#I may be stoned shouting into the void about something that no one will understand at all

[we-are-not-afraid-92]

started rereading perfume and realized that baby grenouille is literally the “when I was a baby I was evil C:” book

[numerousbees1106]

WASTELANDS PART 2: PRIMARY SUCCESSION (TEASER/PROLOGUE)

I do not know when the actual Primary Succession story will be posted. This is a teaser/prologue made for angstpril2024 and to assure readers that yes, there is in fact a second part of this series in the works. It may not be ready to start posting until next year, or it could be ready next month. I simply do not know. I apologize for the wait, but I have provided small snippets of this series in between to hopefully quench your appetites.

Enjoy!

Leia was nine years old.

The night was cold and quiet in that way that only snow can make something quiet, a light blanket of it muffling the wide, wild expanse. This was their smaller palace, the one she lived in with her parents, far from the bustling cities and their stone-metal-glass structures that felt like grit against her animal bones.

As she drifted half-asleep in her giant bed, wrapped in her soft fur blankets (blankets her mother had originally disapproved of, citing animal welfare, but Leia always had a talent for picking out clothing and blankets and such made of fur of animals that had lived happy lives: she insisted that she could feel the creatures’ creature-ness still living on in the items, but she got the feeling that nobody really believed or understood her), she dreamt faintly of a great, icy dragon wrapped around a snow-covered peak, snow geese and winter ptarmigans flying around its mighty head.

And as that dragon lifted its snout to bellow out across the frozen tundra, she first smelled the smoke.

It was an acrid thing, pervasive and invasive, pungent and miasmic. It curled and coiled like some great, heinous beast from another world, a silent yet ravenous monster creeping ever closer.

Terror clenched at her chest. She’d only ever smelled smoke outside before, near the crackling campfires that had always filled Leia with an instinctual dread. But why was it here now, in the house? She didn't understand.

Cowering under her beloved blankets, she waited with baited breath as distant shouts began to echo through the halls, morphing quickly into screams of pain and terror. A whimper of fear escaped her, but she hardly dared to breathe, bundling even deeper into her nest of blankets and pillows and sheets despite the oppressive heat. Maybe if she burrowed deep enough, she would fall asleep, and when she awoke maybe everything would be back to normal.

She stifled a gasp of pain. In her mind’s eye, the soft lights that ebbed and flowed around her began to disappear, some slowly dimming and fading into nothingness, others suddenly vanishing. They left shadowy voids in their wake that felt to Leia like someone was twisting her stomach inside-out, like she was losing all her teeth at once.

Physically, she wasn’t doing much better. The room was unbearably hot now, the dry, scorching air burning her eyes. The air was nearly unbreathable, choked with caustic smoke, and the screams now echoed from everywhere at once.

“Leia!” She heard her mother’s frantic voice scream. “Leia, where are you?!”

Trembling, Leia slowly peeled some of the blankets away from her face, but was immediately met with a blast of billowing heat and toxic smoke. Something collapsed nearby. The castle was falling apart around them.

Leia wanted so badly to burst out of her protective cocoon, to run into her mother’s arms, but she felt paralyzed, trapped within her own body, pure animal fear spidering her senses. All she could think about was the smoke that had furled and snapped, its silent, intense malevolence staining the air, its gaseous jaws lying in wait to snatch her up.

“Leia!” Her mother’s cry sounded farther away now, hoarse as she broke into a coughing fit that faded with distance.

“Momma,” she whimpered as her head spun, her chest aching and the heat oppressive. Closing her eyes, even as the fire roared on like the rumble of a faulty engine, she felt tears streak down her cheeks.

An ungodly bang resounded through the room, shaking Leia to her bones and dragging her back into a consciousness she hadn’t realized she’d lost.

In her mind’s eye, she saw herself, a tiny and helpless baby dragon of ice and snow, her white scales dull and stained with smoke and soot, wrapped in blankets like broken eggshells, small and weak and vulnerable. With quasar-eyes, she, as the dragon, gazed up to see a silhouette forming in the suffocating heat, chasing the smoke and flame away with large shakes of its massive head, its legs and tail brushing literal tons of debris off to the side effortlessly.

Another dragon stood in the awning of her room, its scales the same color as the soot that haunted the now-smoldering fires, its eyes a deadly crimson red that somehow felt infinitely sorrowful to her. Chains, glowing red-hot in the near-darkness, bound the dragon’s wings to its side, a collar of thorns dribbling supernova blood onto the once-white diorite tile. It moved towards her like vapor, reaching out with misshapen talons to cradle her gently against its chest, a bubble of silence and tranquility encasing her as if the dragon had reassembled the shards of her eggshell back around her.

Wrapped in her favorite blanket, she felt massive, stiff arms carry her, through what felt like infinite twisting hallways and dozens of doors that crumbled to ash at the stranger’s touch, out into the sudden and stunning frigidity of the mountain air, away from the hellish atmosphere of the burning palace and into the arms of a man she didn’t know.

She blinked up at him, momentarily blinded by the harsh glint of the full moon against the snowy mountain fields, shivering despite the thick blanket she was wrapped in as the stranger called out to the dragon-man as he raced back inside.

The stranger cursed, readjusting his grip on Leia, turning soft, intelligent eyes down onto her. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying - her mind was racing far faster than it ever had before, and though she heard the words she couldn’t understand them. The stranger looked familiar -

“Tide-Tail?” She croaked, her throat feeling scratched and torn from the inside, a foul sulphuric taste lingering in her mouth. Each breath sent shivers of pain through her upper chest, a violent coughing fit overtaking her until a mask was pressed against her face, Tide-Tail giving her a strained smile as he nodded. The air that rushed into her lungs was oddly sweet, calming her minutely as she turned her head to watch her home burn so fiercely that it stained the ebony sky a wretched pale gray.

The dragon-man emerged from the inferno, carrying a woman draped limply in his arms.

Leia’s heart twisted with panic as she recognized the soot-stained face as her mother’s.

The dragon-man turned once more, racing back into the rapidly collapsing palace, his retreating form quickly obscured by the rabid flames and billowing smoke. Leia twisted and wriggled out of Tide-Tail’s grasp, racing over to her mother’s side, ignoring the sharp sting of the snow against her bare feet.

“Mom,” she whimpered, curling up against her, watching as her mother’s eyes twitched open for a brief moment.

Tide-Tail was by her side in an instant, pressing another mask to Leia’s mother’s face before turning and rewrapping Leia in her blanket.

“You’ll get frostbite,” he scolded gently, pulling out a silvery emergency blanket from a large bag that he had draped over his shoulders.

“Please,” Leia’s mother gasped as Tide-Tail gently laid the blanket over her. “Please, take care of her.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Tide-Tail murmured softly, his eyes filled with sorrow as the Alderanian queen’s already rapid, shallow breaths became strained gasps, the oxygen mask dutifully delivering air to lungs that simply couldn’t take it in. Leia remembered the mysterious illness her mother had, the illness that nobody really told her about other than that it affected her mother’s lungs.

Still, trembling as she pressed against her mother’s side, she found that they needn’t had told her anything about it at all - knowing about it wouldn’t have saved her mother’s life, their words would have meant nothing, their words did mean nothing as the star-speckle Leia kept close to her heart dimmed and faded away.

The dragon-man reappeared, holding Papa’s body. Leia didn’t need to look up to know that it didn’t matter now - his star had vanished, too.

“We must move quickly,” a voice that felt like 10,000 flickering embers said, gently yet with an urgency that belied the peril they were in. “This was no accident - nobody is here because nobody was called.”

Tide-Tail - that wasn’t actually his name, she knew, but didn’t much care - stood, gently scooping Leia up into his arms. She screamed. How could they expect her to leave her mother and father lying there, cold and motionless in the snow? How could they expect her to allow herself to be dragged away from everything she’s ever known and loved?

Tide-Tail flinched, a sort of nervous fear uncurling in his presence as he shot an uncertain look over his shoulder at the darkened woods beyond.

Silently, the dragon-man held out his arms, and Tide-Tail handed her over to him.

Darkness, like wings, soothing and promising a safer tomorrow, wrapped around her mind.

She fell unconscious.

[finelinevogue]

um the one shot based off of champagne problems was bloody amazing !!! please do a part 2 😩

the amount of requests i got for a part two was scarily high, so here it is;

Harry woke up from another nightmare.

His skin sweating and his hair messy, he had to double check his room and make sure he was safe. He’s bolted up so fast in bed that he was worried he’d knock himself unconscious. When he did a survey of his surroundings and laid back down onto his bed, he cried.

He cried and cried and cried.

Harry let his eyes close and recall that same evening he was having nightmares over.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I was numb to the touch. I felt nauseous. Light-headed. I needed someone to pinch me that this was actually happening, but I was worried I wouldn’t feel anything at all because I knew it was happening. It had happened.

Y/N had left. She’d gone. No, is what she’d said.

The whole in my heart from where Y/N had filled made me feel completely empty and useless. I wouldn’t find a purpose now. I always thought it was going to be Y/M, I was so sure. I thought she’d been sure. Yet, i’d ruined it and now she was gone and all that was left of her was the dark void in my burnt out chest.

My hands shook as I reached into my jacket pocket to pull out the ring box. It’s black velvet coating was dusty, because it was the my grandfathers. It was supposed to mean something, because she meant everything. Yet, she left me. She said no. The one most important person in my life and she’d left me. And fuck did I need her so bad. She was my fucking other half and my soulmate but she’d gone. She said no.

I threw the box into the wall, watching the ring bounce out and onto the floor. I screamed. I let my pain release itself upon me. I wanted to feel something to help me release i’m not as numb as I thought. I crashed onto the floor, knees banging hard on the wooden floorboards. I cried. Eyes stinging and mouth screaming my heartbreaking cries. I was in so much pain and yet had never felt so empty.

I noticed my mum and Gemma run up the stairs first. Mum dropped down next to me whilst Gemma collected the ring and the box, piecing it back together like it wasn’t broken - like it could just be fixed. No. This was unfixable. I was broken.

“Harry breathe hun.” Mum spoke softly and repeated over and over again. I wasn’t short of breathe, I was just extremely numb. Empty. So much pain though. I appreciated that she wasn’t telling me it was okay, but we both knew that was far from the truth. My person, my favourite person, had left me just like that. So quickly.

5 minutes. That’s all it had taken.

A couple of other guests came rushing upstairs, desperate to see a broken man. They were most likely curious as to what had happened to the surprise, but there was none. No surprise, because there was no engagement. It was over and I was done. Finished. Why bother trying to love any more when all it ends is in heartbreak? It must be me. I just must be unlovable.

My hands shook and my cries continued, but it was a friend’s voice that brought me out of my trance.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame shes fucked in the head.”

I saw red.

How dare they speak about her that way. How far they treat get that way. Y/N may have left me but my heart still fucking beat for her. It bled for her. I was burning for her. I needed her, fuck I needed her.

I got up and ran down the stairs, ignoring everybody. I picked up a bottle of champagne and ran out of the front door. I popped the cork, sending it flying and I walked. I walked and walked and walked. I drank and walked.

The bottle was half empty when I made it onto her driveway.

I didn’t even realise I was here until I was here. I put the bottle down on the floor and straightened my tie, making sure I looked presentable for when I got my already broken heart broken even more. I was ready this time. But I fucking wasn’t. I couldn’t even raise my hand to the doorbell, crying before even lifting it. I cried for me. I cried my shitty heart. I cried because I love Y/N so much. She is my everything.

“H-Harry?” Her voice shot through my body and sent tingles running all up my spine.

I spun around to see her standing half-way down her driveway and eyes so heavy from crying. Her eyes were as bloodshot red as her dress. She looked perfect. Absolutely stunning. Even looking so broken and so…sad, she turned my world on it’s axis and kept me spinning. Looking at her I knew she was my home. My comfort. My person. It was just so hard to understand how 5 minutes could’ve made her feel anything but that for me.

“Y/N.” I tried to say her name firmly, but my voice cracked at the sight of her so broken. At the sight of us so broken.

“Harry w-what are you doing here?” She stuttered, wiping some of her mascara away so she didn’t look so tired and upset.

“5 minutes.” I whispered.

“Sorry wh—”

“I’m just trying to understand how everything fell apart in 5 minutes.”

“It didn’t.” She answered back, making my eyes flicker from the stone cold ground to her breathtakingly beautiful face. She was actually an angel if ever I saw one. The moon shone upon her like it had chosen her specifically to love on. I was jealous. Even the moon could touch what I couldn’t.

“What?” I asked confused.

“Forget it, Harry. We— I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I begged for answers, moving closer to her and feeling somewhat happy when she didn’t move away from me. It made me relieved that she wasn’t entirely neglectful of me.

“Us, Harry. I can’t— It’s—” And then she started crying really harsh tears. She cupped her delicate hand over her eyes so I couldn’t see those beauties anymore. My heart broken at the sight of my sad girl. I hated it so much. I should be angry, furious, cross, upset. Yet, all I felt was sorrow and hurt for my girl. My Y/N. I moved towards her and hesitated before wrapping my arms around her, enclosing her in the tightest bear hug I could manage. I wanted her to feel loved, at least for a moment.

“Please talk to me, Y/N. I’m begging.” I cried as I rested my head on top of hers. I wanted her to know I was really hurting - that I was just as broken as her.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry Harry.” She just cried and cried, making me cry and cry. Her arms didn’t wrap around me and that stung a little, but I got to hold her so that was enough for me.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” I reassured her, trying to be brave for the both of us.

“I d-don’t deserve to be.” She whimpered and it cracked my heart even more. I was going to need so many fucking plasters for this breakup. And wine. And cigarettes.

“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You just fell out of love with me and—”

She pushed away from me with a strong push, freezing me and making me widen my eyes at both her outburst and strength. “I didn’t!” She shouted, surely the neighbours were hearing this from inside their homes. I didn’t care though. I was focused on her and her alone.

“But...”

“I-I didn’t.” She cried and cried. “I love you. So much Harry. But…”

My heart didn’t know what to do now. Did it hurt for before? Did it hurt for the future? Or should it burn for the emotional tug of war my heart strings were playing?

“But what, baby? Huh? Because I fucking love you so much. Isn’t that enough?” I shouted, trying to get through to her. I needed her. Wanted her. I loved her.

“It is.” She bravely smiled before continuing. “It’s just i’m not enough.” She wobbled her lips about to start crying again but I didn’t let her. I caught up to her and held her cheeks in my palms. Her words hurt even more than a simple no.

“Never say that to me again. Ever. You hear me?” She nodded her head as her eyes clouded over again and mine followed suit. “I love you, Y/N L/N. If you never want to become my wife, that is okay. I am okay with that. I would love to see you walk down an aisle, but not at the cost of this. I’m not loosing you. I won’t. I- I can’t, okay? A world without you… Shit.” I had to stop and breathe to catch my breathe, Y/N still looking at me with starry eyes. “A world without you isn’t with living properly.”

“Harrry…”

“No Y/N. I mean it. Please. I love you. You love me. Why can’t that be enough for us?”

“It is. I-I want it to be.” Y/N stuttered.

