#ASTER; BLOOD IS RUNNING DEEPER.

[withbeasts]

@vitalphenomena.

" i will not take insult to my father so lightly. tread carefully. "

[noctivagant-corvid]

happy freak week. freak week under the cut . gryffon jrwi wirth tha steeal chair

also this uses an oc i made up for jrpwi content . its also canon to jrpwi!

i kinda hate it but shhh

When he gets phantom pains, Gryffon thinks about his father's disembodied head. To be fair, it's a pretty hard thing to forget.

He was fourteen when Grimm's armies came to his island. He was still growing into his body, ears too big for his head that made him look kind of cartoonish. Kede used to tease him about them, when she ran out of other material, but then Gryffon would point out the fact that hers were just as big, and it'd devolve into blowing raspberries from there.

The day they came was K’or Mirpa, he remembers this. It was a holiday, celebrating the beauty of the dark and rotting. Fitting, for a genocide.

He remembers how the musicians were out in the street with their fiddles and their cellos, filling the air with song and the clacking of shoes on stone, dance and dance and dance. Him and Kede had grabbed a bag of sugared almonds and ducked into an alleyway, laughing and stumbling through a mockery of the dance.

He remembers when they’d squinted at the horizon line and seen ships. Assuming them to be friends from a nearby island, come to celebrate, Gryffon had ignored it.

Then the screaming started.

It mixed in with the dance and the song, the enchantment of the strings, but Kede had noticed.

“Something’s wrong,” She’d said, tugging on Gryffon’s sleeve. “We need to go.”

By that time everyone had started to notice. People were running and yelling, and it was all a mess of chaos and fear. Gryffon was fourteen and scared, so he did what scared fourteen year olds do.

“We should find my parents,” He’d said, eyes flitting through the crowd. Kede had tugged his arm toward her. “There’s no time, Gryff, we need to go-” But Gryffon was stubborn and scared, and had gone deeper into the chaos, Kede following behind out of fear or some need to protect him.

“Dad? Mom?” He screamed over the shouting, working against the tide of running people- and Kede, still trying to pull him away.

When he first laid eyes on one of Grimm’s soldiers, he froze in place. The man was too pale and his canines too sharp, held an axe high in the air. He was smiling wide, a maniacal look in his eyes, clad in all black. There was a pandaren pinned under him, one Gryffon recognized just a split second too late.

Gryffon never saw his father cry. But he did hear him scream as an axe split his neck in half.

He doesn’t remember screaming, but he knows he did, and he knows the soldier had spotted him and slashed at his arm. It hadn’t come off fully, then. It all happened in maybe twenty seconds.

Kede pulled him into a run, away from the docks, both of them panting, Gryffon crying out everytime something touched his arm. Kede didn’t look back.

She took the two of them through some backalleys she knew from being on the streets so long, taking them both into the thick forest that dominated the south quarter of the island.

“Kede,” he’d grunted, once they got deep enough into the forest, “There’s something wrong with my arm.”

She finally looked back at him, and immediatly threw her hand over her mouth.

“Sweet Aster above, Gryffon-” He went to look at his arm, but she pulled his face away. “Don’t look at it! You don’t want to look at it, oh Aster-” “Tell me what’s wrong, then!” He shouted, wincing when it jostled his arm.

“It’s… it’s barely still connected to your body, Gryff, we gotta cut it off.”

Gryffon bit his tongue to stop crying. Kede squeezed his still-attached hand.

“Do it quick, please.”

Kede fumbled for her dagger. She squeezed his hand again. “Just a second, it’ll all be over.”

He hadn’t realy proccessed the pain until then. Maybe that’s why it was so bad- it hit all at once. Gryffon couldn’t even scream, his body was unwilling to move, his vision white, his arm felt like it was burning. He could feel Kede’s hand on his flesh, no doubt being stained with his blood. He couldn’t move. He was going to die there, he was sure.

When he woke up, he was laying on a cot in an unfamilliar hut. Kede was sitting across from him, looking at the ground, hands clasped like she was praying. He found out later that when a different island sent warriors to rescue them, she’d carried him to a boat and gotten him help.

Of course, he’d done nothing when the black sea had eaten her.

It’s two days after the anniversary, and Gryffon’s got phantom pains. He’s sitting in his room, laying on his back, trying not to touch the stump. In his mind, he can see his father’s head, rolling on the ground.

[weyrleaders]

im having so much fun with these @vapolis thank you for my life

also orla couldnt be in this one because if she was things would have gone very differently and i wouldnt have been able to do what i set out to do

gets a bit violent lol but no more than this game gets i dont think

There’s a saying about best-laid plans.

Jax whips back behind cover, slamming against the doorframe, narrowly dodging another round of gunfire. When it stops, he reaches around the doorframe and takes a few shots of his own. There’s a shout. Jax hopes he hit something important.

Orla was meeting with the head of the Vipers to settle a territory deal. It was supposed to be quick and simple, and the Vipers were supposed to have top-notch security. Apparently their people weren’t as good as they thought, because the meeting was attacked halfway through by a group Jax has yet to identify.

Aster had been closer to Orla than Jax, and had just picked her up and took off. Not that Jax blames him. Especially since Orla isn’t going to appreciate being treated like a damsel in distress no matter how fueled by blind panic Aster was at the time.

Still, someone had to cover Orla’s escape. The idiots must be content with taking out one of Orla’s people if they can’t have her, because as soon as they realized she was gone and Jax wasn’t they were quick to switch targets.

That, or they just don’t know who they’re supposed to be after. 

He hears something roll in the hallway, but isn’t stupid enough to risk peeking.

There’s an explosion and plenty of smoke down the hall, though, and he jerks his head up in time to see Aster sprinting toward him out of the smoke while their attackers are busy coughing their lungs out. He slides his mask down around his neck and tosses another smoke bomb for good measure before they both take off.

They aren’t running for long before Jax hears another few wild shots. Aster growls and answers with a few of his own.

After a few turns, Aster slows unexpectedly, and Jax nearly outpaces him. He stops short and turns to see Aster leaning against the wall, panting and pressing his hand against his shoulder. Blood wells between his fingers, barely visible against the black of his vest.

“Orla sent you back for me?” Jax asks.

“Probably,” Aster grits out.

“Probably?”

“I was already making for the door when she opened her mouth,” replies Aster as he pushes away from the wall.

He takes the lead as they round the next several turns, heading deeper into the complex. Jax had been leading the uninvited guests away from the direction Aster had taken Orla, so it wasn’t as if Aster could just lead them back out the way he came in. There’s no other halls connected to this one, just doors scattered throughout. There has to be an exit soon. Unless the complex’s architect refused to follow fire code. Jax knows they must be underground since he went down a flight of stairs early on, but apart from that he’s lost.

Aster is slowing down, though, breathing going ragged. Jax looks over his shoulder to check on him.

He’s ghostly pale, face drawn and teeth bared. He wipes sweat from his face, leaving behind a red smudge. Jax bravely resists picking on him for it.

They find a staircase. Jax glances at Aster, then eyes the stairs.

“I can make it,” mutters Aster, brushing past Jax. “Let’s go.”

And he does, even if he collapses against the wall at the top and slides down to the floor while Jax closes the door behind them.

Jax feels along the wall for a switch. There’s no point in trying to hide. Their pursuers know exactly where they are.

Jax flips the first switch he finds, and maybe half of the lights come on.

They’re in the auditorium of a church, of all places, judging by the Jesus posters. It doesn’t look like it’s been used in a good while, though the basketball floor looks well-maintained. There’s a huge stack of dusty folding chairs off in the corner and some flimsy tables, but nothing substantial enough that it could block the door they just came through. Jax can spot a bin of sports equipment across the room, but even if there’s something he could use to tie the door shut he doubts he could get there, find it, and get back before they’re caught.

There’s a side door off in the far end of the room, mostly hidden in a darkened corner. Jax would’ve missed it if not for the glowing exit sign.

“Come on,” he orders, hauling Aster to his feet by his uninjured arm.

It still hurts regardless, if Aster’s sharp inhale is any indication, but he doesn’t make any other noise. And he still follows Jax, surprisingly stable considering how much blood he’s lost. Continues to lose, blood dripping slowly from his fingers.

The door behind them bursts open when they’re still a few yards away. Jax grabs Aster and picks up speed, all but dragging him along.

Jax hears gunfire, but doesn’t bother turning to look. Bullets zip past them, narrowly missing.

The exit door suddenly swings open, crashing into the outside wall. Someone darts past them and into the building.

There’s a scream, then a wet crunch, followed by more gunfire.

Jax practically throws Aster outside and whips around.

There’s one man on the ground not that from the door, weakly dragging himself forward with one hand and clutching at the knife buried in his neck with the other. There’s a woman against the wall, blood staining the front of her shirt as she cradles a terribly-broken jaw. Her pistol is several feet away, entirely forgotten. Jax can see bare bone gleaming between her fingers.

He follows the trail of destruction until he reaches Ray, currently straddling someone’s chest as he slams his fists into their face. No, not his fists. Jax isn’t sure when Ray managed to get those spiked knuckles back from the last time he tried to sneak them into the club, but Jax knows how particular Ray is about his weapons. He wouldn’t just go buy a new set.

(Which means it’s time to move the stash again, notes Jax.)

Jax closes the door. He gets one last glimpse through the window of Ray rolling away from his current victim to escape a round of bullets before he turns to make sure Aster is on his feet.

“How did he get here so fast?” Jax wonders aloud, leading Aster across the parking lot. There’s a dumpster he can hide behind while Jax goes back to help Ray finish cleaning up.

“He was probably outside the whole time,” says Aster faintly.

“Orla didn’t ask him to be here.”

Aster rolls his eyes.

“That’s sixteen,” he replies.

There’s a box full of newspapers behind the dumpster, and Aster drops onto it without prompting.

“This is the sixteenth time I’ve tried to tell you and Orla this,” continues Aster. “and neither of you ever believes me.”

“About what?” Jax asks. “Ray?”

“Yes.”

Jax takes a moment to reload. He slips the old magazine into his coat. There’s still three bullets left, by his count, but he’d prefer to go in with a fresh one.

“He doesn’t like these missions. He thinks they’re boring, if he’s standing around inside,” Aster explains. “So he pretends he’s too mouthy for Orla to trust him with them.”

Jax peers around the dumpster. No one has followed them out.

“But he doesn’t like to be left out, so he sets up across the street and watches.”

“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Jax mutters.

“I think you’re not giving him enough,” retorts Aster.

Jax ducks down and makes a run for it back toward the church. He’s nearly there when the door opens again, much less dramatically this time.

Ray steps out.

His face is flushed, chest still heaving from the fight. His hair is matted against his forehead with blood, left eye already purpling spectacularly. He could probably save the leather jacket, if he’s fast. Red drips from his spiked knuckles, and Jax notices a small tuft of hair, skin still attached, stuck to one deadly point.

Ray’s mouth is stained red, as is the front of his formerly-white crop top. Jax can just barely make out the “don’t forget to smile” decal through the mess. Kind of a shame. Jax knows it’s one of Ray’s favorites.

(Not that he probably won’t keep it anyway.)

He smiles, and his teeth are bloody. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and Jax has the inexplicable urge to kiss his busted lip. What took you so long and your place or mine and thank you dance on the tip of his tongue.

“Did you fucking bite someone?” Jax asks instead.

Ray laughs.

“Woof, woof.”

[ladyravenblack]

Home: part 1

Note: this is a fanfiction written from the POV of alastor. It’s gonna get super angsty as the story goes on but this part is pretty tame.

