#Beta!Helena

[helenadurazzo]

Beta!Helena

This is the version of my character I made all the way back in 2019 when I first started the game, until I later revisited the game in 2021 and revamped Helena into the character you know today. I have never shared this version of Helena online until now so I hope you enjoy what this turns out to be.

As you can see in the picture above, Helena did not go through a large amount of changes physically. Here, her hair is naturally black and nearly perfectly straight and her skin is much paler.

Her name wasn’t even going to be Helena Durazzo, originally, Helena’s last name was going to be Hawthorn. Her beta version had no Italian roots and was for the most part, completely British.

She would mostly have been raised by her mother who was very similar to her canon mother except this version of Olivia was originally a Slytherin and had a hobby in herbology rather than a career

Her father mysteriously died not too long after she was born and rarely anyone talked about him. I believe I planned to use this to tie in my MC with R but don’t have notes about it

She had many family connections such as being linked to the Ravenclaws and being talented in Legilimency through her mother’s side of the family. She was also a pure blood witch.

In addition, she herself was always going to be a member of Ravenclaw house. However, she was never going to be part of the quidditch team and actually despised the idea of flying

She was great friends with Rowan, Penny, and Ben, and in my original canon, she even befriends Merula. In addition, Helena also dated Barnaby Lee and went with him to the Celestial Ball and first date.

Unlike canon Helena, who has a pet bird (a starling to be specific), Beta!Helena had a snowy owl named Khione who she used to keep in contact with her beloved mother while at Hogwarts

Finally, the last thing I have in my notes is that she was a bookworm and aspired to be a curse breaker to learn more and to find her brother and bring him home to her and her mother.

[wimbledon2008]

when you're drowning in your car and LAFD pauses your rescue to take PR photos for the recruitment initiative

[gothamite-rambler]

Helena: Say it.

Bruce: Fuck you.

Helena: I might later after you say it.

Bruce: You're really going to make me say it?

Helena: I have had to deal with your total bull crap for way too many years, I need to hear you say this so that when I enter the pearly gates of heaven that will be what I tell Gabriel.

Bruce (physically paining him): Fine... you were right!

Helena: And I recorded it. Thank you!

Bruce: Eat a cactus and die!

Bruce ended the call enraged as Helena fell back onto her bed and sighed happily.

Helena: Seems that hell has frozen for a few weeks.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

50, 58 😊

50. do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind?

Mostly plan! Although it's very much I have an inciting incident and a conclusion in mind, and then I figure out what needs to happen to get there as I write. I definitely have realized I prefer having more of a concrete plan recently, but there's still a lot of flexibility with how I do it.

58. what is the last thing a fic made you Google while you were writing it? This is mortifying actually. Today for In The Heat of it All chapter 5 I ended up googling: "can you eat a pig if you shoot it?" yeah. Per the writing-flaw question from earlier, I think another big thing for me is that once I start writing my brain stops trusting itself and I have to Google things like that! I think I thought the bullet and the metal would corrupt the meat somehow? But the answer is yes you can! And you will see how that's relevant in a little over a month? perhaps?

[lowstakesvampires]

behold. the very first bite chart (ca. 2017)

[mvsicinthedvrk]

discord surprise starter for liu qingge & helena wayne // @lcvelxss

Liu Qingge's face looks disgruntled as he stands at the door, knocking impatiently. He doesn't know why he's in such a rush, because as soon as he finishes this drop-off, there'll surely be another. At least he was able to get permission to complete deliveries flying by sword instead of driving, but it doesn't particularly outweigh the injustices of the job as a whole. "Delivery. For you," he says at the door as soon as it's even cracked open, thrusting out his hand that holds a tied-up plastic bag full of steaming food cartons.

[infcinity]

post continued from here bc the new editor sucks :))) @empathiie

"that is probably, it's still a very nice hat," helena smiled at the other. "I don't think so?" her brow furrowed slightly as she looked at the other. "maybe we've seen each other around the city?" she offered, with another smile.

[glitzglamgunpowder-if]

"You were destined for a life better than this. A life free from violence, from bloodshed. But here you are once again, it's like you never left."

YOU were a child destined for greatness, for your name to be written into the pages of history. Whatever happened in your past didn't matter anymore. You were born with raw talent and charisma that couldn't be wasted, that people can only dream of. But your innate gift didn't mean your path would be easy. After the circus shut down, you stumbled through life delivering each performance like it was your last. You thought you've reached your peak, until a mysterious offer suddenly throws you into a life of crime.

Play as a male, female, or nonbinary performer

Customize your MC’s physical appearance, façade personality, and choose a pseudonym for them

Befriend or Romance 4 ROs

Dedicate yourself to honing your natural talent

Choose your end goal and earn the fame you have craved your entire life

How do you want the public to perceive you? To be respected, or to be feared?

Learn more about the secrets of your dark past. Will you learn how the circus fell? How you ended up here of all places?

Will you acquire the fame you deserve, or will you fade into history?

Outline of Stats/Routes!!

Alistair/Alice Delacroix - THE RIVAL

AS you adjust to your new life, you hear rumors about your fated rival. One whose mind was poisoned to despise every fiber of your being. It's no surprise they're known for their ambition, their cunning, their ruthless nature. Their path led them to inevitable darkness, but will yours?

Trope: Forbidden Romance/Enemies to Lovers

Samuel/Samantha "Sam" Kaminski - THE BOSS

YOU are an acquired talent on behalf of the current wealthy owner of the elusive Spotlight Syndicate, one of the most popular bars of its time. They're one of the few people who don't question your mysterious past, who trust you as implicitly as the air they breathe. You know deep down they have a soft spot for you, one of their greatest assets, but they're motives are...difficult to discern. But is there a possibility your relationship could go beyond transactional business?

Trope: Boss x Employee/Age Gap

Hendrik/Helena Rietveld - THE BODYGUARD

YOU don't know much about them, nor do they seem willing to give you any more information than necessary for your safety. But one thing's for sure, they're loyal to the ones they serve. And given your new...circumstances, that may be exactly what you need: someone who would travel from heaven to hell and back if their duty called for it. Will you be the first to crack the unsolvable's code?

Trope: Bodyguard Romance/Potential Grumpy x Sunshine

Jesse Lê - THE FRIEND DETECTIVE

YOU never expected to see them again after...never mind that! They stand before you now, a completely reinvented version of themself. A stranger to everyone they encounter. Will you be able to slip off the carefully curated mask they've built and heal from your past together? Or will that smoking gun be laid to rest once and for all?

Trope: Childhood Friends to Lovers -> Detective x Potential Criminal

Physical Description of the ROs!!

Despite being a frequent IF player, this is my very first time trying to create an IF myself as someone with little coding experience (I'm more of a writer if anything). I'm definitely learning as I go, and I understand this may lead to mistakes or disappointment at times, so I preemptively apologize for them. I tend to become overly ambitious, and I want to make sure I always deliver on the promises I make. I say this because some of you may have ask about certain features being implemented and I will have to say "Sorry, I don't really know how to do that yet, but I'll try and learn how!" Hopefully, this will be a fun learning experience, and you all have a fun time on here! Sincerely, Mira <3

DEMO || BETA TESTER FORM || PLAYLIST

[incorrectbatfam]

What is each of the batfam members approach as a tutor to a student/hero trainee?

