#I made them stand there stupidly like that on purpose their faces r killing me why nobody gaf /j

[duckdodger]

BRO GOT THE WINDOW TREATMENT 😂 (twtter request 3)

[nadiineross]

Print: “How do you 'accidentally' achieve immortality?"

note: abt ur prompts.. i ….actually was planning a fic abt immortality but i dont think itll be done for ages so i slammed this one out. i also made a few posts abt superhero aus btw :’). i watched hercules for the first time in like a decade bc of ur other prompt and wow…. hades is still so funny DSJFHSKH ok anyway i prolly wont write a lot in the coming month bc semesters starting next week BUT i can type out some headcanons for prompts u give me, if u guys r interested in that?

i didnt proofread this and i dont want to because i am Lazy anyway thank u sm for continuing to talk to me abt chlodine yrs down the road. pls feel free to send in ur chlodine headcanons or if u jus wanna scream abt them

Nadine’s been alive for a long time, and so nothing really surprises her anymore. But, then again, Chloe is always her exception.

//

They first meet in India, only a passing thing. Being alive for so long, well, it gets boring. Nadine, also, could never really handle being purposeless. She enjoys having goals and working hard to achieve them, and she definitely enjoys the brief period, afterwards, where she relishes in those achievements.

It was easier, before, to find purpose: fighting. There were a lot of wars and Nadine was good at it. She was, and is, by all accounts, remarkable. However, to preserve her anonymity, she allows herself to dissolve into the unknowns of history.

She has had many names, most of which she has since forgotten. But, her first, she will not forget: Nadine. It is that name she gives to Chloe, and it is the one Chloe knows her by.

At that time, in India, she had nothing to do. It seemed the age of fighting as she knew it was coming to a close, and she grew bored.

Of course, this wasn’t a new experience; Nadine can hardly find anything she has not experienced. Usually, she travelled. She’s been to most places, but they were always changing, and this was something she appreciated on a deep level.

India, she has not visited in almost four decades.

On her first night, she eats a feast on her own. The restaurant owners were impressed, to say the least.

It is routine, her travels. During the day, she sees the sights, explores the places that have changed the most and visits those that she loved the last time she was here. When nightfalls, again, she feasts. Sometimes, when she isn’t too tired, she’ll take someone to bed.

This, she does rarely. It is, after all, hard to find a woman interested in other women in this world. Harder, even, to find one who isn’t interested in a long term investment, since Nadine is not very interested in the part where she outlives everyone. It isn’t a pressing issue, though. She has needs, sure, but she is patient, and sex did not fall very high on her list of priorities.

Besides, she understands. The consequences of being a woman like her are grave and not a lot of people would want to risk their lives for a fling.

Chloe is only her second in India.

There is a river, a half day’s walk away from where she’s staying. It is her second to last night in India, and there aren’t a lot of things she is itching to see, so she decides to make the walk.

By the time she gets there, the sun is hanging low in the sky, not yet set, but almost. She’s sweating from the heat and the oppressive humidity characteristic of the Indian climate. So, naturally, she unbuttons the first few buttons of her shirt and leans over the edge to splash water over her face.

It is a relief on her skin, and she looks up to gasp out a breath when she sees her. Chloe, shameless creature that she is, watches her.

Nadine doesn’t know how she didn’t notice the woman lounging in the water before now. Bewildered, Nadine blinks at her and feels very bare, suddenly hyper-aware of the droplets running down her face and into her shirt.

“Hello,” Nadine finally says. She is good with languages—there isn’t a lot to do when you’ve been alive for a few centuries.

“Hey.” She swims over until Nadine can see her smirk with distinct clarity, until her bare shoulders come up, but does not go farther up the shore. “Not from around here?”

Nadine raises an eyebrow. Clearly not. “No,” she says.

“Huh. Chloe, nice to meet you,” says she, extending a wet hand from the water. Nadine has to slosh into the water to take it and give it a firm, short up-down shake.

It’s a strange name, given the context, and this whole thing takes her off guard. She stupidly blurts out: “Nadine.”

Chloe’s grin becomes wider. She doesn’t try to hide the way she eyes Nadine’s open shirt. Nadine isn’t dense, either, so she knows when there is an opportunity she could take, is she wanted.

She’s not sure yet.

“And you? Are you from around here?”

Humming noncommittally, Chloe stands, abruptly, to her full height and walks around Nadine to the shore. She is naked, and Nadine has to swallow a lump in her throat.

Nadine has seen a lot of women, and she can say with certainty that Chloe is one of the most beautiful she has seen. She tries not to stare and succeeds, given that she has excellent self-control. Though she will admit, Chloe certainly tested her in that moment.