~

the deeper in the little slice of home I have carved out for myself that I go, the darker it becomes. The willows and tree branches seem to be grasping for me, reaching so they can hold me hostage, sticky mud trying to pull me below as my mind rages on. I had not felt so helpless since-

black, it was pitch black and for a moment I did not recognize where I was but as my the glow of my eyes illuminated spots around me my heart turned to ice

though I could not see it in its entirety I knew that ahead of me lay a meadow. Soft, plush grass crawling over minor slopes, flowers dancing across the wide expanse, how the trees loomed overhead at the edges as if they would not let me run from this. My feet carry me forward while my mind begs me to go back to the hotel, to my room, to safety.

there, a few feet from me, buried in the darkness I can see it, the outline of a body. Moments seem to turn into hours as I keep looking without moving until I finally close the gap and roll the body to see me

my brown hair sliding over the wound on my forehead, glasses lost to the ground, blood smeared on my face, eyes closed as if I were sleeping but I knew better. Was this a warning? An omen? The woods, my woods, had never betrayed me like the woods from home had yet here I was, reliving the day I died

suddenly it was all gone, I stood on the edge of the room and the forest heart racing, hands clenched so tight they dug into my palms allowing blood to drop down and feed the ground.

Sadness bubbled to rage, why had this happened? Why had my woods, my sanctuary, been poisoned against me!? My claws reached for the trees at the edge, my body doubling, tripling, in size as I tear the trees from the ground. Roots dangling as I toss them to the side. Everything must be turned to dirt.

A soft knock stops me dead- no one knocks, no one looks for me.

I return to usual and dust myself off, my smile just as big as any it is any other day, strained I’m sure but I doubt they will notice. I open the door a crack and all that is left is a red rose surrounded by babies breath and aster. Someone left me flowers?

I pick them up and shut the door, making sure the door clicks and locks before conjuring forth a vase for the bouquet in my hands. It is- magnificent. A stark contrast to the now mangled and ruined woods.

Did whoever gave them to me know what they meant? What these specific flowers signify? I claw at a purple Aster, its petals bending under my intrusion but bouncing back the second I move away.

A/N: Red Roses, Aster, and Babies Breath are all flowers of love and adoration

[ask-olivine]

It was hard to tell if Olivine's brain had gone numb from essence, or blood loss-- not that he really cared either way, at that moment. Either way, the feelings running through his body were ecstasy to Oli, and the way not even his hand could filter out his own moans was plain proof of that. Olivine was also steadily falling back into the bed as Aster fed off him; propped up rather weakly on his elbows as he trembled in pleasure.

Nnh! D-drink...to your heart's content, love...feels so good...

Aster's own needy movements only caused Olivine to fall deeper into the warmth of desire, resting the hand previously covering his lips to the vampire's hip. This is where Oli's natural strength really shines, assisting Aster in grinding against him while letting his loud, almost warbled moans loose.

Ohh, gosh, A-Aster, I-I'm already...feeling close...!

Oh, dear father~! I have a question..

I think the masses are curious; do you have a favourite position? ;)

- @https-aster

Oh my, Aster! Such a pleasure to see you here.

Position...? I find sleeping on my back is the most comfortable for me, personally. Especially with my...erm, piercings...

...That's what you asked, yes?

[jessamine-rose]

⋆‧͙˚*✧•̩̩͙*˚  Fairytale  ˚*•̩̩͙✧*˚‧͙⋆

I thought that writing Herbarium would free me from the Capitano agenda. But I was wrong and now we have a side story + epilogue written from Capitano’s POV…….pls don’t expect much from this, as it’s just a collection of dark fluff and bonus scenes which take place throughout Herbarium. Also, three cheers for Sumeru update ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

To those who previously enjoyed Herbarium, I hope you enjoy this fic and don’t mind me tagging you. I will forever be grateful for your feedback!! And thank you once again to my dear friend @diodellet​ for peer-reviewing another self-indulgent fic :’>

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, violence, blood, murder, psychological trauma, mention of child abuse, mention of nsfw, spice, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano, pre-release characterization of Capitano which will likely be obliterated by canon lore

♡ 3.3k words under the cut ♡

i. Once upon a time, an unlikely romance blossomed between a Monster and a Damsel.

The battlefield is a merciless place. A corner of the world nourished by violence and bloodshed, a place where only the strong could lay claim to honor and victory. For as long as he had been a Fatui Harbinger, Il Capitano had full control over this domain.

On the battlefield, there is no chance to appreciate the beauty of the natural surroundings, not when all would eventually be sullied by blood and death.

And yet here he is, standing in a peaceful meadow so far removed from the reality of the world. Having fallen victim to an opponent like no other, whose weapons take the form of melancholic glances and immortalized flowers.

“This is for you.”

She gives him flowers again. The dandelions are pressed between two sheets of parchment paper, puffy seeds flattened and denied of their promised liberation.

And just as he had done with that fateful bunch of windwheel asters, Capitano accepts her gift.

“The flowers are preserved this time,” he notes. “Are these from your personal collection?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t share my flowers. I picked these two weeks ago and pressed them for you.”

“And for what reason have you taken pains to offer this gift to me?”

She looks up, directly facing him. “You don’t seem to be the touristy type. I just thought that you might like a souvenir of Mondstadt to bring home. Or think of it as compensation for helping me read those Snezhnayan classics.”

How strange. Many a soldier have looked at him with fear or hatred, oftentimes as the light faded from their eyes. On the other hand, there is a sense of privilege to be felt in occupying ______’s gaze. The melancholy look in her eyes is a mystery which he has yet to uncover.

“Your gesture is greatly appreciated.” He keeps the parcel in his coat pocket, careful not to crumple the flowers. “I shall see to it that your gift is properly maintained.”

“That is good to hear.” She looks away, ending that brief moment of recognition. Then she sits down on the grass and opens her library book, quickly absorbed in her newest story.

For her to put herself in such a vulnerable position before him…he cannot tell if her trust is a matter of blind naivete or foolish courage. Had she met a lesser person, she would have quickly fallen prey to the cruelty of the world.

His appointment in the Goth Grand Hotel will begin in a few minutes. It is time to resume his mission.

Capitano walks over to the edge of the meadow, nodding at a hidden subordinate. They bow and run deeper into the forest to prepare his carriage.

He looks at ______ one last time. She is still staring at her book, completely apathetic to his departure. Among the flowers, she presents the perfect image of ethereal beauty.

It would astonish many to hear that the Captain had fallen victim to the charms of such a delicate little flower. But that was the reality of this battlefield.

ii. The Monster, having fallen under the spell of true love, sought to become the Damsel’s protector.

Procuring information had been child’s play.

“My lord, the Maier son was spotted leaving the Angel’s Share! He will arrive in an hour.”

The Fatui agent is careful not to step on the blood. The cleaners already have their fair share of evidence to dispose of.

Capitano is still standing inside the Maiers’ office. “Keep an eye on him henceforth. Should he ever suspect the involvement of the Fatui or ______, eliminate him at once.”

“Yes, my lord!”

They rush out of the room. Capitano glances at the bodies on the floor.

The Maier couple had been cowards to the very end. Up until their slaughter, they had begged for mercy and spoken ill of their former foster child.

“Lord Harbinger, it is all a misunderstanding!”

“That brat! What kind of lies has she been telling everyone?!”

To think that he even granted them the mercy of a quick death. The Tsaritsa would forgive him for turning their mere interrogation into a spontaneous massacre. The suffering of his soldiers is nothing compared to what his darling had been forced to endure.

“My lord!” Another agent appears, holding up a worn folder. “We were successful in obtaining all records of ______ from Mondstadt Orphanage. All available personal information is listed in this folder, with the exception of the adoption papers.”

“Has the orphanage been sworn to secrecy?”

“They promised to never speak of her moving forward.”

Another pathetic lot. For a safe haven to be easily silenced with bribery and threats…he is already aware that injustice flourishes beyond the battlefield.

Capitano wipes the blood off his gloves and opens the folder. By now, he already knows most of his darling’s past through careful deductions and earlier background checks. There is nothing romantic to be found in her melancholy; it is simply the byproduct of a tragic story.

-

NAME: ______

STATUS: Dismissed at the age of 18.

-

How pitiful. All her life, she has been a powerless damsel deprived of hope and a kind savior. She was only able to leave her prisons once her tormentors were done with her.

“My lord.” The agent is still bowing before him. “We have already completed our other task. The purchased books will be delivered to your home shortly.”

“Confirm that the books will arrive before my return. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!”

He can still recall the titles and stories of every book his darling had read in the meadow alongside him. She has a fondness for fairytales, from the classics to dark fantasies to creative subversions. It is easy to tell which archetype Capitano would be associated with.

He would never be regarded as her hero or knight in shining armor. To claim that his love is honorable and pure would be a falsehood.

But he would protect her. He would place her in a tower so high that it would be impossible for anyone else to reach her. And regardless of her feelings, his darling would never be exposed to the violence of the world ever again.

He only hopes that she will quickly adapt to the merciless winters of Snezhnaya. A flower does not take kindly to being uprooted from its natural environment. However, she has shown him that it is more efficient to claim ownership over a pressed flower.

“My lord.” The cleaner gives him a brief bow. “All evidence of your involvement has been erased. What should we do with the bodies?”

“Leave them as they are. Let their deaths become a public spectacle in Mondstadt.”

So she may know of his resolve to destroy all of the monsters in her story, with himself as the sole exception.

Capitano closes the folder and turns to his darling’s slain tormentors.

“Let the consequences of their dishonor be put on display."

iii. Following the Monster’s profession of love, the couple was married in a faraway land.

There is no grand proposal or wedding. A few weeks after their arrival in Snezhnaya, Capitano presents his darling with a simple ring crafted in the likeness of flowers.

She doesn’t resist. She simply allows him to slip the ring onto her finger, flinching at their brief skin contact. Following that short ceremony, he begins calling her his wife.

His darling has adjusted to her new prison but she remains a silent captive. She denies him of her flowers and friendliness, instead offering her obedience as the bare minimum. It is a futile strategy, but Capitano can respect her logic.

She knows that she is locked in a one-sided battle. Eventually, she will concede defeat.

On occasion, he is granted small victories. He often catches his darling polishing her wedding ring despite it being a dreaded mark of his ownership. At one point, she had even dared to inquire about his real name.

“I’m curious, that’s all,” she whispers. “Just your surname is enough.”

He only stares back at her. “For what reason? Do you intend to use my family name?”

“...Never mind. Forget that I asked.” She opens her notebook to the newest flowers. The white roses make a lovely addition to her collection, including the one that has been permanently stained with her blood. “Can we visit the woods later? I would like to pick more roses.”

Capitano’s mask hides any hint of his smile.

iv. The Monster, however, could only dream of the Damsel’s requited love.

Another stack of books is delivered to their manor.

His darling gives him a confused look. “You bought more books for me.”

Capitano is already unboxing them for her. “That is clear.”

“But why?”

Her confiscated book is still fresh in their memories. After that minor dispute, Capitano had limited his book purchases and her interlibrary loans to reserve his darling’s time and attention. His sudden bulk purchase only serves a similar purpose.

“Is it indecorous of me to support my wife’s hobby?” He sets the final book on her desk. “I trust that you will be reading these for your personal enjoyment and not as a means to avoid me.”

Her collection of books is steadily increasing. Perhaps he should set up a bookcase or even a personal library.

“...Of course.”

She uncaps her pen and opens each book, writing “Property of ______” on the front pages. Then she selects a leatherbound novel and flips to the next page.