Dick: locks them in jail for a few weeks (so they know what it's like and won't abuse their power by throwing people in left and right)

Jason: makes them deliver birthday presents to late henchmen's children (people are multifaceted, action have a ripple effect, and taking lives should only be the very last resort)

Tim: hosts a trivia night where he asks them questions about an anime that doesn't exist (to test whether they lie their way through or admit they don't know)

Damian: asks them to assist him, criticizes them when they do, and repeat (being a hero can be a thankless job but they have to brush it off and do it all over again)

Duke: makes them read a book at a concert and quizzes them after (vigilantes are surrounded by distractions and need a laser focus)

Cullen: makes them beta-read a bunch of bad Wattpad fanfics (desk work is tedious but just as important as fieldwork)

Stephanie: sticks them in a customer service job for a month (they have to deal with all manner of civilians while maintaining a positive image)

Cassandra: sets a trash can on fire, bursts a water pipe, and releases a bunch of rats (multiple things can happen suddenly and they have to know how to triage)

Barbara: makes them watch a movie marathon that keeps buffering (investigative work is a lot of waiting around and seeing what happens)

Harper: has them fix a car with the wrong instruction manual (what's being ordered isn't always what needs to be done)

Carrie: hires a bunch of actors for a giant game of Where's Waldo (attention to detail in a fast-paced environment)

Kate: offers a sparring session as an outlet for pent-up emotions (they pass the test if they don't take her up on it—vigilantes shouldn't be fighting for personal catharsis)

Helena: invites them to a formal vigilante job interview but keeps rescheduling (until they assert themselves and establish clear boundaries)

Luke: invites them to the Wayne Enterprises lab and spills a beaker of vinegar without stating what it is (understanding emergency protocol and facilitating effective communication)

Bette: gives them a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle but puts the last piece in a locked box (she'll give them the key—they just need to ask her for help)

Alfred: makes them organize files in the Batcave while something is going down on the field (they can't always be there and have to compartmentalize)

Selina: volunteers them to clean up after a three-day music festival (crime scenes are gross and they need a strong stomach)

Bruce: plans a last-minute dinner party and puts them in charge of the kitchen staff (taking leadership and knowing how to delegate)

[poetry-protest-pornography]

To make the March 21-28 Nestle Boycott easier, here's all the brands owned by Nestle:

*Nestle is an enormous company that has dozens of brands, it will be hard to avoid them unless you're very careful. It should be easy enough for the week, though!

Thank you @whatever-letmebe for the source!

Written list under the read more, for those who prefer/want one!

*please remember that you can/should only participate in these actions insofar as they don't have a negative impact on your day to day. If you have restrictions or circumstances that keep you from being able to boycott some of these products, it is not a moral failing!

Coffee - Nescafé including:

Alta Rica

Black Gold

Blend 37

Cap Colombie

Cappuccino

Caro

Decaff

Expresso

Fine Blend

Gold Blend

Kenjara

Nescafé Ice

Nespresso coffee and machines

Organic

Partners Blend

Mineral/bottled water:

Aqua Panna

Aquarel

Buxton

Contrex

Perrier

Pow-wow

Princes Gate

San Pellegrino

Santa Maria

Valvert

Vittel

Other drinks:

Build-up

Milo

Nesquik

Nestea

Processed meals:

Buitoni pasta & canned foods

Herta

Jenny Craig

Maggi

*Osem/Tivall

*Rowntrees Jellies

Dairy products:

Carnation

Coffee-Mate

Extreme Viennois

Fussells

Ideal

LC1

Munch Bunch yoghurts

Nestlé Ice Cream

*Lyons Maid Ice Cream

*Rachel's Dairy

Rowntree yoghurts and ice creams

Simply Double

Ski yogurts

Sveltesse yogurts

Tip-Top

*Cereals:

Cheerios & Honey Nut Cheerios

Cinnamon and Golden Grahams

Clusters

Cookie Crisp

Shreddies

Fitnesse

Force Flakes

Golden Nuggets

Nesquik cereal

Shredded Wheat including:

Bitesize, Fruitful, Honey Nut

Shreddies: Coco and frosted

Confectionery & snacks:

Aero

After Eights

Black Magic

Blue Riband

Breakaway

Caramac

Dairy BoxFruit Pastilles

Kit Kat

Kit Kat – Fairtrade

Menier Chocolate

Milky Bar

Munchies

Polo

Quality Street

Rolo

Rowntrees Fruit Gums

Smarties

Toffee Crisp

Walnut Whip

Yorkie

*Cosmetics:

Biotherm

Cosmence

Garnier

Helena Rubenstein

Innéov

La Roche-Posay

Lancome

L'Oreal

Matrix

Maybelline

Metamorphosis

Plénitude

Redken

Pet Foods:

Arthur's

Bakers

BETA

Bonio

Felix

Friskies

Go-Cat

Go-dog

Gourmet

One

Pro Plan

Purina

Spiller's

Vital Balance

Winalot

[surv1vor]

the man had hoped that with his marriage would come a period of peace ( a lull where he might have the opportunity to get to know the woman he now called wife and queen ). instead, there had been an entire new array of paperwork ⸻ discussions of trade and travel with a kingdom that was now one of their strongest allies. it appeared promising at first glance but require meticulous hours going over with a fine tooth comb ⸻ leaving silas endlessly distracted and having to offer unspoken apologies to his new bride by supplying her with servants and guards that might keep him company in his absence. their evening meals were, at least, one of the few times a day the newly wed couple saw one another and that evening he'd wrapped up his duties early ( taking to the gardens with a heavy goblet of wine ).

the approach of the woman was undoubtedly attention drawing ( dark hues trailing her figure as a brow arched ). "you do not need to excuse your presence within the gardens, helena, they are now just as much yours as they are mine. in fact, i might fault you for ignoring them ⸻ the weather is too fine to remain indoors." the question causes him to chuckle. "more so than previous days. i believe we are making progress with establishing trade routes. perhaps i might get your opinion after we've eaten? i will not keep you long ⸻ but you know far more of your home than i and i wish to ensure the deal we strike benefits your former and current kingdom both."

status: open to m 25+ plot: Helena is a princess given in arranged marriage to your muse in order to strengthen the alliances between two kingdoms; what he doesn’t know is that she was trained her whole life to infiltrate his country and destroy it from the inside out but once actually married to him, she starts to suspect that maybe not everything she had been taught is as it seems; what confuses Helena even more is that he’s seemingly way nicer to her than she expects; !! note: please, do not like my starters & make sure to read the rules in the source <3

Despite that it had been more than a month after her wedding, Helena still found the place she was supposed to call a home difficult to navigate, even if all of her free time was thrown into learning every turn and dark hallway. She knew learning her way around the castle was one of the smallest, easiest tasks to do, but having whispering servants and at least one guard always trailing behind her made sneaking and spying all that more difficult. At least the prolonged dinners she had with her husband were one of the few moments of actual peace from prying eyes, yet even they gave her little knowledge. He was still an enigma to her and perhaps spending every night in two different beds was bound to keep him like that but at least for now the princess turned queen didn’t feel like complaining. Giving her hand in marriage to bring on peace was one thing but to give her body to an unknown man was something different. At least he respected that. “I just wanted the fresh air before dinner”, Helena noted once her seemingly innocent stroll across the gardens was invaded. “Was your day productive, Your Highness?”

