madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-05-06 03:06 pm
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-05-06 03:06 pm
Entry tags:
Can't Be My Design
i wanna ora this little green owl-- (I'm running into a known bug with duolingo and rrrrrrrrr)
Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Of course, reunions don't magically make everything okay.
Word Count: 1830
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Xander does reference the assault/non-con with Jesse in this one
Syuvai awakes suddenly. He rarely needs the sleep, but once his puppy had fallen asleep on him, slumping over, laying his head on his shoulder, it had seemed better to join him in slumber rather than wake him. Ordinarily, he would experience none of the grogginess that humans do, but believed Xander would find it more pleasant to rest on him in human form, and it would also put the other humans at ease. While still not human, the form retains some side effects.
It takes him a moment or two to discover the source—a sudden absence of pressure between his arm and shoulder. Of course, it was not that easy. One night, however healing, is not the perfect solution for his own angst, so it would hardly be enough for a half-human teenager.
He gets up, using his powers to move silently as he notices the other two teenagers slumped on the couches. He pauses briefly until he spots a blanket folded neatly, then moves quickly and silently to retrieve and drape it over the redhead, who mutters something and snuggles into the newfound source of softness. He doesn’t attempt to conceal the fond smile. However unexpected though it was, small acts and gestures could carry much in the way of meaning.
He searches until he finds the feeling of his offspring, marveling at the work done to the nest in the meantime. There is a pride in the restoration, for he can already see several additions since his last visit, however hurried it had been. Xander had found a location for his nest that he could make his own, and that is no small achievement. He finds he does not have enough time for a proper viewing as he’d like, however. Later. He could attempt to find the way up normally. He can feel the locations of the shadows vaguely, could probably navigate as if he’d been in the location far more than merely the once, but he admits a little impatience. Perhaps he requires more ice cream—a silly little assertion, and yet, he finds he likes it. Instead he pulls the shadows adjacent, flexing his power, and merely walks from this shadow to the next.
Xander sits on the roof, legs pulled to his chest. He speaks as soon as Syuvai steps through, probably having felt his approach before that point. Syuvai approves. At least, until he actually hears the words. “Am I a disappointment?”
The startled anger is enough to break through his human form, though the transition back is a simple one. “You are not, nor ever shall be a disappointment. I wrote no lies in my letter.” Xander lets out a soft sob, and he approaches carefully, desiring to comfort but not to hurt his offspring’s pride. His puppy buries his head into his shoulder as soon as he sits next to him, so perhaps he shouldn’t have worried. That gives him the courage to ask. “What brought this on, Xander?”
“I’m so relatively pathetic. A real Pashran would finish fights quickly. I’m not smart. I don’t…” He buries his head further, so Syuvai’s feeling more than hearing the words. “I’m too broken by my best friend touching me without asking I’m not even in a proper relationship years later.”
Syuvai is blindedsided by the homicidal anger. He’d already thought he’d gotten that out of his system, but it turns out knowing something in abstract and hearing it in person from his flesh and blood are very different experiences. Despite this, he calls upon his legendary control, because what time would he need it more than now? He will take those concerns in order. “Humans have a strength far beyond their relatively frail physical stature. I am sure you have seen proof of this firsthand. I protected them for many years, impressed by this strength, and it is part of what led me to fall in love with your mother. I assure you, your human half is no weaker than your Pashran half. As for quick fights, I have been known to drag it out past what would be considered ‘normal’—there is a reason they chose ‘blade’ and not ‘gun’ for my tarukwul.” Just a peek of amusement, but it’s refreshing. “Speaking of which, I am sorry I missed yours. I understand the allure, and no one reasonable would expect one with less raw devil power to even be able to, for instance, finish the fight in a single shot. As for intelligence, I believe one who can run a detective agency for years when their brain hasn’t yet fully formed to adult maturity is far from unintelligent.”
“It’s Giles’ agency,” Xander mutters, still curled into his human collarbone.