Capitano remains in the bedroom.

He can already ascertain the moment she realizes his tactic.

The books are all printed in native Snezhnayan at a level far too advanced for her comprehension. Her dictionary would prove useless in translating the archaic words and figures of speech.

To her credit, his darling makes a noble attempt. She takes out her dictionary. She mutters words and phrases. She flips through the other books and does not even acknowledge his presence.

Her shield has become another weapon for him.

Her favorite books have served as an excellent source of psychoanalysis. Capitano’s new pastime of reading his book purchases beforehand has even equipped him with an arsenal of story spoilers. He wonders if his darling has noticed the recurring themes in his choices.

After an hour of her fruitless endeavor, she finally approaches him.

“Capitano.” She gives him the book. “Can you please read this to me?”

“Would you like me to start from the beginning?” He adjusts his sitting position in the armchair and pats his thigh.

She only sighs before taking a seat on his lap.

She is practically weightless to him. It would only take a tight embrace to crush her.

“Yes, please.” She stares ahead at the pages. “You…it has been a while since I last asked you to translate for me.”

The Snezhnayan classics have been untouched ever since she labeled them. Perhaps Capitano will reread those to her one day.

He does agree with the sentiments of the stories’ villains.

v. Yet he persisted in his efforts to win over the Damsel’s heart through priceless treasures and chivalrous acts.

The battlefield is red with dendrobiums this time.

The flowers bloom across the ravaged scenery, vermilion petals demanding the soldiers’ attention. Some survivors have taken the opportunity to rest and admire them.

“My lord, the Inazuman forces have retreated! A few survivors have been captured for interrogation. Shall we…?” The sergeant’s voice trails off.

Capitano picks the dendrobiums and stands up. He had chosen only the prettiest, most vibrant trio for his darling.

“Sergeant Agapov.” He holds up the flowers, careful not to get blood on the petals. “See to it that these flowers are safely transported to Snezhnaya along with my luggage. They are to be kept in fresh condition.”

“Yes, my lord!” They take the dendrobiums and rush to their tent.

Capitano turns around.

Two soldiers are staring. They look away immediately.

By now, he is already used to this. The Fatui headquarters is rampant with whispers of the Captain’s despondent darling and his punishments for minor offenders. Some even claim that she has cursed him with moments of weakness.

He has no response to those allegations. If not for his loyalty to the Tsaritsa, he would have left the battlefield ages ago to devote his strength to his ethereal flower.

Though a chat with those soldiers would effectively remind them of his earlier show of strength.

✿ ⚘  

“Sergeant Charon, your status report.”

The spy enters the tent and kneels. “My lord, you will be pleased to learn that your wife is in good spirits.”

Capitano looks up from his report. “Do elaborate on what you mean by ‘good spirits.’”

He had already expected his darling to act differently while he was away. If she has been eagerly awaiting news of his death, their reunion will be rather disappointing.

Charon shakes his head. “I…I was referring to her health! Your wife spends the majority of the time reading her books, and she rarely speaks to Sergeant Fames. She looks neither joyful nor sullen in your absence.”

“I see. You are dismissed.”

Charon leaves immediately.

So his darling seems unaffected by his absence, at least to outsiders.

He has only been gone for two weeks. He can still recall their conversation from the night before his departure.

-

“Will you miss me?”

In that moment, she had never looked more vulnerable.

She was beginning to show signs of defeat.

It had taken everything in Capitano not to abandon his position and swear his undying devotion to her. Instead, he had knelt before her and made a sacred promise.

“There is not a single moment when I do not think of you or your safety. Let these be your words of comfort until I return to you.”

His hand was caressing her cheek, the other clasping his darling’s own hand. And for once, she did not flinch from the contact.

“All right.” She averted her gaze. Her free hand wrapped around his wrist, but she made no move to remove his hand from her face.

Her touch was so delicate. A sensation so light and insubstantial that it left him wanting more.

“I’ll trust you on that.”

-

His collection of Mondstadt souvenirs is safely stored amongst his luggage. Capitano unlocks the box and takes out his preserved calla lilies.

vi. As the seasons passed, the Damsel slowly succumbed to the same curse that had befallen the Monster.

She welcomes him home this time around.

“Welcome back.” She closes her notebook and leaves her desk. “Ceres didn’t tell me that you had arrived. Has she left?”

Capitano enters the room. “Sergeant Fames was dismissed a few minutes ago.”

“I see.” She stands in front of him, head lowered. “How was your mission in Liyue?”

Liyue had greatly improved their military defense. What was originally a three-week mission had been extended to a full month apart from his darling.

The flowers of Liyue pale in comparison to the one he already has at home.

“Liyue boasts of a scenic landscape and unique flora.” He walks over to his closet and takes out a change of clothes. He has already removed his coat and armor. “Your souvenirs are in the living room. I was able to procure wild Glaze Lilies for you.”

“Thank you.”

He unbuttons his shirt.

A quiet gasp. “Are you hurt?”

The wound on his chest is only a scratch. But his darling is already rushing to his side to inspect the bandages.

She must have gone mad in his absence.

“The pain was only fleeting,” he assures her. “The wound will heal in time.”

“But it could leave a scar.” Her touch is gentle. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Capitano only shrugs. “A scar is but an everlasting reminder of the past.”

“Exactly. Do you…can you still remember the pain until now?”

She looks up.

Her gaze is clear. The listless veil has been replaced with pure concern. All that he can see in her eyes is his own singular reflection.

“Darling,” he tells her, “this pain is incomparable to what you inflict on me daily.”

He removes his mask and kisses her.

She has weakened him. How could he go a day without the blessing of her touch?

She is more responsive this time. She clutches his shirt and kisses back, careful not to touch his bandaged wound. She smells like flowers, the combination of different fragrances mixing into her own intoxicating scent.

Her hips still bear marks from their last night together.

Capitano touches one of the bruises. His darling whimpers and looks up at him.

Their first night of intimacy had been an enlightening experience. He quickly learned that it is much easier to garner noises and reactions from his darling during lovemaking. Her own scars had been covered up with his marks of affection.

When they are connected, neither does she fear his touch.

His own love bites had disappeared weeks ago. If he could choose his scars, he would willingly carve his darling’s marks into his skin.

“Capitano.” She steps away from him, head lowered. “You…shouldn’t you rest first? We don’t want to agitate your injury.”

He only laughs and tilts her head upwards, claiming her gaze once more. “My beloved flower, you truly underestimate my strength.”

vii. And so the Monster and the Damsel lived happily ever after.

The flowers of Sumeru are beautiful. Nilotpala Lotuses glowing in the dark, Padisarah with purple-tipped leaves, Kalpalata Lotuses blooming across treacherous cliffsides, fragrant Sumeru roses bereft of thorns. And beyond that region, there are still so many other flowers to admire in Teyvat.

Capitano still prefers his own ethereal flower.

“The Sumeru roses belong to a different family from the classic rose. They are just as lovely, aren’t they?”

His darling snips six purple flowers and presses them inside her notebook. Each rambler rose takes up two whole pages.

Capitano is standing beside her. “You already picked numerous Sumeru roses near the bookstore. For what reason do you desire such a bountiful collection?”

She merely faces him. “I told you before, didn’t I? I don’t share my flowers. These are for you.”

Her gaze is as mysterious as ever. Some claim that it has changed over the past year—that her eyes have become completely consumed by darkness and melancholy, only to light up whenever she looks at the Captain. She only sees him.

She has gracefully lost to him. But Capitano could argue that he had been defeated first.

He holds her wrist. “We should return to the hotel. The remainder of my time will be devoted to my mission at hand.”

She does not flinch this time. “Good luck with your negotiations. I’ll just be reading my new books in our room, I guess.”

“Do not even think of trying to sneak out,” he warns. “I have guards stationed all over the hotel. Until we find a suitable replacement for Sergeant Fames, you will rarely leave my side.”

Her pulse continues its steady rhythm.

“I know.” A small smile forms on her face. “If I ever run away, my husband will capture me immediately. Can you promise that?”

She has truly become his one and only weakness.

There are also rumors of the changes to Il Capitano, the Fatui Harbinger who dyes the battlefields with blood then proceeds to pick the loveliest flowers for his darling.

To the entire world, he may be nothing more than a monster. But in the eyes of his beloved flower, he has become her knight in shining armor.

“You have my word.”

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Epilogues/ Other fics

Askndkfnaddk I am very surprised with myself for completing Fairytale in just a little over 24 hours. I can’t say much about the quality of this addition to Capitano and Darling’s twisted story, as I only focused on fairytales as the primary theme. But it was worth it to write about Capitano’s yandere tactics and give him back his flower rights <3

Once again, thank you all for reading and I hope you liked my work Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @shumidehiro @dear-yandere @northcafe @dulcetthorns @nicebonescomrade @lambdrop @lolnoone @uhhhh-hi-im-sorry-for-this  @poetics-of-fuubutsu @p214ven @elixir-de-silence @loleah @springtidewaves @frostedclementine @literaree @the-dreaming-city @something-was-here @shadowthief78 @lyra-mew @siphite @blankussy​ @xreaderarchive

[pen-of-roses]

“You’re an abomination, a tool for others, not even a person.”

The words were nails in his heart, even as he smiled at her, “Haven’t you heard dear starlight, that’s old news.”

She yanked his head back as the sword bit into the skin under his chin. “You can’t lie, especially not to me. I know you better than anyone else. And you’re not supposed to exist. You’re just a monster that I have to put down.”

They were the same brown eyes he’d first seen when she pulled him out of the water, the same ones he’d looked into as he promised never to hurt her, the same ones he’d desperately wished to see even as she walked away after calling him a monster for the first time. Had they always been that cold and cutting?

There’d been a time he’d called her a friend, done anything to win her approval, even killed at her command—that blood still stained his hands deeper than anything else, but it had to be right because she said it was, the only reprieve being that she must’ve felt the guilt too. There was even a time he would’ve died for her. Had died for her. Time and time again. Sometimes she’d even driven the blade in.

He always forgiven her.

After all, he was the monster between the two of them.

That’s what she’d always said.

What he’d always believed.

He’d always come running back, trying to prove he was just like her. Because she was supposed to be the hero.

He blinked and Avery’s lifeless face looked up from the floor, Andromeda fighting against Gem’s grip to get to her.

He blinked and Gem was bloody and broken and barely alive in his arms.

He blinked and there was blood staining the deck of a ship and she was pressing a knife into his hands.

He blinked and she was stabbing it into his back, but it was okay because he deserved it. He had to have.

He blinked and he was staring into Reine’s face, smiling down at him, and was it now, blade to his throat and threat to his life, or his only friend rescuing him from the waves?

There wasn’t any difference.

There never had been.

He laughed and it startled her back a step away from him. “I hate you.”

Her eyes hardened, and the blade dug deeper, but he could only laugh.

“I fucking hate you. Aster Reine, between the two of us, I might be a monster, but you are worse. Worse than your mother could ever be.”

“You’re lying.”

“I can’t lie.”

He didn’t even feel the pain this time, or any of it. It didn’t matter, he didn’t need to.

Because when he woke up, even if she intended to make good on her threat, and he didn’t doubt it, he was free of her in a way he never thought possible before.

@concealeddarkness13 I’m sorry

[mm2305]

Radiance

Book : The Elementalists

Pairings : Beckett Harrington x f!MC (Celeste Russell)

Words/rating : 1.7 K / teen +

Warnings : mention of death, injuries

Genre : romance, little bit of angst

Description : Hurt : a series about Beckett's thoughts during the times MC was hurt. Added scenes (non-canon).