[milla-frenchy]

And all that could have been

1k4 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: the memories of you don’t leave Javi, reminding him of his past mistakes

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Angst, piv, creampie, mentions of SA (not by Javi), no age specified. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Writer chose not to use all warnings

a/n: this is for @janaispunk 1500 kisses challenge 🥳 Prompt was "last kiss/Javi p"

Thank you @toxicanonymity for the spanish translation 🖤 @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 @morallyinept for your amazing Javi character database and dialogue 🌻 @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

The title and some sentences said by Javi are from And all that could have been by Nine inch nails

Javi was at his apartment with Helena. She was one of his informers and worked in a brothel, but she meant more than that. He cared about her, and they saw each other regularly at his place.

“¿Qué harás este fin de semana?” (what are you doing this weekend?), he asked her.

“Iré a Medellín” (I’m going to Medellin)

“Bueno, tendré que buscarme otra” (I guess I’ll have to find another girl)

“Buena suerte con eso. Todas nos vamos a Medellín” (good luck with that. We’re all going to Medellin)

His heart sank and worry crept into him. Sensing a very familiar feeling, which had never left him since last year.

“¿Helena? ¿De quién es esta fiesta?” (whose party is it?)

Anxiety took over him, past events playing over and over in his head. Haunting him. And he thought about what happened a year ago. What happened to you.

You didn't plan for any of that. Neither Javi nor you did.

At first, he was a client almost like the others, except that he worked for the DEA, and bit by bit he asked you for information on the sicarios. He always treated you right, never made you feel uncomfortable. You had other clients and you weren’t the only hooker he used to fuck.

You got to know him and trust him as the weeks passed, as he also seemed to, until you realized that he was no longer fucking anyone but you. You used to see him in his apartment more and more often, and less and less at the brothel. When his cock was buried in your core and his eyes looked with yours, his gaze was different. Soft and caring.

One night at his place he lit a cigarette and was smoking it by the window. Looking thoughtfully at the city lights as you were lying in bed, naked, admiring all of him. The muscles of his back, his shoulders, his tanned skin.

When he sat on the bed, his thigh against yours, his hand caressed your stomach which was gradually returning to normal breathing. 

“¿Por qué no paras?” (Why don’t you stop?), he asked.

It wasn't exactly jealousy or possessiveness, more of a concern. You both knew what that implied. You had always been careful not to talk about those feelings you both felt. Scared that it would complicate everything.

He used to try to make you stay at his apartment longer and longer, but of course you always had to return to the brothel. To make some money. To have sex with the men you hated and who disgusted you. Trying to make it bearable you were thinking of something else. You were thinking of Javi.

“Renuncia a tu trabajo” (quit your job),” he finally asked one day.

“No puedo, Javi” (I can’t, Javi)

The more weeks and months with Javi passed, the less you could bear to go back to the brothel. But what other choices did you have? Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks and you batted your eyelashes to try to hold them back.

“You could stay here, with me. You don’t need to go back.”

“You know I can’t. They would find me, and God knows what they would do to me.”

“I’ll protect you. You know I would never let anything happen to you.”

You hugged him as the tears fell, unable to hold them back any longer. You wanted to quit your job and stay with him, but it was impossible. They made sure to let you know what happened to the girls who tried to leave.

“Necesito sentirte dentro. Porfa, Javi.” (I need to feel you inside me, Javi. Please.)

He caressed your cheek and wiped your tears like only he knew how to do. He kissed you with his warm, luscious, caring lips. Soft and delicate. When he lay between your legs you wrapped them around his waist to feel him deeper. His nose brushed against yours, and he kissed your forehead. Your hips were leading a perfect slow dance. He rubbed himself against you in the way he was sure would make you cum. His eyes fixed on yours. The eyes of a man in love, and you started to cry again.

“Don’t cry, hermosa (beautiful). I’ll take care of you and you’ll never have to go back there. Do you trust me?”

You trusted him. With all your heart. You wiped your tears and took his cheeks in your hands.

“I do, Javi.”

He leaned towards you and kissed you, until you came on his shaft, your pussy squeezing him perfectly and making him moan, and you felt his jolts at each rope of cum, painting your walls.

You didn't go back, he took you to a safe house. He exfiltrated you.

And for several days, you only saw Javi.

That evening you laughed and the atmosphere was as light as a summer breeze. You looked at each other smiling like teenagers, and he kissed your hands. Then he held you tight against him. You felt safe and free.

Later that night, as your hips rolled while riding him, you leaned into him and said, “dame un beso” (give me a kiss).

He caressed your cheek as your hands ran through his hair and you kissed. You needed to feel him more. Deeper. You moved away from him and got on all fours, looking over your shoulder as his hands caressed your hips. He slipped into you, in one slow, deep thrust. No one had ever brushed your walls the way he did. Without brutality, without clumsiness, without impatience, without hurting you. Just in a perfect way, like he always knew what to do. Stroking your clit when you needed it, until you came on his cock. His torso enveloped your back and he kissed your skin, before quickly thrusting in to claim you, grunting. 

You just knew that you belonged to each other, in the healthiest, most beautiful way.

In the early morning, he kissed your forehead and lightly stroked your cheek to not wake you up, and left for the office.

In the afternoon, you heard a knock on the door, and thought Javi had forgotten his keys. Your hand grabbed the handle of the white door and you opened it without taking the time to think.

It wasn't Javi.

In the late afternoon, his colleagues told him that a hooker had been killed by sicarios. His heart sank and he almost puked, as if his gut instinctively knew who he would find there. When they lifted the sheet, he fell to his knees on the ground.

Your mutilated and bruised body lying on its back left no doubt about what you had suffered. What they had done to you.

He went back to his apartment and drank until he couldn't remember his name.

A few days later, he visited your grave and placed white flowers on it.

He thought about how he had kissed your forehead that morning. Not knowing that it would have been the last kiss he had ever given you.

“In my nothing, you meant everything to me”, he murmured.

When the memories finally faded, he realized Helena had already left his apartment.

During the following days he had been organizing surveillance in Medellin, with Carillo and Steve. Taking photos, watching the Sicarios arriving one by one at the hotel.

Hours passed without news of Helena, and worry tightened his heart. He couldn't relive that. He was consumed with anxiety.

When he finally found her, he shot the man who was abusing her. Rushed to cover her bruised body. He failed once again, even though he arrived in time for Helena, he wasn’t able to prevent what had happened to her. 

He thought of you, not a day he had not. He thought of all that could have been.

When he visited your grave, and saw that only his last faded bouquet was there, he couldn't hold back his tears.

“I can still feel you, even so far away” he breathed. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…”

And he chose to let his anger consume him, rather than letting the tears flow. On his knees in the cemetery, he screamed. He was clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles were white.

He would dedicate his life to bringing them all down. Even if it meant falling with them. But one thing was sure: Gacha would fall before him.

***********

@janaispunk thank you for the inspiring mood board 🙏

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

[dogbinary]

Amomaxia┃Helena Eagan/Mark Scout

Read on Ao3 Here

rating: E (MDNI 18+)

wc: 4.4k

tags: car sex, drunk sex, hate sex (kind of), drinking, light choking, multiple orgasms, age gap, dom!Mark Scout, Mark is fully clothed/Helena is not, Severance 2x06 Atilla, post-Chinese Restaurant Scene

summary: based on this post by @kestrel-of-herran

a/n: I can't believe we didn't get nasty Mark/Helena sex in season 2 so this is my way of coping. This was also my first time writing for these two, so it may be a little self-indulgent. Huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for taking time out of their ridiculously busy schedule to edit this.