“Where are you from?” Chloe asks as she picks up a shirt strewn across a rock and slips into it. Now, Nadine notices the pair of pants and shoes hidden behind the rock.

Nadine smiles, wryly, aware that she is giving more information than she is receiving. “Africa.”

Chloe doesn’t seem to take offence at her brusqueness. Just laughs. “Ah.” Then, because Chloe is so brave and so young, barely thirty by the looks of it, she stoops and holds up her pants, and asks, “Should I bother with these or are we going to address… what should I call it? The tension?”

Oh, how they address it.

After, as Chloe disappears into the trees on the other side of the river, Nadine realizes that she is entirely, profoundly, surprised.

//

Nadine has met many bold women; she can be one herself when she wants to be. Chloe, she never really forgets, but she is filed away into a tiny corner of her mind, fading away until Nadine never really thinks about it unless she is alone at a river and has run out of things to think about.

Besides, World War II has started, and she’s occupied with killing those Nazi bastards. She doesn’t enlist in any army—can’t exactly fly under the radar there—but she has connections and resources, and works perfectly well alone.

In the face of all this, Chloe is not forgotten, but she is not remembered.

And Nadine’s life goes on, and on, and on, as it is wont to do.

//

Nadine doesn’t know why she never dies. It just happened or, more precisely, it just never happened.

Her parents did. She never really knew her father, as her mother raised her, but she does know he died. Her mother, she held as she passed. 

Years later, people began to talk. Nadine turned thirty, and that was it.

She doesn’t know if she can die at all, but she isn’t interested in testing her theories. She has avoided fatal wounds for so long; she won’t stop now.

Sure, she has suffered and has felt like she might die, but she doesn’t think she wants to die. There are so many things she wants to know.

So, she decided, a century into her life, that she would not question it. She isn’t at all old enough to have been there for the Trojan War, but she does know not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

//

It is the 2000s and Nadine begins to feel a little existential. She will not fight in wars now, given the stakes and, especially, given her moral compass. Well, at least not official ones. She has accepted that she is a little bit of a vigilante, and she’s focusing on bettering her own home.

Always levelheaded, she never bites off more than she can chew. She only takes to the streets every few weeks. In the meantime, she decides to get into academia.

If she’s so keen on learning, why wouldn’t she go to school? Human achievement is impressive!

She has one PhD already and is working on her second. She has just started, meeting her advisor for only the third time, when she sees a flash of red in the hall, heading towards the History department.

It’s a woman with jet black hair, ponytail swinging. Before Nadine can think to squint, she’s rounded the corner and is gone.

Blinking, Nadine turns away and heads to the courtyard. She likes to sit on the grass and do her research there. Small pleasures.

It’s been an hour, maybe two, when a shadow casts over. Strangely, she feels her heart start to beat faster before she even looks up.

“Hello,” she says, throwing an arm over her forehead to shade herself from the afternoon sun.

Chloe in the flesh. She puts on the same old smirk and looks down at Nadine with her hands on her hips. “Hey, you.”

Nadine raises an eyebrow as she sits down and makes herself at home on Nadine’s picnic blanket, among her sea of books.

“Well, look at you.” Chloe keeps on grinning, shark-like. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You’re too kind,” Nadine says, thinly. “And neither have you, by the looks of it.”

Dismissively, Chloe waves a hand and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “No need to flatter me, you’ve already gotten into my pants.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Much, at least, she thinks. Then, wonders if, perhaps, she is dreaming.

“That’s nice.” Chloe leans closer, growing serious but retaining her persistent underlying curiosity. “Oh, Nadine, what are you?”

Nadine snorts. “Always so bold.”

She shrugs. “Places to be, things to know, people to do. I’m a busy girl.”

Like a shark, Nadine thinks again. She keeps her mouth shut for a few moments, just watching Chloe watching her. As Nadine recalls her memories of Chloe, she notes that Chloe mostly hasn’t changed. Finally, she leans back on an arm and says, “Looks to me like you have all the time in the world.”

“Hm.” Chloe lifts a hand, maybe to touch her arm, maybe to push her hair out of her face, maybe to cup her cheek. Nadine will never know. She tenses, instinctively swaying back a little. Chloe’s hand drops down, but she keeps on smiling. “You’re immortal, then. All the time in the world.”

Nadine doesn’t say anything, just waits for Chloe to draw her conclusions.

“How long have you… been like this?”

Nadine pretends to think. “About a century or five now. You?”

“Well, I was thirty-four when I met you,” Chloe wonders aloud, tilting her head as she does the math. At this, Nadine frowns and, upon seeing this, Chloe huffs a laugh. “Yes, actually thirty-four.”