“Then what is it?” I asked urgently, not understanding why this was all happening. And now. “What happened in those 5 minutes Y/N?”

“Harry!”

Harry was brought out of his daze, or more of a nightmare, bu shaking hands on his shoulders. His face was wet with tears and his body sweaty. He was okay, though. He tried to push the nightmare away. Far away. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because you were currently straddling his waist looking at him with sorry eyes as you woke him from the nightmare.

You were here.

“Baby…” He whispered, raising an arm to cup your cheek and you leaned into his softly. You gave it a kiss and he welcomed it with all his heart.

“Another nightmare?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He sadly answered and you nodded sadly.

“I’m so sorry.” You spoke quietly, guilt laced rich onto your voice.

“No. Don’t do that. Stop.” Harry ordered, sitting up so that his body pressed against yours. He was so close you could taste the minty toothpaste he used before bed last night.

“It’s just.. Every nightmare you have, I can’t help but feel so guilty.” You frowned, looking to see his head shake at your words.

“Listen to me,” Harry stroked a hand over your hair and left it cupped at the back of your neck for support. “That night, sure, didn’t go as planned. I got hurt, but so did you. It wasn’t just me who had to leave because the heartache was too bad, it was you also. Sure, you were the one to say no, but I was the one who didn’t notice how sad you were. We both made mistakes that night and I won’t let you go another single fucking day thinking that your mistakes were worse than mine. We both hurt that night. We hurt each other. I just don’t ever want to lose you again. That’s why I have the nightmares, because I can’t see you leave me again, angel.”

With teary eyes you looked at him with so much awe. He had fixed your broken heart and you, his. “I love you.” And you meant it.

“I love you.” And he meant it.

He slowly picked up your hand resting it on his cheek for comfort. He loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin there. You looked into his eyes and knew that he meant every word he’d spoken in the last 5 minutes. He loved you and forever would. The kiss he left to the ring on your finger proved just exactly that.

[votederpycausemufins]

Well, this is the last chapter of the sort of… intro part of this fic. But there is so much more to happen.

im always gonna tag @helleborusangel and then the scattered au was made by @hermitcraftheadcanons

False killed another drowned while Stress continued to fix up their base. A creeper had managed to show up and destroyed a bit of their base, and before they could fix it there was another, and then drowned were coming up from the ocean. While the two of them would have loved to move further away, even head towards spawn, but they had tried that already and it didn’t go well. Stress had gotten killed and was sent back to her spawn in the middle of the coral, leaving False to run back and help her out.

They hadn’t managed to get any beds to set spawn, as right now they weren’t even sure if beds would work since their starting spawns were messed up as well as chat bugging out and regen not working. So, because of all that they were on the island closest to the coral reef and were setting up a base there. With everything going on, they were doing pretty well, having gotten a good starter base set up and were almost at full diamond.

They hadn’t set up a nether portal just yet, prioritizing better armor. Of course, they would head in for the first time with iron armor for scouting so that they wouldn’t lose their hard work to a bad spawn, but if they were going to explore that dimension without regeneration, the more protection they had, the better. The priority after that was getting their way into a fortress and finding supplies for potions. Blaze rods, netherwart and glowstone were going to be a priority, but while it would be nice to have regeneration potions, but the pair had found melon seeds in a shipwreck, so instant health would be a much safer option.

False heard Stress call out to her, and then the fighter killed another drowned before running back into the base, the whole place now patched up and better lit than before. For the most part, it was just the essentials with the only decoration being the style of the build itself, but there was one exception, that being a small tank that held a tropical fish that had been stuck with Stress where she had first spawned.

“Well luv, do you fink we’re prepped enough to head to the nether?” Stress asked, ready to switch her armor up. “I’ve already got a portal set up that we just need to light.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Plus we might be able to find Wels and Keralis since they seem to both be in the nether.”

“Oh, Keralis is in there too?” Stress asked, taking her comm out to look at the messages.

“Well, he got killed by some piglins and also got Hot Tourist Destinations, but never actually used a portal to get to the nether.”

“Alright, well when we get through, we can look for the two of them.”

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Keralis was once again very glad he could make stew out of the new nether fungi. While he had found a few red and brown mushrooms, he hadn’t found many and fighting hoglins in a mishmash of armor wasn’t the most appearing idea right now. There was the slight problem of it not being mushroom stew and instead some suspicious stew, and he was getting various effects from it, but some food was better than nothing at all.

The builder was glad he had at the very least spawned in the warped forest, so the most he needed to worry about were endermen and any stray piglins that wandered into the forest from the nearby wastes. And even then he had gold armor so they wouldn’t really bother him unless they saw him opening his own chests which he didn’t think was fair.

Using some bone meal he had obtained from a soul sand valley, Keralis worked on getting another crimson fungus for some more stew. Warped fungi was easy enough to get, seeing as how he was in a warped forest, but crimson was much harder. But hopefully he wouldn’t need to do that much longer.

With his supplies from the forest and nearby basalt delta, Keralis had gotten plenty of gold to trade with piglins. The mobs gave him supplies in return, and they had almost given him enough obsidian for a portal into the overworld. Where he would end up when he got to the other side, Keralis had no clue, but either way it would be better than the nether.

He sighed when the bone meal ran out and there were still no crimson fungi. If he wanted to eat later that… day? Night? Just… later on in general, he would need to either head to the crimson forest, or get more bone meal. And right now, the soul sand valley was closer.

Keralis got geared up and then started the trek to the other biome. He already had a safe path there, so he took his time to walk and not tire himself out and need food he didn’t currently have on hand. That said, he was keeping his eyes out for any trouble on the path as well as looking for any piglin he could barter with. He mistook a ziglin here or there for their unzombified counterparts, but unluckily there didn’t seem to be any normal piglin in sight.

But while his luck for piglin seemed to be low, his luck in general was not, because he was able to spot a portal on a hill in the wastes. And it wasn’t a ruined portal. Even if it had been, Keralis likely would have gone to it to see if there were any supplies he could use. But instead, this was just a lone, lit, hermit made portal.

Keralis booked it to the portal, nearly falling into a gap in the netherrack that led straight down to lava. But he was fine and no mobs were around to attack him. So he stepped into the portal and let the magic whisk him away, coming out on the other side a few moments later.

He was glad to see stone brick on the other side of the portal, something that didn’t really appear in the nether. A set of stairs was nearby and Keralis walked up them, finding a nice looking starter base sans beds, but with a small aquarium with a single fish. He moved over to a window and looked out to see the sun rising and no monsters around. He could also see the ocean and a coral reef under the water. After days in the nether, it was an amazing sight, and Keralis just sat there to take it all in. And also hopefully meet whoever built this place when they returned.

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Scar had majorly screwed up and found himself caught in a death loop of sorts. He had accidently lost his footing while pruning some chorus plants and tumbled into the void. When he respawned, he happened to be looking right at an enderman, who promptly killed him. And then killed him again when he respawned. And then yet again. Eventually he wised up enough to keep his eyes closed tight for the next respawn, and he was left alone, but keeping his eyes closed suddenly seemed like a horrible option.

The end was already quiet enough, and other than the feeling of the endstone under his feet, Scar could have mistaken himself for floating in the void. It had been so quiet before with only the sounds of endermen, but now it was louder. Scar snapped his eyes open to look around for the source of the noise, only to get killed again, but then he was careful the second time, looking for what was making that new noise.

It sounded like whispering, but it definitely wasn’t endermen. It also sounded too close to just be something quiet in the distance like the shulkers at the end city. Feeling a little frustrated, Scar shouted, hoping whatever was making the noise would hear him and answer. “Hello?! Is anyone out there?!”

Scar couldn’t help but let a shiver go down his spine as the whispering stopped. That probably wasn’t the best sign, but at the very least whatever was making that sound could hear him. Though understanding might be a different story. “Hey, if you can, I need some help! I’m kind of stranded out here!”

Scar paused, hoping for an answer. At first none came, but just before he completely lost hope, he heard a familiar voice. “We may provide some help. You have done a number of things that we can repay you for. But that amount is still not much, and when we stop, we will stop unless you can give us more.”

Scar knew the voice of the vex. Technically he and Cub had left that behind in season six, but desperate times did call for desperate measures. The vex didn’t tell him how many times they would help him, so he knew he would need to be careful with using that help. That being said, he knew there was one thing that would definitely help. “Are you able to get me back to the overworld? Preferably somewhere safe?”

There was more whispering as the vex discussed between themselves, but after a few moments, they responded. “Unfortunately, we are unable to do that. A higher power is the reason you are here in the first place. However, there are strings we may pull to give you access to an escape.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Scar replied. While it wasn’t an immediate exit, having one on the way was still a good thing to have. “Um, well, do you know who the closest hermit to me is? Other than TFC that is, since I know he’s in the end with me.”

Scar was pretty sure that would be a good question. The closest player would likely be whoever was almost to the end themselves, or maybe they were in the stronghold. Once he knew that, he would hopefully have another request that the vex would allow and they could send a message to them for him. But instead, the vex gave him a much more unfavorable answer. “Look up.”

Scar was confused, but then carefully looked up, avoiding the gaze of any endermen. He scanned the horizon for something, anything that might show signs of a hermit, but there was nothing. His next guess was that maybe a hermit had already claimed an elytra and was flying around, so he looked further into what passed as a sky in the end. And then he saw the bright color that was Bdubs.

At first Scar wanted to smile as seeing his friend, but then he realized the man wasn’t wearing any sort of elytra and was falling fast. Without much more thought, Scar backed up and watched Bdubs get closer before he finally ran to the edge of his small island and jumped. Scar yelled Bdubs’ name as he reached for the hermit, the other man not reacting until Scar managed to grab his arm. Bdubs’ eyes shot open and he looked around in surprise before his eyes finally rested on Scar. “Scar! How did you get down here?”

“You were falling past the island I’ve been stuck on. Look!” And Scar pointed to the island which was rapidly disappearing above them.

“I thought I was just ages into the void. I lost my comm forever ago so I had no clue how far down I was. No wonder I haven’t died.”

“Yeah, well sorry that I can’t really get us out of this. But maybe you can shift yourself a bit to the side so maybe I can catch you when you respawn again.”

Bdubs chuckled, glad for some sort of hope. “Yeah. See you in a couple days.”

The two held onto each other as they continued to fall, but Bdubs watched in horror as Scar was the only one of them to take damage from the void. A few moments later, he disappeared into smoke which Bdubs tried to grab on to in vain, but a moment later, it was all gone, and he was back to falling alone.

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TFC hid behind an obsidian pillar to catch his breath as the purple magic of the dragon’s breath was blocked by it. He was running low on health again, so he needed to be careful about getting near the dragon so she could fling him up at the right time. Without blocks, bows and arrows, ladders, or anything really, TFC just had to hope that he could reach the crystals and punch them just before dying. He had already managed to take out two, but there were still plenty to go, especially the caged ones.

There was a roar and TFC cursed as the dragon phased through the pillar and he found himself falling a moment later. He wasn’t close enough to any of the pillars with crystals to try and take them out. That was, unless he somehow managed to catch himself on the iron bars around the nearest crystal and not kill himself. But that was unlikely. He was already old and prosthetics weren’t the best for stuff like this.

So, it ended up that TFC found himself hitting the ground and respawning on the obsidian platform again. He slowly got himself to sit on the platform without managing to throw his back out and used it as some time to rest. He knew the dragon would probably find her way over to him eventually, but right now he was done with fighting.

He pulled out his communicator to check on how everyone else was doing, frowning upon seeing Scar’s many end related deaths. TFC wondered if it would have been better if Scar were the one stuck on the island instead. He could probably deal with the dragon better than him. Probably anyone could. Maybe once upon a time defeating the dragon alone was a feat he could manage, but his old bones weren’t built for that anymore.

He knew it was probably in vain, but TFC tried to send another distress message into the chat. He didn’t really have many other options for what to do, and for all he knew, it could eventually fix itself and everyone would just assume it was still broken if he didn’t check. But, with a sigh, he just got another error message. Maybe another time, that’s all TFC could hope for.

.

.

.

Etho continued to shiver in the covers of the bed he had been put in. When he respawned on top of a mountain, he was surprised to see Grian and the bots up there. Even though there weren’t any trees or animals or life whatsoever other than the other people themselves, they had somehow managed to get a bed and some food. And looking at his communicator, they had managed to somehow all keep from dying from the cold, only having a few instances of falling or even one of starvation.

Etho looked over to Grian, who was currently sitting in the snow and shivering even more than he was. The avian had their wings wrapped around himself and was rubbing his arms to keep warm. Etho had tried more than once to get out of the bed so that Grian could use it, but the bots had both insisted he use it instead.

At first, he had complained, saying he would be fine and he didn’t want Grian to deal with the cold like this. But then he watched as Grian suddenly summoned purple flames in his hands, the fire’s warmth reaching the bed at least a little. The color seemed to reflect in Grian’s eyes perfectly, his irises matching the amethyst color at the moment. At least, that was Etho’s first thought, but then he remembered Ren and Impulse’s eyes being different colors, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

“S-So, how did you g-guys get this st-stuff?” Etho chattered out, making the two bots tuck him into the cover more.

“Dad made them.” Jrum answered. “When he respawns, he’s able to use magic to make us stuff like food or this bed.”

Etho nodded, but then looked up again. “Wh-why hasn’t he tried making something to get you guys down?”

The bots didn’t immediately answer, instead looking at each other nervously. “Well, something’s been up with Dad. When we got here his wings got weird looking and then there was that thing.” And Jrum pointed to the small ice and bedrock structure Etho had spawned next to. “And then he started attacking us so we had to push him off the mountain and when he respawned he wanted us to abandon him here and then you showed up!”

“S-so in other w-words, s-something’s wrong w-with him, b-but y-you don’t kn-know what.” And the bots nodded. “W-Well, th-that sums up a l-lot of th-things going on. L-Like e-every time I r-respawn, I sh-show up n-near someone e-else.”

“Really?”

“Or s-something l-like that. I s-started out at s-spawn with Joe a-and Beef.” Etho paused to rub his arms for a bit more warmth. “When I res-spawned, I w-was in a r-ravine with Ren. H-He s-suddenly attacked m-me like your d-dad did so then I w-was in the e-end.”

“Did you find Scar or TFC?” Grum asked, surprised when Etho shook his head.

“Neither. B-Bdubs is s-stuck in the v-void and isn’t d-dying. I d-didn’t see him but I f-found his c-communicator. I d-died before I c-could find out m-more. After that was th-the desert.”

“So Iskall or XB, right? They’ve both died of dehydration so that means they have to be somewhere hot.”

“Y-yeah, probably. But I d-didn’t see anyone. J-just a l-lack of dead b-bushes.” Etho explained. “A-anyway, s-sort of at that point I r-realized I w-was a-appearing n-near other p-people, s-so I made s-something to j-jump off of t-to send me e-elsewhere.”

“Okay, where did you go next?” Jrum asked before getting an idea. “Oh! And are you able to look at coordinates when you show up there, because then you might help people who are safe figure out where those who aren’t are!”

