chilling his lungs as he turned to the young girl holding the spirit whispering promises laced with shards of ice and flakes of snow.

"Deal." He sneered.

(Macaque didn't want to think about the freezing light crawling down his throat. Too familiar. Too frightening.)

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Having a body mate was weird, but he learned to tune it out for the most part. Acquiring her ice abilities gave him an edge no one saw, and having her on energy sensory lookout helped with telling who's who and keeping tabs on the shady folk. Added a bonus in battle since she could warn him of any ambushers.

Though there were a couple...nitpicks he had.

Macaque had noticed with each new shadow clone, they turned just the teeniest shade bluer, thankfully not visibly noticeable to other folk yet.

Oftentimes when he summoned his staff, the spikes were coated in thin layers of ice. He rather let the blood flow from his enemies, thank you (though he rarely did more than a passing glance).

Even his shadow smoke form was tinged blue, frost trailing up the wrapping adorning it.

No matter, Macaque could handle this, he was flexible in his strategies (certainly helped with stealing Sun Wukong's power from the kid.) He would rather do without the personal physical changes.

Despite how many layers he covered himself with, his fur and skin stayed cool to the touch. Was a great help in traveling to the warmer sections of the area. With the drawback of visiting anything below 15 °C intensifying the chill.

His face marking, the brilliant red he associated with power, ferocity, hurt, had blue creeping along his eyes. It looked to be icing out in crystalline patterns if he got close enough to reflections.

And his scar, the reminder of why he didn't just remove the spirit he was housing, stayed iced over even in his current setup in the Flaming Mountains.

Ah well, a quick glamor could fix those up. Right now he needed to strategize a way to get Wukong off Flower Fruit Mountain, separating him from the kid and the menagerie.

(Macaque rose from sleep littered with some cuts and bruising. Didn't notice his camp was a few miles closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. Couldn't notice the blue fading back into gold sclera.)

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"What the hell was that?"

Macaque snarled at his reflection, the outline of White Bone Spirit staring back at him with nonchalance.

"I helped you win the battle and retreat, is that not what you wanted?"

It was going so well, Wukong managed to be separated with a few shadow clones and simple visual and vocal glamours. The recent attack (more like stolen power-high frenzy. Paint crudely helped hide the Demon Bull family's emblem) from the Gold and Silver Demon Brothers managed to split the group up. It was a simple send off of the right fakes to the right area after they split.

Once Wukong was below and far enough, Macaque made his entrance discreetly, ambushing him just as the other caught wind of something off.

And it was going great for a while, without his staff Wukong was forced to fight harder. Wasn't close to the levels of Wukong back in the day, but more than the mountain battle. And the sheer thrill of it, seeing his "bud" let loose more, feeling the higher thrum of energy, oh gloriously maddening!

At least until a quick quip about the fake Wukong acting his part of the plan slipped out. Macaque found himself with too warm a liquid dripping out of his nose and mouth, from a punch and kick respectively.

The clarity at which he saw the unfiltered rage made the haze feel less like fog and more like a spotlight.

It was touch and go for a bit after that, but after a harsh, nearly numbing kick had Macaque gasping for breath, he asked for a boost as he wide eyed the threatening advance.

Blinding blues and white crept over his vision's edge, making Wukong's painfully shocked and horrified face the last thing he saw. Macaque regretted calling his power forth.

"I wanted a power boost, not a power surge blackout!"

"You received the power, but you were already on the verge of blacking out. I'm sorry it made you do so-"

"Excuses, excuses, that won't change the fact of what happened." Macaque turned away, only his eyes giving away his surprise, coming face to face with the cyan glow of White Bone Spirit.

"...Since when could you do that?"

"When I'm not active."

"'When I'm not-' you mean to tell me you can pop out willy nilly? You didn't tell me this before?" Exasperation dropped in his tone, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance.

"It never came up, this situation is different from humans. With your power, I couldn't-"

"I don't care, you're out." Held up his hands, moving forward, wanting to be done and gone from her.

"I'm sorry-" She made no effort move out of his way, so he walked through.

"I don't want an apology, I want you out, gone, see ya! Deal's off, get your ice and leave-!"

"-But the body isn't yours now."

Realization dawned on him once he passed through. Macaque froze.

As in the body stopped responding to any movement he willed.

"Oh, what's wrong? Can't move what was yours?" Cyan and white passed around behind him, swirling in the air as she skimmed her chilled fingers up his neck.

"Well then, I suppose there isn't anything special about you." She cupped his face, drawing in close, her eyes filling his entire vision. In the cold white, he could see his own gold turn deep, icy blue.

"You're just a macaque with nothing left." With that she drew back into the body.

Hundreds of eyes gleamed from the shadows, some stretching out on shapes familiar- himself- but wrong. He willed his body to move forward, to turn, to fall, do anything to get him away from the twisted glowing outlines as they approached.

He didn't even so much as jolt when the screaming skeletal face flooded his internal vision, bringing an icy air with her. Forcing to stare at the eternally screaming maw, dark icy hands grabbed hold and pulled down, with him along.

No sound left him, not even a gasp.

(The bleakness made him want to flee.)

(The chill made him want to scream.)

(The nothing made him want to cry.)

(Macaque did.)

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Wukong slammed into the volcano's side, smoke and ash obscuring his vision. Blue cut through the thick black, having him reach back into the lava. Red and black shot to the unwelcome color, but turned to white powder before reaching the target.

"Aw, what's wrong Great Sage?"

Okay, this was bad, this was wa-a-ay bad, but distance was key, if he could get distance he could vanish and regroup with MK-

When did the molten rock turn to ice?

Wukong feverishly tugged at his right side, the ice crawling up his limbs, spreading out over stone and lava alike.

He made the mistake of turning around.

A blue eye with a pinprick snowflake iris nearly touched his own golden eye. Steam rose out past their fangs, doing nothing to help the chill rolling off.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!"

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