That makes her roughly two centuries old. Nadine doesn’t know how to feel about this, about everything, about Chloe. She had been, to her knowledge, alone in this for three centuries. Never once had she met someone else like this, and she didn’t want to, she doesn’t think. She had always been slow to trust.

She never tried to think about this too hard; she doesn’t know how it works—is she contagious? But none of the other women turned immortal after going to bed with her. Still, she worries at her lip and examines Chloe.

“How?”

“How am I like this?”

She nods.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Quid pro quo.”

Nadine rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I just never died.” She sighs, harshly, and closes the book in her lap with a full clap. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Chloe says, gently. This time, when she reaches out, to touch her wrist, Nadine lets her. Chloe looks down at the point of contact, seemingly charmed. Then, after a beat, meets Nadine’s eyes again and smiles. “Well, I don’t know how exactly it worked, but this was an accident.”

“…what?” Nadine scoffs. “How do you ‘accidentally’ achieve immortality?”

Chloe looks sheepish now. “I went into an ancient temple and mucked around, and maybe I broke something, and… well, here I am.”

Suddenly, struck by the urge to lie down for a decade or at least go somewhere more private for this discussion, Nadine shoves her books into her bag and stands. Chloe, startled, mirrors her movements and then stills as Nadine rolls up the blanket and easily hefts everything up.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

Nadine picks up her baseball cap and puts it on, and then sweeps an arm towards the paved path. “We’re going to my apartment.”

A little dumbly, Chloe follows along. “Who’s bold now?”

Nadine gives her a look, and Chloe just smiles, looking away with a shrug. They make the journey in silence, Nadine’s is a stubborn one, and Chloe’s obliging. When they reach the apartment, Nadine lets her in first and gestures to the couch. It’s not a very big apartment, but it’s comfortable and in an alright neighbourhood. 

After Nadine puts her bag away, she comes back to see Chloe leaning over the back of the couch to look out her window. She twists back around as Nadine sits.

“You alright?”

Nadine looks up at her, eyes hooded. “Ja.”

Chloe smiles, a kind one. She has such an expressive face. Nadine wants to run her hands over the dips and curves of it. Wants to feel a little more grounded in reality—is she really not dreaming?

The urge to just ask disappears in a moment as Nadine comes back to herself, feeling safer on her own turf.

“So, this is where you’re from.” It’s not a question, but Nadine nods anyway.

“Originally. I don’t remember exactly where but I grew up farther inland and then moved to the coast later before my mother passed.” Nadine rubs a hand at her temple. Tired. “They both died. I’m the only— I was the only one. For the longest time, I was the only one.”

Chloe shifts, an unidentifiable emotion drifting across her face. “Nadine.”

She sighs and says, “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have it,” she says, not ungently. “It’s been a long time.”

For once, Nadine allows herself to give in. She leans over until she falls, turning her face to press her nose into the hard muscle of Chloe’s tensed thigh, just above the knee. She hugs her arms to her chest and counts her breaths. Chloe sighs, too, and puts her hand in Nadine’s hair.

Nadine’s back is to Chloe.

It’s been a long time.

//

So, this is how it happened.

She was abandoned by her mother and raised by a father who wanted a son. He loved her, regardless. He just taught her the ways of his trade.

Her childhood was spent scaling the shelves of libraries as he did his research and sitting uncomfortably still as he spoke to “experts” in their homes. When she was old enough, by his standards, he took her out to ancient ruins, and they explored.

It could be dangerous; she broke a few bones on these adventures. Most never healed properly, and so bumps and scars littered her body.

The worst, the one that almost killed her, occurred in the temple.

Her father passed a few years before, to disease. She carried on his work, suddenly alone. His life’s work: a crumbling ruin.

She had spent days scouting it out, hidden behind a waterfall, like in the legends. She was nervous. Afraid that her father’s work would amount to nothing, that the life she had led without him would’ve turned out to be a waste.

So, she spent days by the falls and walking along the river. It was there that she met Nadine.

She had thought Nadine was a figment of her imagination at first, peeking out from the top of the water. A beautiful, sweaty spirit of the wilds, dressed like an average person.

A blessing she received.

That night, she went in. There were traps, which she expected, and treasures, which she had desperately hoped for. In the centre, buried underneath layers of chambers, was the Tusk.

She got greedy.

Traps triggered—

The Tusk, she held to her chest—

She curled over, protecting it from falling rubble and—

The tip, sharp and shiny, punctured her middle. It was shallow, but still, she cried out and tripped, and the spear she landed on went too far in to be considered shallow.

She doesn’t remember the details; all she knows is that she came back to herself while crawling out the collapsing entrance, sticky with blood.