“Y-yeah. I’ve g-got access to those. J-just haven’t taken advantage of th-that too much. I s-spawned with Imp-pulse next a-and used a-all the time I h-had to tr-try and break a block w-with him.”

“Well, he’s still dying a lot, so if you did, it doesn’t look like it helped much.” Jrum said, Grum elbowing him. “Ow! Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t say things like that. Etho is doing the best he can in a situation like this.”

“I-It’s fine. I g-get it. After th-that, I sh-showed up h-here.”

“And you have surprisingly lasted the longest up here based on the death messages.” Grum agreed. “Well, actually, it was longer when you were with Ren, but it’s getting close. You slept for a while when we first got you into the bed.”

Etho nodded. “H-How long h-has i-it been?”

The bots both looked up at the sky to look at the sun before looking back to Etho. “It’s been at least a day. We weren’t really paying attention to when you showed up. Uh… it’s sort of like… the middle of the fifth day we’ve all been stuck in this season.”

Before Etho could respond, there was a chirp and Grian started using fire to warm himself up again. Etho stared at the avian and then Grum and Jrum carefully moved Grian closer to the bed so the warmth of the fire would reach him, but not too much in case they upset Grian. “When we first got you into bed and you fell asleep, Dad got upset and attempted to attack you, so we’ve been trying to keep that from happening again.”

“Th-thanks.”

Since Etho wasn’t stuck in the snow, the cold wasn’t enough to kill him, so the bots did their best to keep him warm and fed. At the same time, they talked things out with Etho about what they could do since Etho could find people and Grian seemed to be able to get them necessary items.

Eventually, night fell and Grian forcefully got closer to curl up with the bots, each of them finding themselves pinned under one of their dad’s wings. They were worried about Etho at first, especially when Grian moved closer to the bed, but the only thing then needed to worry about was Etho’s bones accidently being crushed when Grian plopped himself onto the bed and tried to squeeze all four of them on the mattress made for one person.

Surprisingly, they all managed to get to sleep in that position, but it didn’t help advance the day forward like the first time Grian used the bed. Despite being metal, the combined body heat of Grian and Etho kept all of them warm, as well as from them just being out of the snow. Since the bots technically didn’t need to sleep, they mostly stayed awake to keep an eye on things, though taking it in shifts so they didn’t overdo it. But the night was calm, and it looked like everything was going to be fine.

And then just as the sun was coming up over the horizon, things changed. Grian got up suddenly, winding Etho and causing the bots to fall to the ground. His wings were puffed up in agitation and flames came from his hands, though his hands were over his ears, making it look like his head was on fire.

Jrum was the first to get up and go over to Grian, but the avian’s wings just swiped at the bot and kept them away. Grum tried next but just got the same result, though he was hit away at a different angle, nearly sending him off the edge of the mountain. Etho, despite having nothing except a bit of food, got up from the bed to get close to Grian, managing to dodge his wings.

By the time Etho reached Grian, he had started hyperventilating. The ninja put his hand on Grian’s shoulder and he whipped around, bright amethyst eyes staring unfocused at Etho. “C-can you t-tell m-me what’s up? What’s going on?” Grian didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes flicked over to the pillar next to them on the mountain. “That’s c-causing it? L-Let’s s-see what w-we can do a-about it.”

Etho walked over to the pillar and looked it over before trying to break the ice since he obviously could break bedrock. He was a little weak from the cold, but Etho was sure he could do this. He had done it for Impulse, and that was underwater. The thing was, he couldn’t get far before he found himself face down in the snow, a hand on the back of his head keeping it down so he couldn’t look up. With a bit of struggling, however, Etho was able to twist his head to the side and his good eye looked up at Grian.

With his voice muffled by the current situation, Etho tried to say something to Grian, not sure if he would hear or even respond. “Grian, what are you doing?”

For a moment, Grian didn’t answer, then he cocked his head to the side confused as well as gave a smile. “Oh, do you mean-?” He cut himself off by laughing. “What I'm doing is making sure you keep going. You won’t fix anything like this.” Etho tried to question what Grian meant, but there was suddenly more pressure pushing him down and preventing him from talking. “Go on now. Freeze to death. You’re only really getting that here.”

Etho was vaguely aware of the bots trying to get him to the bed and pull Grian away, but they didn’t seem to be strong enough for that. There was the clank of metal hitting together, then on stone further down. “Welcome to day five. I’ll speed us through so we can get to the good stuff.” And then Etho froze to death.

.

.

.

As the sun was rising, Joe got up with a start. Something didn’t feel right. He jumped out of bed and went looking for Beef, finding him still taking a nap in his own bed. Joe shook the other hermit awake, not wanting to be alone if his new bad feeling was dangerous at all. Beef complained a little at first, but when Joe explained further, he dragged himself out of bed and geared up.

Swords were drawn as they left the building, looking everywhere they could for danger and making sure to watch each other’s backs. Any mobs from the night were dying from the sun aside from some creepers which they took care of with a couple arrows. But other than all that, there was nothing that really stood out.

Giving up, they started back to their beds, taking a different path back, and then suddenly Joe realized what was the problem, and why he felt off the night before. “Beef, I think that’s our problem right there.”

Beef looked over to Joe, then to where Joe was pointing. Right where the main building of spawn was, or at least, where it had been. Standing in its place, towering above the other buildings, was a tower of various blocks like obsidian, bedrock, endstone, blackstone, and more. The pair moved to get a better look at the new building, finding an entrance at its base which was a few blocks above the surrounding terrain, though it had also appeared with a hill.

“Well, I think we should stop working on makin’ more shelter.” Joe spoke up after they had just stared at the tower for a few minutes. “We can make signs to tell people what’s up, but we need to gear up and find X and Grian.”

[foulserpent]

The Palace of Kings was near unrecognizable from the last time Delphine had stepped foot within.

For a start, it no longer had doors. Its occupant was far too large for that.

The throne had been converted into one gigantic dais, lined with furs and pillows and white feathers. It was ringed by guards sporting a unique scaled armor, and a scattering of servants and attendants. They moved amongst a pile of offerings to the king that lined the platform. Furs, worn war axes, armor and gold collected into piles. Lain in reverence, or perhaps fear fear. Atop it lounged the reigning high king of skyrim. Ysmir, Dragon of the North. 

She was gigantic. She was barely recognizable as having ever been anything but a dragon, instead long necked and longer-tailed, and far too top-heavy to stand on two legs. Her feathers had lost their tan mottling, and now shone bone white in the firelight. She wore no crown but her horns, and a pillar of flame over her head that burned a royal blue. 

Delphine had known her by a different name, and different title. There was a time in her life where she was sworn to her, fought alongside her. There was a time that she even loved her.  This all had long since passed with the years, as the world around her transformed out of recognition, with this dragonborn emperor-pretender being the weight at the very center of it.

The Blades were dead. Esbern had been taken by age three years before. Sky Haven had been taken by some dragon as a roost, and may as well have been destroyed. He had smashed the outside relics of Akaviri architecture with his voice and his tail, and now his sheep grazed among the mountain scrub that grew in its place. 

Whether she lived or died, she was already merely a relic of a world that was long dead. And so she approached the throne. 

Ysmir turned to look at the visitor. 

Delphine froze under the weight of those fiery eyes. The gaze was hollow, mere pinpricks under the towering blue flame. No, not hollow. Far too full. 

She felt the same sensation she had experienced all those years ago, as the shadow of the World-Eater blocked out the sun over Kynesgrove. He had, ever so briefly, looked upon her- and in that moment she was tiny and naked and frail under the talons of his mere glance. He had seen her and acknowledged her, and in the same moment had written her off as something far too tiny and trifling to be bothered with.

This was much the same.

"Greetings, Ysmir." she said, and she cursed her wavering voice.

The dragon did not blink. Her tail- and by Talos, it was the size of an oak tree - twitched its tip in a feline languor. 

"I take it you did not just come to stare?" She said. This voice was familiar. Strangely soft, deep, and sporting the thick-tongued accent sported by only the northernmost Nords. This familiar voice now shook the stone with each flick of the tongue, more like the distant rumble of thunder than anything that would come out of a living creature. 

Delphine's grip on the sword tightened, and Ysmir seemed not to care. She steadied herself, and met her steady gaze.

"We have unfinished business, don't we? Solvej?"

Ysmir lifted her barbed chin in irritation. 

"I doubt it." She rumbled. "And it is quite presumptuous on your part to think I would be interested in resolving anything with your little group of spies.”

“It’s not about that.” Delphine said. “I just wanted to ask you something, before I lose my chance.”

Ysmir raised her head even higher than before, looming pillarlike above the woman. 

“Speak.”

"Could you just tell me why you've done this? All of it. Everything since we last spoke."

Ysmir gazed down unblinking for a moment, then leaned in until the tip of her snout was inches from Delphine’s face. Her hot breath singed the air between them.

"The gods are dead, or being killed as we speak, or turned to stone." She said softly. "Do you understand?" 

Delphine raised an eyebrow.

Ysmir lifted a massive hand. Its terminal digits had stretched and warped outwards into the bud of a wing, complete with the delicate barbs that were yet to be flight feathers. Delphine allowed herself a moment of amusement; it was naked and gray, not unlike a baby bird's wing. 

"Everything lies on a knife's-edge of destruction." She brought two hooked talons together, showing the tiny void between to the woman before her. "The Thalmor of course. You know the Empire has been too thoroughly declawed to stand a chance. But this is more than just the trifling wars of mortals. That will only be a means to an end.”

Ysmir now looked into the distance, ignoring Delphine entirely. “I can save us all. I have done it before, and now I will do it again. Is it so wrong that I try to hold balance in place?"

Delphine shook her head in disbelief. 

"What in the goddamn hell are you talking about?" She threw her arms out. "No- Do you realize how insane this all is? What you've done to yourself? How the fuck is this god-king nonsense helping anyone?!" 

There was passing moment where something resembling indignation breezed across Ysmir's face. It quickly passed, returning to a distant placidity. 

"Unfortunate." Ysmir said, pulling away from the woman to lay back on her throne. "I am not unaccustomed to mortals being ungrateful. And I suppose I should expect that much from you. But it's still quite unfortunate."

Delphine deflated. Her hand returned to her sword. She had lost her touch for subtlety with age, it seemed. 

"May I at least pay homage?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"Do as you will. I have nothing more to say to you." Ysmir huffed, and lay back down, baring her massive breast to the woman before her. 

Delphine approached the dais, white down feathers kicking up around her feet with each step. She had heard of those loyal to Ysmir doing as such. They would be allowed to approach, lay hands on their king, prove to themselves that she is as physical as she is divine. 

Delphine now did as such, lifting a lithe hand and placing it amid the feathers. She was as warm as she had ever been, skin a wrinkled velvet under the soft down. Delphine felt the heart beating between the ribs. It must have been the size of her torso, the way it thundered slowly against her palm. It made what was to come far easier.

Delphine swore a quiet oath on the grave of her order.

The dragon did not react as Delphine drew the sword. She thought she saw the slightest ruffling of brow-feathers, a raised eyebrow over eyes that had already long-since lost interest in what the little human had to say or do, but there was nothing more. 

The dragon did not react as Delphine took aim in one fluid motion, praying her age not betray her, that the strength in her now wiry arms would not fail her.  A guard shouted something.

The dragon did not even stir as the blade slid through her thick hide and slicked its way between her ribs. Several people around her cried out in shock. Delphine gritted her teeth, and pushed until the hilt met flesh and blood welled up to kiss her trembling hands. 

The chest heaved in a massive gasp. 

Ysmir let out a strangled roar. Delphine stumbled backwards, leaving her blade behind as the dragon began to thrash against the pain. Two braziers were snuffed with a swing of her tail. One attendant was crushed as the great dragon crashed off of the dais, and the rest scattered away from the dying king. 

Garbled words tore from her massive throat, and they begged fire and death into the uncaring air, then pleaded everlasting life and healing against a rapidly collapsing body. Delphine had stood transfixed for too long, and one of the Words caught the edge of her and sent her reeling against a stone brazier. Something in her body made an awful crunching noise, and she crumpled to the ground. 

Ysmir's flailing had now quieted, and now she lay sprawled across the hall. Her legs twitched pitifully. Heavy slabs of muscle were caught in spasm underneath feathers that seemed to bristle and flatten outside of her control. Her head flopped to the stone with a thud, bare of its flame. 

Her eyes fell towards Delphine, but they were distant, wide and so very Mortal with terror. Delphine held them where she lay, body broken against the hard stone and fighting with consciousness herself. The guards and attendants and stewards were now crowding in on their king, some fruitlessly casting healing magic, some just staring in awe. Delphine stared as well, face taut with pain and a grim satisfaction. Whether she was taken dead or alive, whether this was the right thing to do or not, this was the end. 

There was an irony to it all. The last of the Blades and the Last Dragonborn. Delphine was too tired to worry about what it all meant. Whatever would be, would be. 

Ysmir took in a shuddering gasp through a foaming mouth. She looked somewhere far away yet, eternally transfixed and small under something only she could see. It looked back at her across all that distance, and she was gone. 

Delphine took a breath, and let her own eyes slide shut.

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 21

Douxie x fem reader

Masterlist in Bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 21 summary: You're back in the future, but things don't go well.

Warnings: temporary death and grief

A/n: Wow, last chapter for a while, cue bittersweet emotions. I hope you like it!(sorry for any typos)

Jim’s words echoed in your head. “We need an edge. I'm sorry.”

You and Claire had protested, but he wouldn’t listen. “It's the only way!”

Then he had turned into that beast and told you to run. Which you did, and you regretted it. You couldn’t have stayed, but how could you leave? Guilt haunted you and you knew Douxie wasn’t doing any better.

His aura was overwhelmed with his own guilt over Merlin’s death. “It's all gone. Everything. The Heart of Avalon, Camelot...Merlin.” Douxie looked away, but you could see tears shining on his face.

“Maybe we should say a few words?” Claire suggested.

You nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, okay. Ahem. Battleship. November. Fruit punch.” Steve sobbed. “Purple!”

Douxie sniffed, turning around. “Oh, what can I say about Merlin? He was... he was, uh... He was everything. He was all that we had.”

“We'll get through this, together. We need you, Doux, now more than ever,” Claire consoled, handing Douxie Merlin’s book. “The world, our friends are in danger.”

“And the Order's about to kick off an arcane apocalypse,” Archie added, nuzzling Douxie.

You took a seat next to him. “In our line of work it’s hard to find the time to grieve and now it’s harder than ever with this new threat, but we’ll overcome it. We’ll figure out a way together.” You gave him a hug.

Douxie leaned into you and opened the book. He sighed. “But Merlin didn't tell me anything. And of course, he gave us a book that I can't even read. I mean, what is that supposed to be? Orcish? Elvish? Naga snake tribe?”

Archie gasped. “It looks like...Ancient Draconic.”

“Draconic?” Steve’s eyes widened in panic. “Dracula! Oh, no, Dracula!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “No...as in dragons.”

“As in...” Douxie trailed off.

“Charlemagne, the Devourer,” Archie finished, leaping into the air and transforming into a Dragon.