Pt 1 : Radiance

A/N : Hello everyone I'm back with another fic, this time in a new book and characters. I loved "the elementalists" and this is how I came up with the idea of writing a series about Beckett's feelings/thoughts when mc was hurt/fighting. In this part we're at bk 1, during/after the battle with Raife. This will be a 2 part series, if I manage to write another part, but no promises on when it'll be ready. No beta so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

Masterlist

The battle against Raife and the shadow creatures was full on, all Pend Pals fighting with everything they got to cause damage to Raife, catch him off guard, buy the twins some time. Yet, as Beckett was using his magick against a monster, restraining it, he couldn't help but look at Celeste, worried as he was about her well-being. 

With a single glance though, he was gone.

She was majestic. There was no other word to describe her. He was in awe of her radiance every single time. She evidently was a capable woman, moving rapidly around the room, casting spells automatically, jumping over obstacles, hands stretched out to incapacitate anything and anyone approaching her. Using her sword to cut through the shadows, fire in her eyes, her powerful presence palpable in the room, silently supporting, encouraging everyone to just keep going. 

That was something that always emitted from her, her radiance, something you could see, you could sense in her. Some would think it’s because of her attunement but Beckett knew it was all because that’s who she is, attunement or not,always shining as bright as the sun itself. 

She never gave up, not once. She learned about a whole new world and a whole new version of herself. She didn’t  back down. Instead she fought hard to reach her full potential. She excelled in everything and everyone could see it. She was attacked multiple times by creatures as dark and dangerous as the night, yet she always kept her head up. She fought against a madman once and she came back to do it again. To save her new-found sister, her friends, the world.

She was fierce yet gentle. Loving, friendly, funny. Beautiful and dashing. Smart and brilliant. Sarcastic and passionate.

She was forgiving. She forgave him, when he couldn’t forgive himself for being the cause for her to get hurt. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did. With a smile and a soft hand on his cheek, looking straight into his eyes, she forgave him.

Celeste Russell was everything. 

And he wouldn't lose her. 

In that moment their eyes met for a second. Two pairs of eyes locked in a blazing gaze, two hearts thundering as one and two small smiles on their faces. At that brief moment, it was like they were the only people in the world. 

They realized they had another thing to be fighting for. One another. They would make it out of there alive. There was no other acceptable way. 

Drawing strength from that single look, they turned back to their opponents, their efforts doubled in determination to not give up. 

After a while though, even when things seemed to be turning in their favor, each member of the group was falling down. Raife was strong. Extremely strong. 

Beckett was the only one left standing, his muscles strained painfully, teeth clenched, sweat starting to drip down his furrowed brow, trying to suppress the chains from crashing onto him. He couldn't afford to lose, Celeste needed all the help she could get, he repeated to himself like a mantra. Yet, despite his efforts, he was feeling his magick wavering and she could see that too. She pleaded with him to keep going, but before she could give him a boost, the chains fell on him, pinning him to the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

Celeste let out a desperate scream of agony, swearing that she would make Raife pay for everything he had done. Beckett could notice that she seemed on the verge of tears yet the fire in her eyes was so intense, that if possible, would burn through anyone who dared to look at them.

Everything was starting to become more and more blurry. He tried to keep his eyes open, because he knew that if he did not, it would be very difficult for him to do so again. 

He was catching glimpses from the fight between the twins and Raife and he was glad to see they had been going well for a little while. But the next time he looked at them, they were both restrained to some kind of platform. He willed his muscles to come to life and go help them, do something, anything, but the only thing he achieved was to intensify the pain, a small groan escaping his lips. 

Celeste looked his way sorrowfully and he tried as hard as he could, to fight the darkness and the incredible urge to close his eyes. 

The last thing he remembers before darkness enveloped him, was softly whispering "I'm sorry" and a pair of warm  brown orbs burning deep into his heart. 

-\- 

When he came around, his chest and body felt lighter and breathing had become easier. He could still feel pain all over his exhausted form but darkness wasn't creeping in on him. He realized someone was softly stroking his cheek, occasionally threading their fingers through his hair, whispering to him. He tried to focus on the voice and with a sudden burst of energy, he opened his eyes upon recognizing the voice. 

"Beckett?", she breathed, tears running down her face. 

It was the first time he was seeing her cry. Was it because of him? Or was she finally breaking down after everything that happened? Whatever the case, he found himself wanting,needing to soothe her, comfort her. 

"C-celeste… are… you a-alright ?", he asked her, his voice a bit hoarse from the dust around the room, lifting his hand to wipe the tears off the side of her face. 

She chuckled, leaning into his touch, breathing deeply and closing her eyes for a brief moment, as though savoring this feeling. 

" You're the only person I know who would be worried about me, when you're the one who was under a ton of chains. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?", she carefully checked him over searching for any visible injuries. 

"I'm exhausted and to be honest yes, my body aches all over but I'm okay I promise"

"Okay. But I'm keeping an eye on you, so tell me if you feel any pain, alright?"

Nodding, Beckett allowed his eyes to wander around the room, noticing the destruction in it. The room was full of rubble, pieces of what once was the roof, scattered everywhere, having coated everything in dust. 

"I'm guessing everything went well while I was out?", he started sitting up, leaning against the wall. 

Celeste wordlessly helped him up before she answered, resting her forehead on his shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

"Yes. Professor Swan came to help and it turns out she is a Blood-Att too, but she was defeated. Me and Atlas were… close to the end-" 

"What?! You-you almost…", he couldn't even utter the words. "Oh God... you could have… died and I…wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop him, to -" 

"Beckett! Hey… I'm alright now see? I'm here with you and I don't intend to leave you anytime soon."she said gently to him, putting her hands on his cheeks, reassuring him.

A moment passed before she continued.

" So when me and Atlas touched our hands saying goodbye, we had a burst of refractionary magick. I… ended him Beckett. I did it myself. I don't regret it, but that makes me wonder... Does that make me a bad person? ", she looked up at him worried. 

He turned to her, his earnest gaze reaching deep into her soul. "Celeste. Look at me and listen carefully. You could never be a bad person. Honestly you are the most compassionate , brave and kind woman I have ever met. Please don't doubt yourself, ever. He deserved everything he got and more for all the things he did to you and so many other people."

"Really?"

"Really."

Celeste sighed in relief, nestling deeper into his side. "Thank you Beck. You always know what you say to make all my worries fade away."

Wrapping his arms around her, Beckett rested his cheek on her head, kissing her hair. "Anytime. How is everyone doing?" 

"They are going to be okay. When we finished with Raife we were unconscious for a bit. When I woke up, professor Kontos and Aster were here taking everyone through some kind of portals. They were all unconscious but fine. I… stayed with you for a bit trying to wake you up and I was going to call them because you weren't coming around but then you did so… "

"Ah thank goodness we're all fine.", he exclaimed, relieved, his head falling back onto the wall behind him. 

"I knew you were a softie for Pend Pals!"

They both laughed softly, glad to have survived this relatively well. 

"Beckett?", Celeste broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them. 

"Hmm?" 

"I'm… very glad you're okay. When you fell unconscious… I was worried you'd never wake up again…and then you weren't responding and… I can't lose you Beck, I just can't. Not you", Celeste let out an involuntary sob, her arms tightening around him. 

"Oh Celeste… it's okay, I'm okay… I'm here sweetheart…I'm not leaving you... ", he whispered in her ear, rubbing her back in soothing cycles, his heart breaking at the sight of her crying. 

She took a deep breath and looked at him with a vulnerability that he rarely saw in her. "Will you promise me something?" 

" Anything." 

"Don't scare me like that again. Ever. Please.", she said, her voice breaking again at the end, the sobs wreaking through her body. 

Beckett tightened his hold around her pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks and finally on her lips,silently promising her to do anything she asked from him. 

The kiss started slow and gentle, but quickly turned passionate,both of them trying to pour all their emotions into the kiss. Celeste wrapped her arms around his neck pressing herself closer to him, deepening the kiss, almost desperate to feel that this was real, that he was okay. Beckett let her do as she pleased with him, happy and relieved to have her in his embrace,breathing in her natural vanilla smell, his hands roaming across her body, bringing her closer to him,losing himself in her.

They parted away from each other, giggling, upon hearing Aster's worried voice calling for them. 

"Celeste? Did Beckett wake up?" 

"Yes Aster we're here!" 

She kissed him again briefly, helping him get up and linked their hands together, her bright smile back on her face. 

"Let's go home, shall we?" 

Beckett grinning back at her, allowed her to lead him towards Aster, ready for the next chapter in their lives at Penderghast.

-/-

A/N : thank you for reading this! Every single like, comment and reblog is appreciated! ❤️

The elementalists taglist : @gryffindordaughterofathena @starryeyedrookie @theclassycandy @miss-smrxtiee @itsjustwinter @strangelycami

+ @choicesficwriterscreations

[conteur-writeblr]

It Feels Like A Maze

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt: "Tangled In Time".

(Content warnings: none in particular, there's maybe just the description of a messy house with broken objects after a violent breakdown) (Word count: ~950)

* * *

Safia slipped inside the cottage beneath the door in a long wisp of smoke and materialized in the kitchen. Shards of a broken clay pot laying on the floor immediately caught her eye. Safia frowned and crouched to examine them. She saw more beneath the counter, lining the space between the wood and the floor. A quick look around the lower cabinets and under the table quickly led to the discovery of more shattered glass, silvers of polished clay, and even a broken piece of chair. She couldn’t smell blood, so Noël must not have been hurt. Although Safia knew that breaking things was one of the ways the demon soothed herself when something was wrong, the reason as to why she’d needed to soothe herself eluded her. Noël had seemed fine this morning.

A small, muffled pop reached Safia’s ears from deeper inside the house, like the sound of someone running an old-timey record. Safia made her way through the cozy living room straight into the adjacent bedroom, and she was surprised to find her wife kneeling in front of exactly what she’d thought the source of the noise to be: an old brass record player. Safia had never seen it around here before. Noël’s wings were out, but they were draped along her sides and slumped on the ground. Her tail was lying inanimate on the plush rug. She didn’t look up, even when Safia scuffed her feet against the floor on purpose.

Safia stopped a distance behind Noël and stared at the scene. The record kept turning, but no music was playing. Safia’s gaze drifted off to the side. The wooden bedpost was missing a considerable chunk in its higher arch, and the cotton sheets were torn to shreds. She could even see the insides of the mattress spilling out where Noël’s claws had ripped through the flank of it. Safia looked back at her. Noël still hadn’t acknowledged her presence.

Safia sighed, and took a few more cautious steps forward until she was right next to Noël. There, she crouched in front of the record player with her. It looked like it was broken. In fact, it looked like it had been broken for some time. The needle kept jumping and the record was scratched in several places. Safia glanced at Noël and was unhappy, though not surprised, to find an expression so empty on that pale, pretty, beloved face.

“Angel,” she quietly said.

Noël kept staring down at the spinning record. Spinning, spinning, crackling.

“Angel?”

Safia reached out and gently touched her fingers to the back of Noël’s hand. When Noël didn’t react, she wrapped her hand around hers, cradling the rose gold ring beneath her palm.

“You can tell me what’s wrong.”

Noël didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her eyes always shone so, so prettily, like stars in a late evening sky of purple. At times like this, however, they had the same cold feeling as asters distantly shining from hundreds of thousands of miles away in space. Safia looked back at the record player. Spinning, spinning, crackling.

“I can’t hear the music,” flatly said Noël.

Safia looked at her again. Noël didn’t. Her voice became quieter, defeated now.