She hid the Tusk away, for later, and stumbled her way to the nearest town, broken spear sticking out from her ribs.

Half a year later, freshly healed and free from the doctor, she went back. The Tusk was still bloodied, and a gem from the tip of the Tusk had fallen out somewhere. At least, it made up for all her suffering in gold.

In the face of all that, Nadine was not forgotten, but she was not remembered.

//

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, having been vulnerable for the first time in almost half a millennia, Nadine sits up and grimaces. Chloe opens her bleary eyes and stretches.

“What time’s it?”

Nadine could look at her watch, but she grabs hold of Chloe’s forearm. “Does it matter?”

Chloe looks down and frowns. “I suppose not. What’s happening?”

“Do you want to address the tension?”

Chloe’s muscles relax slowly. She kicks her sneakers off and, in one swift movement, shrugs Nadine’s hand off and settles into her lap. Her mouth descends onto Nadine’s.

This time is almost like the last, fast and sloppy. Except they do it three more times, at least, and afterwards Chloe settles in beside her and stays till morning.

//

Nadine also has many scars, and Chloe maps them all out just as Nadine does to her.

//

“So, am I the older woman or are you the older woman?”

Nadine bites into her skin, licking a soothing stripe along the scar tissue there.

Chloe groans and looks down. “Does that mean I should shut up?”

Nadine gives her an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she breathes, hand flying to the back of Nadine’s head. “Whatever you say.”

//

South Africa is best experienced in the weeks after Summer has passed, in Chloe’s very vocal opinion, and maybe that’s why the days she spends holed up in Nadine’s apartment feels a little like paradise.

She is not the sentimental type, and Chloe even less so, but there is something to be said for attachments. She had forgotten.

Chloe even admits that she was only here because she saw Nadine’s picture and wanted to use Nadine for information on why she‘s the way she is. Nadine doesn’t take it too personally, because she would’ve done the same, probably.

It ends, of course, as all things do. Not permanently, but Chloe isn’t the type to stay still, and Nadine’s set her sights on finishing this damn degree.

They agree, in five years, they will return to the tree, the patch of grass, and try again.

//

Nadine feels like she has aged the five centuries she had powered through almost numbly in the span of those five years.

They kept in contact because neither of them is the type to make significant, corny gestures like that. Over text, Chloe echoes the sentiment.

For Nadine, it is as if Chloe had barged in, reminded Nadine that she was in control of the remote and that hitting the fast forward button on life wasn’t the only option.

//

“Why do you chase after violence?” came her voice, tinny over the phone. She was in Russia.

“Do I?”

Chloe hums. “All your wars, your crusades. You insist you don’t want to die and yet…”

Nadine raises her eyebrows and finishes typing out her sentence before pushing back on her desk chair. Her first instinct is to be defensive, but Chloe starts to hum tunelessly, and it reminds Nadine that not everything is a fight to be won and— “Ah.”

“Do you wanna talk about something else?” Chloe laughs, then, and jokes, “My abandonment issues? Inability to sit still? Maybe how I’m greedy and selfish?”

Nadine smiles softly. “It’s okay.” She clears her throat. “I think I just got scared of losing people and just, frankly, losing in general, with life and all. I took being independent to the next level. I forgot the value in doing things senselessly, and in a way that’s exactly what I did.”

“How do you mean?”

Nadine shrugs even though Chloe can’t see. “I don’t know why I’m immortal, and I didn’t want to know. What makes me deserving of eternal life and not anyone else? So, I thought only of what I would do with this and doing those things. I’m good at fighting. Why wouldn’t I fight? And I can’t die—there are causes I could give myself to.

“I mean, there were moments, in between, where my thought would wander, of course.” Nadine pauses, feeling nonsensical. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s alright. I get it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” Another breathy chuckle. “Literally, anytime. From now until the rest of eternity.”

//

“Hello,” Nadine says when she feels a shadow loom over her.

There’s a rustling, and then a kiss to her cheek. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

It’s been five years.

Nadine opens an eye and sees Chloe peering down with her stupidly beautiful smile. Her fingers graze at Nadine’s cheek, featherlight, and Nadine’s touches over them. Warm.

“So weird how you haven’t aged a day.”

“Ja, I didn’t get a chance to develop stress wrinkles since you left.”

Head thrown back, wind blowing her hair aside, Chloe laughs. Nadine thinks there hasn’t ever been a surprise as nice as Chloe since the dawn of time.

Stooping over, Chloe kisses her.

[storywars-r]

Eleusis

Chapter 1 by R

"Come." Says the man, who gestures at the spread, at the table. "Sit down. I shall tell you my tale, and you yours, and we shall have such festivities, the likes of which you have never seen, but first, food."