“Charlemagne, the Devourer. Keeper of the most sacred stones and treasures. A vicious dragon,” Douxie elaborated for yours, Claire’s, and Steve’s sake.

Archie circled the clearing landing on top of a piece of Camelot. “Which is why we shouldn't trouble him. Maybe someone else can translate.”

Douxie shook his head. “Come on, Arch! This is clearly about the Genesis Seals. And if the Order finds them first-“

   “Yes, yes, yes, we're all doomed.” Archie proofed back into a cat. “I suppose we'll have to pay Charlemagne a visit.”

“What about Jim?” Claire asked as Douxie called the flying ship to him. “I need to find him.”

“I’m worried about him,” you added.

“Go back to Hex Tech. Research any dark magic that can help him,” Douxie advised.

“Claire, do you think you can handle that alone?” You asked. “I think I should go with Douxie.”

“Of course. I’ll save Jim and you keep Douxie from doing anything crazy.” She made a waving motion. “Okay. Let's go, Steve.”

“Aw! But the dragon quest!” Steve protested.

“What're you going to do, get eaten again?” Claire sassed and you laughed.

“If I can I’ll get you some pictures, Steve,” you promised.

“Thanks, Y/n,” he said, but you could tell he was still kinda pouting. Claire rolled her eyes and sent him through a portal.

“Also if it’s not too much trouble, could you have Toby feed Mao?” You asked her before she could disappear into her own portal. You had left your familiar back at Hex Tech with Toby and Nari seeing as it didn’t seem like a good idea to bring a kitten into the Arcane Order’s Castle. You couldn’t wait til this was all over so you could spend some quality time together.

“Will do,” Claire said, hoping into the void.

Douxie helped you onto the ship. “Well, let's hope we get some answers... before the Order does.”

   You went over and leaned on one of the rails as Douxie put his staff in the key. The ship hummed to life and flew into the air.

   “Here goes nothing,” Douxie whispered, turning the staff. The ship lurched forward and you fell against the rail.

   “Do you know who to drive this?” You asked.

   “Of course,” Douxie said at the same time Archie mouthed “No.”

   Douxie turned the staff again and the ship shot ahead. You couched the rail, afraid that if you let go you’d fly off.

   Douxie didn’t really talk and so you retreated into your thoughts. You were worried about Douxie. Sure, he was distracted now, but you knew Douxie and he was an open book. With you able to read his aura you could clearly seem the grief in it. It was so overwhelming, you were tempted to stop looking for auras, but you also wanted to understand how he was feeling.

   Not only was their grief, there was blame and you knew he was blaming himself. Douxie liked to shoulder the world, you recalled how Strickler used to call Jim ‘Young Atlas’, but to you, the nickname seemed to fit Douxie perfectly. You wished he would let you take some of the weight.

   His sadness was another overwhelming emotion and you wondered how he wasn’t curled into a ball and crying. You had a very strong instinct to go over and hug him and promise him that things will get better, but you were a little scared to let go of the rail, you would do it later though and you’d make him a pie for good measure.

   Archie shouted directions and it wasn’t long before Douxie was lowering the ship to the forest.

   You looked ahead to see a rogue tree sticking out of the canopy, but Douxie didn’t seem to notice.

“Douxie!” You screamed. “There’s a tree there!”

“I see it, love.” The ship made a sharp turn and you fell to the other railing, taking Archie down with you.

“Sorry, Arch,” You apologized.

“He may know how to drive everything from a car to a stagecoach, and he may have learned how to drive this, but it doesn’t mean he’s good at it,” Archie grumbled.

   This time you held on a little tighter and the cold rail bit into your skin. You didn’t have to be uncomfortably gripping the rail for long though. Archie gave one last direction and the ship shot down, making a surprisingly gentle landing.

Douxie helped you down and looked to Archie. “You've told me tales of Charlemagne, the Devourer, for centuries.”

Archie hopped down. “The truth may be stranger than fiction.”

   “Who is he?” You asked.

“Oh...I've heard terrible tales-whoever stole his treasure got baked alive into a blood pie,” Douxie explained.

“And burned, and singed,” Archie added. “Oh, here we are.”

“Sounds like this’ll be fun,” You muttered, shivering a bit from the cold night air.

Douxie looked down into the old well Archie had gestured at. “I really don't want to be a blood pie.”

“Let’s try to avoid that then. We aren’t here to steal his treasure, we are here to ask for help,” you said, looking into the well for stairs or a ladder.

Douxie stood on top of the well. “How do we get ther-“

Rocks slid and Douxie fell into the well. You winced as you heard him tumble.

“Oh, no!” Archie flew down after him and you hoped in as well, but instead of free falling like Douxie you levitated.

You touched down to see Douxie lying on the floor as Merlin’s staff hit him. “Ugh! All this...ugh-“ the book hit him “-for a book.”

“A very important book,” you reminded me, lighting your hands up with orange flames.

Douxie moved his staff around and screamed. You went to help him stand and you looked down to see the two of you were standing in the middle of a giant foot print. “Oh fuzz buckets.”

You heard and growl and you yelped. You and Douxie looked around for the source, ready to defend yourselves. “I do not want to be baked into a blood pie!” Douxie repeated.

THe ground shook and something stomped up from behind you. The two of you and you whirled around to see a huge white dragon.

“Oh...fuzz buckets,” Douxie whimpered and you grabbed onto his arm.

“We can do this,” you whispered. “We’ve battled a Nyarlagroth and won.”

Douxie didn’t respond, but the dragon did. “Look what the cat dragged in. Get it? 'Cat drag-in'! It's a play on words!” He laughed a big hearty laugh that made you smile despite your fear. “I slay myself! Archie? My cuddly little shapeshifter. Come here.”

“Oh, Father!” Archie touched his face to the dragon and your eyes widened. Not that you knew they were related, you could see it, they had the same eyes.

“When did you get so big?” Charlemange asked.

Archie rolled his eyes. “Very funny, yes. You don't see me talking about all those grey scales, do you?”    

“What? Charlemagne, the Devourer, is your father?!” Douxie concluded, lessening his tight grasp on your arm.

“Dad, these are my dear friends, Douxie and Y/n,” Archie  introduced and you gave a small wave.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“So, I finally get to meet your wizard familiar. Mm! Which one is it?” Charlemange looked between you and Douxie.

“I am.” Douxie cleared his throat. “Um, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Charlemagne, the Devourer.”

Charlemagne laughed. “Please. My friends call me 'Charlie'. Let's retire to my dragon's den.”

   As you walked you gently nudged Douxie. “And you thought you were gonna get eaten.”

   “This guys is the most feared dragon out there, you can’t blame me.”

   “Don’t worry, your screams were cute.” You kissed his cheek and went to stand next to Archie.

Charlie lit the fire. “I'm sure Archibald told you all about my famous blood-berry pies.” He set a gigantic pie down in front of you and you admired the craftsmanship.

“'Blood-berry'?” Douxie asked, shaking his head. “There's no time for tea! The Arcane Order is back. They-“

“Killed Merlin,” Archie finished.

“Merlin's...dead? So, you're after the Seals, hmm?” Charlie asked.

Douxie nodded. “And we think this will tell us how to find them.”

“Hmm. Of course.” Charlie took the book and opened it. “He never wrote anything in large print. Mm. Ancient Draconic.” He gasped. “The first letter is an 'H'.”

“Aw, come on! We don't have forever! The world's at stake here!” Douxie shouted, frustrated.

“I'll need my reading glasses. Be back in two shakes of a wyvern's tail.” Charlie promised. “Where did I put those things?”

Douxie snapped to Archie. “Oh, a 'real monster', eh?”

Archie licked his paw. “You think you're the only one with father issues, hmm?”

“Archie, why did you make your dad sound like a terrifying beast?” Douxie asked.

“They're here somewhere!” Charlie yelled from across the room.

Archie sighed. “Truthfully, I was embarrassed. Dad's a walking pun factory. The legends seemed better than the truth. Then again, compared to Merlin, who was...”

“Not the type to make tea and biscuits,” Douxie finished.

“Yes. And now that he's, well, gone, I'm more worried about you. You know you can talk to me, right?” Archie asked.

“We’re here for you, Doux. I know what you’re going through,” you added.

Douxie took a seat and you followed suit, wrapping him into a hug. “I can't help but think...what if Merlin was more like Charlie? If he hadn't saved me in that alley-” Douxie sighed “-would I be a completely different wizard?”

“We don't get to choose everyone that comes into our lives,” Archie said.

Douxie looked down. “Or when they leave.”

You gave a small smile and Archie came over to join your hug. “You’re exactly who you should be, Douxie,” you consoled.

“Ta-da!” Charlie said, coming back over. “Would you believe they were on my head the whole time?”

You gave a small chuckle as Douxie held up the book. “Please. Just tell me what it says.”

Charlie looked at it thoughtfully. “Mm. 'Hisirdoux, if anyone could figure this out, it'd be you. Since you're reading this, clearly, I'm dead. I kept many secrets close at hand, but now I entrust you with this, my final one. The Genesis Seals can be reached by destroying my staff.'

Douxie jumped to his feet, retreating away from everyone. “What? Wait, destroy his staff?”

“There's no time to waste, my boy. You've got a world to save!” Charlie said

Douxie clutched the staff.    “A wizard's staff is everything to them. Look, are you sure that you translated it correctly?”

Charlie swiped at Douxie, trying to get the staff. “Uh!” He yelped, coming to the edge of a small cliff.

“Hey!” You yelled.

“Dad!” Archie scolded.

“Wait! Don't rush me!” Douxie begged, raising his hand, a spell ready.

“Douxie, Dad, play nice!” Archie called, trying to mediate.

“Guys! We can talk this out!” You added, ready to use your own magic to stop any fighting.

“Careful, boy. You're playing with fire,” Charlie growled, letting out a string to show Douxie he wasn’t kidding.

“Oh, dear,” Archie whispered.

“Never challenge a dragon,” Charlie roared. You and Archie rushed to stand between the two.

“Father, Hisirdoux, I miss him, too. But you know, Merlin's not the only family you had,” Archie pointed out.

Charlie sighed, baking down. “He's right. Family isn't only who you have. It's also who you're with. Did you know, Archibald used to be the cutest little dragon you've ever seen?” Charlie turned around and showed you a picture frame. You squealed. It was a picture of Archie as a baby nestled in what you assumed was his egg, wearing Charlie’s glasses.

“That is just too cute!” You squealed.

Archie gasped.  Father, please! Burn that!

Charlie shook his head. “Archie always wanted to explore the world, even before he took his first form. And when he chose a cat, that broke my dragon heart. He became a familiar- a lower profession. But if a cat is what he wants, a cat is fine with me. I realized I had to let him go, so he could spread his wings and soar. And accepting that set me free. And r-r-r-right now, your people look to you-to stand up, to lead.” Charlie let out a breath and a sort of brownish mist swirled around Douxie. Smiling figures of Steve, Claire, Jim, you, Archie, and Merlin appeared in it.

“I know you're still grieving.” Charlie continued. “I know this is too much. But in order to save your family-to save the world-you must let him go.”

The mist cleared and Douxie looked up to Charlie, determination burning in his eyes. “Do it. Destroy it.”

Charlie nodded and Douxie held up the staff as flames engulfed it. Douxie braced himself against the ground, tears streaming down his face. He screamed and the staff shattered, letting out a blast of blinding green light. The light faded, but Douxie was nowhere to be found.

“Douxie!” You and Archie yelled.

You rushed over to the pieces of the staff and picked up the remains. “What happened?”

“If I had to guess, he went into a wormhole Merlin created to store the seals in,” Charlie said. “We just have to give Douxie his time.”

You nodded. “Okay...”

Charlie came up from behind you. “I have more baby pictures of Archie to show to pass the time.”

“Father!” Archie complained as you moved back over to the pie.

“Feel free to have some,” Charlie called over his shoulder while he looked for the pictures. You did as he suggested and got yourself some. Honestly you were shocked when you bit into it. It was warm and gooey and utterly amazing. The crust was perfect and flaky as well. The pie was perfect and you said as much.

Charlie thanked you as he came back over and handed you the photo album. You went to open it but paused. “Could I take a picture of you please? My friend, Steve, wanted to meet you, but he had to go with our other friend, Claire. It’s a long story.”

“Of course,” Charlie beamed and you took out your phone. “Say cheese!” You called, snapping a picture of Archie and Charlie. You took a few more for good measure and then sat down to look at the baby pictures.

You had no clue why Archie was so embarrassed of them. He was the most adorable baby dragon you had ever seen, though you hadn’t seen many of them.  The pictures of him learning to fly were your favorite. Charlie was in the background of some of those, encouraging Archie. Seeing how cute baby Archie was really cheered you up.

You were only on the seventh page though, when a cloud of green fog billowed out of nowhere from the corner of the room. When it cleared away Douxie was standing there.

“Douxie!” You yelled, immediately jumping up.

“Mordrax's miracles, you found them!” Archie exclaimed and you looked at what Douxie was holding.

Charlie smiled. “Well done! I knew you'd do it, little buddy!”

Douxie admired them. “The Genesis Seals! Now we just need to get back to Hex Tech and regroup.”

~~~~

   “Um, Doux!” You called as you looked down to the street Hex Tech was on. “You need to see this.”

   Shards of ice were all over the place and bits of everything was burning. There was no sight of your friends.

Douxie gasped as he hopped out of the ship. “No! No, no, no. No, no, no! No!” You all rushed over to Hex Tech, but the lights were off and ice was everywhere. “Claire! Steve! Nari!” Douxie called.  “What happened here?”

You heard someone groan and you rushed over to see Krel. He was trapped in ice and looked on the edge of consciousness.He wasn’t the only one you saw though, Mao was licking away at the ice trapping Krel. You grabbed her and waited for DOuxie to free your Akiridion friend.

“Krel! No.” Douxie blasted the ice that was trapping Krel and you moved to heal him.

“Where is everyone?” You asked.

Krel groaned. “Couldn't stop them. Took Nari. Oh, wait! He can show you.” He stood up and grabbed the head of a glitching robot with a human face. You shivered a bit at the creepy sight.

“Wahoo! How are you, buckaroo?” The robot head asked. Krel pressed a button and a video of Krel screaming and running appeared on a big screen. There was a lot of screaming as the camera was rolled around until Toby grabbed it.

“This looks like the end!” He cried. “I leave my classic VHS action movie collection to my nana and my warhammer to Y/n!” The video was taken from Toby and showed the fiery person from the Arcane Order who crushed the camera.

With that the video cut out. “That's all fo-beep-boop,” the robot said.

You continued looking at the screen in horror. “Not them too.” You squeezed your eyes shut as tears ran down your face. You hated the Arcane order. Gumar had already taken so much from you and here they were to finish it off.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen! No! Oh, please tell me there's something in here to help,” Douxie begged, setting Merlin’s book on a table leafing through it.

Archie put his paw on it, covering some of the words. “You don't need the book to tell you the answer, Doux. Merlin was clear. If the Order has Nari, we can't let them get the Seals, or it's arcane Armageddon.”

“But I can't just leave our friends to die!” Douxie protested.

“No we can’t,” you stated, determined. Your friends were not going to die. You weren’t gonna lose anyone else.  

“It's not easy being a leader,” Krel said.

“The Order will never stop coming after the seals,” Archie reminded and you nodded.

Douxie sighed. “We'll spend the rest of our lives running.”

“Save our friends or save the world? You have to make a decision. We're out of time!” Krel complained.

Douxie’s head snapped up. “Or maybe...time is all we have.”

   “What do you mean?” Archie asked, but it hit you.

“We send the Arcane order through time,” you concluded.

“It’s a crazy idea, but it just might work. Arch, remember how before we met Merlin we used to do the Lad of Fortune trick with the cup to earn money? We do that, but inside the cup is a smaller heart of Avalon. Krel you mentioned something about magic and Acaridian tech earlier, can you fashion something out of the heart of Avalon that will send the Arcane order through time?”

Krel shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, ‘maybe’ is all we’ve got right now. We can only hope this works. Let’s get to work!” Douxie exclaimed.

You turned to him. “I’m gonna go leave Mao with my mom, but I'll be back to help soon, okay?”

“Okay, stay safe.” He kissed you and you wished you didn’t have to go. You wished you and Douxie could just hang out and date like a normal couple, but alas, the fate of the world was in your hands.