“His name is but ink on the page. You were running it far longer than he ever had a hand in things, and, from what I hear, quite successfully too. That requires a knowledge of humans, devils, ghosts, and other beings surpassing even my own, despite the centuries I have spent in this world. You are likewise clever in your solutions.” Even if he hadn’t time to stay and listen for long, worried about the potential contamination at the time. He’s tempted to test his own skills; he couldn’t do as well, of course, but he wonders how he would compare…and then discards the thought, first of all because his offspring appears to suffer from low self-esteem, and it would not do to contribute to the issue. Also, because if he ever has the urge to dabble, he merely has to team up with his son, giving him the authority while tactfully offering any suggestions should they occur to him. He’s already seen a human creativity in his puppy’s use of Pashu, for example in his use of the kjo-tse sentence type, despite the difficulties in his writing.
The last is trickier. Pashran generally have a better understanding of consent than other devils, if only because they’re intensely curious what others will do when given free reign to do whatever they please. Sexual acts for mere pleasure are one thing, but it sounds like instead it is the messiest version of them all. Feelings were involved, and he was not there willingly. “I hardly suggest that these are the same thing, but I predict it will be some time before I seek another nest-mate. Grief and trauma are beasts of their own, with unexpected consequences.” He considers this, and amends his earlier statement. “I may feel disappointment towards your actions should you choose to do what you believe would make me happy rather than looking out for your own health. But in you, no, never.”
Xander breathes out, a soft, broken thing, and surges to his feet, drawing on inhuman speed, and changes. His lips are parted in a snarl showing well-formed fangs. Syuvai catches himself; he’s surely not going to treat his own offspring’s health like the acquisition of a horse. The changes do not appear to hurt, which is good, because he knows the first time he had changed form Jessica had shrieked. He knows the bones breaking through the skin usually bothers those who have never seen it before. Of everything, he finds the eye color change to be the most interesting, because they distinctly turn from a deep brown to a dark blue, and his remain grey no matter the form.
He initiates his own change as well, amused to find that in this form, too, his offspring is taller than him. There are slight differences in coloration, but that is to be expected—Xander appears to take more after the dark blue of Kemumbu than his own dark grey. A more distinguished snout, too. Truly, he is the handsome one of the family.
If he treats this wrong, he will, at the least, be on the receiving end of a fight, and while he has nothing against a playful spar in this circumstance it can only bring emotional pain, something not quite as easy to heal from as a mere wound. “It appears you are maturing well. How do your wings feel? Can you fly?”
Xander blinks, both sets of eyelids communicating his utter confusion. He’s probably used this tactic on others, quite possibly the humans he knows, to try to push them away. Given their continued presence in his life, it was just as successful then as it is now. “…That’s it?” This is also the most inarticulate he’s seen his puppy. Under the circumstances, feeling a little smug is to be expected.
“I just spoke about your health, did I not?” Also amused. “Many young Pashran experience difficulties in fully forming their wings, but yours appear fully functional. I admit to worries along those lines when you were young, that due to my admittedly possibly rash decision to have a child with her you could not fly, or that when you changed form it would be more pain than you could bear. I met her desire for an offspring for her nest, but not if that child would merely live in suffering.” He allows the amusement into his voice, now, for usually he would keep the thought to himself but if he can help his offspring reach a healthier level of self-esteem, he’s willing to voice it. “I hadn’t expected you to be more handsome than me, though in this I believe you take after your mother.”
Xander’s tail flicks, pleased despite himself. Syuvai admits to finding this form easier to read—even after centuries, humans can still surprise him. “I just...I’m having a hard time believing any of this could be this easy.”
Syuvai cocks his head a little, satisfied that apparently this, too, his offspring reads easily as an equivalent of a human eyebrow raise. “Given that I would be very unlikely to describe any of what has transpired thus far as ‘easy’, I agree.”
Xander laughs through his tears, throwing himself into a hug. Thankfully, Syuvai’s own superior strength ensures they do not fall, though he notes that the wings get caught up, as if, unlike the other limbs, Xander is less practiced in their use. That’s all right. He can learn. The yawn catches his offspring by surprise. Ordinarily, as it is night, they would probably be most active at this time, even a half-human, but given the number of shocks, even pleasant ones, it only makes sense that his body would require a chance to recover. Syuvai himself isn’t immune to such things. “I believe we both require our rest.”
Xander growls playfully, Pashran form melting away. “But daaaad, I wanna stay up past my bedtime.”
It seems only right to match his form, so he does so. “Some other night,” he tells his puppy with a smile, ‘bopping’ him gently on the nose as he’s seen with humans elsewhere. Xander laughs helplessly, falling asleep on his feet, though he remains roughly vertical until they reach the couch once again.
Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: Of course, reunions don't magically make everything okay.
Word Count: 1830
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Xander does reference the assault/non-con with Jesse in this one
Syuvai awakes suddenly. He rarely needs the sleep, but once his puppy had fallen asleep on him, slumping over, laying his head on his shoulder, it had seemed better to join him in slumber rather than wake him. Ordinarily, he would experience none of the grogginess that humans do, but believed Xander would find it more pleasant to rest on him in human form, and it would also put the other humans at ease. While still not human, the form retains some side effects.
It takes him a moment or two to discover the source—a sudden absence of pressure between his arm and shoulder. Of course, it was not that easy. One night, however healing, is not the perfect solution for his own angst, so it would hardly be enough for a half-human teenager.
He gets up, using his powers to move silently as he notices the other two teenagers slumped on the couches. He pauses briefly until he spots a blanket folded neatly, then moves quickly and silently to retrieve and drape it over the redhead, who mutters something and snuggles into the newfound source of softness. He doesn’t attempt to conceal the fond smile. However unexpected though it was, small acts and gestures could carry much in the way of meaning.
He searches until he finds the feeling of his offspring, marveling at the work done to the nest in the meantime. There is a pride in the restoration, for he can already see several additions since his last visit, however hurried it had been. Xander had found a location for his nest that he could make his own, and that is no small achievement. He finds he does not have enough time for a proper viewing as he’d like, however. Later. He could attempt to find the way up normally. He can feel the locations of the shadows vaguely, could probably navigate as if he’d been in the location far more than merely the once, but he admits a little impatience. Perhaps he requires more ice cream—a silly little assertion, and yet, he finds he likes it. Instead he pulls the shadows adjacent, flexing his power, and merely walks from this shadow to the next.
Xander sits on the roof, legs pulled to his chest. He speaks as soon as Syuvai steps through, probably having felt his approach before that point. Syuvai approves. At least, until he actually hears the words. “Am I a disappointment?”
The startled anger is enough to break through his human form, though the transition back is a simple one. “You are not, nor ever shall be a disappointment. I wrote no lies in my letter.” Xander lets out a soft sob, and he approaches carefully, desiring to comfort but not to hurt his offspring’s pride. His puppy buries his head into his shoulder as soon as he sits next to him, so perhaps he shouldn’t have worried. That gives him the courage to ask. “What brought this on, Xander?”
“I’m so relatively pathetic. A real Pashran would finish fights quickly. I’m not smart. I don’t…” He buries his head further, so Syuvai’s feeling more than hearing the words. “I’m too broken by my best friend touching me without asking I’m not even in a proper relationship years later.”
Syuvai is blindedsided by the homicidal anger. He’d already thought he’d gotten that out of his system, but it turns out knowing something in abstract and hearing it in person from his flesh and blood are very different experiences. Despite this, he calls upon his legendary control, because what time would he need it more than now? He will take those concerns in order. “Humans have a strength far beyond their relatively frail physical stature. I am sure you have seen proof of this firsthand. I protected them for many years, impressed by this strength, and it is part of what led me to fall in love with your mother. I assure you, your human half is no weaker than your Pashran half. As for quick fights, I have been known to drag it out past what would be considered ‘normal’—there is a reason they chose ‘blade’ and not ‘gun’ for my tarukwul.” Just a peek of amusement, but it’s refreshing. “Speaking of which, I am sorry I missed yours. I understand the allure, and no one reasonable would expect one with less raw devil power to even be able to, for instance, finish the fight in a single shot. As for intelligence, I believe one who can run a detective agency for years when their brain hasn’t yet fully formed to adult maturity is far from unintelligent.”
“It’s Giles’ agency,” Xander mutters, still curled into his human collarbone.
“His name is but ink on the page. You were running it far longer than he ever had a hand in things, and, from what I hear, quite successfully too. That requires a knowledge of humans, devils, ghosts, and other beings surpassing even my own, despite the centuries I have spent in this world. You are likewise clever in your solutions.” Even if he hadn’t time to stay and listen for long, worried about the potential contamination at the time. He’s tempted to test his own skills; he couldn’t do as well, of course, but he wonders how he would compare…and then discards the thought, first of all because his offspring appears to suffer from low self-esteem, and it would not do to contribute to the issue. Also, because if he ever has the urge to dabble, he merely has to team up with his son, giving him the authority while tactfully offering any suggestions should they occur to him. He’s already seen a human creativity in his puppy’s use of Pashu, for example in his use of the kjo-tse sentence type, despite the difficulties in his writing.