Cora pauses, looking at the spread, and at the lights, and at the man. He is charming, graceful, and while there is a sharpness to his features there is moreso a sweetness to his voice.

What did they always say, about faerie lands, and hospitality, and food? Warnings, never should you stray, junk about souls and trappings and chains of magic. She never listened to those old tales properly, but she knew the meanings well enough.

The man is faerie, sure enough, that she can tell from a glance, from the shiver in her spine, from the glowing of the room, from the food displayed, little things, meant to dissuade her from the conclusion but which only lead her deeper.

She sits down, regardless. This trap is of her own design, and she has led herself in to the heart of it.

"Come, eat, I could never let a friend come in to my home and not treat them with the proper hospitality."

She grabs a single piece of fruit and tears it open, which seems to satisfy the man not-man who sits across from her, and yet next to her, in a way which she should accept but doesn't, at least, not in the way she should.

"Your story, kind sir, as promised." The words are chosen as carefully as the fruit. "And I shall give you mine in trade." She picks out a single seed from the blood red juices of her split apart meal, and carefully places it in to her mouth.

"Of course." The man says, eyes glowing bright. "Once, upon a time, there were three brothers."

Chapter 2 by Queezle

'One was greedy. One was cruel. The last was envious. Their names are not to be spoken, but-'

'So what were their names?' Cora asked and the fae looked at her, faintly amused.

'Their names,' he said with a soft laugh, 'are unspeakable.'

Cora frowned. 'Their names were Unspeakable? What sort of mother would name her children Unspeakable? I mean, how would you call them to dinner? "Would you like peas with your chicken, Unspeakable? No, I don't mean you, Unspeakable. Or you, Other Unspeakable. I mean you, Other Other Unspeak-"'

'Are you that stupidly ignorant, or does it just come with your immature species?' the fae interrupted coolly.

'It was just a joke, jeez,' Cora muttered, rubbing her bruised ego.

'Their names are unspeakable,' the fae continued, 'the reason be that if any creature says their cursed name, faerie or otherwise, the brothers will know their location and come to hunt the faerie or otherwise down.'

'Ah ha,' Cora said, licking the red juice off the fruit as it almost dripped on the table. 'So it's just like He Who Shall Not Be Named in that movie... What was it... Harry-'

'It is not important,' the fae said sharply. 'Would you like to hear the rest of the story or not?' Cora shut her mouth. 'They were once as normal as any faerie in these lands, until one of the People of the Clouds twisted their personalities.'

'Why-' Cora started, her mouth stuffed with the fruit, (that actually tasted really good) but shut up as the fae shot her a look.

'You could blame their mother for that. Their mother had tried to steal from the People of the Clouds a few years after the brothers had been born. Their mother- her name was Ianthe- had had been bewitched by the beauty of one of the jewels that the People of Clouds store their power in and attempted to steal it. She was caught, but the Cloud decided that a fate worse than death was needed for this offence. Instead of killing her, as was the normal punishment, it cursed her children.'

'I don't see how that would-'

'The children turned on Ianthe and the rest of their family and murdered them out of cold blood.'

'Ah.'

'After seeing the horror and ruthlessness that they had each done, each brother secretly feared that the other two brothers would turn on them as well, so the brothers split up and went their separate ways- one to the east, one to the west and one to the south. To this day, they have never been seen again.'

Cora waited for more, but the fae was silent. 'How does that relate to you?'

'I am the brother of greed,' he answered softly.

Chapter 3 by Queezle

Cora stood up sharply, the forgotten fruit falling down to the ground with a dull splat, scarlet seeds splayed on the wooden floor. The brother smiled at her.

'Stay,' he said calmly. 'I have not had a visitor in years and I am glad of the company.'

Cora unsheathed the iron dagger at her side, her heart hammering with anticipation and her eyes wide with fear. She had not come unprepared and with the warnings that the other villagers had told her, she knew exactly what would harm the half-man in front of her.

'I said,' the fae repeated, 'stay.' His eyes glowed silver and Cora found herself sitting down again against her will, the dagger slipping out of her palm. The brother's eyes turned back to their normal shade of obsidian black but Cora still couldn't move. The more she wanted to escape, the more she wanted to stay, even though she knew it was stupid and dangerous. It's the brother's way of keeping me here, she realised dimly. He's changing my will with his magic. It's over. I'm practically dead.

The faerie at the other end of the table seemed to sense her horror and smiled. 'To be fair, you should know more about this sort of thing. You should have known that you were walking into a trap as soon as you ate the fruit.'

'The fruit?' Cora asked, her world still spinning.

'Hasn't anything ever taught you not to accept the food of a fae?'