~~~~

You made it back just in time for Douxie to explain his plan to you. He, Krel, and Archie had gotten a lot down in the short amount of time you had been gone and were ready to put the plan into motion.

You watched as Douxie closed his eyes, projecting himself so he could talk with the Order. “Arcane Order, Hisirdoux is here!” He spoke. ”Ah-ah-ah-ah--! Hold your hexes if you still want these.” He held up the seals and you realized how weird it was to be on the other side of astral projection. “You want them?” Douxie asked. “Well, come and get them. I'll be at the cafe.” Douxie’s eyes opened and gave you a thumbs up before he turned to walk over to Krel.

“Your designs were complicated, but I'm 98.442 percent sure that this will work.” He set the device down and it spun to life. “Akiridion tech and magic are so compatible! Who would have thought?” Krel laughed.

“No turning back now,” Archie said as Douxie picked up the little-yet very important-trinket Krel had made.

“Wasn't planning on it. Arch, pass me those salad bowls, then head out. Y/n, prep the airship,” Douxie requested.

“I'll always follow you, Doux, but this could be a huge mistake,” Archie warned.

“'A wizard doesn't make mistakes-he makes unexpected possibilities,'” Douxie quoted, courage and determination ringing through his voice.

You smiled at him nervously as you walked out the door. “Stay safe and don’t forget you still owe us brunch.”

~~~~

“Hold on, big guy. I'm about to bust you out. Agh! Cheap lighter!” Steve whined as you entered the room. You nodded to Archie and he sent his own fire to free Aaarrrgghh.

“I did it! Sir Steve is your savior!” Steve cheered and you rolled your eyes.

“Helpful as always, Steve,” Archie said as he flew around freeing everyone. You sent your own blasts of fire, but you were distracted by Jim, or what was supposed to be him. You knew your brother had to be in there somewhere, but whoever was in control of him was not your Jim.

The beast roared at Archie, ready to fight and you got ready to protect, but Aaarrrgghh stepping, punching Jim. “Please stop, Jim!” Aaarrrgghh growled. “Don't make me hurt you, Master Jim!”

“Stop it, Jim!” You scolded, your big sister instincts kicking in as he hit Aaarrrgghh .

“Wingman, no!” Toby cried as Jim punched Aaarrrgghh again, knocking him down. Toby ran over there, ready to face the beast if it meant saving his wingman.

“No!” Claire called as Jim got ready to punch Toby. You were ready though and sent a shield their way. An orange sphere blossomed protecting them, but Jim never attacked.

A guitar riff played and you knew that Douxie had arrived. Jim covered his ears and you laughed, your Jim wouldn’t enjoy this type of music either.

“How about a little music to soothe the savage beast? Is everybody all right?” Douxie asked, knocking Jim out with his guitar-staff.

You rushed over to him. “Did it work?”

Douxie nodded. “So far so good. Now we just need to get everyone out. Is everyone all right?”

“Douxie!” Toby exclaimed. “I'd hug ya, but I can't move my arms.”

“Where is the Arcane Order?” Claire asked, getting to her feet.

“I have them preoccupied.” He gasped. “What's the Queen of the Apocalypse doing here?”

   “What I should have done long ago-deal with my brother,” she said, moving past Douxie. “Get your injured to safety.”

   You moved to help Aaarrrgghh up. “We need to find Nari.”

“Nari!” Douxie exclaimed. “She's not here with you?”

Claire shook her head. “They locked her up somewhere. Douxie, did you get the Seals?”

“Uh...” Douxie hesitated. “I'll explain later. Let's go.”

“Grab Jim,” Claire requested.

Aaarrrgghh grunted. “Got him!”

You raced out of the castle and to a ledge were Douxie whistled. The ship rose out of the clouds, hitting the castle. You winced and covered your ears as metal on metal screeched.

“Whoa, whoa! Whoo-hoo! Whoa! Sorry, sorry! I'm still getting the hang of it,” Krel apologized.

“All right, everyone on board. Krel will take you down to Arcadia. I have to get Nari, see my plan through to the end,” Douxie explained.

Douxie held out his hand to help you onto the ship, but you didn’t take it. “I’m coming.”

“No, you go with them. You need to keep them safe.”

“Fine.” You took his hand and hopped on. As he walked away you could only hope that he would be safe. You hated not going with him, but you also knew he was strong and could handle himself. The Arcane Order were still going through time anyways.

   You went to take the steering staff from Krel, hoping you’d be a slightly better driver.

   “He’ll be okay,” Claire soothed and you nodded.

   “What should we do about Master Jim?” Blinky asked.

   “Restrain him,” you replied, raising your hands to perform the spell, but before you could his eyes snapped open.

“Oh, no!” Claire yelped.

“Oh! No, no, no! Go back to sleep, Big Jim!” Steve yelled, trying to whack Jim with his axe. Jim caught it and sent Steve flying over the edge.

“Steve! No!” Claire yelled as Jim sent the axe flying right at you. Toby pushed you aside and the axe hit the staff instead, sending the ship spiraling out of control.

The ground grew closer and closer and you sent a spell to slow your fall. “Hold on!” you screamed. The ship bounced on the ground and you all fell from it.

You did your best to shield everyone, but you still had a nasty fall. You were very glad you hadn’t been impaled by a branch from the tree you had somehow landed in.

"Y/n! Claire!” Toby screamed and you hopped down from your branch to see Aaarrrgghh and Jim fighting.

“Jim!” Claire cried.

“Aaarrrgghh remind Jim who he was.” Aaarrrgghh pinned Jim to the ground.

“Master Jim, snap out of it! We are your friends,” Blinky tried.

“Your family!” You added, blasting him with a stun spell. It only seemed to enrage the beast though and he threw Aaarrrgghh onto you, Krel and Blinky.

Your back hit your old tree and you felt the wind get knocked out of you.

“Oh, no!” You heard Toby gasp. “Come on, Jimbo. It's Toby, your best friend. Oh, no, oh, no!” Jim roared turning to Toby, but Claire sent a portal and Toby popped in next to you.

“Jim Lake Jr., I know you can hear me! I know you're still in there!” Claire yelled as you got up. Her eyes glowed purple and Jim’s golden outlining turned the same color.

“Get out of my head!” Jim roared, attacking CLaire who portaled away.

“I promised I'd come back for you! Now fight it, Jim!” Claire begged sending a swirling blast of magic at Jim when he continued to charge.

“No! My soul belongs to the king!” Jim growled. You got ready to take over the fight when a blast shook the ground, knocking you back down.

“Morgana!” Claire yelled, but her voice turned into a scream.

“Jim, no!” You got up again, already chanting a spell.

“Oh, no!” Toby cried as Jim squeezed Claire.

“Claire!” Blinky called.

“I love you, Jim. We all do. Please...” she begged and his markings once again faded to purple.

   You were soon distracted though by a piece of the castle crashing to the ground on top of Morgana and Arthur.

   Another blast almost sent you to the floor, but you braced yourself. As the energy faded you looked over to Jim.

“Claire? Y/n?” He asked.

Claire smiled. “There you are!”

Jim beamed, but your euphoria faded when you saw stone spreading over him.

“Oh, no!” Toby cried.

   “Claire!” Jim panicked. “Y/n?!”

“Jim! Jim!” She sobbed. “No! Jim! No! No!”

You sank to the ground. “No! Not again, This will not happen again. We’ve already lost too much.” You buried your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. In the few seconds that Jim had been yours again, hope had built itself inside of you and now it was getting destroyed. It felt like your heart was getting ripped out of you.

Jim was gone again, and unlike last time you had seen him die. It was. over, there was no way you could get lucky enough to get your brother back again. It was over now and this time you’d actually half to tell your mom.

You sobbed harder, it just wasn’t fair. Jim couldn’t be gone, he had barely lived his life. Sure he had his fair share of great adventures, but that didn’t make it any better. You may have your memories, but all you wanted was to have Jim back.

   You only stopped sobbing when you heard a crack.

You looked over to see Jim breaking apart. You began to sob even more, angry at the world that wouldn’t let him be. You couldn’t even have his statue apparently.

After a while you felt a hand on your back and you looked up, expecting it to be Claire, Toby, Steve, or even Douxie, but who you saw shocked you even more. Jim, human Jim was smiling at you. “Y/n...”

You stood and wrapped him in a tight hug. “You’re okay! I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too.” You stayed there, hugging him for a while, trying to soak up all the happiness you were feeling from your brother. You couldn’t believe he had lived, but you were so so happy that he had.

Now to make this day even better Douxie would come. Nari and Archie had already arrived, you were just waiting on your boyfriend to figure out the next phase of the plan.

You looked up though when a blast rocketed across the sky. Your eyes immediately found Douxie’s body falling through the debris.

You barely registered Steve and Toby shouting as you and Nari took off. The forest blurred behind you as you ran. This could not be happening. You had just gotten Jim back and now Douxie was free falling to his death. The world could be so cruel.

   A flash of blue light briefly lit up the clearing in front of you and you raced to its source. Douxie was lying on the ground and you could barely sense his aura. You dropped to your knees and searched for a pulse and though you found one, it was so small there was nothing you could do, not that both you and Nari wouldn’t try.

   You placed your hands on his chest and went through every magical healing spell you knew, even trying normal things a human paramedic would do, but nothing worked.

   Your emotions were thrown right back into the dark lands of grief.

“I can’t be too late. Come on Douxie. You’re gonna be okay. You can’t leave me here. I can’t do this without you. You can’t die now. I need you,” you sobbed, tears soaked Douxie’s jacket as you mourned.

You couldn’t even process it. Your emotions had been thrown through a blender and it hurt so much. Your heart ached with the pain of knowing that this time you had actually lost Douxie. There was a small part of you that was still hoping though, maybe today was a day of miracles and Douxie would live?

The demons that had taken over your rational thoughts laughed at that idea. More tears fell as you sank deeper and deeper into despair, grief and guilt. Maybe if you had run faster or convinced Douxie that you could take on the Arcane Order with him, then he would still be with you.

You barely heard your friends talking and were only relieved from your dark thoughts by the impossible, Douxie’s chest was moving.

“Y/n...?” Archie asked and you realized that he had been on your shoulder, lying on Douxie with you.

Douxie coughed. “Eh...?”

“You’re okay!” You cried, jumping into his arms.

Archie copied you. “Douxie! You brave, foolish boy.”

Douxie groaned. “But everything hurts.”

Claire smiled. “I can't believe you're okay.”

Archie laughed. “Barely! Seems you're the one with nine lives. And don't you ever do that again.”

“Happy you're alive, Teach,” Claire said as the two of you plus Steve helped him up.

“Easy,” Douxie rasped. “I just came back from beyond the grave. But wait, where's Jim? Mordrax's miracles. It seems I've missed a lot.”

“Same, but glad to be back,” Jim said.

Douxie looked around. “What about Arthur?”

“Squished,” Aaarrrgghh grunted.

“Indeed,” Blinky confirmed. “And I'm afraid with their demise, Excalibur...”

“Is right over here!” Toby yelled, racing over to try only for the sword to not even budge. “Okay, I just had to try. It’s kinda fun. Y/n you should try.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Honestly you just didn’t want to let go of Douxie.

“What of you, Master Jim?” Blinky questioned.

“What?” Jim asked.

You helped Douxie forward. “Jim, Blinky's right. With Arthur gone, someone needs to wield Excalibur.”

“Who better than the Trollhunter?” Claire pointed out.

Jim looked down. “But without the amulet, am I still the Trollhunter?”

“This means nothing, Jim. If I've learned anything, it's that we don't draw strength from magic artifacts like amulets and swords. Our strength is something far less enchanted, but no less special—our friends. We are the protectors of this world. That's why I made the gamble I did: because the only way to stop the Arcane Order and save this world...is to do it together,” Douxie explained.

“Are you sure our Douxie came back from the dead? This one is super sappy,” Claire joked.

“Cheeky,” Douxie said and you all laughed, but you noticed Douxie stopped soon after. “It's time Nari and I got a move on, before the Order catches up.”

Claire frowned. “You're leaving? Already?”

“Yeah, you just finished a whole speech about saving the world together,” Steve reminded, as Douxie, Nari, and Archie got onto the slightly damaged ship.

“Where are you going?” Jim asked, coming up to stand next to you.

“I promised Merlin I'd keep Nari safe, which means taking her far away from here. Don't worry, I'll be seeing you champions of Arcadia soon enough,” Douxie reassured.

“We’ll make sure to visit, we just have to keep moving. Staying in one place too long will give them time to catch up to us,” you added, climbing onto the ship.

“We?” Douxie asked and you took his hands.

You gave a small smile. “Yeah ‘we’. You’re gonna need me.”

“What if you get hurt?”

“We’ll have each other's backs,” You said, petting Archie. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You turned to wave goodbye to your friends and family. It was a bittersweet ending, but like Douxie had said, you would see them again soon.

****

Yay! It's done-ish!! I can't wait for the movie so I can finish it!! I really hope y'all enjoyed this series and I can't wait to write more for Douxie. Thank you all so much for your kind comments and I hope y'all will have a fantastic and safe weekend.💙 And happy Halloween!!

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

[damn-stark]

I’m sorry for leaving you

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Requested by anon “nice! okay i was thinking reader is number three and has allison’s powers is there instead of her and reader is also an avenger and she tried to rumour natasha back after her death and basically goes crazy cuz it doesn’t work so she leaves and bucky and sam go look for her after endgame? sorry if that’s too much!”

A/N- I made Natasha, readers love interest hope you don’t mind :)

Warning- talks of death, angst and fluff

———-

“Okay what are your thoughts on this house?” Natasha points out as she scrolls down and studies the pictures, “I mean it’s nice, it’s surrounded by a green beautiful forest and has a nice blue lake close by.”

You lean in and scan the file, “it’s nice, but,”

Natasha’s eyes drift to you and follow you as you move forward to be closer beside her, “but what?” She queries.

You meet her gaze and continue cautiously, “do you want to move? I mean are you ready to leave this all behind.”

Natasha sighs and sits back in her chair, she rests her hands on your legs that were resting over hers and runs her fingers through her hair before answering. “It’s been five years, I think it’s time. And I’m not giving up, I can work away from there, but you know I think it’s time to try a peaceful life in a place where I don’t have to worry about fighting.”

The corner of your lips tug into a small smile and you move back to admire her from afar. “It sounds nice, I like that.”

Natasha turns and mirrors your smile, albeit hers soon turned smug. “And if anything, you can end up just rumoring me, number ten.”

You scoff and shoot her a pointed look to correct her, “number three.”

Natasha giggles and shakes her head, “I still don’t get that, how come your father couldn’t bother to give you a real name?”

You shrug, “easier to go by numbers I guess, plus it distinguished us by how powerful we all are.”

“Well,” Natasha clicks her tongue, “I think we both deserve a more peaceful life. With no number three, no need to use powers to protect ourselves….unless someone tries to break in or something, but who would break in a house in the middle of the forest?”

“Someone very dedicated.” You quip.

Natasha narrows her gaze and just scoffs, she shakes her head and keeps going. “Regardless, is that the house?”

You gaze back at the screen and nod, feeling a small smile on your face and feeling pure, utter joy within your heart. “That’s the house.”

~

“I heard rumor,” your voice echoes and tears sting your eyes, “that Natasha Romanoff came back to life.”