It started with a couple of drinks.

Several, actually.

She bought the first two rounds, he bought the third and fourth, then he lost track after that.

The Chinese restaurant had a special going on cheap shots of well tequila. They burned like battery acid going down, but four dollars is four dollars, and despite her reputation Helena didn’t seem to mind the price point.

He remembers watching her wrap her lips around the rim of the fifth glass, her throat bobbing as she downed it without using her hands; no idea where she would have learned something like that. His throat tightened as her tongue peeked out to lick the salt off her wrist.

Mark’s cock had been acting disobediently the whole night, but what really did him in was watching her shake some of that salt on to her finger and line the edge of his lips with it.

He almost crushed her hand leading her out into the parking lot, and she giggled the entire way, like this was all some sort of little scheme and he was falling head over heels for it.

As he hits the unlock button on his key FOB, part of him starts to feel slightly disgusted with himself. A little bit of alcohol and attention from a girl almost 20 years younger than him was really all it took? Well, that and the devastating grief, he supposes. At one point he’d read an article about how people use sex to cope with grief. So in that regard, at least he isn’t alone.

It also doesn’t help that said woman is Helena fucking Eagan.

She climbed onto his lap as soon as he shut the door. The two of them take up all the space his shitty, beat up Volvo had to offer. He only feels slightly embarrassed. She’s the head of his fucking company, which means she probably knows what he makes in a year, so if Helena has a problem with it, she can just ask Daddy to give him a raise.

The taste of the lime lingers on the roof of her mouth, and he’s chasing it as he sucks on her tongue. His hands are all the fuck over her, shaking as she helps him strip off her dark, heavy peacoat. Just that one piece of her outfit has to be worth more than a month of his rent, easily. It looks obscenely out of place tossed in the flaking faux leather of his passenger seat.

Privacy wise, he had been thankful he’d parked away from the imposing glare of the streetlights, but he's cursing himself now, because he has to feel his way through the buttons of her shirt. Her skin is so, so warm underneath. it’s like her body has naturally adapted to living in this freezing hellscape all her life.

“Your shirt too,” she says, pulling the offending fabric over her head. He almost chokes when she aggressively places his hands on her tits.

“No, Helly.”

They don’t know each other like that, so he’s not sure why that name came to mind. It would feel inappropriate if she weren’t grinding down on his dick through his pants. “In case I have to get us out of here.”

He’s mesmerized by her silhouette, the edges of her just barely etched out from the residual light of the parking lot.

No part of this is as careful as it should be. He grabs at her chest like a horny teenager, rubbing and pulling at her nipples until they stiffen under his fervent attention. She runs her fingers through his shitty mop of hair, scrapes the back of his scalp with her disgustingly expensive manicured nails.

The most embarrassing, guttural moan escapes him when she collects the strands at the base of his head and pulls. He’ll blame that on the alcohol later, if he remembers it. That must satisfy her though, because he can just barely make out the glint of her Hollywood smile before she’s licking a hot strip from collarbone to ear.

It’s like she was made in a lab specifically to turn him on, and he’s just along for the ride.

“Help me get out of this thing so you can fuck me,” she whispers, and again, he remembers she’s one of the greatest minds of her generation.

Through his drunken haze, it occurs to him that there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to get her out of these stockings. He’s panting like he’s run a mile, and, shit. The dizzying hot press of her cunt through her underwear is already threatening to make him spill out all over his jeans.

As if she can read his mind, Helena fucking Eagan takes pity on him. “Just rip ‘em,” she instructs, like he’s stupid for not considering it – like they weren’t made in Italy or France or some other place he could never afford to go.

The thin, sheer fabric comes apart with a resounding rip.

When mark’s thumb traces the cloth, no, fuck, the lace of her panties, he finds them thoroughly, devastatingly soaked. Ruined.

Fuck. He’s too fucking old for this. She’s going to kill him.

Helena whines and grinds down to meet his hand, but she’s so wet, the fabric slides to the side on its own, and suddenly he’s rubbing circles into her clit.

She’s whimpering as he teases it out of its tiny hood, like she’s some sort of barbie doll or porn star or something. Every part of her is perfect, because of course it fucking is. His cock is aching where it strains against the denim of his jeans, and he has to bite down on his tongue so he doesn’t cum himself and end this before it starts.

“Fuck, Mark,” she gasps, as if she can’t believe how much she’s dripping onto his wrist. He can’t remember the last time someone said his name like that. This goes far beyond anything he’s ever experienced – even before he became a sad sack of shit, and the endless revolving door of antidepressant cocktails. Did you know that your dick can literally stop working if you’re depressed?

The windows are fogging up against the chilled night air from the two of them panting. There’s enough heat radiating off of them to power his shitty apartment. At least half of it is coming from her drooling pussy. The poor thing is making a mess all over his wrist. He slides his thumb back, wrapping his rough fingers around the meat of her thigh, and dips it into her entrance, teasing and testing the give of it. His digit sinks into her. Another whimper – a shaky breath from Helena as he hooks it into her and fucks her with it, rocking in and out. The skin between his forefinger and thumb catching and grinding on her clit.

Helena presses her forehead to his. A thin sheen of sweat is beginning to form on her brow, face all screwed up, jaw loose and brows pinched in concentration as she chases her high. The fringe of her bangs is almost ticklish. Mark’s other hand traps her head there, gently. He can’t stop staring at her. When she starts to flutter around him, he swallows her breathy moan. She’s coming apart so easily with just his hand, chasing the friction with her hips.

When he pulls away from her mouth, a thin strip of saliva connects them.

Fuck, he can feel her tightening her grip, both on his shoulders and inside. Her nails are digging sharp half crescents into his brown corduroy jacket. He’ll never be able to wear this stupid thing ever again without thinking about her, like the image of her riding his hand is seeping into the fabric. He’ll never be able to wash her out.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “Do it, please. Please,” Mark Scout is begging her to come. It feels like he’ll die if she doesn’t, like the world will collapse around him. A black hole will swallow him up if she doesn’t take what she needs from him. He’s never felt more sure of anything in his life.

“Mark, fuck, I’m –”

“I know, shh.” He has no idea why on God’s green earth he shushes her. If he had his way, she’d be screaming so loud, any good samaritan within five miles would feel the need to call the cops on him, but it’s what feels right at the moment. She’s shivering above him like crazy, twitching in the thighs, making an absolute mess of his pants, dripping all over him. It feels right, though. Everything about this feels right, as fucked up as it is.

He places a grounding kiss to her forehead “I want to feel you, Helly.” Again, it’s something that should feel like an inappropriately intimate thing to say, but it doesn’t. It feels like she belongs in his arms, like whatever this is was somehow inevitable. The alcohol must be clouding his judgement. “Let me feel it.”

With a bit more pressure, Helena comes apart exactly as he would have imagined it – with a strangled cry, head tipped back, and greedy. Her walls have his digit in a stranglehold, gripping him like a vice; experiencing a poor imitation of everything he really wants to give her. Her hips stutter as she gasps for breath in his space, taking the air out of his lungs with her.

He’d give her that, he thinks, a bit deliriously. Anything she asks of him, she could have it. Which would be a dangerous thought if he had anything to actually give. His body, though, at least, is hers. That much is for fucking certain.

It feels like it’s been hers. For months, at least. Maybe it’s been hers ever since that night he almost ran over her in the parking lot, as if being in her presence planted a seed deep inside his chest and it's starting to take root now. The vines are spreading like fingers around each rib and cracking the bones open to make space for her.

