Mostly Minecraft -- A Youtuber Oneshot Book

#GiveVikkaBreak -- Vikram Valkyrie

Things to know about this AU:

-This is not a ship oneshot, but contains hints of Vikklan, as well as Merome and Poofless.

-Valkyries in Norse Mythology are winged virgin women, although for the purpose of our story, they are not just women, and it's up to you to decide whether they're virgin or not ;) (*cough* Vikklan *cough*)

-CAUTION: There will be gore and torture in this oneshot, so if you're sensitive to that, don't read it. Unless you're one of those people who comments "Where's my video?" on Vik's channel. Then you should read it even if you are sensitive, and I hope you have nightmares. :D

-This is a really long oneshot, and I'm trying to get a point across here. The whole thing is a metaphor for IRL Vik. So try to see it that way.

-I will not be doing any sequels unless you are very good at persuasive arguments. This Oneshot is meant to end on a cliffhanger, and it's meant to have a bad ending altogether. So I don't plan on adding a sequel. Sorry.

-=+=-

Vik was flying. Flying for far too long.

In the beginning, he had loved it. The free feeling that flight gave him, his crystal wings extending over the ocean, mirrored in the green waves. He would sing with joy and laugh with his friends, the Flock. They would make formations in the sky, or race through cloud banks, coating themselves in wet dew. Vik could remember the clammy feeling that would overrun his body with shivers when his clothes were covered in water, but the feeling of being free with his friends would lessen that feeling, until the wind would dry his garments, and the sun would shine on the back of his neck, filling him with a wave of warmth.

Vik held memories of Lachlan, who would sometimes fly up underneath him so they were chest-to-chest, and they would both hold their arms out to the sides, forming a T shape. Then they would clasp their hands together and spin. Over and over, around and around, they would glide through the skies as one, until they were joined by the spinning pair of Preston and Rob on the left, and Jerome and Mitch on the right. They would dive, together, straight down to the ocean, and Vik would look down at Lachlan's face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his golden hair blazing like a furnace in the sun. The cinnamon-skinned Valkyrie would meet the Australian's silver-blue eyes when they opened, and they would separate at the last second, holding hands and gliding inches over the sea, spray flying into their smiling, laughing faces.

Occasionally Vik would fly for the humans. As an immortal being, Vik could watch the evolution of man. He would make friends with the people, and watch them grow. They were kind at first. They treated him as an esteemed guest. He would have feasts made for him, and he would be approached by women who would hold out their babies and beg for him to bless the future of their offspring. Vik would happily oblige, kiss the top of the baby's head, and whisper the words "Salige er at du skal ha en framtid . Leve som himmelens fugler . Åpne ditt hjerte til de riktige personene , og aldri slutte å tro på deg selv . Din fremtid er ditt min venn. Omfavne det . Beskytte den. Verne den."

(Blessed are you to have a free future. Live like the birds of the sky. Open your heart to the right people, and never cease to believe in yourself. Your future is yours my friend. Embrace it. Protect it. Cherish it.)

Vik would perform for the delight of the humans. He would let fire spread through his wings and shoot into the cold night sky, twirling and spiraling, encouraged by the cheers and claps of the watchers below.

But as humans started to develop, their intentions became more hostile. Vik will never forget the fateful day when everything changed.

Vik soared over the ocean, fire tipping his wings. The crowd below cheered him on, their cries passing Vik's ears and quickly fading into the night. The motivation of this race puzzled him. He hadn't visited the humans for a couple hundred years. last time he had seen them, they were wearing horned helmets and leather vests and boots. He had been welcomed with awe and open arms, and had been shown to the pride of their village, a fleet of huge ships, adorned by sails with the outline of a winged being crudely painted on them, and Vik's own body carved as the figurehead. The town had told him that he was a god to them. The stories of his flight passed down through the generations.