'No,' the girl replied, still shell-shocked.

'If you are unfortunate enough to do so,' the brother said, faintly amused, 'you will remain their servant for eternity.'

'Oh,' Cora said, in a small voice, not sure how to react. Never seeing her family again. Never returning home again. Should she be angry? Should she be sad? Laughing? Crying? Screaming? Fainting? Hysterical?

'Oh indeed,' the fae agreed airily. 'I almost took pity on you- you were so pathetic and naive. But,' he continued, 'you are brave. And luckily for you, bravery and intelligence is what I value above all- unlike my brothers and despite what others believe of me.'

'But I'm not-' Cora began.

'Not brave?' the brother interrupted. 'Look at the way you have marched in through my door, demanding my past. Look at the way you continue to defy and fight me, as though you actually stand a chance. Look at the way you hold an iron toothpick, as though you are more than a gnat at the mercy of a giant.'

'I prefer to think of myself as David about to sling a stone at Goliath's eye,' Cora muttered.

'Think whatever you wish of yourself,' the fae said. 'But people with your qualities are in short supply and would be highly valued at my Court.'

'And if I don't want to join your Court?' Cora echoed.

'Death,' the brother said. 'But Cora, I believe that you be a valuable Knight to have on my side. Besides, it isn't as if you have a choice,' he added.

Cora bit her lip. She really didn't have a choice at all. And how bad could living as a Knight for the brother of greed possibly be compared to the alternative? 'Sounds reasonable,' she decided. 'But if I am to serve you until the day I kneel over and die, tell me your name. You already know my location, and it won't do much harm to put a name to your face.'

'Very well,' the brother answered. 'You may call me Eleusis.'

Chapter 4 by Alexandra

'Eleu-' I started, just before he clamped a hand over my mouth.

'Do not speak my name here' he hissed. 'My name is a beacon, I may speak of it; however, if others were to, the cavalry would immediately know my whereabouts.'

'The cavalry? Who would that be?' I question,though I am already beginning to know the answer. He smiled at me, almost apologetically.

'Oh, my dear Cora, the cavalry is your purpose. From now on, you will be my knight. From now on, you will defend me from my brothers' forces. It's a good thing I think you brave, because no one can survive their numbers,but perhaps your stupidity will transfer into luck.'

It takes a minute for me to fully understand how deep I am in this story.

'Your brothers... so they really do want you dead.'

'Well, of course! I am the one who stole their immortality after all!'

'Why on Earth would you do that?' I stammer, petrified at what I had just heard.

'Come love, I thought you were smarter than that! It's in my name. I am, after all,the brother of greed.'

Chapter 5 by Epsyrum

Cora woke up, the sight of her armor hanging, the sun shining through the window and Mit-Sah sitting on the window sill was first that met her eyes. Mit-Sah was the only thing good happened to her since her arrival here. She caressed Mit-Sah softly while it softly purred in her arms. She couldn't believed that it had already been three months since she had arrived at Eleusis's lair. Three long months away from her home. It's like her yearning for adventure and home-deep down have vanished. Living in this gloomy place. It wasn't like that the clouds were always grey and it always rained. The sun shone, the flowers bloomed, the birds sang but it was empty. Cora was alone. There was no one else there beside her and Eleusis. The same morning-evening-night. Nothing ever happened.

Some times she felt sorry for Eleusis, after all being alone for all these years wasn't easy. Cora could tell that. Even if he was a fae. He was still half-human. But at the same time Eleusis made her angry. He deserved that loneliness, he stole his brothers's immortality, murdered his family and committed many other sins which were not to be spoken about.

The thought of calling Eleusis's name and reawaken the sleeping forces was bothering her for too long. It has become her wish that can not be fulfilled.

Cora tapped her fingers annoyingly on the balcony sill, staring angrily at the garden below, while Eleusis enjoyed his morning tea.

"Come love, why don't you sit down a bit?" His eyes silver shined.

"Was he teasing her?"

The thought made her furious. Since she had arrived there, Eleusis had done nothing but sit around, eat, talk and sleep. While Cora does all the work. The dishes-the laundry-the cooking and everything else. If Eleusis wanted to, he could use his magic or at least helped her out. But he sat there and enjoyed. And on top of that becoming his servant wasn't all this- she was his Brave knight too!!

That night when Cora went to her bed, her mind was set. Set to do the thing she had planned for months. Even though her half didn't wanted to do but here her will had won. Despite the part that resisted the thought under Eleusis's magic but she was all set for it.