She’s still twitching, riding out the last waves of her high, when she places her hands delicately on his face and kisses him like she’s starving. She grabs the bottom of his jaw, tilting his head to deepen it, and her tongue drags across the roof of his mouth like she's staking her claim. The responding groan that escapes him is one of surrender.

Helena makes quick work of his jeans, and doesn't even bother to help him by dragging them down. Her impatient hands pull his flushed and leaking cock straight through the hole in his boxers. It sits hot and heavy in her hand, and Mark hisses as she swipes her thumb across the leaking tip, spreading the wetness she finds there around the head. The small gesture has him gripping her hips so hard he’s surely going to leave a bruise.

He’s not going to last long. He just barely made it this far.

It feels like she can tell. Maybe it’s how pathetically he groans when she rubs her swollen red slit against the length of him, or how his hips cant slightly more towards her when she notches him at her entrance. She’s wearing a slightly amused smile, half of her bottom lip between her teeth while she toys with him.

When she finally takes pity on him and sinks down his cock, it's like all of his breath is strangled out of him. If he thought her skin was warm on the outside, she is absolutely burning on the inside. Every single one of his nerves is on fire. She fits him like a fucking glove, whining as he stretches her open.

The second she’s fully seated on top of him, his hands fly to her waist.

“Wait – wait,” he begs, fuck he’s begging again, his voice is unsteady, “Don’t. Just – shit. Just give me a second.”

“What’s wrong, Mark?” Her voice sounds so innocent. The grin she’s wearing is anything but. Helena giggles, tracing a thumb across his bottom lip. He has to wrench her hand away— the memory of them drinking, the salt, all of it comes rushing back to him in an instant.

A realization slaps him hard in the face: This is just a drunken, sloppy fuck.

She thinks this is funny. This princess in front of him; this girl who's never had to want for anything, rolling around in the dirt with him, dripping wet down to his balls.

He almost forgot how far beneath her he actually is, born into privilege beyond his imagination. Helena Eagan, multi-billion dollar heiress, is going to retire to her solid gold plated mansion tonight with his dirty, low-born fingerprints all over her.

He almost fell for it, didn’t he? That’s what these rich types do, make you feel important and thankful for any ounce of money or attention they deem appropriate to bestow upon you. God, he feels like a fucking idiot all of a sudden. What is he, her pet?

“Hey Mark, where’d you go?” Helena’s concerned eyes scan his face. He blinks back at her, suddenly remembering himself, remembering her wrist is still caught in his crushing grip.

Mark almost apologizes, but then decides against it. That’s not why they’re here. He didn’t drag her out of that restaurant to act all sweet or make love to her, call her fucking nicknames.

He doesn’t answer her at all actually, not with words. Instead, he reaches behind him and pulls the adjustment lever, causing both him and the seat to drop back. The sudden dip causes Helena to lose her balance and fall on top of him, arms caging both sides of his head.

He doesn’t spare her a second glance as he shifts his hips beneath her, pretends she isn’t staring at him wildly as he lifts her up and wrenches her panties to the side.

Mark’s too drunk and angry at himself to care about anything other than fucking the living shit out of her at this point.

No, if she wants to play these little games, she’s not making it out of this car unscathed.

He starts pounding up into her, raising his hips off the seat with every hard thrust to make sure he gets as deep as he can. Helena has to steady herself of her elbows from the force of it, lining her perky little tits up perfectly with his mouth. He takes advantage of the position to suck one greedily into his mouth. There’s nothing nice about this anymore. He’s not interested in taking his time with her, and he’s certainly not going to let her slip back into her little bubble and forget about this, or him.

“Agh fuck –” he bites a bright pink mark roughly into the side of her breast. There’s a responding clench around his dick, and it feels amazing so, fuck it, he does it again. This time, he sucks the skin purple around it— and she replies by gripping him even tighter.

It’s loud now. Every single thrust is punctuated with the weighted slap of his balls. She loves it rough. This would definitely hurt her if her body wasn’t begging for it. He can tell by the way her pussy is swallowing every inch of him up and drenching his cock. Mark’s punching into her so hard he’s sure some of it is going to splash onto the steering wheel. Her hitched breaths are more than enough encouragement to keep him going.

The slap that lands on her ass is ear-ringing. Helena whimpers, drops her forehead onto the headrest, and starts bouncing down in time to meet him.

God, she’s beautiful like this, she’s fucking perfect. He could get addicted to the way her walls squeeze and mold to fit his shape. He’d give up the bottle, hell, he’d give up his job, maybe even his sister if it meant he could have this – have her, wrapped around his dick, keeping it wet and warm twenty-four-fucking seven.

One of Helena’s hands grabs his hair above him and pulls it tightly in her fist. The sudden, sharp pain rips a deep, wrecked moan out from his throat. His balls pull up tighter against his body in warning, and he almost panics, thinking he’s going to come right there.

Mark’s hand moves before he can think about it, wrapping around Helena’s throat. Maybe he did it thinking it would slow things down, or maybe it was to put her in her place. Maybe some part of her really does just fucking want to kill her.

This isn’t really like him. It feels like it’s too much, too dangerous, like holding a lighter too close to the skin. But, as he’s about to remove it, he feels a smaller, more delicate hand land on top of his, squeezing and encouraging.

He does just that, and it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. He presses his thumb and fingers together until he can feel her racing pulse beneath them.

Mark has never choked a single woman in his life. Not Gemma, not any fleeting girlfriends or one night stands, never.

Similarly, he has never felt more powerful in his entire fucking life than he has in this exact moment.

It’s decided, then. He’s not going to stop until she comes again, not until she’s screaming.

Mark slows his thrusts, and Helena greedily speeds up to compensate.

“Ride it,” he demands in a voice not entirely his own, “Go on, show me.”

He’s acting like a complete asshole, but Mark wants to see it so much it hurts. He wants to watch her use him, to see where his cock disappears inside her. There’s little chance his brain will remember it, not through the swimming haze, but he knows for certain that his body will. Later – when he wakes up hard in the middle of the night from dreaming about this, because he knows he will, and fucks his fist like a cheap imitation of her, he’ll remember. Every drag of his wet first will remind him how she squeezed him within an inch of his life.

Yeah, he’s totally fucked.

She’s a good listener, though, well behaved despite whatever possessed her to seek him out tonight. Helena does as she’s told, rolling her hips in a perfect, steady rhythm, sliding deliciously up and down his length. He could watch her do this forever, the shape of her dark silhouette riding him, deriving pleasure from him. Her pulse jumps beneath his fingers and, fuck, he can feel that same heartbeat in her pussy.

She has one hand on his arm, holding it in place with a tight grip, the other riding up his shirt so she can feel his chest beneath it. Her head is lolling to the side, mouth open with a silent gasp. She’s a vision, taking him so perfectly. He can just barely make out her furrowed dark brows.

He squeezes her throat just a bit tighter.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” It comes out a mean, as if even beneath her like this, he’s trying to put himself above her. He already knows the answer, can feel it in the way her legs are twitching again, how her rhythm is starting to break just slightly, but he wants to hear it for himself. They’re probably never going to see each other again after this, and that makes it matter more to him, for whatever reason.

She nods her head, quick and shallow.

“What’s that?” he asks, positioning his free thumb just barely on to her clit.

The grip on her throat loosens just a bit, “Yes,” she gasps, like she forgot she needed to breathe, “Yes, I’m close.”