“I’ve been trying. I can’t hear the music.”

“Noël, there’s… no music.”

“But I used to hear it.”

“You mean you used to remember it?”

Noël was still emptily gazing at the record and the jumping needle.

“I liked it. It was so nice.”

“What music was it?”

“I don’t know. It was Father Gabriele’s and I never asked him.”

Safia stared at her. Record players didn’t exist back when they’d met dear old Gabriele, so Noël couldn’t have meant that this one was his. Maybe she meant that the priest had made the tune. But it wasn’t like the priest had become a world famous composer–nothing that Safia had heard about, at any rate–so it still didn’t explain the record player.

Noël finally moved. Her hand slipped away from beneath Safia’s, and she delicately pinched the top of the broken needle to lift it off the record and tuck it away on the side.

“It was his song. I should have asked him what it was. Humans die so fast, and now… even the memory of him…”

Safia curled her fingers in the emptiness left by Noël’s hand. The only thing that made sense was that Noël had somehow found a recording of a song that her priest had known. Safia couldn’t be sure, though. Her wife’s mind and memory sometimes winded down cryptic paths that even Noël couldn’t always follow.

The one particular detail that stuck out to Safia was that Noël had chosen not to tell her about this record player. She’d probably kept it hidden from her. Safia wasn’t sure what to make of that. She watched Noël slowly run the tips of her fingers along the circles engraved on the disk, careful not to let her white claws graze its surface.

“I remain stuck in the past,” murmured Noël, “and sometimes I can’t fathom that it is just that. Just the past. That he is gone, and the music is too, and everything shall fade with time.”

“I won’t,” whispered Safia.

She hadn’t meant to whisper. Her throat felt tight.

Noël stopped moving. “That may be so.” She retrieved her hand from the record and laid in her lap.

They were quiet for a while.

Then Noël spoke again, like a confession, even though they both already knew it: “I am lost, Safia. It feels like a maze. Too many centuries have gone by, and now, how many more will there be?”

Mindful of Noël’s wing, Safia leaned in and made their shoulders bump together. “Well, I guess that we’re in this together, at least.”

They stayed like that, close together, shoulder to shoulder. Safia closed her eyes to better feel Noël’s warmth seep into her cold skin. She’d meant that as a reassurance for her beloved, but the truth was that she needed it to be said out loud just as much as Noël did.

“We’re in this together, angel,” she repeated, just so the comforting words could linger a little longer.

[withbeasts]

❝ Your father and I married for love, but we are the exception, not the rule. ❞ / jo & aster

arranged marriage.

he has heard of it in the neighboring kingdoms; arranged marriages, political pawns, shuffled out to meet an ageless agenda of power and hierarchy. within these castle walls, his parents had never spoken of such things of him and his siblings, their own marriage a testament to the importance of finding a good partner.

or at least he thought so. with the unrest happening, there were heavy things being brought up in the court, according to ridley. ( his brother had the weight of the world upon his shoulders; should he not get to at least find time to have someone to help hold it? didn't they all? )

" i would fight a dragon for this family, mother. but i cannot love someone that i do not know. "

[sproutttt]

Caligo’s Demise

Ohh second story, we’re on it this weekkk.

Warnings: mentions/descriptions of blood & injuries, running away, captivity??, spooky forest

-

-

-

-

-

She had escaped the castle a mere three nights ago, sneaking past the guard of the outer gate and stealing her horse from the stables in the dead of night. She rode her steed through the woods until she reached the garden of Nymphs, near the riverbank just west of the castle. Upon her arrival, they gathered at her feet.

“I need to speak with Dhara,” She said softly.

They created a path for their leader, kneeling as she passed.

Her long white hair reached her ankles, aster and daisies were placed neatly into her locs, the train of her dress made of the finest woven silk swayed effortlessly behind her, the glow of her golden aura shimmered against her ebony skin, and her delicate, forest green eyes twinkled as she approached.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” She bowed, dropping the front hem of her dress to clasp her hands in front of her, “I see you’ve brought Wilmot with you this time. Is everything alright?”

The Princess only smiled and took a seat in the damp patch of grass.

“Everything is quite alright. I just have a favor to ask of you,” her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips as she took a deep breath to speak, “I’m returning to Caligo Forest and I need for you to keep Wilmot while I am gone.” Murmurs scattered amongst the clutter of Nymphs.

Dhara raised a small hand to silence the concerned creatures. She looked to the Princess and her horse, contemplation evident on her face as she tried to read the look in her companion’s eyes.

Lowering her hand to caress Wilmot’s mane, she softened her gaze. “Princess, are you certain you are ready to face the forest again? If you are to fail, I’m not so sure if we will be able to help you this time. You have barely recovered from your last quest.”

The Princess looked to the scars adorning her forearms and remembered the last time she entered Caligo Forest.

She had managed to crawl to a clearing in the meadow, just as her strength gave way. Dried and fresh blood clouded her vision as the fatigue overtook the last of what strength she had and the fog settled behind her eyes, lulling her into a deep sleep.

All she remembered was being submerged in water and waking up in the castle again four days later.

It scared her. She had underestimated the mission. But this time she was ready.

“Yes, I’m certain,” she straightened her posture, “let’s prepare me for battle.”

Dhara smiled, nodding to her villagers. “Very well. Let’s begin.”

    The shackles on her ankles clank with each step she took, the number of clinks and clanks long forgotten sometime in the night. The sun was beginning to rise again in the east, shushing the crickets and sending the nocturnal creatures to their dens for rest.

The morning dew wet the bare soles of her feet as she pressed on, soothing the ache only slightly as she marched to her destination.

She had been walking for three nights, only stopping to refill the water pail she was given and to take quick naps when she grew too tired to continue. She was nearly out of berries, bread, and nectar, but she knew she would be able to make it last until the returned to the garden nymphs.

Her feet were tired, blistered, and bloody, Her muscles ached, her bones creaked, and her throat like sandpaper– but she marched.

She marched to the top of the hill and stood before the forest. Its trees taunted her; the gnarly branches practically beckoning her into its abyss of twisting limbs, wicked vines, and long thorns.

She could feel the eerie silence of the labyrinth– thick, suffocating… expectant.

Clutching her sword in one hand and a shield in the other, she stepped forward; brows set and jaw clenched.

The forest opened its arms, thick fog kissing her cheeks as if greeting her as an old friend.

She’d faced this forest a number of times, seen the most grotesque of creatures, and stumbled upon the most frightening discoveries one could possibly witness, yet her limbs still shook.

Taking a quivering breath, she stepped through the underbrush into the gaping jaws of Caligo Forest.

The darkness seemed to suck the energy from all living things that dared to enter from the outside.

Flowers that were once vibrant and beautiful were now wilted and shivering. Woodland animals that once roamed freely, now hid within the shadows and watched in silence; their eyes sunk in, skeletons protruding through their skin, and their once omnivorous glances turned feral and ravenous.

Feeling their eyes, she trudged on feigning confidence and certainty to hide her fear, allowing the narrow slivers of daylight peaking through the canopy of trees to guide her along the path.

Trolls hissed from their crannies, and the enchanting sing song of the fairies echoed in her ears, pleading for her to dance with them in their ring, grew louder as the fog thickened and the deeper she tipped into the darkness.

Slimy reptiles slithered at her ankles and wrapped around her shackles, sending a chill up her spine.

She knew this trick. It worked the last time. Taking a deep breath, she kicked the dirt beneath her feet.

“Caligo! I know you’re here,” she panted, “come out and face me you coward!"

-

-

-

-

-

@hxwks-gf

[moonlightmadnessreviews]

Midsommar (2019): Bleakness in Broad Daylight

As I left the theater after my viewing of Midsommar, one thought rang clearly through my mind: “I NEED to discuss what I’ve just watched!” 2018’s Hereditary effected me much in the same way and, though the movies are at times visual opposites, Aster has solidified his filmic vocabulary. Produced by A24, Midsommar sees Aster once again tackling issues of grief, denial and one character’s journey to fulfill their destiny.

Both written and directed by Ari Aster, Midsommar begins with a mural. Upon this first watch (and considering my brain was scrambling to keep up with my eyes as they did their best to take in every detail), it seems the mural depicted the change of seasons. This is a theme the movie plays with throughout its nearly 2 hour run time. The mural opens like the curtain on a grand stage and invites us into a cold, snowy landscape. An ethereal chanting plays over jump cut after jump cut. Frame after frame of this vast cold land. Then suddenly, as if startled out of a dream, we jump from snowy treetops to a suburban aerial view that zooms in deeper and deeper to the tempo of a phone desperately ringing.

We are introduced to Dani, played by Florence Pugh, as she attempts to reach her parents after receiving an ominous e-mail from her sister. After leaving her voicemail, Dani places a phone call to her boyfriend Christian, played by Jack Reynor, who is with a group of friends when Dani calls. The friends are rounded out by Josh (William Jackson Harper), Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) and finally, Mark (Will Poulter and his friggin’ eyebrows, don’t even get me started). We learn that Christian feels he should breakup with Dani, this current freak out over her inability to reach her parents and her bi-polar sister’s erratic behavior being the latest in what is apparently a long line of freak outs. He receives yet another call from Dani and what follows is just the first of Midsommar’s shocking and brutally bleak scenes.

I won’t get into spoilers for this scene (“Haunting in its realism.” is as much as I’ll give you) but it does bring me to what I find incredibly interesting about Aster’s direction. The director has managed to set quite firmly his filmic vocabulary via one device in particular and one which has become a favorite topic of discussion of mine: the Ari Aster Cry. Last year’s Hereditary gave us one of the most brutal, realistic and certainly uncomfortable depictions of grief through Toni Collette’s cries before, during, and even after her daughter’s funeral. A round of applause is certainly in order for Collette’s performance, but I also feel Aster has a way of bringing these cries out of his actresses, capturing them in long, uninterrupted takes. Pugh gives an equally inspired, incredibly pained, and mournful cry after the aforementioned events. Your skin crawls as screams, cries, and an assortment of other guttural noises leave her body.

When I saw Hereditary, a couple left during the post-funeral cry scene, and I half expected to see at least one couple bail out at this point as well. Alas, I suppose I was accompanied by a more courageous audience this time. What I love is how Aster sticks our faces deep inside a character’s grief and refuses us any respite, not unlike a heavy handed owner shoving his dog’s face in its own mess, forcing us to deal with how uncomfortable we are with hearing someone express genuine pain and suffering. And so, we are ushered along by our title card, reminding us we’ve merely been given a glimpse of what we’re in for.

Cinematography is provided by Pawel Pogorzelski, and his contributions are critical in helping us feel fully immersed in the beautiful, albeit frightening world that Midsommar paints. We follow Dani, Christian and his friends to Sweden for a Midsommar festival Pelle has invited everyone to. We learn he grew up in a commune where old Scandinavian rituals are still being followed. Landscapes are shot in such a way that they seem inviting, yet so vast that one can not help but feel isolated. As the festival and many of its ceremonies take place in open fields washed in bright and direct sunlight, it is as if the film makers are forcing our eyes open, ensuring we can not look away from any of the horrifying events. I love the way Aster moves the camera through a room, much like we are looking in on a stage play. He takes a similar approach in these open fields and though free of walls, he often frames characters with the commune’s bunk houses and shacks, helping to give our eyes those familiar points of reference.