The last is trickier. Pashran generally have a better understanding of consent than other devils, if only because they’re intensely curious what others will do when given free reign to do whatever they please. Sexual acts for mere pleasure are one thing, but it sounds like instead it is the messiest version of them all. Feelings were involved, and he was not there willingly. “I hardly suggest that these are the same thing, but I predict it will be some time before I seek another nest-mate. Grief and trauma are beasts of their own, with unexpected consequences.” He considers this, and amends his earlier statement. “I may feel disappointment towards your actions should you choose to do what you believe would make me happy rather than looking out for your own health. But in you, no, never.”
Xander breathes out, a soft, broken thing, and surges to his feet, drawing on inhuman speed, and changes. His lips are parted in a snarl showing well-formed fangs. Syuvai catches himself; he’s surely not going to treat his own offspring’s health like the acquisition of a horse. The changes do not appear to hurt, which is good, because he knows the first time he had changed form Jessica had shrieked. He knows the bones breaking through the skin usually bothers those who have never seen it before. Of everything, he finds the eye color change to be the most interesting, because they distinctly turn from a deep brown to a dark blue, and his remain grey no matter the form.
He initiates his own change as well, amused to find that in this form, too, his offspring is taller than him. There are slight differences in coloration, but that is to be expected—Xander appears to take more after the dark blue of Kemumbu than his own dark grey. A more distinguished snout, too. Truly, he is the handsome one of the family.
If he treats this wrong, he will, at the least, be on the receiving end of a fight, and while he has nothing against a playful spar in this circumstance it can only bring emotional pain, something not quite as easy to heal from as a mere wound. “It appears you are maturing well. How do your wings feel? Can you fly?”
Xander blinks, both sets of eyelids communicating his utter confusion. He’s probably used this tactic on others, quite possibly the humans he knows, to try to push them away. Given their continued presence in his life, it was just as successful then as it is now. “…That’s it?” This is also the most inarticulate he’s seen his puppy. Under the circumstances, feeling a little smug is to be expected.
“I just spoke about your health, did I not?” Also amused. “Many young Pashran experience difficulties in fully forming their wings, but yours appear fully functional. I admit to worries along those lines when you were young, that due to my admittedly possibly rash decision to have a child with her you could not fly, or that when you changed form it would be more pain than you could bear. I met her desire for an offspring for her nest, but not if that child would merely live in suffering.” He allows the amusement into his voice, now, for usually he would keep the thought to himself but if he can help his offspring reach a healthier level of self-esteem, he’s willing to voice it. “I hadn’t expected you to be more handsome than me, though in this I believe you take after your mother.”
Xander’s tail flicks, pleased despite himself. Syuvai admits to finding this form easier to read—even after centuries, humans can still surprise him. “I just...I’m having a hard time believing any of this could be this easy.”
Syuvai cocks his head a little, satisfied that apparently this, too, his offspring reads easily as an equivalent of a human eyebrow raise. “Given that I would be very unlikely to describe any of what has transpired thus far as ‘easy’, I agree.”
Xander laughs through his tears, throwing himself into a hug. Thankfully, Syuvai’s own superior strength ensures they do not fall, though he notes that the wings get caught up, as if, unlike the other limbs, Xander is less practiced in their use. That’s all right. He can learn. The yawn catches his offspring by surprise. Ordinarily, as it is night, they would probably be most active at this time, even a half-human, but given the number of shocks, even pleasant ones, it only makes sense that his body would require a chance to recover. Syuvai himself isn’t immune to such things. “I believe we both require our rest.”
Xander growls playfully, Pashran form melting away. “But daaaad, I wanna stay up past my bedtime.”
It seems only right to match his form, so he does so. “Some other night,” he tells his puppy with a smile, ‘bopping’ him gently on the nose as he’s seen with humans elsewhere. Xander laughs helplessly, falling asleep on his feet, though he remains roughly vertical until they reach the couch once again.