“Good girl.” He doesn’t know where any of this is coming from. He’s never fucking said that before. “You look amazing,” he adds, because it’s the truth, “You feel fucking amazing.”

She’s taking him deeper with each pass of her hips. In and out, in and out. It’s going to drive him crazy, being inside her like this, feeling all of her wet heat. It keeps making him forget himself, like she’s soaking into his skin and bones.

As much as he doesn’t want this to end, his back is starting to kill him, and he thinks if he waits any longer he will really be the first known fatal case of blue balls. His sack is genuinely starting to ache from holding it all in, so he decides to take pity on her, pressing quick, deliberate circles into her clit.

Helena doubles over from the sensation, claiming his lips again. They aren’t kissing as much as they’re breathing into each other's mouths. “Fuck, Mark –” she says, grabbing his face.

Tears are beginning to bead in the corners of her eyes, and he begins to wonder how he compares to the laundry list of men she’s likely had in her past. She could have anyone, really. Not just because of the whole money thing, but because she genuinely is one of the most beautiful women he’s ever laid eyes on, especially like this.

She looks even more stunning like this, whimpering directly into his mouth, coming apart and making an absolute mess all over his cock and his jeans. Her pussy is gripping him like a vice, milking him impossibly tighter, soaking him through his underwear as he helps her ride out the waves.

“Fuck, Helly –” The nickname flies out right past his teeth.

He can’t help it. He’s going to come. He has to. He doesn’t have the strength to hold himself back anymore, not after that – not when her cunt is gripping him and literally sucking him in and out every fucking time she clenches. It’s too much. It’s all too much. He’s trembling beneath her.

“H–Helly, Helena, quick,” Mark urgently pats her on the shoulder, “I have to –”

“Shh,” she hushes softly, hotly, into his ear, “It’s okay, go ahead.” Then, she kisses him again, slowly, while grinding lazily against him. It feels less rushed and desperate than before, like she’s exploring his mouth rather than taking from it. She’s taking a moment to just feel him, savor every second she has his cock stuffed inside her before this ends and they have to come back down to reality.

Her hands cradle his head and scratch gently against his sideburns, down his chin. It makes him feel completely enveloped in her, like there’s no escape from the ruinous onslaught of sensation.

Why she would be fine with him coming inside her, he has no fucking idea. They didn’t think to talk this through beforehand, so he doesn’t know whether she’s on birth control or if she’s sterilized or whatever the fuck because he cannot begin to imagine she’d be comfortable with him fucking a baby into her, but Jesus Christ he’s just a man.

The battle within himself is lost when she pulls at his bottom lip, pinching it between her teeth.

Fine, if that’s what the princess wants.

Mark wraps his arms around her and crushes her body against his, pounding into her just a bit wildly. Her tits are rubbing up against his chest, and just out of focus, he can hear Helly giggling between moans.

The heat that’s been building at the base of his spine spreads up to his brain, and Mark comes so hard he blacks out for several seconds. It feels like a part of his soul is breaking off. Helly rides him through it, milking out whatever he has left to give her. It’s a tough angle, since he’s got her trapped in his arms, holding on to her like a lifeline. Every contraction of his balls pumps rope after rope of come into her, filling up her pink, used pussy.

He comes until there’s no more room for him to fill, until she’s so stuffed full of it that their combined mess starts leaking back out onto his jeans.His pants are thoroughly, disgustingly ruined. He’s going to have to fucking burn them when he gets home.

After he settles, they lay like that for several seconds, chests heaving, catching their breath like they’d just run a couples 10K marathon together.

Mark feels noticeably more sober. And younger, honestly. After years of going without, he has no idea how he kept up with this woman. She rang him out though, hung him up to dry like one of her ridiculous 700 thread-count towels – probably has her initials embroidered in the corner of them. He feels a little bit like that too.

They’re still connected when he’s starting to soften up inside her. He gently pats Helena’s back in an attempt to move them both so he can clean them up. There are plenty of tissues in the glovebox, but he’d never imagined he'd be using one like this.

When she turns to face him, he can’t help the ridiculous smile that comes to his face. She’s smiling up at him, too, with her Hollywood whites, and they both start to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

They don’t get far at all. She seems reluctant to move from her place on his chest.

“Was this some sort of espionage thing?” he asks, running his fingers down her spine. She’s thinner than he thought. Every vertebrae can be felt beneath her skin. Maybe he should invite her over for dinner at some point, though he doubts the frozen meals from the gas station sitting in his freezer would do much to impress her.

“Yeah,” she admits, looking up at him with her ridiculously blue eyes. What the fuck did she see in him, again? “I was really just hoping you’d be more willing to talk about the OTC with me.”

“Drastic measures.”

“Well, anything for Lumon.” Helly rolls her eyes. There’s goosebumps starting to form on her arms. He can feel them, more than he can see them.

He grabs her discarded coat from the passenger's seat and lays it across her back.

Mark wipes just enough fog from the window to take a glance at the empty parking lot. The neon lights of the restaurant are casting a faint red glow, stretching out just far enough to touch the front wheel of his car.

He supposes they can stay there for just a few more minutes.

[crowned-with-antlers]

So this post points out that Helly’s chip ID is attached to the Cold Harbor file. We’ve already got theories spinning about it.

Thing is, I don’t think Helena is the end user.

I think she’s the next step in the process; the first to get the working prototype after Gemma has been abused through the early testing process. I think Helena is the open beta, if you will. Why? Because Helena is clearly a tool to be used by her father and the Board. They don’t give a rats ass about her wants and needs. If Cold Harbor works for her, great, but if there are still problems to be ironed out, I don’t think they care if she suffers through it.

We can already see the cracks in the facade and I definitely think Helena is redeemable. But if she tries to resist Cold Harbor, I feel like they’re going to force it on her anyway. I think Helly/Helena is in a more precarious position than we realize.

Anyway

Assuming Helena is going to is going to be the first to have the results of Cold Harbor applied to her…

We already know outie-Mark is going to be wrecked when he finds out what’s been done to Gemma.

But I can’t stop thinking about innie-Mark or a reintegrated Mark when he finds out that his Helly or some version of her is going to be trapped in a perpetual hell of Helena’s pain, discomfort, and inconvenience.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Bonus Chapter Bryce POV

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Bryce and Hunt finally meet with those in Hel.

Word Count: 2.5 K

Warnings: None, except for some major spoilers for anyone that hasn't read House of Flame and Shadow or any of the Cresent City series.

Author's Note: Hey all! So, this bonus chapter is pretty much a direct scene from House of Flame and Shadow that has been rewritten to fit the changes I'm making to canon. I recognize that there are a few readers that have not read any of the Cresent City novels (which ya'll really should), so I felt that it was better to present this information in this fashion, rather than just have it explained third hand. It does diverge from canon, but because it also so closely follows what is written by Sarah J Maas, I will include the page numbers that includes this specific scene. Just to avoid any type of plagiarism. This scene is from House of Flame and Shadow, pgs 518-523, 527-535, 538-542

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 14 Next: Chapter 15

After hours of traveling through the underground tunnels in Avallen, Bryce’s feet finally hit the bottom threshold of Pelias’ tomb. Her amber eyes scanned the darkness and mist shrouding the room. The small stream of water her group had been following trickled through the center as her eyes landed on a black stone bowl and ewer that were placed on top of a carving of an eight-pointed star on the stone ground. Bryce heard Hunt swear under his breath as he too took in the sight of the black stone room. 