Through Dani’s character, the movie explores themes of control and free will, or lack there of. We see her taking medication for either depression or anxiety. Often times she is offered hallucinogens and accepts merely out of a sense of obligation. I hesitate to call it peer pressure, because she accepts from a position of someone who doesn’t want to be a downer or a party pooper. She has relinquished control not only of her mind, but in her relationship with Christian, and her through her reluctance to deal with past traumas, handing herself over to them. Aster further explores Dani’s state of mind through camera work and the various jump cuts through out the movie which often see Dani being transported from place to place as if she has lost time and has snapped back into the present.

After a shot of the clouds outside Dani’s airplane window during their flight to Sweden, the camera begins to shake as if being jostled by turbulence, though it is more likely a view into Dani’s emotional state. Upon arriving to Pelle’s commune, the camera performs a beautiful rolling move, sweeping over the friends’ car and swapping the sky for the road to show us the name of the commune upside down, before planting us back on our feet. It’s a perfect analogy for how disoriented our characters are for much of the film’s runtime.

When dealing with gore, the movie once again forces us to witness horrific events in broad daylight. We bear witness to a ceremonial ättestupa (if you already know what that is, you’ll be amused by Josh’s reaction) in a stark, stone valley surrounded by lime. It seems to wash out and intentionally overexpose the scene to ratchet up the shock of blood, bone and gore. The camera hangs on these moments at times a beat too long, as if playing chicken with the viewer. “Will I cut to another scene, or will you cover your eyes? Are you enjoying the sound of this character fighting for breath after being bludgeoned, or are you dying to cover your ears and run from it?”

As vibrant and visually stunning as the movie is, it is certainly a slow burn. Much like the music provided by The Haxan Cloak, the movie can drone on at times, yet the notes it pedals to throughout help to keep it from losing its audience. Thankfully, Aster does not fill these droning moments with dumps of exposition, helping to keep the commune shrouded in mystery til the very last note. There are a few musical motifs that are stated throughout the movie, much like the visual clues set up in the first act which hint at the fate of each character and payoff in the final act, culminating in the crescendo that is the May Queen ceremony.

The movie ends with Dani making a monumentally important decision. After being broken down in the commune, forced time and time again to leave her comfort zone and put in incredibly uncomfortable positions, some viewers may see the ending as Dani just giving in and accepting once again a lack of control.

After having had time to think on the ending for the last day or so, I stick with my original take on the ending. We see Dani accept a new found power brought out of her at the exact moment she stops denying what has been in front of her the whole time: her grief, her failing relationship with Christian, and the fate of her friends. She purged herself of those demons through the iconic Ari Aster Cry and takes on the role of May Queen (not so much a spoiler as it is hinted that Pelle has chosen her for this exact role through out the movie), wearing a crown of breathing flowers and an oversized dress that is a bouquet onto itself. The tension built through the movie stands at one end, while Dani’s character arc builds from an opposite point, finally meeting in the middle high above their respective bases to form a pyramid which mirrors the sacred temple our protagonist stands before in the film’s final moments.

Midsommar is another masterpiece from the mind of Ari Aster. Though the film pairs nicely with Hereditary, it’s warm tones standing in contrast to the latter’s cold overcast, the film manages to stand firmly on its own. Another example of Aster’s exploration of grief, destiny and our longing for control, it also plays at our base need to feel as though we are part of a greater entity. As societal beings, we search for a home, a family, and at times though it seems impossible to fit in, we are shocked to find the strength we are looking for lies deep within ourself, like the sun on a midsummer’s day.

Rating: 5 Full Moons out of 5 🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

[thatsillywriter]

Death & War

Death is the beginning of Immortality. -- Maximilien Robespierre [Shortly after torturing the demon] Eleanor steps out of the elevator, key card in hand. She makes her way down the narrow hallway looking down at her key card then back up at the black brass numbers on the red-painted doors. Eleanor counts the numbers as she passes the doors. “ 210 … 212.. 214 here it is.” She thinks to herself as she slides the key-card into the slot, and when the light turns green, she pushes down on the handle opening it with a creaked protest. The smell of cigarettes and dirty carpet hit her senses as she steps into the room. She can feel the fatigue clouding her thoughts as she leans back on the door, using her body to close the door with a click, not bothering to lock it. What she was afraid of wouldn’t be kept out by a locked door. Gradually she lets her body slide down to the floor. No longer able to hold herself up, legs feeling like weights. She hugs her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Her eyes close shut and finally lets out a jagged sob she had been holding in, hot tears slowly making their way down her blood dry cheeks. The things she had done to that poor vessel, it was unforgivable. Eleanor kept telling herself that torturing the body of an innocent human who carried an enemy had to happen. Kept trying to convince herself he was a casualty of war. War was coming, and she had known there was nothing she could do to prevent it. A war she couldn't even begin to understand. Why was this happening and why her family, Eleanor hugs her legs tighter, wishing she had Raith’s arms wrapped around her. She wanted to hear his whisper in her ear; hear him tell her that everything was going to be okay just like he always did. “Father, please forgive me.” She whispered before passing out from exhaustion.

Eleanor wakes up hours later, the pain of her protesting bones pulling her out of her slumber. Sitting in the same position wasn't the easiest thing to unwind herself from. She crawled on to the dusty bed, not bothering to pull back the comforter, curled up into a ball and drifted off to sleep again. Slowly the scent of the room changes to that of wildflowers. A small breeze swirls around the room, snaking around Eleanor’s sleeping body, caressing her cheek lovingly. The warmth of the touch causes Eleanor to stir, tilting her head towards the caress. The sound of a whispered giggle is heard far in the distance. Eleanor tried to open her eyes, but they were still blurred with sleep. Sitting up in bed, she rubs the sleep from her eyes, yawning. She looks around the room but sees and hears nothing. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands. She walks into the bathroom and runs the water faucet a few seconds before bending over to stick her mouth under it. She takes gulps of water, making loud gasps in between gulps as if she hadn't had a drink of water in days. Once she had her fill, she splashes water on her face and neck. Rubbing hard with her fingertips, ridding herself of the dirt and dry blood. She then blindly turned off the faucet and reached for a hand towel, dabbing her face dry, tossing the towel on the floor, not bothering to care where it landed. She stands, staring at herself in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were deeper, and the eight hours of sleep didn't look like it made a dent. Suddenly she hears a soft giggle and sees through the mirror something dart past behind her. She looks back over her shoulder and calls out, “Hello?” Eleanor walks to the bathroom door and peeks her head out before her body follows. She walks down the small hallway, and when she rounds the corner, she finds the room is empty of all furniture. Eleanor blinks, and she finds herself standing in the middle of a field of bright wildflowers, knee-high as far as her eyes can see. She looks down at herself. She was wearing a clean pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and her old favorite leather jacket. Her fingers gently feel around her head; fingertips follow the long thick braid down to the right side of her shoulder. A warm breeze causes the followers to sway, and as she walks forward, stretched her arms out to her side. Letting her fingertips brush the tops of the flowers. As she walks, a butterfly floats passed her its bright, colorful wings, making her decide to follow it. The butterfly leads her to a clearing, and in the middle of the clearing, a little girl is playing with other beautiful butterflies, giggling as she jumped, her little hands trying to capture one. The little girl sees Eleanor and smiles at her. “Nina…” She points at the butterflies. “Come. Play.” She said, running around in a small circle, jumping and skipping after the butterflies. Eleanor walked deeper into the clearing and kneeled on her knees. “Aaliyah? Sweetheart, is that you?” The little girl stops and walks up to her, suddenly turning shy. A tent of pink on her cheeks, turning brighter. Aaliyah smiles and nods sharply. Her gaze was lowering to the colorful Aster nestled in her little hands. Eleanor couldn't help but giggle softly. “Hello… baby girl.” Aaliyah throws her little arms around Eleanor’s neck and, with her telepathic power, whispers to her. “I missed you, Nina.” Eleanor pulls her into her lap, hugging her with one arm and stroked her hair lovingly with the other. “I missed you, too.” She whispered back. Aaliyah pulls out of their hug to lean into to Eleanor. “Mommy is sad, and Daddy is too.” she says in a sad voice. Eleanor continues to stroke her hair, not knowing what to say. “Don't worry, baby. Nina is going to help, and so are others.” Aaliyah, nods “I know, the man told me he would help you.” Eleanor looks down at her and shifts her in her lap. “Man? What man, baby?” Aaliyah points her little finger to a path the curved out of her sight. “Man said for you to follow that path, and you would see.” She said, swiping at the butterflies that had started to dance around them, seeking to play with her. Eleanor's eyes jerked from side to side, pulling Aaliyah closer to her chest. “Baby girl. Listen to me. I want you to go back to your mommy, okay.” Eleanor kissed her forehead, taking her little face between her hands. “Don't leave your mommy until I tell you its okay to revisit me, okay?” Aaliyah’s nose wrinkles, slightly and her smile turned into a frown. “Not even, daddy?” Eleanor’s eyes widen. “You… You visited, daddy?” Aaliyah nods in her hands. “No… baby.. daddy will be home soon, so please don't visit him. He wants you to stay with your mommy and be safe. Understand?” Aaliyah nod’s sadly but agrees. She throws her hands around Eleanor's neck once again and slowly fades away. Eleanor stands and walks over to the path Aaliyah had shown her. She stops at the beginning of the path, sees that it was about a mile long before it curved again out of her sight, disappearing into a cover of darkness. She started walking the butterflies following along for the journey, dancing around her as others landing on her shoulders for the ride. Once she got to the curve, the butterflies stopped following her and held back. A dark shadow covered the rest of the path. El looks back over her shoulder and sees that the butterflies hand lingered where she had left them. “Even the butterflies don't like the look of this path.” She thinks to herself, but Eleanor keeps walking deeper into the darkness.