The cloaked red figure keeps looking at you with his hallowed eyes, expressing nothing but the same blank, expressionless face. “A soul for a soul,” his voice echoed around the crisp air. “No exchanges. What’s done is done.”

Your bottom lip trembles and tears roll down your cheeks. Angry and sad tears alike. There's a void within you. Even after everyone came back; your best friends, comrades, and family, there was a void because the woman you loved, your soulmate was gone. After all you went through to achieve everyone’s return, she was the one gone. When you were about to live a life she wanted, a life you both chose to finally have, she was gone.

Now with life back to normal, all you wanted was her back. That’s all you wanted. That’s why you were fighting so hard, why you traveled through space—You knew the pain was detectable in your voice, it made your power stronger, but why wasn’t it working?

You drew in a deep, shaky breath and repeat it again, you seeth it out with all the strength and pain laced through your voice and power. “I heard a rumor! That you brought Natasha Romanoff back to life!”

The cloaked red figure floats towards you and bellows, “No!” Before he vanishes like smoke. You stare at the spot where he was and only see grey cracked stone, you see ominous fog and just plainly nothing else but emptiness that matched the feeling in your heart.

However the emptiness in your heart felt painful in every possible way. It made you feel weak, it made you fall to your knees and sob and shout out in a painful cry. “GAAAHH!”

The pain was so raw and mind numbing, the emptiness, the knowledge of failure changed something within you the moment you arrived back to earth. Something that concerned your best friends the moment they saw you.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?”

You drift your eyes to Sam and stay silent for a while, noticing Bucky come up behind him with a more gentle, concerning gaze. “Y/N…”

“I’m fine guys,” you assure them, “I was just clearing my mind, I was—”

“In space?!” Sam quips. “You were clearing your mind in space?”

You nod, “yeah, what can I say I like seeing the stars up close.”

Sam scoffs and you see his upcoming remark in his eyes, and you stop him before he could utter it outloud. “I’m back now, that’s all that matters,” you pause and show them the best assuring smile you could manage. Even if you hid the pain within, you manage it. “Now, I’m just going to go to my family’s home to just...take a break,” you sigh, “I’ll return soon.”

You pat Sam's shoulder and offer Bucky a warm, assuring smile that didn’t convince him, but he had no choice to take it. Even as he saw you leave, it bugged him.

But he didn’t question it until weeks of you gone turned into months and then a whole year. Sam was more hesitant, and just told Bucky to leave you to mourn your longtime girlfriend. But Bucky was worried and couldn’t just leave you to suffer alone. He knew you had a family, he knew that your siblings and you were close, but he just needed to assure himself that you were really fine.

“This is the spot.” Sam let Bucky know as he parked the car in front of a tall building.

“Are you sure?” Bucky queried as he looked out the window, “she said small house.”

Sam leaned over and studied the huge building. “Well the file said this is her “small house.”

Bucky hums and gets out, tilting his head back to take in the home, and playfully remark to Sam, “your apartment can fit here like a hundred times over.”

Sam scoffs and just continues towards the door, knocking a couple times to then wait until something opens it.

“Hello, this is the Hargreeves residence, how may I help you?”

Bucky blinks in disbelief and looks down at the talking animal. “Is that a monkey?”

Sam narrowed his gaze on the monkey and nodded slowly, “yep. But why should it matter, we’ve met a talking raccoon and talking tree.”

“I’m an ape, but that doesn’t matter, Is there something you need?” The money asked once more.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, “we’re looking for someone. Y/N Hargreeves.”

“Oh, Ms. Hargreeves is not here.”

“No?” Bucky said in worried tone. “She said she was coming here. We’re her friends, we're concerned for her.”

“You and I both,” the monkey shared, “she came here once to reunite with her siblings, but she left soon after and never came back.”

Sam and Bucky both looked at one another and shared a confused look.

“But,” the monkey continued, “her brothers may know where she is. One is here, so if you gentlemen want to wait here while I fetch him that’d be fine.”

Bucky and Sam share another look and this time silently come to an agreement and follow the monkey in the suit inside a long living room with a portrait of your siblings and you over the fireplace.

“What a small house,” Sam remarked sarcastically as he stopped in front of the portrait.

Bucky looked up at the same thing and smiled as he noticed you in a mask and a school uniform. “Cute.”

“Rich.” Sam quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And also my fathers pride and joy,” a voice said behind Bucky and Sam, earning their immediate attention and making them turn around to face a slim man that looked almost like a misplaced hipster. He waved his hands and they noticed tattoos on the palms and a grin on his face. “Hello. What a surprise and an honor to have two of the best looking Avengers come to my humble home. I’m Klaus Hargreeves, one of y/n’s brothers.”

“Sam,” Bucky introduced the man next to him before introducing himself, “Bucky.”

Klaus smiled wider and had a child-like glow in his eyes before walking to the bar and speaking what he knew. “Pogo says you’re looking for my beloved sister. Drinks?”

Sam nodded and approached the bar, while Bucky only followed behind to decline and say his reason.“Yeah, we’re worried, she said she was going to return and she hasn’t yet. We keep trying to call her, but nothing. We just wanted to know if she’s okay.”

Klaus sighs and puts the alcohol away, he props his hands on the edge of the bar and his face turns more serious. “She only came home once. She left that same day and never came back.”

“Do you know where she is?” Sam probed.

Klaus meets his gaze and nods. “I do.”

“Can you take us to her?”

Klaus gets water and drinks it as he moves away and avoids the question until Bucky asks again. “I’ve been told not to.”

“Do you atleast know how she is?” Bucky insisted.

“No.”

Sam sighs and meets Bucky's gaze to share a weirded out and concerned look.

“And she's blocked me out too. She doesn’t want to speak to anyone, she said to let her grieve in peace and as someone who has also lost their soulmate I understand her.”

Bucky scoffs, “she’s in pain, she needs us, just like she needs all of you. We can’t just leave her to deal with it alone. I understand pain and it can be devastating. We need to check on her. She can’t be alone.”

Klaus hesitates but he decides to give in and give them what they want. “Fine, I’ll take you to the town she’s living in.”

And he does as he says, he drives several hours to a small town where you’re supposed to be in, but stops at the first street and turns back to both Sam and Bucky. “This is far as we go, beyond here we have to ask someone. She just told me which town, not which house.”

Sam groans in annoyance, but he and Bucky begin to follow after Klaus, searching for someone in this town who would give them the time of day, but none of them gave them the time of day. They would simply look at the trio and stare for a few seconds before walking as if nothing. And usually Bucky didn’t like to gloat. Anymore, but he knew that Sam and him were well known around the world. Someone always recognized him.

Not even kids came up to either of them. It’s like they were ghosts. All women ghosts in fact now that he really got to noticing his surroundings.

Until the wrong people came up. A police unit. “You’re not allowed to be here. We have to ask you to leave now.”

“What?” Klaus squeaked, making the policewoman look to him and stare at him for a long time, not saying anything, like if she was searching her own mind for a response.

“Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes are not allowed within the perimeters of this town.”

Klaus sighs in relief and grabs his chest once the woman looks away. “Oof, thank god, I am allowed here. Now lovely ladies do you happen to know where my sister is? You see it’s an emergency. Our mother has died! She needs to know, please.” He begged dramatically.

The policewoman calls something in her radio and then tells them to wait but they point their guns at Sam and Bucky, insisting they get out. Just as a fight was going to break out, someone’s voice came out of the shadows of a nearby alleyway. “Klaus, brother, why did you bring them here?”

Klaus shrugs, “because we want to talk.”

You scoff and slowly walk out and maneuver through the crowd of policewoman. “About our robot mother dying? What happened?” You play along

“A heart attack, because she was devastated about your disappearance.”

You shake four head and glance at Bucky and Sam before looking back at Klaus. “Well it’s a good thing she doesn’t have an actual heart. So she’s fine. Now why are they here?”

“Why are you?” Bucky quipped, stepping up towards you.

“Running a town.”

“Full of woman?” Sam snapped. “That look like they’re all mind controlled?”

You sigh and shove your hands in your coat pockets. “They’re blackwidows, like Natasha was. I’m just helping them.”

“Helping them by controlling them?”

You simply shrug and frown as you look at the floor. “I’m helping them.”

“By taking them hostage?” Bucky rebutted. “Natasha wouldn’t want that. Let them go to live their lives, come back home with us, they’re not going to fill the void you have inside you. Don’t be that person.”

You clench your jaw and ball your hand. “That person? I’m just helping them, they’re the closest thing I have to Natasha. They’re going to help me bring her back.”

“Oh, I see,” Sam sighs, “so they’re your army? Your perfectly trained soldiers. What are you going to do? What’s your plan? Invade the planet where she died? Natasha is gone! She wouldn’t want this for you.”

You step back and feel your eyes sting. But you don’t let yourself cry, instead you glare at them and just as you were going to rumor them both, Klaus stepped in front of them and quickly blurted out. “Don’t. She’s here.”

“What?” You snapped as you snap your attention towards him. “What do you mean? Don’t mess with me Klaus.”

“I’m not,” Klaus quickly explained himself, raising his hands and looking to an empty spot beside him. “I got to connect with her.”

“What?” Bucky questioned too.

Your eyes widen and you leave your lips parted as Klaus begins to talk for her. “She says that she loves you, that she watches over you every second of every single day.” Your bottom lip trembles and tears once again fill your eyes. “She says you’re acting stupid right now and that if she were here she’d punch you.” You cover your mouth and sob softly. “She says that she doesn’t want this for you and she’s sorry for leaving you.”

You fall to your knees and keep looking at the space where Klaus was looking at, Bucky and Sam listen in disbelief, but Bucky manages to come to your side to try and comfort you.

“She wants you to go back home, be with people you love and just live life. Either being a hero or just simply living a life. All she wants is you to be happy, knowing she’s also going to be by your side. She loves you.”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this, I just wanted you back, please..forgive me.”

“She does.”

“I love you,” you mutter, “and I miss you every single day.”

Klaus walks towards you and crouch’s down in front of you, cupping your cheek and offering you a kind smile. “She loves you too.”

A wobbly smile grows on your lips and you know by the look on Klaus’s face she was gone again. However you didn’t hesitate to do as she had said, you did the right thing with the Black Widows. Even if it was painful to think of Natasha dying, you let them go.

“So what now? You mumble as you look at the three men in front of you, swaying back and forth on your heels.

“Depends on you,” Bucky tells you, “we can use you out there, but if you want to go home, you can. We were worried for you, we just wanted you to be okay.”

“I will be,” you sigh as you hook your arm around Klaus’s. “Soon.”

“Well we can go back to your huge house,” Sam suggested, “I saw some expensive alcohol in that bar and I’m down to go there.”

You chuckle softly, “fine. Let’s go home. For a while, but after, I’m getting back to work. I know you boys can’t be without me.”

Sam snorts. “Sure whatever you say Number Twenty.”

“It’s Number Three!”

[whirlybirdwhat]

East Sea of Monsters - Chapter 22

Jimbe has always dreamed of suns

--

Shoutout to the wonderful @soccersarah01 who beta’d this fic for me - love you!!!

-

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and author’s notes, especially warnings for content within the fic!! Tag “Ficart” on my blog should also show some fanart and podfics for this fic, as well as the link to translations! give them some love!

Sun - Jimbe

-

Jimbe is the first son of the sea, and he has always dreamed of suns.

Bright, red and bloody – passionate declarations of dreams and something better. A cry of understanding, in the one burned onto his chest, and a shout to the dream of a queen, a race, a kingdom - heralded overhead in bright colors, lighting up the sky.

Suns are red, and yellow, and orange.

Suns mean freedom – mean something better than this.

In his dreams, Jimbe is always reaching out to them. His webbed hand reaching and reaching – for the horizon, for a flag, for his queen, for Fisher Tiger, for something more.

He never seems to reach it.

All he has, when he wakes up, is his hand clutching his own heart, his own personal sun.

It isn’t the same. He’s never grasped that red sun.

Yet now –

Now, in a battlefield beneath a darkened sky, in a war with death in every heartbeat, in a massacre, a hell, Jimbe holds a dying sun.

This sun – it is not red, or bloody, or bright.

This sun is dark, and dying, and a supernova of the deepest pits of hell.

Jimbe holds Luffy as he explodes into something Jimbe can’t quite see, ripping past the Veil and into oblivion; watches Luffy erupt into grief covered by a brother’s blood, holding a sun brighter, and darker, and far more terrifying than anything Jimbe’s eyes have ever seen before.

(There’s something wet running down his face. He thinks his eyes are bleeding.)

Portgas D. Ace dies in his brother’s arms, a burning hellfire finally flickering out, and Jimbe can finally hold the sun.

(As men die and admirals fall, and the world is shaken apart by a grief and monster with insatiable hunger, he wishes he couldn’t.)

-

When Jimbe fights him for the first and last time, Ace is as the sun incarnate - the sun burning - even as he chokes on his own ashes and flares through sea water.

Jimbe had wondered, at first, what kind of strength it took for a devil fruit user to use his powers through the hate of the sea. It wasn’t a kind of strength he had attributed to the young warlord.

Then, Jimbe remembers the bones shaped into the hull of the Spadille; remembers the way Ace cracks apart in the corner of his eyes, and thinks it isn’t strength at all.

He knows the stories of the East. Every fishman does – the way waters corrupt, the way the waters are dark, and the way that monsters lurk beneath their surface, far deadlier than those at the bottom of the sea.

(They say the East has no seafloor – that it aches, forever, a wound into the world’s side, dark and infected. That it was the void from whence all hell poured forth, that it was death.)

Fisher Tiger had told him more, when he could bear to speak of it – monsters in chains, the way slaves and guards alike went missing in the night, the way people had sharper teeth than any animal, there, and were twice as bloody.

(Fisher Tiger hears the story of the bottomless East and laughs.

Dark waters, he says, eyes far away and hands aching for a weapon, are not endless. But you don’t want to know what’s at the bottom. Better it be endless, bottomless, then to know what’s there.

He doesn’t speak of the demon from the seafloor he met at the tower of gods.

Jimbe doesn’t ask.)

By the fire in Ace’s eyes and the unholy fire cracking from underneath his skin, there is no other sea that he could have possibly come from.

(A demon – a demon, a son of the devil-)

Jimbe fights Ace for five days. He hungers, and he thirsts, and he’s so tired, but Ace does not falter in the face of Jimbe’s sea, so he must keep going.

Jimbe burns, ropes of fire winding their way up his arms and down his back. Haki is useless when every hit cracks apart Ace’s skin, molding to his fists because of inhuman capability instead of any devil fruit, and the sea fears nothing but the devil.