“Do you know what this is?” She asked, looking up towards her mate. Her feet brushed over the fine grain debris on the floor. Hunt shook his head as he continued to examine the etching on the ground. 

“This better not be another fucking surprise,” Tharion muttered as he approached the bottom of the stairs, Sathia following closely behind. Bryce ignored the mer as she knelt on the ground, her starlight shining softly making the black dust on the ground glitter with various hues of silver and gold. 

“Oh shit,” Hunt knelt beside her, his face pale. “That better not be what I think it is.” Bryce merely nodded as her fingers traced over the rim of the obsidian bowl. 

“It’s black salt,” Sathia voiced the trepidation they all held. “It’s all black salt…” Her soft voice trailed off. Bryce continued to study the stoneware and the water that flowed and filtered through the black stone. 

“Was Helena trying to summon Silene?” Hunt asked. 

“I don’t think so. I doubt she’d risk that when she intended to save Silene,” Bryce turned to face Hunt. “Helena had only one other ally.” 

“The Princes,” Hunt shook his head. “Burning Solas. That is one fucking big risk for her to take.” 

“Yeah, but it definitely paid off,” Bryce agreed. Her fingers traced along the etched star. The trickling of the stream was the only other sound as she and Hunt held their own silent conversation. A direct line had been in Midgard the entire time. Bryce wanted to kick herself for allowing so many years to pass before finally deciding to come to the island. Surely they could have defeated the Asteri by now had she not allowed those in the Fae’s home world to influence her so strongly. 

“Could someone fill us in, please?” Tharion requested, looking between the two. 

“Avallen is shrouded in mist, just like the Prison island of the Fae home world. A thin place as Silene called it. It’s perfect for communicating with other worlds. ” Bryce began. “This entire cave system, the tomb, is designed to preserve this very chamber. A chamber specifically designed to contact Hel.”  

“That is awfully risky,” Tharion murmured, running his fingers through his hair. “This entire place is just for her to contact Hel?” Bryce caught Sathia’s shoes out of the corner of her eyes. 

“That water runs right through the salt,” Sathia’s voice was soft as she examined the bowl and decanter. “Hey Hunt, what are the ways one can summon a demon? Can drinking salt laced water work?” 

“Not that I’ve seen,” Hunt clarified. “But there’s a first time for everything. I’m just not sure how…” He stood, stretching out his legs. 

“Maybe it’s not for summoning,” Bryce supplied. Her hand reached out toward the decanter, walking a short distance to the stream to fill it with the water. 

“You better not do what I think you’re going to do, Bryce.” Hunt’s words were calm yet stern. “At least not without me.” 

As soon as the cold water passed her lips, Bryce felt her body begin to free fall. Hunt’s hand was the only warmth she felt as they tumbled together. Down and down, around and around until her feet landed on what she could only describe as a sandy beach surrounded by impenetrable darkness. Neither she nor Hunt had expected to see Apollion or Thanatos when they entered the realm of Hel. Nor could either of them have ever anticipated learning that Hunt was a by-product of the Princes’ design. 

All that Bryce had wanted to know was if they knew how to defeat the Asteri and when that war could be fought. Instead, she found herself and Hunt sitting at a rounded table with three Princes of Hel, chit-chatting as if it were some study group for a boring history seminar at CCU. 

“What do you know of Midgard’s history?” Aidas asked, steepling his long, elegant fingers. The near platinum white-blonde hair gently rustling in the non-existent wind. Bryce merely crossed her arms, leaning back against her chair while her toes flexed inside her shoes. 

“There is a room that Rigelus dedicated to commemorating the conquests of the Asteri.” She let out a heavy breath. “The Asteri attempted to conquer your planet, Hel, but-” Apollion’s loud snort cut her off. 

“Planet? Did you really think that Hel was a singular planet?” Apollion, with his bright and disarmingly warm golden features tilted his head curiously. Bryce had to remember that the Prince of the Pit, the Star Eater, was the only one of them within the room that had actually defeated a member of the Asteri. Aidas chuckled at his side. 

“Yes…” Hunt’s brow bunched together as he eyed the three princes warily. The apprehension on his face must have been highly amusing as the three broke into what they must have considered fits of laughter. 

“What the fuck is so amusing?” Bryce’s voice was clipped. She didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary but also didn’t want to leave without the information she came for. 

“Hel, as you call it, is not a standalone world,” Thanatos began. One of the smokey shadow like hounds at his side rested their head upon his lap.  

“You said Hel was a planet,” She spat, her burning pointed gaze zeroed in on the Prince of the Chasm. Startling white teeth gleamed as he grinned, feigning a level of innocence at having only given Bryce a small piece of information.  

“It is. Though I do suppose the confusion could stem from the fact that you Midgardians believe Hel to be divided into levels. It’s more accurate to call them realms, and each realm happens to be its own individual planet.” Aidas explained, the amused grin plastered on his face infuriated Bryce to no end. Not once had any of them been fully honest, only revealing information as they saw fit. 

“Each planet is ruled by its own Prince,” Apollion explained. 

“I’m sure you can imagine the level of infighting that occurred,” Aidas added. “Each wanting to rule over the collective. 

Apollion continued. “This separation of our realms almost ended up being our downfall when the Asteri came. Luckily most of us were able to see their true nature and intentions, uniting our forces and working together towards a common goal. We recognized that we were much stronger when united, as seven together, and we began to refer to this collection of planets as Helheim.” 

“How nice for you,” Bryce drolled, tucking the name into the back recesses of her mind. 

“It conveniently explains why it's taken so many millennia for you all to regroup after your defeat in Midgard,” Hunt added. “Distance does make planning a fight difficult.” Bryce recognized the subtle hint of frustration in her mate’s voice. It was similar to the frustration that she held at having to wait so long for this very chance. But she also had to remember, she was working on not convincing the armies of Hel to join the fight, but the armies of Prythian and the other territories of that world. 

“Yes, well, if you’re going to add insult to injury,” Aidas took over. “It’s difficult to fight a war when you have no way of getting to the battlefield. Pelias had been instructed to use the Horn to close the Northern and Southern rifts. He was, for the most part, successful. The rifts are open to Hel, but only by a sliver. Less than that really, a fraction of a sliver allows myself or the creatures of Hel to slip through practically undetected.” 

“Boohoo for you,” Bryce glowered. “Had you returned earlier, maybe we wouldn’t be in the position of needing to fight the Asteri now.” 

“You can place the blame on whomever you wish, Bryce Quinlan,” Apollion leaned forward. “That doesn’t change what occurred, nor what needs to be done moving forward. Your ancestor knew all too well that any world between worlds would not be waged while she lived.”

“Both Helena and Theia took many steps to ensure that when the time was right, everything would align.” Aidas added, continuing his story of exactly how Theia divided her starlight. And the connection her power held over the Starsword and Truth-Teller. “Fate knew what it was doing when you ended up with the Horn inked into your skin and the Starsword in your hand.” 

“Like calling to like,” Bryce murmured, nodding along. “It’s how I was able to reunite the Starsword and Truth-Teller.”

“Exactly,” Aidas agreed. “The two blades yearned to be reunited but were kept separate when the gate to the Fae’s home world was closed by Pelias. Your use of the Horn reopened that gate, the pulling of the blades' desire to be together was simply stronger than your own.” 