[vesselkite3-blog]

EricDSnider.com

?Wish Upon? is a dumb, silly teen-horror flick about an entitled brat who enters into a monkey?s paw situation with a wish-granting music box, leading to consequences that only a sensible person who gave it a moment?s thought could have foreseen. But it?s the kind of good-natured dumb silliness that?s hard to stay mad at, like an idiotic puppy.

Our brat is 17-year-old Clare (Joey King), whose mother committed suicide years ago, leaving her to be raised by her father, Jonathan (Ryan Phillippe), who is a dumpster diver (a person who digs through the trash to find salable or reusable junk). Clare is embarrassed when Dad roots through the dumpsters across the street from her high school; Dad seems unable to determine why it bothers her.

Also: When Jonathan is feelin? blue, he stands in the darkened living room of their house late at night and plays a slow, sad saxophone. This is hilarious.

Anyway, one day Jonathan?s raccoonery yields an ornate Chinese puzzle box that he gives to Clare as a gift. She?s learned just enough from her Mandarin class at school to read the inscription that says the box will grant seven wishes (the customary three would have made the movie too short), but not enough to read the other instructions warning her of all the side effects. She idly wishes that Darcie (Josephine Langford), the mean girl at school whose posse is slightly meaner than Clare?s, would ?go rot somewhere.? Next day, Darcie comes down with necrotizing fasciitis. The look on Clare?s face when she learns this news and then, a moment later, makes the connection between it and ?go rot somewhere? is unintentionally funny. Later, addressing the artifact directly, she says, ? http://tinyurl.com/ydhjxe7l have my attention, lucky box.?

The script (by Barbara Marshall) has Clare making the sort of wishes the teenage female target audience will expect: please bless that rich Uncle August left me everything in his will; please bless that the cute boy falls in love me; please bless that Dad will stop embarrassing me; etc. What Clare doesn?t know is that each time she makes a wish, someone has to die, preferably in a slightly convoluted ?Final Destination? manner, as when neighbor lady Mrs. Deluca (Sherilyn Fenn) falls victim to a garbage disposal.

The director, John R. Leonetti (?Mortal Kombat: Annihilation,? ?Annabelle?), realizing that thanostv are the only source of horror or suspense in his horror-suspense film, milks them as much as he can. But they?re not elaborate or clever enough to be interesting by themselves, and they tend to turn out stupidly: after several moments of teasing other outcomes, Mrs. Deluca is killed by getting her ponytail caught in the disposal. Poor Leonetti doesn?t even get to wallow in the grisly aftermath, as each death is choppily edited into near obscurity to avoid an R rating. This is annoying. Not that I LOVE graphic violence, but if someone?s going to be impaled, I want to see what it looks like. What am I paying you for?

If nothing else (and there is very little else), the film earns points for a ?Twilight Zone?-y ending that?s well executed and funny, maybe even on purpose this time. You could wish for a better throwaway supernatural teen thriller, but why risk it?

[reversecxpid-blog]

Phillip Murray was as strong as you and he couldn't take The Creeper. Jupiter Hudson was stronger than you and she couldn't take The Creeper. He's just toying with you because it's fun to watch you puff out your chest and try to act tough. He's giving you arrows the way a track runner gives a stubby-legged child a headstart in a race. You don't stand a chance. But you better keep letting Him rile you up, because once you lose His interest, your father loses his successor. -- This is a guarantee.

“Phillip Murray suffered with problems with alcohol and PTSD. Jupiter Hudson entered the wolf’s cave. Both could be easily overthrown with a good strategy. They may have been physically stronger, but I’m smarter. I don’t fight with my fists, I use my brains, and so does The Creeper. I’M AWARE. I already considered that I’m just his toy, and you know what? It’s fucking working, because with that asshole, you never know when he’s talking for real and when he isn’t. The D’Angelos are DONE. My father is in jail, and I won’t go back to Italy”.

First of all, he’s offended. How you dare compare him to Murray or Hudson? Not because they are less of a person, not because he’s physically stronger ( because he probably isn’t ), not because they were misfits in a school for misfits, BUT THEY ARE DEAD. Being alive and aware of everything gives him a clear advantage over them. Phillip apparently made a bit too much research, and Jupiter decided to face The Creeper alone for god knows what reason, but it’s clear that none of them had a strategy. Phillip was a walking corpse with no real motivation, as Gabriel found in his own little investigation. He had nothing to lose, probably not even will to fight, and Jupiter seemed to be the kind of raw-action person. Punch first, ask later. No doubt she wanted to confront the issue with brute force and hurting words. But, PLEASE, Gabriel D’Angelo may be a useless fuck for the rest of the world without real purpose to live, and he may be a bit impulsive if pushing the right buttons, but overall, he’s insightful and witty. He’s a Ravenclaw, for fucks sake. A Ravenclaw with a few good drops of Gryffindor. Gabriel got both the brains and the balls, quite a specimen! But with strengths come weaknesses. He is quite smart, but if his theories or plans ever fail, he freezes, stresses and gets frustrated on how to act next. He’s having a hard time improvising, that’s why he prefers to plan a win-scenario for every possible outcome of the situation. He’s brave, but this makes him stupidly bold sometimes, biting more than he can chew, challenging the top leagues ( higher than his ), and that’s what happened with the Creeper. Gabe wanted to play the Hero, and the main Villain took his bluffing for real.

DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE HIM. I repeat, do not underestimate him. Yes, he’s a teenager, yes, he just challenged Oregon’s little Freddy Krueger, and yes, he’s in love, but that doesn’t make him less dangerous. IT’S THE WHOLE OPPOSITE! If he isn’t up to the challenge, HE WILL BE UP TO THE CHALLENGE, if he’s a teenager, then HE WILL HAVE TO GROW UP FASTER TO COPE WITH THIS, if he just challenged The Creeper, then HE WILL WIN THIS IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, if he’s in love, then HE’S GOT A REASON TO BE ON THE WATCH AND PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS. IF HE HAS TO HACK THE SYSTEM AND FORCE A LEVEL UP OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL HE’S READY TO FIGHT THE FINAL BOSS, THEN HE WILL DO IT, because Gabriel D’Angelo knows no limits, no lost causes and definitely no DEFEAT.

The D’Angelos. Every time he has to spell his name on a test, or introduce himself to someone he can see the family shield in front of him. A crowned lion with wings, similar to a manticore that is putting a dragon down to submission and two crossed swords at the back. The lion stands for bravery, leadership, and ferocity; the wings to freedom and celestial reference, the swords for the honor and loyalty, and the submissive dragon? Well, easy. They are capable of facing bigger dangers. It’s in their blood. So he will be the lion facing the dragon, AND HE WILL WIN. His mother may be dead, his father may be in jail, his grandparents somewhere in Italy, but he’s still a D’Angelo, the blood of the family still runs in his veins and he will take that as an advantage to face what is in front of him.

                                      ‘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋, 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖓, 

                              𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 

                                          𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖕, 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖓, 

                           𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙 

                                      𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 

                                     𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 

      𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖝𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 ‘

“You don’t know me”. And that’s a fact. This… person-thing knows the Gabriel D’Angelo of nineteen years old that assists to Plath Academy, brags about archery and morality, dates Lydia Asher, prefers blueberries over blackberries for lunch and always gives away the bananas because he is not a fan of them. The Gabriel D’Angelo that rolls eyes at Maxine Bronte’s words, encourages James St. Clair’s actions and spends the first two free periods of Thursdays and Tuesdays with Mai Kwon talking about some nonsense or some deep shit. The Gabriel D’Angelo that is basically just a kid that spat on the Devil’s face with the hands on his waist.

But just a few know the Gabriel D’Angelo that played sick games of abducting ‘bad’ people with other criminals, tag them like cattle and then let them roam free in an area with the simple purpose to hunt them down as if this was some kind of Grand Theft Auto or Call Of Duty, as they laugh and count points, and even transmit it through the deep web. The Gabriel D’Angelo that usually kills with one single shot; clean and effective, but once took his time with a child molester and tortured him for three long hours before he bled out to death.

NODBODY KNOWS THE GABRIEL D’ANGELO THAT KILLED HIS OWN MOTHER, AND HIS OWN GIRLFRIEND AFTER THEY WERE UNFAITHFUL TO HIS FATHER AND HIM RESPECTIVELY.

–‘I don’t know what you think, detective, but to me, Gabriel D’Angelo is SICK. Is DANGEROUS. Is a M O N S T E R’.

–‘You are just being superficial, Smith. He’s no monster, just terribly manipulated by Michael D’Angelo’.

–‘May the gods hear you, detective. For everything good in this world, may the gods take your words for real’.

“That’s the game, to win before he loses the interest. You are poking at my fear, at my insecurities, at the demons in my head, but you know what? I’ve been through that already, I actually STILL am. I am scared. I am fucking scared and I cannot promise to make it out alive, but if I die, I’M TAKING HIM DOWN WITH ME. Gabriel D’Angelo doesn’t quit just like that”.

                 ‘��ʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ s ᴄ ᴀ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ?? ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ’

“Inject me all the fear you want, make me think about my fate at night, make me tremble with the idea of my throat slit or my eyes plucked out slowly, but do not underestimate me. The Devil was sent to hell by an archangel once, and if necessary, it will happen TWICE”.

                        ‘𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔨 

         𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶����𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨 ’.

“–THIS IS A GUARANTEE”.