(And it can only drown false ones.)

Ace lands a punch on the third day, one imbued with haki and fire and false fire. It hits Jimbe on the side of his face, and even as Ace stumbles and chokes on the way his skin cracks apart, Jimbe burns.

It cracks into his skin, searing apart scales and flesh, and he is marked by hellfire.

The other burns will fade, the ones littering his hands and feet, the ones made by false fire, devil fruit fire. The one on his face, burned into the side like a flame, and the ones wrapping around his forearms by scorching hands, will forever remain.

A reminder, some will say, but Jimbe will remember the way the flag burned at Fishman island by hellfire, and will know it is a sign of war to come.

Ace burns away the fog around them, on this island, showing the secrets of the world, and Jimbe fights surrounded by monstrous spades.

Monsters in human shape that tower above the trees, monsters without faces, monsters with too many teeth and too many limbs, monsters that smiled and cheered as their captain burned through saltwater.

Jimbe falls on the fifth day, a smile gracing his face toward an enemy that is so much more than him.

It is a miracle when Whitebeard arrives.

Otherwise Jimbe thinks he might have followed that sun to see where it may have set.

-

After Marineford, Jimbe shakes at night. He can’t speak of what he saw there, when the sun fell from the sky and became red and dark; when gouges were scarred into the ground and left bloody men in their wake.

After Marineford, Jimbe has another scar from a demon.

This one is not a mark of war.

It is a claim, directly around Jimbe’s heart, as if his future captain understood that the sun there was more precious than anything else.

(A dream)

It scares him, sometimes, that he wants to follow the man who fell the Navy - who ate the hearts and souls and flesh of admirals and spit them back out as dead men walking.

It scares him that he wants to follow Straw Hat Luffy, who wears a crown made of straw - made with room for the horns that sprout off his head -who will be king and who lives a trail of hell in his wake.

Jimbe does not remember Marineford well.

He does not remember –

(The island’s name no longer exists in his memory.

Don’t bring him there, Rayleigh had said, as they followed a submarine towards Amazon Lily. You will all be dead come morning.

Rayleigh smiled like a creature of the deep sometimes.

Jimbe wondered why he didn’t trust it.

Aye, Jimbe, fresh from a war, had agreed, and they didn’t go to Amazon Lily.

They went to–)

The aftermath, beyond the words that fought whatever beast lived in Luffy’s chest, born of loneliness and hell.

Jimbe shakes after Marineford, but now, under the sea, he will not forget the demon who saved an island.

(The brother of the demon who burned their flag.)

Luffy soars overheard, and defeats a legend made of wood and an army made of flesh. 1,000 men are unaccounted for in the aftermath.

Jimbe does not question it, and offers his blood to a demon who doesn’t need it.

(In the end, it wasn’t about blood anyway. It was about the things that bind men, the things like suns on Jimbe’s chest and the vows that still ring in his head.)

Luffy, full of teeth and bloody fangs, smiles at him, then, and Jimbe no longer belongs to himself.

-

In Impel Down, when Ace is chained to the wall next to Jimbe, the very first thing the demon does is laugh.

“It stayed!”

The scar on Jimbe’s face burns.

“You couldn’t bother to say hello?”

Ace laughs again, sparks flying out of his throat despite the sea stone wrapped around his limbs, and Jimbe knows that all the legends are true. “Why would I? There’s more important things going on.” He dismisses, and he is smiling, mouth glowing, despite their situation.

“Hmph,” Jimbe huffs, and settles down for the long wait.

Next to him, the breath of a demon settles into something slower, and though Jimbe’s eyes are long adjusted to the dark, the soft glow of Ace’s heart beat is a comfort.

(He wonders, when Fisher Tiger was chained next to monsters, if he ever felt this way.)

He does not sleep that first night in a cell with a demon. Jimbe, instead, listens to the thrumming of the sea outside his cell, and tries not to think about how the stone sinks around Ace and the hotness in his cell.

He tries not to think of the wet spots all over the walls, the gouges in the corner, and the way men enter and never leave Impel Down’s cold, cold walls.

Across from him, a man made of sand smirks, his hair still impossibly greased and jewels still lining his hand.

“So,” the Crocodile drawls, “They caught you too? A little hunger, picking us off one by one.”

Jimbe has heard how Monkey D. Luffy saved a country on the behest of a single friend; how the Crocodile was the first to fall and Moria didn’t come long after; how even the Marines whisper that he is hungry and Monkey D. Garp laughs at the lists of missing marines following Straw Hat battles.

A man, who hungered for the top.

Who hungered for dreams.

Odd, that Crocodile would assume Jimbe was next.

“No.” He says at last, the word drawn out. “No,” he repeats, and it echoes around the room, “he did not get me.”

The Crocodile cackles then, and it is nothing like Whitebeard’s Gurararara or King Neptune’s Hohohoho – it, instead, is dark like rumbling sands at night, without form or shape in the dark, and Jimbe shivers. “You will,” the Crocodile says. “You’re already marked for it.”

Jimbe has never met Monkey D. Luffy in his life, and the burn scars that arc about his face in a flaming pattern of death are invisible to his beloved crew, to the king, to anyone who isn’t–

Oh, Jimbe thinks and doesn’t say aloud, looking at the Crocodile once more. Oh.

He is glad Ace is the demon he is sharing his cell with.

Then, at the very least, he knows his heart won’t be ripped out of his chest while he sleeps.

-

On Fishman Island, at the bottom of the sea that is brighter than the East, there is a feast, and then a pirate challenges an emperor.

Jimbe is not surprised.

He cannot be.

(Hey, Jimbe, did’ya know I have a little brother?)

He can only watch, as a ship of dreams, of monsters, sails off into the sea without him; can only know that his home, his captain is leaving him.

(Aladine says Jimbe is different after Marineford – that every man who set foot upon that island is. It was war, Jimbe dismisses, but they have fought in wars before, have fought admirals before.

It’s different, fighting a demon, fighting with a demon, fighting for a demon.

It’s different when a demon eats you whole.)

Jimbe wants to go home.

-

Jimbe sees Garp the Fist once before Marineford.

It is in Impel Down, and he is crying from a thousand different eyes.

“Ace,” the grandfather of a dying child says, and it hurts. “Why, dammit! Why!”

His voice is like a choir of growls out of harmony. Still, Ace relaxes in his chains as if it were a lullaby.

“Gramps,” Ace acknowledges, and there is no anger there. “You know… you know why.”

Son of the Devil, Jimbe knows, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? More than Jimbe can see with two eyes made of mortality rather than death.

Garp crumbles, and it is as if Jimbe is seeing the fall of something great.

It’s horrible.

It won’t be the last one he sees today.

Garp leaves after that, to the chuckles of the Crocodile and the howls of the other inmates. There’s bloody marks and gouges on the ground where he was, but there is also something in Ace’s grasp.

It isn’t a key.

Jimbe can’t exactly see what it is, only that when Garp left Ace lunged for some empty spot on the ground, hand slipping out of a cuff with the ease of someone made molten, of someone with scars running down his hand due to a missing pinkie.

(How-?)

When Ace leaves, he leaves behind ash marks and burning droplets at Impel Down. He also leaves something feather soft, that Jimbe can’t quite see, but feels like the comfort of ages.

(Later, when Luffy arrives, he will look into the cell and see not Jimbe, but the place Ace left behind. He will pick up what Garp, what Ace, left between cell bars and he will not smile.

Instead, he will put it into his pocket to the sound of the Crocodile’s jeers.

Did’ya know I have a little brother? Ace had asked Jimbe.

(He knows, now.)

On the way up, when men are eaten alive, the Crocodile will slink next to Jimbe and whisper,

Did you know that the hungry one isn’t the first demon to break out of these walls?

And Jimbe will be left with the reminder that Impel Down has never been able to hold the monsters of the world–

And that they roam free.)

-

At Marineford, Jimbe stood with an emperor against three admirals (stood with men against a monster).

(Or so he is told.)

Now, he stands before an Emperor and does not shake.

A man who is to follow the future king of the pirates, a man who is to follow Luffy, a demon who has daggers in his mouth and boiling blood in his veins, cannot afford to be afraid of a mere emperor.

Big Mom’s eyes are hungry as she stares into Jimbe, but he does not flinch.

He is claimed - by marks around his own personal sun, by a king, by a monster, by a conqueror.

He is not Big Mom’s any longer.

He never was, from the moment Luffy looked into his eyes and took him.

(Jimbe cannot afford to be afraid of  a mere hunger any longer. )

An emperor rages, a deal is done,  and Luffy laughs so bright and loud it burns like the sun, as chaos reigns again, conforming to his will.

Jimbe has never felt so alive –

(Not since before Marineford – not since before the world fell apart.)

-

Jimbe sees Luffy and Ace together twice in his lifetime.

One is at Marineford, when brothers fought together, when the sun went out and the world went black.

(He does not remember it well – Ace’s smile was something almost too private to bear, even as blasts of Conqueror’s Haki illuminated the truth.)

The second, again, is at Marineford, but in it’s bloody aftermath.

When Luffy rings in an era, blood scarred on to his arm by his own hands - a call to his crew, to his family - he stops by the place where his brother died.

Jimbe wonders if this was what Loguetown was like, to see a king stand in ashes.

(The Devil King did not cry at Loguetown, only laughed.

Luffy is crying.)

He sees Luffy cradle bits of Ace’s bonfire in his arms, the only person who could bear to touch it, and sees brothers reunite for one last time.

(There is a chill over Marineford, as Luffy draws in the ashes of Ace’s own body turned funeral pyre. Jimbe can’t read what he writes, but there is a spark, somewhere, in Luffy’s eyes, and something in the air breathes more easily.)

Days after, Marineford sinks to the bottom of the sea, its ravines and cracks from a monster's grief too terrible to sustain – Luffy’s rage, his echoing cry for a new era, is its final send off.

Jimbe wonders if the Eastern sailors found their way home, at the bottom of the sea.

(There’s no sun down at the bottom of the sea.

Jimbe would hate to drown like that.)

-

In the middle of a raging ocean just off of an Emperor’s domain, Jimbe is home, he’s home he’s home he’s home, aboard this ship of dreams but–

He can’t stay.

He can’t.

There is an emperor chasing them, and Jimbe is not scared and he is strong, but his crew–

His beloved crew–

They love him.

He cannot abandon them here, to the mercy of hungry monsters.

(He cannot take them with him, to the crew of a hungry demon.)

Jimbe tells Luffy, soaked and shaking, as such.

“I CANNOT ABANDON THEM NOW!”

And Luffy–

Luffy, who Jimbe held dying in a battlefield that hazes from his memory, who Jimbe watched rise, who went a dark supernova–

Becomes a sun again.

“JIMBE!” Luffy says, and his teeth are snarling and his eyes are hungry, “I AM YOUR CAPTAIN NOW!”

And Jimbe finally holds the red sun of dreams in his grasp.

(Jimbe is the first son of the sea, and his dream is the sun.

Red, bloody, and free.)

[thepartingglassofthorin]

Of Death

His breath was gone, his heart had stilled; he was dead. Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's folk, Reclaimer of Erebor, was dead. He wished it wasn't so, there was so much he still wished to do, even more he wished to do over. Although he was dead, he felt a tear trickle into his beard, he could hear something in the distance, it sounded like yelling. The voice became louder as it came closer to his body, Thorin recognized it instantly, it was his Brother in Arms, and the tone in his voice said everything. Dwalin and the others were there, witnessing the last of Durin's line demise. Thorin's sobs joined the others as they cried for their friend, brother and King.

Thorin waded through the darkness, unconsciously plowing towards a tiny spec in the distance. He had to move, to be rid of the darkness that surrounded him. Voices too, surrounded the warrior, some kind, others harsh, all filling his thoughts and giving him the sense of no escape. Escape, what a wonderful thought! He would do just about anything to be rid of the dark void he wandered through and the voices that taunted him. "Look at him," a gruff male voice said, almost sneering. "The great Khuzdul King, running from his fears." "Give him a rest," a kind female voice quipped, reprimanding the first. "It can't be easy to be murdered." The first snorted and moved on, while the second made a sympathetic mumble before moving away. More voices came and went, more taunting then the first, and less sympathetic then the second.  The spec in the distance took form as an open doorway, the other side radiating with a feeling of home and comfort. Ease settled into Thorin's heart as he felt the light touch he face, wading though the dark became easier and the voices faded. He reached for the white void, but something nagged at him. He would be reunited with his fallen family and friends, and await the arrival of those still living. He was sure Fili and Kili were waiting for him to enter and enjoy the afterlife with him, and he couldn't wait to see them, full of their childish laughter that they lacked on the quest.  Despite all of the things that awaited him in the Halls, he still hesitated. "What is it child," a voice asked, gruff but kind and clear, more defined then the other voices. Thorin turned towards the voice and saw an older looking man. He held ancient knowledge in his eyes that burned with fire. His beard was long and grey, as was the hair on his head, both braided spectacularly. His hands were rough with worked age, he had obviously held a smithy's hammer most of his life, if not all of his life. "Ye do not wish to enter me Halls," he asked, clasping his hands under his round belly. Thorin felt his face flush as he realized who he was facing. "Is there somethin' that troubles ye?" "No, I wish to enter your Halls, My Lord," Thorin said quickly, lowering his gaze to Aule's feet. Instead of boots, the tops of his feet were covered in a thick fur, rather like a hobbit's. "Then why wait," he said, gesturing to the doorway. "Yer afterlife is waiting, and yer nephews are eager to meet again." Thorin winced as he was reminded that they were dead, he lowered his gaze further to his own feet. It had been a family joke that Thorin would outlive the two because of an adventure they would traipse after. A bitter taste was left on his tongue as he was again reminded he brought them on their death bound adventure. Thorin felt Aule's heavy hand grasp his shoulder, a firm but gentle touch that gave reassurance, a smile on the Valar's aged face as Thorin gazed up at him. "Yer not th' first ta stop at me door because of regret," he informed Thorin, rubbing his thumb against his shoulder. He felt relieved that he wouldn't need to explain what feeling dwelt in his heart, it wasn't something a dwarf normally did. Auel chuckled, clapping Thorin's shoulder, slightly worrying the Dead King. "I made ye out o' stone fer a reason lad," he chortled as he lead Thorin towards the beconing doorway. "But in there, ye need not be made o' stone, ye don't need ta weather any storms in there," he explained as he walked through. Auel's grasp slipped from Thorin's shoulder to his hands, Thorin felt like a pebble again, being lead along by his father. Thorin's heart panged again, realizing that his father may be in there. But even as Auel stepped through, Thorin hesitated again. Auel stopped, still gripping Thorin's hand, a fatherly look of worry on his face. "What is it lad?" He asked, stepping back into the dark. "Is there a reason ye shouldn't enter-" "No!" Thorin shouted, snapping out of his thoughts. His voice echoed in the dark, stirring up the restless spirits that lingered there. "No, I feel qualified, but...." Thorin paused, trying to find his words. Auel watched him, no longer being able to read his thoughts as he had before. Or, it seemed that way to Thorin. "Isn't there another way," he asked, stepping away from the door, pulling his hand from