“Come now, Aidas,” Apollion interjected. “Neither your lover nor her daughters were seers, oracles, whatever you Midgardians call them. Ms. Quinlan’s arrival in her ancestral home does not fully account for the…patterns we are starting to see.” 

“What patterns?” Hunt asked. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, son,” Apollion smiled upon using the word. Bryce could have sworn he enjoyed watching Hunt squirm with the news of his true parentage. 

“Seriously?” Bryce leaned forward. “We don’t have time for games of grab ass. What patterns have you seen? Is there another reason why I landed in the home world for the Fae?” Apollion simply held up his hand, his calm smirk causing Bryce to silently seethe in her seat. Her ire was only calmed by the gentle brush of Hunt’s wing along her side. 

“As part of our…protection efforts my brothers and I have set up various outposts throughout the cosmos,” Apollion explained. “In recent years we have received reports of unusual activity. I believe that something beyond all of our comprehension is preparing to make itself known.” 

“Quit being cryptic and just say what you mean,” Bryce was fuming as she stared down the Prince of the Pit. Their tendency for ambiguity was pissing her off. Especially since she knew that they likely didn’t have much longer before the dream water’s effects wore off. 

“To be completely honest, we are seeing things that we have never encountered before. Ever since you landed on Alfheim strange occurrences have been…popping up all over the known universe.” Apollion leaned forward, his golden hair bright amidst the pitch blackness of the Pit. “So, tell me Bryce Adelaid Quinlan, have you encountered any irregularities or the sudden appearance of creatures from other worlds?” Bryce relaxed her features into a cool mask of indifference. She may have gotten into a fight with (Y/N), but she was not about to rat out her existence to the Princes of Hel. If they could withhold information until it suited them, she could do the same. 

“I think you should check your informants,” She leaned back into her seat again. “We’ve traveled back and forth between Midgard and what did you call it, Alfheim, multiple times over the past five years. Perhaps that’s all they are picking up. Call it a cosmic ripple effect.” 

“Cosmic ripple effect? I quite like that,” Apollion grinned leaning back into his plush chair. “But that is not what I was referring to.”

“It would be wise to answer his question,” Thanatos warned, the hounds at his side let out low, deep growls.

“No,” Bryce met each of their stares. “We haven’t seen or heard of anything else ‘appearing’ in Prythian or the other lands on Alfheim.” 

“Nor have we gone to any other worlds,” Hunt added. The Prince of the Chasm clicked his tongue in admonishment. 

“Now, Bryce, we’ve gotten to know one another over the past several years. I can tell when you are holding back,” Aidas smiled as his ice blue orbs met her glare. “The dagger was not the only thing of note you found in Prythian was it?” Thanatos grinned alongside his brother. Bryce quickly recalled the Prince of the Ravine’s comment regarding her scent. 

“Fine,” Bryce huffed, making a show having to reveal information. “Silene left her piece of Theia’s magic in a secured place. I claimed it.” The star on her chest flared for the briefest of seconds before it was suffocated by the darkness. Aidas smiled even wider. Bryce looked at Hunt, who nodded in silent encouragement. Bryce recounted the message from Silene and her encounter with the slumbering Asteri that was trapped in the lowest bowels of the Prison. 

“It seems that you have a new task then,” Aidas advised. “Find the remaining third of Theia’s magic.”

“I’m shocked you don’t know where it is.” Bryce quipped, straining to keep the mockery at bay. 

“Theia imbued the Starsword with it prior to her death,” Aidas ignored the jab, “Seeing as Pelias didn’t take it for himself upon her death, I believe that Helena had it removed. The question is where was it stored for safekeeping.” As if they were a singular unit, the three Princes stood from their chairs. 

“We are nearly out of time,” Apollion stated. “Fighting against the Asteri will have to wait. Find that third piece, and please, keep the blades apart until we give you the say so.” 

“And what if I don’t? What kind of threat do the blades create?” Bryce demanded. 

“Catastrophic destruction,” Apollion’s words were simple, yet settled into her gut with a heavy weight. 

“That is why Theia ensured the blades were kept separate all these years,” Aidas explained. “While the blades cannot effectively be wielded by anyone not of Theia’s bloodline, the Asteri have always been a resilient and creative bunch. It is safe to assume that if the Asteri ever got hold of both blades they could easily destroy any world that did not bow down to them.” 

“Okay,” Bryce nodded, standing from her seat as well. Hunt’s wing hovering around her shoulders. The memory of the conversation with the Autumn King regarding the portal to nowhere rose to the forefront of her mind. “Find the magic and keep the blades apart. Anything else?” She didn’t bother to subdue her mocking tone, which did not cover her irritation in the slightest.  

“That is all you need worry about,” Apollion’s tone was dismissive as he and Thanatos began to walk away from the table. “We’ll continue our own searches and the rebuilding of our armies.”  

“Follow me, your time is just about up, and I must get you back to the meeting point,” Aidas guided Bryce and Hunt back towards the docked boat as the mist surrounding the colossal city of the dead rolled inland. Bryce stepped on the boat, her mind spinning the information she learned around and around. If Helena removed the shard of magic from the sword…

“Wait!” Bryce turned around only to find a wall of thick gray mist. Within an instant she felt her soul lurching back upwards to rejoin her body.

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[ao3feed-brucewayne]

No Saints in Blüdhaven

by PatronSaintOfGotham Gotham chews people up and spits them out. Helena Bertinelli learned that the hard way—and she stopped believing in redemption a long time ago, especially for herself. Now, Helena's in Blüdhaven, and Batman’s sending Nightwing to back her up on a case tied to her family. She’s less than thrilled—she works better alone, and the last thing she needs is Gotham’s golden boy shadowing her every move. Dick Grayson is everything she isn’t: open, easygoing, impossible to shake. She doesn’t have the patience for charm, and he doesn’t take the hint. But the deeper they get into Blüdhaven’s underworld, the harder it is to keep her distance. Between Dinah Lance telling her to let go of the past and Jason Todd proving that second chances don’t come easy, she’s running out of ways to convince herself she doesn’t care. She’s not a saint. Neither is he. But in this city, that might have to be enough. Catholicism and Carl Sagan references abound. PAINFULLY slow-burn, multi-chapter fic. Need beta readers! Words: 5083, Chapters: 1/55, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, Nightwing (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Batman and Robin (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, DCeased (DC Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), The Batman (Cartoon 2004), DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), Cosmos - Carl Sagan, Christian Bible Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Helena Bertinelli, Dinah Lance, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members (DCU) Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Dinah Lance, Helena Bertinelli/Dick Grayson, Helena Bertinelli & Dinah Lance, Helena Bertinelli & Jason Todd, Helena Bertinelli & Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance & Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance & Jason Todd Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Protective Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance is Black Canary, Mentor Dinah Lance, Helena Bertinelli is Huntress, Helena Bertinelli-centric, Awkward Helena Bertinelli, BAMF Helena Bertinelli, Dick Grayson-centric, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Has Issues, Resurrected Jason Todd, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Found Family, Moral Dilemmas, Catholic Guilt, Forgiveness, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Humor, Angst and Romance, Action/Adventure, Action & Romance, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, DC Comics References, DC Comics Rebirth, Dinah Lance Takes Care of Helena Bertinelli, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Dick Grayson Loves Jason Todd, Moral Lessons, Self-Hatred, Self-Discovery, Self-Acceptance, Personal Growth, Canon-Typical Violence via https://ift.tt/ZEfrT1Q