Eleanor didn't realize when one realm ended and one began but had felt a change when she reached the new realm. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she had been here before. She continues to walk the street that had once been the path. She walked down a few blocks when she reached a small park, much like the one near the mansion. Marie liked to take Lukas there to play on sunny days. Eleanor noticed a small family. The parent's backs were towards Eleanor, but she could tell that they were a happy family. The dad was pushing the little girl on the swings, and the mom was waiting at the front of the slide with her arms open for the little boy. Eleanor smiles, enjoying watching them when she sees the dad look back over his shoulder at her. Eleanor’s breath caught unable to hide her shock when she realized it was Clint. She feels the blood drain from her body, turning it ice cold. Eleanor’s gaze drifts over the woman and sees she was looking over at Clint and followed his gaze to El. Just as Eleanor was going to call out to them, the earth shifts like a merry-go-round. Starting slow and picking up speed, not allowing her to get off the ride. The earth stops spinning, and she sees Clint and Marie with the kids again, only its not the same Clint and Marie. It's not her Marie and Clint of the present time. They were dressed differently, and the swing and slide looked different too. Eleanor steps forward, but the earth starts to move again. She jumps back, desperately trying not to lose her balance, stumbling over to a tree. It stops once more, but Eleanor knows not to call out and grips onto the tree tightly just when the earth starts to spin again. Finally, the spinning stops abruptly, leaving Eleanor blinking back her blurred vision. The vision left her in front of a small row of shops. Marie comes out of one of the shops with a little girl in her arms, walking right past, El. Eleanor followers them for a few blocks when she sees Marie walking into a building. Eleanor waits a few mins before following her in. When Eleanor passes the threshold, she finds herself in a study. Marie and the kids are sitting by the fire, reading them a book. She smiles softly down at them from the corner of the room. A few minutes into the story Marie was reading to them, Clint walked into the room, with a glazed over look in his eyes. Marie looks up at him from where she sat with the kids and quickly stood to greet him. When Marie embraced him, he didn't return the hug. Marie pulls back slightly to look at him. “Clint. What's wrong? Why are you shaking?” Clint didn't respond as one of his arms snaked around Marie’s waist, drawing her in closer. Marie smiles up at him, lovingly and steps closer once more. “What's wrong sweet - - …” Marie’s words cut off when Clint rammed a dagger into Marie’s stomach with his free hand. Marie’s eyes widen with shock and hurt. “C-Clint…” She gasped, holding on to him, her eyes filling with tears. Clint yanks the dagger out, coldly and Marie gasped once more, the sound of the air leaving her lungs sounding like a soft sigh. Eleanor watched frozen as Marie slowly slid down Clint's body, falling to the floor. And when Clint stepped over Marie’s lifeless body, Eleanor saw Raven standing at the open door, smiling. The screams of the little girl brought Eleanor’s attend back to Clint. He was mechanically lifting the little girl by her little throat. Eleanor screamed in horror. "NO!" She swiped her hand from right to left, trying to send Clint flying through the air, but instead, the earth shifted again, rapidly changing the scene once more. Eleanor looks at her hand and quickly swipes it left, and the scene changes. Showing her Clint killing the family over and over again, but every time, Raven was there in the darkness watching and controlling. Eleanor gives one finally hard swipe of her hand no longer able to handle watching her family die.Sending the vision spinning out of control, spitting her out of the realm of the past. Throwing her back to the current time like a rag doll, landing hard on her hotel room bed. Eleanor scrambles to her feet, knocking over the small lamp on the nightstand, squeezing between the bed and the nightstand. Her body slams back into the wall; her heart was threatening to pound out of her chest. It takes several minutes before Elanor can calm her breathing and nerves. "How did I do that?" Eleanor pushes off the wall and looks up to the ceiling, stopping in the middle of the hotel room. "Naomi. Naomi, I have to speak with you NOW!" Eleanor feels that familiar pull, but she shakes her head violently. “NO! You come here." The pull intensifies, and Eleanor closes her eyes, trying to fight the pull, Trying to fight the urge to obey the call. The ground starts to shake, and a bright light shines through the windows, cracks in the walls, and from under the door. Eleanor's body starts to shake from exertion; she continues to fight, but her hold starts to slip. She was weak from jumping into the past and can feel her hold start slipping. Her head tips back and lets out a piercing scream. The high pitched scream causes all the windows,  mirrors, and light fixtures to explored. "NAOMI !!" [VANISHES]

[ladykateofledfordpark]

Shadows (Beckett x MC)

And finally, here’s another fic of our favorite nerd! Writing this made me realize how much I miss him and want him to come back. Ugh, this hiatus. xD

This turned out pretty short, so I hope you’ll enjoy this tiny bit of interaction before PB bless us with more chapters of our favorite nerd! 

Dedicated to @pbmychoices and @mariaoz because I love talking with you two about Beckett! =)

Tag list: @fluffy-marshmallow-heart, @god-save-the-keen @aworldoffandoms @choices-fam

As usual, if you want to be tagged comment below! Just don’t forget to specify if it’s for all my fics or just specific ships! =)

Pairing: Beckett x MC (Kate)

When: This takes place at the beginning of book 2, before MC meets Alma.

Summary: Once Beckett fails to show up to dinner with no prior warning, Kate goes to look for him.

This story contains:

Mild horror

PTSD

And fluff! <3

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

It’s just another Sunday night at Penderghast. My friends and I are sitting around a table, sharing stories from our free day on the grounds. I laugh from the joke Zeph just made and Aster joins me, her giggle almost like the sound of bells. Atlas rolls her eyes and murmurs something under her breath, while Shreya responds to Zeph with a beaming smile. Griffin says something in reply, and the three of them go into a lighthearted exchange.

I glance at the clock right above me. Dinner started almost half an hour ago, and yet Beckett still hasn’t come. It’s not like him to disappear with no warning.

“Kate, is something wrong?” Aster asks, her voice barely audible over the chatter of the others.

I meet her innocent blue eyes, a frown to my face. “Beckett’s still not here.”

Shreya, who was animatedly explaining something to Zeph and Griffin, stops mid-sentence. She turns to me, a mischievous lilt to her voice. “Well, maybe someone should go look for him? Kate, what about you?”

Zeph opens his mouth, but before he can say anything Shreya shushes him with a look. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t persist, continuing to eat his dinner instead.

I shoot Shreya a suspicious glare, but she just sends me an innocent smile. “Why me, exactly?”

She smirks. “Well, you are the closest to him. I think he would prefer to see you.”

“Only me?”

“That way the rest of us won’t have to miss dinner!”

I decide not to point out that both Griffin and Atlas have emptied their plates. “Fine.” I halfheartedly agree.

“But don’t take too long. Or I will eat your food.” Atlas comments nonchalantly.

Shreya shoots her a scathing look, but it vanishes once she turns back to me. “Don’t worry, Kate. I’ll make sure your dinner will be safe. Take as long as you need!”

As the five of them continue chatting, I’m already entering the dark corridor. The lights are much dimmer than the cafeteria, and something dark and slimy creeps up on me. I shiver as the faint sound of footsteps comes nearer, before I feel a warm breath on the back of my neck. It smells of blood, and the cold hands that touch me send a shiver down my spine. I turn my head so I can see the person’s face, and meet harrowing red eyes.

“Surprise,” Raife says, his smile a harbinger of death.

He lunges at me, but just as I’m about to scream- he disappears. I close my eyes, breath erratic, as I force myself to calm down. Raife’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. It was just an illusion.

Once my breaths slow, I force myself to walk in the direction of the library, away from the light of the mess hall. I summon a weak flame, which keeps the shadows at bay, and let out a sigh of relief. The light helps somewhat, but I still find myself looking back, making sure no secret shadow monsters are coming after me.

The halls feel so much emptier at night. It’s deathly quiet, the only sound coming from the flapping banners. A light breeze enters through the open windows, caressing me with cool, calming fingers. I can even taste the salt of the lake, and the fire in my palm warms my heart a bit more.

I smile when I see a slant of light coming through the library’s oak doors. I walk in after turning off the fire in my palm. I smile as I approach the librarian’s desk, but she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you have dinner to go to?”

I shake my head. “Actually, I was wondering if you saw Beckett Harrington around here?”

She looks at me the way one would look at a child who just asked a very stupid question. “When is Mr. Harrington not here?”

Relieved, I say a polite “thank you” and head deeper inside. Beckett always chooses to sit at the desks of the innermost part of the library. I never understood why, but no matter how many times he attempted to explain, I knew I could never see myself in the same situation.

I find Beckett sitting at a vast table, a high pile of books at his side. An open book lies before him, and his eyes scan its contents studiously. His brows furrow in concentration and his mouth murmurs words I can’t make out.

I approach him in long strides and pause when I’m standing right above his hunched figure. “Beckett?”

I wait, but Beckett is so engrossed in the book he doesn’t notice me. I smile at the golden opportunity and bend down so my breaths fan his face. “Beckett?”

At first, Beckett looks at me in surprise, but his eyes darken once he notices how close we are. A tingle goes down my spine, but I force myself to back away. Once we’re at a safe distance, I let out a breath of relief. Beckett just watches me, a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

I cross my arms. “Do you know what time it is?”

He glances at his watch, and his face immediately pales. Beckett meets my gaze, deep sorrow crossing his face. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I was so immersed in my reading that I must have lost track of time.”

I sigh. "What are you even reading for? An extra credit assignment? A special study you want to conduct?”

Beckett puts the book he was holding beside the others. His fingers thrum on its cover as he tries to find the right words. “In truth, I was searching for a cure to your ailment.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I was attempting to find a solution to your unstable powers. Unfortunately, I still haven’t unearthed anything of value.”

I gape at him. “How long have you been working on this?”

Beckett doesn’t meet my eyes. “For the past two weeks or so.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you much?”

He nods. “I didn’t want to let you know, in case it turned out to be a futile attempt.”

“Well, next time I would appreciate if you would tell me.”

He grins. “I’ll think about it.”

Beckett gets up from his place and walks toward me, stopping when we’re only inches apart. He cups my cheek as his eyes search my face for something I can’t tell. “You were rattled before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before, when you came in, you looked like something was out to get you. What happened?”

I hesitate. ““The truth is… Raife still haunts me.”

Beckett gently runs his thumb on my cheek, prompting me to continue.

“Sometimes, in the dark, I think I see him. He comes to me, and-” I stop, breath rattling. “When it’s not him it’s his shadow monsters, and I just-”

I close my eyes, willing the horrifying images away: a shadow monster, approaching me with murder in its eyes; the bruised bodies of my friends, laying across the empty floor; Atlas holding my hand in what could be our last moment together, and Raife’s evil laughter in the background, numbing me to the core.

Beckett tilts his head so his forehead now touches mine. “Kate, whatever happens, I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you.”

I smile. “I know. And Beckett?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

He puts an arm around my waist and pulls me so close that our lips almost touch. “Always.”

[hedgewolf-hunters]

Silence is golden

Drake: Hey you guys want to see one of my adventures from last week? Than take a seat and open those ears up cause have i got a story for you.

In the city of Etrinitat on the corner of main and etheral st a two story old-fashioned wooden establishment sits. The sign a top the doors reads, Alpha & Omega, Bar and grill. Inside was a bustling collection of mobians big and small from avians to deep diggers to the deepest underwater divers. A female dark red wolf is behind a bar counter serving older customers liquor drinks and scaring off under age kids. She has two blue stripes under her sea blue eyes and her hair like fur is done in a single massive braid. Shes wearing a sleevless leather jacket with a tank top underneath, dark blue skin tight jeans and spiked boots on her feet.

"Mom im cutting out early today." A maroon colored male wolf with hedgehog quills barely extending from his head says to the female. He has a black stripe going down the only two quills he has and the same matching blue stripes under his glowing amber eyes. The male is in a sleevless parka, black zipper boots, and gloves with a slightly raised bump on the knuckles.

"Yeah and do what my son?" She asks. Turning to him after serving another customer. The boy places down a crystal double tapping it so a hologram of a bounty appears. Its of a raccon with a list of crimes.

"Drake this guy is an sociopath with a hard on for killing hunters and civilians. Not to mention he probably has a following with him." The woman says.

"Mom i know this. Its the reason i took the job in the first place. You know physical attacks either don't connect or do any real damage, not to mention I'm probably one of only two other people in this building who can actually get close to him." Drake says.

"Sky let the boy go. He needs to learn to take care of himself anyway, and he cant do that if you hold him back from jobs or doing them alone." A purple hedgehog says from the door leading to the kitchen. Her eyes are normal amber compared to the boys, her quills done in a ponytail are greying slightly at the tips as they stop just past halfway down the door. She has a single white stripe on top of her head down her middle quill and a black stripe down each of her outer quills. Shes dressed in sports top and short, and hightop shoes with a chef outfit over it all.

"Thank you Aunt Aura. See mom even Auntie thinks i should give at least one solo job a shot. Look if it doesnt turn out to well than i will not ask again to take a solo. But if it does than can you please just let me do my own every now and then?" Drake asks his over protective mother. Sky bites her lip wanting to say no but knowing they both have a point.

"Fine. But if you get into any trouble trigger the flare and your brother will be there to back you up." Sky says locking a braclet around her second sons wrist.

"Will do ma. Alright ill be back in a couple days. He's in the grassland plains. How he hasnt been caught already, besides his psychotic nature, ill be finding out soon enough." Drake says picking up the crystal and running out the door. He kicks into high gear once outside the bar and runs across the city in a minute flat to the west wall gate.

By nightfall Drake has finally escaped the great forest that surrounds his home and the city. He groans stretching.

"Damn i really wish i had dads super speed, but no, it went to Scarlet and Inferna only. Me and Bane gotta push just to keep up and i have to push harder since Bane can clear the forest in minutes thanks to his wings." Drake grumbles to himself as he stretches his sore legs. A orb flies out from his jacket.

"Oh stop complaining. Your compensation for these little differences is me and our shared abilities. After all none of them can use the Astral plane, like i told you to use, to travel nearly instantly." A feminine voice says from the orb.

"I got excited and forgot ok. No need to chew my head off Aster. Besides wheres the adventure in instant travel? If we had we wouldn't had to chase away those pups from the cargo transport and kept supplies running to the city." Drake says to the orb. The feminine voice huffs and returns to his jacket.

"Fine but when this job is done we go home my way. Last thing we need is for you to lose your prey fending off adolescent feral wolves again." Aster says before going silent again. Drake chuckles as he starts running again headed to the city of the plains Primous.

Day break arrives and Drake yawns from his room inside a old fashioned inn. He arrived around midnight in the city and could only find this building to rest in. He stretches getting a few pops in his back from sleeping on the lumpy mattress. He grunts as he gets up off the bed and walks to the sink in the room. He spashes ice cold water in his face and reaches into one of his inner jacket pockets. Seemingly deeper than it looks he pulls out some morning hygiene tools.

Half an hour later Drake heads down to the main floor and walks out waving bye to the shop keep. The town is now bustling with buisness, cars driving by pedestrians walking around and kids heading to schools nearby. Drake smiles as he jumps up onto the roof and takes in a birds eye view of the city. Whistling as the crowded busy streets clog up in the mornng traffic. A few sky scrapers litter the city and a few cathedrals, his targets usual dumping sites. Smirking Drake jumps from the building and lands on the sidewalk, he heads into the deeper parts of town blending in as much as he can.

Three hours later Drake is stopped at the last cathedral in the city.

"The place where it all started. A city inspector came to check on the building and found several dead bodies placed in various forms of worship. The cops caught video footage of the raccoon in question shortly after the bodies were found in other cathedrals. Mobians have been scared of this place ever since and the neighborhood has been evacuated do to that fear." Aster says while Drake stands by the doors.

"And some mobians have come to worship him as a new messiah with the messages he's left with the last seven victims. I wonder why is it than that they cant trace his signal during the 'Prayer' as its been labeled. Someones gotta have a clue to where this loon is." Drake mumbles as he stares at the gothic doorway of the church. He scratches his head as he turns around and bumps into a young female raccoon.

"My bad little lady didnt see you there." Drake says taking a knee to help her up. She shakes her head with a small smile as she takes his hand of help. Drake smells the blood and goes wide eyed for a second before passing out from a needle in his neck. Aster stays silent as Drake passes out.

"See momma I caught the bad man after daddy." The raccoon girl says pulling the needle out and waving at a bush. The female fox that ran the inn Drake slept at walks out.

"Good girl. Now lets get him inside before anyone sees." The fox says grabbing Drake by his feet.

An hour later Drake groans awake strapped to a table with a light glaring down at him. He thinks back to what happened before he fell out. The flash back coming back he sighs and grinds his teeth a little.

"Seems someone is noticing his mistake." Aster says. Drake glares at his jacket quickly and than lays back.

"Cant blame you for that one, i deserved it. Guess the bait was too good for him to pass up." Drake mutters under his breath to Aster. She snorts in reply and Drake feels something hovering over his hands.

"Not yet, let the bait settle a little more. But if you feel like im in trouble...feel free to get dirty." Drake says the sensation leaves his wrist as Aster sighs. Drake whistles a tune from his childhood as he waits for the next half an hour till his target appears. A four foot tall raccon with well built frame wearing a priests robe.

"Hello my little sheep. Glad to see your comfy in your protective bindings." The raccoon says.

"Well you left me on this slab with nothing to get comfy with so i made do." Drake replies.

"Heh you are quite the talkative type arent you little sheep." He says.

"No shit Sherlock, I've been stuck up here for half an hour with nothing to do but whistle an old lullaby." Drake says

"Hmm, do you know why you are here little-"

"Call me little sheep one more time and I'm gonna tear a hole through your windpipe." Drake interrupts the raccoon getting tired of that comendering tone that follows the words.

"Fine than hunter, i assume you are here for my head but it seems you're about to lose yours." The raccoon says dropping the fatherly tone to his true thug accent. He walks towards a table with a bloody cloth over it and powerlines leading out from underneath it.

"You assume I'll lose my head here, but let me ask you, do you know why i didn't tear your daughter in half before the needle touched my skin? Or why I didn't drag your wife out of the bushes when they hid behind me?" Drake asks making the raccoon stop in his tracks. Aster uses the moment to slice the straps lightly, enough that they can be broken with even the slightest move. The raccoon turns around glaring at Drake.

"Dude you think I didnt notice the table setting in the back of the inn? Or that i was being followed from cathedral to cathedral? Not to mention your ladies eyes when she heard me say i was a hunter." Drake says. The raccoon looks confused.

"Than why did you allow yourself to be captured?" He asks walking over to Drake puzzled now.

"Honestly i didnt know you would send your own flesh and blood to capture me, that threw me for a loop for a second. But its just how I hunt by myself. I dont go looking for prey i let them come to me." Drake finishes with a grin freeing his hand and grabbing the raccoon by his robe and tossing him over the table with the power tools. Drake quickly curls into a spin dash to free himself and stands up on the floor. Two gunshots in his direction make him turn towards the firing squad of the wife and child. Rubbing the bridge of his nose Drake summons Aster in physical form. A scythe blade with a gap where its connected to the curved staff, a smaller blade growing out the opposite side. Gold trimm visibly and bulbously formimg a drip down pattern down the staff till it reaches the bottom where the gold turns into a spear point.

Drake spins the scythe around in his hand as he walks towards the two females. Bullets bounce off the scythe like rubber as Drake gets closer to them. Once the ammunition is out Drake stops spinning the scythe and grabs a point on the foxes collar bone that sends her to sleep. He back steps the small Raccoon and slams the wood down across her back before striking her several times with his fingers in specific locations to immobolize her and put her to sleep as well.

"Now that the peanut gallery is take care of, where were we?" Drake asks gibing Aster one final spin before resting her against his shoulder. The male Raccoon has stumbled back on the floor.

"You are some sort of Demon, you must be!" He exclaims. Drake snorts as he grips Aster with both hands.

"Hear that Aster, he thinks we're demons." Drake says. A shimmer from the balde makes the Raccoon back up more.

"Ah if only he could hear me, id havea few choice words for him to show him how demon like we are." Aster says to Drake. Drake grins watching as the man scrambles for a knife. He stops a few feet away from the raccoon whos now on his feet with a serrated blood covered machete. Drake leans one foot forward and one foot back, lowering Aster to hover above the floor he holds her with both hands at the ready to swing. The raccoon charges at Drake like a scared child wildy swinging the machete. Drake waits till hes within two feet of them and swings Aster in an upward arc going right through him, than coming back down in the opposite direction. He side steps as the raccoon passes him still swinging scared. Drake finishes by slicing aster through his neck. All three attacks leave no mark on the raccoon whos confused as he felt the blade go through him all three times.

"Im gonna give you two options now psycho. Come quietly and live out your days in a jail cell nice and comfy. Or." Drake says snapping his fingers. The cuts slowly form where the blade touched, not deep like they should be but enough that they are drawing faint amounts of blood.

"I let your cuts form fully to the point of no return." Drake says making a slicing motion with his thumb across his throat. The raccoon gasps in pain feeling the sensation of the two across his body getting deeper agonizingly slowly.

"Please, just stop the pain! Take me in but stop this torture." He begs. Drake raises a brow and steps over to the writhing raccoon.

"You think this is pain? You think i should show you mercy that you never showed to twenty others? No this isnt pain and suffering, this isnt torture yet little sheep." Drake says makimg the raccoon look up at him for a moment. In that moment drake showed him something few others see unless he wants them too.

"Remember you know nothing of suffering, pain, or torture. I'll take you in but you nore your family will remember the other. Of that i will make sure of." Drake says lifting Aster and slamming the spear point down onto his targets head.

Drake: No i didnt kill the guy. Aster can sever bonds and memories with her spear point. I simply took all threes memories of being together from the point of the killings. The wife thought he had left her and the child and thats the way it will stay while the shit rots his life away in prison now. And quick note from the mun that no more stories this week. He'll have more ready next week but this week he will be focusingnon his other project. If you want to Rp with us we can do that or answer questions. But no stories for the next six days.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Old Story Idea-Zombies and Legends

It sounded like a joke at first.

“Oh, zombies, suuuuure.” They’d laughed at school, mocking the news, thinking it was a stupid joke that people had gathered together to create.

It didn’t stay like that.

It got to big, to many reports coming in and then…

The first victim of their town. One victim.

Others soon followed. His family, then they attacked the neighbours.

It’s funny. You always think… well, it wouldn’t happen like the moves. You’d be able to fight back, a town wouldn’t be wiped out like that.

But it did happen. Exactly like that.

Aster James had barely been sixteen when the dead rose. She was seventeen when she had to run for her life.

She’d once been a soft nerd, a prankster who grinned and traded terrible jokes with her best friend Sophie.

Now? Well, you can’t be soft and surviving.

-0-

“Fore!” Aster shouts, slamming her bat into the head of the zombie who had tried to attack her, it’s bottom half ripped off, forcing it to drag itself along the ground, moaning. “Or is it a home run?” Aster laughs, eyes crazed as she surveys the small bunch of zombies she had taken out.

Five. Huh. Not as impressive as the time with the Molotov cocktail and the ten zombies but pretty good for when she just had a bat.

Humming, Aster looked around the grocery store she had broken into. It was getting rare to find non-ransacked ones, but well… most had been ransacked in the early days of the epidemic.

Not may afterwards, when more news came out.

Aster’s eyes purposely skip over the overturned baby stroller, the blood staining it and… well, the result of her discovery of a smaller than normal breed of zombie.

Compartmentalize, compartmentalize and store away. That and a good sense of humour was the only way to survive.

“Jackpot!” Aster cheers, spying a load of bottled water down an aisle. “I’d like to thank my amazing driving skills for helping me to find a random shop that still has water!!” she did a mock bow, dancing around in glee.

Non-contaminated water was getting hard to come by, the toxin that started the epidemic spreading when zombies entered the water. Rainwater and bottled water was the only thing safe- though she heard stories a few of the small towns that had cropped up randomly had figured out how to filter out the toxin.

Not her style though. She was a loner by choice, though sometimes she met up with Sophie who stuck by herself to. More than one person in a group was dangerous.

Gathering up as much water as she could in a cart nearby (ignoring the bloody handles), she pushed it out to the parking lot where the van she’d grabbed from a dealership was waiting, loading the first load into the back.

“You know, I should get a dog. All apocalypse movies have dogs. I can train it to sic zombies.” Aster says out loud, talking to thin air. “But Aster, where would you find a dog?” her voice took on a different tone, a little deeper like she was mimicking another voice. “Why Aster! You know what? I don’t know.” She says in her normal voice, nodding to herself. “Maybe I can poke around for puppies!”

“But Aster,” Aster says as she goes back in for more water, her voice changed again. “Most dogs are feral or dead now! Zombies use ‘em as snacks!” She grabbed more water, acting thoughtfully.

“Why Aster! I believe you’re right! I forgot!” She laughed to herself, shaking her head.