Auel's. "A way where we all live- I don't even care if I die," Thorin added when Auel gave him a queer look. "Fili and Kili are practically children- And Dis! Ohh, Dis... Please, don't make her loose her lads," Thorin begged, tears falling off his beard and landing near his feet. Auel stated at Thorin with his queer look, the kind look had vanished as Thorin had made his plea. Thorin waited patiently for his answer, his heart plummeting as Auel stifled a snort. As his snort became guffawing, Thorin knew it was impossible, he felt his soul crush. "Oh lad, can't ye see where ye are," Auel asked, wiping a joyous tear from his eye. Thorin frowned as the darkness disappeared, and the feeling of a prison left. Thorin and Auel were now standing on a green hill, with flowers of every color blooming around them. In the distance, he saw hobbits sitting, laughing, being hobbits, while dwarves made themselves merry nearby, but the most unusual thing was that they were mingling, hobbits taking drink of the dwarves strong ale, and the dwarves learning how to garden with the smaller hobbits. Three, no four heads, Thorin recognized in the hobbit's group, five! Fili had dirt in his hair, making it harder to recognize, while he had though Kii was a lady hobbit with that flower crown in his hair, and the one he was struggling to make in his hands. Vili, their father, was sampling the hobbit cuisine, starting with the greens he was eating as if they were poisoned, now wolfing them down, finding they were actually tasty! Thrain was over under a tree with a little table, teaching a few of the hobbits about metal weaving. One hobbit yelped as a piece of coal split in two, showering Thrain's leather apron in sparks, but it didn't effect the old king. The hobbit's laughed at the one, Thrain chuckled a small bit before resuming the class, chiding the hobbits for laughing. Fundin, who was playing checkers with an elderly hobbit couple, while smoking a pipe, waved with a happy smile. Thorin waved, hesitantly, back, then turned with a questioning look at Auel. The King of the Halls smiled, his fiery eyes on the brink of tears. "Look through lad," he said, stepping away from the open door, sniffing back the emotions to keep them at bay. "I don't understand," Thorin said, folding his arms, still quite confused. "I thought that was the door that lead-" "To th' Halls? Nay lad, th' second ye hit th' light, ye were in th' Halls. Come, look through th' door! See what lay beyond!" Thorin stepped forward, leaning on one side of the doorway. He was still confused, but the gentle peace that settled over him pushed those to the back of his mind.

The white dissolved into an aerial view of Bree. The human settlement's streets were packed, even as it rained. Although it rained, Thorin could smell the food items from the market vendors, an apple crisp becoming quite distinguished through the many smells. The view scanned the streets as if it were from a bird's eye, watching the various people waiting in vending lines. The view finally settled on a shorter person, one with a familiar blue cloak and silver tassel. "This is a one time chance lad," Auel said in a hushed voice, Thorin had first thought he was speaking to himself. The dead king balked for a moment, realizing what the Valar meant. Joy flooded through him for that same moment, only to be squashed as another thought bloomed. He cast a worrying glance at his dead friends and family. "What of them?"  Auel followed his gaze and grumbled, he hadn't really wanted to dwell on the matter much, seeing as he was breaking nearly every rule in his book.  He knew exactly who Thorin meant too, doing this probably looked like a death sentence to them. "I can not explain th’ details lad," Auel explained quickly. "Ye must trust me that they'll survive this time, it's up to ye whether ye will er not. Their souls will return with ye, but unlike ye, they won't remember a thing." Auel glanced worriedly at the doorway, then back at Thorin. "I need yer answer now, yes or no?!"

Tags! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

@agirlunderarock @cassiabaggins @legolaslovely

[votederpycausemufins]

Aaaaaa I’m posting this on mobile how do things work here? But i also have no impulse control so I’m posting anyway until waiting for a computer again.

chapter 4 of scattered au fic go! Au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and I @helleborusangel because they are frembd and I show my care this way!

“Oh sweet sweet dirt. I’ll never get mad at you again. You don’t just fill chests, you’re soft and safe.”

“Uh Ren, you good there?”

“Give me a moment my dude.” The wolf shifter replied, lying on the ground to hug it. “I’ve been stuck there since I spawned. Not sure what happened, but it looks like you found me.”

“Have you been looking at chat?” Etho asked, and Ren looked towards the ravine again. Looking back in it, Etho could see the comm sitting at the bottom. “Well, you’re not the only one in a situation like that. In fact, you’re in a better situation than most people seem to be in.”

“What do you mean?” Ren asked, and then he was passed Etho’s comm. Death messages filled the screen, appearing as he looked. Scrolling up, there were plenty more. “Why hasn’t anyone said something in chat?”

“Because he can’t. Nothing we try to type will send. The only thing coming through are deaths and achievements. I spawned with Beef and Joe at the real spawn, but we were the only ones there. I’m not sure how, but I managed to die, and now I’m here.”

Ren nodded. “Well, now that I’m on the surface, I’m gonna go get some wood enough for a pickaxe. Then I’m jumping back in that ravine to get my comm.” Etho raised an eyebrow. “Hey! There’s water for me to land in. I just couldn’t get to it from my cliff.”

“Well, I’ll join you. I don’t have any gear since I died, so we’ve got the same situation.”

Ren nodded and looked to the closest tree, part of a dark oak forest. “Hey Etho, I saw Mumbo was dealing with illagers. You think that could be the forest he’s in?”

“Maybe. But let’s start with getting ourselves geared up. It would probably be worse for him if we showed up and died before he could get out.”

“I guess you’re right.” Ren agreed as he went over to one of the trees and started breaking the logs. “Still might be good to see if the place is even there. I mean, I’m just suggesting he could be here.”

Etho shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll be lucky. I was close to Joe and Beef, so maybe others are close to each other too.”

Ren nodded and finished gathering wood, now heading back to the ravine. Etho followed, not having crafted anything for himself, so Ren was the only one mining stone, the ninja just taking half of what Ren mined up for himself. Then both of them made sets of stone tools, going deeper into the ravine to gather coal and iron.

The two of them built around themselves as night finally fell, torches placed throughout the ravine to try and keep monsters from spawning. “You know, regen isn’t working right. So not only are we spread out, but we all have ten hearts until we die, no matter how much we eat. It might be different if we used gapples and potions, but figured you should know.”

“Thanks for the heads up man.” Ren thanked. “My guess is it’s just natural regen that’s been disabled, so apples and potions should do fine.” Then he pulled out his comm. “I hope Impulse will come out of this okay. He’s really dying a lot.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, hopefully we can figure out what temple he spawned in.” And then he pulled out his own comm. We’ve still got coordinates, so memorizing that will be key. We’re at zero zero, so that’s easy enough to remember.”

Ren messed with his own comm. “Yeah, we’re still kind of far though. I say in the morning, we deal with checking the forest first since it’s right here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

.

.

Mumbo was backed into a corner. He hadn’t stopped trying to escape since he had gotten so close so many times. “Please, if you want me to leave, I can do that! I don’t have anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone where you are. I just want to get out of here!” He had started pleading a bit a few deaths ago, and was still doing it because it had made the vindicators hesitate for a moment.

He expected that was going to be all that would happen this time as well, but instead, the axes never fell. Mumbo had his eyes closed, but then hesitantly opened them to see what was going on. The vindicators were standing to the side, the evoker now right in front of him. He grumbled in a language Mumbo didn’t really understand, leaving him confused. “I’m sorry… I’m not sure I understand you.”

The evoker sighed and waved his arms with a spell. Mumbo held his arms up to brace himself, but nothing happened. Or at least, nothing to hurt him happened. “If you don’t want to be here. Why are you here?”

Mumbo looked up. The evoker still had what he could best describe as a villager accent, but he could understand them now. “I… I don’t know. Some friends and I were just trying to move to a new world, and instead of wherever I was supposed to show up, I didn’t. So instead I just keep appearing in that bedroom of yours.”

“And I should believe this why? Why leave a world behind? Alone I might understand, but with friends?”

“I… we… We like to explore different worlds and… help advance them.” Mumbo answered, being careful with his words which the evoker noticed. “At a certain point, we move on to try with a new world. It’s just this time, something went wrong.”

“I see.” The evoker said with narrowed eyes. “Well, empty your pocket. Prove you have nothing.” And Mumbo did just that. “Very well. You may leave.” And then the evoker cast one more quick spell and the redstoner vaguely recognized it was bad omen. Mumbo nodded and left, hearing a quick ‘good riddance’ before he finally was able to make it out of the mansion.

The moment he was out, Mumbo was glad to see it was now day at this point. He took a deep breath of fresh air before running over to a tree. Unfortunately, even though it was day, the forest provided enough cover for monsters to spawn. Before Mumbo could really react, he was killed by a skeleton and back in the mansion, yelling in frustration.

Vindicators quickly ran to the room ready to attack, but instead they were met by Mumbo, who was half yelling, half crying, and pulling at his hair. “I can’t leave. I’m never getting out of here. I’m cursed or something. Who knows if anyone’s coming to get me. I could be stuck here forever. No, I’m going to be stuck here forever. No might about it.”

There was a noise from one of the vindicators and Mumbo looked over before lying down on the wool next to himself. “I don’t care. Just kill me. I’ll just respawn here anyway. And it’s not like running will do anything.”

He closed his eyes and just waited there, but he wasn’t killed. Instead, he heard footsteps walking away, leaving him alone. Mumbo just stayed there, trying to think what he could possibly do next. His first thought was to get killed again as there was a new set of footsteps coming his way, but again, nothing happened.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Mumbo recognized that that was probably the evoker. He didn’t respond though, not really having the willpower to do so. “Even if you did, something seems to be keeping you here.”

“Can you just lock me up or something? Then I’ll be out of the way.” Mumbo replied, voice muffled by wool.

“Oh believe me, I would like nothing more than to do that. This place is outfitted with a cell. The thing is, I doubt your patron would approve of that and I would rather not get on the bad side of that.”

Mumbo paused, confused. He took a few seconds to process what the evoker had said, then he pushed himself up enough to look over at the illager. “I’m sorry, my what?”

“Oh dear void you don’t even know. Why would they even- No, questioning might make things worse. Oh void he probably got put here on purpose.” They said, talking more to themself than Mumbo as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Look, don’t cause trouble and you can stay here. Do whatever you please if it’s going to get you to leave.”

Mumbo was still confused, but after a few moments of stunned silence, he nodded and the evoker left. Did he have any clue what was going on? Absolutely not, but at least he likely wasn’t going to die again anytime soon.

.

.

“Come on Ren, we’ve looked at every inch of the forest and the sun is going down again. Between you and me, if he was here, we would have found him. We would have found anyone if they were here.”

“I feel like I can’t do nothing.” Ren complained, tapping his foot in frustration.

“We can still get more gear and get back to spawn. That’s not nothing. The more people we can get to spawn, the better. It means more numbers so that eventually we can go help anyone who’s stuck. I mean, there’s people in the nether and end. Do you really think you and I could solve that on our own like this?”

Ren looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t say anything. He just followed Etho when he started to walk in the direction of spawn. Ren kept them supplied with food and even got them beds from killing every sheep he saw. Etho on the other hand made sure to keep wood, stone and coal stocked, gathering enough iron for them to both finish up their sets of armor and tools.

When night finally fell again, they set up another small base for the night. Etho went staircasing for more ores while Ren stayed at the base. Their original plan was when Etho came back up, Ren would switch off and take up mining instead, and they would do that until morning. But before Etho could even return once, Ren watched as the sky suddenly started to move rapidly, and before long the sun was on the horizon.

“Etho! Ethooo!” Ren shouted, running down the stairs. Further down, Etho heard the shifter yelling and immediately thought the worst of the situation. He dropped what he was doing and started going up, sword in hand ready to defend against whatever problem was happening. But instead, when he finally met up with Ren in the middle of the stairs, he was smiling and his tail wagging out of control. “The sun’s up!”

“What? I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

Ren just took out his comm. “No, look. Grian managed to do a day shift!”

Etho read the messages on the comm.

Grian has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

Grian went to sleep. Sweet dreams!

Grumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

Jrumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

“Huh, we weren’t able to do that.” Etho said, rubbing his chin. Since they had gotten enough wool for beds, the two of them had both tried sleeping before actually mining, but nothing had happened.

“Yeah, but if at least someone can do it, that’s going to be good for everyone! I bet Bdubs is mad about it though.”

“Don’t say that. Who knows where he is.”

“Well, he hasn’t gotten a single death, so I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“He also hasn’t gotten any achievements, so he might just be stuck somewhere.”

“I guess you’re right.” Ren strugged. “Well, since it’s day, do you want to keep traveling, or are we mining some more?”

“Travel’s better. I’ll grab what’s useful and join you in a few minutes. You pack up the camp.” Ren nodded and ran back upstairs. By the time Etho finally returned with his loot, the place was mostly packed up, though the cobble walls and beds still sat there, along with a sign pointing towards spawn. “Still working on packing?”

“No actually. I’m leaving some stuff here. If anyone stumbles across it, they’ll have some supplies, a place to set their spawn, and know where to go for spawn. Plus, we’ve got our spawns set, so if we do die, we’ll be closer to true spawn when we restart.”

“Hmm, good idea.” Etho nodded, then looked to Ren. “You’ve got enough wool for us to make more beds as we go?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got plenty. Some of it is in different colors, but if we kill a few skeletons, we can redye them to be white.”

“Assuming that still works here.”

“Yeah, if now, we throw them out and I carry around white dye to use on sheep before I kill them.”

Etho pulled out some iron. “You know we can just make shears.”

“Yeah, but we also get meat out of it. Unless you want to sit around and grow wheat. Or hope we get some apples while chopping trees.”

“Alright, fine. Mutton it is. Can you hand me over some of the wool just in case. If you happen to die, I’d like a way to keep a new spawn while I wait for you.”

“Fork over some of that iron and you got yourself a deal.” Ren said, pulling out his woll. Etho complied and the two traded resources before starting to travel once more. Everything was going well for a while, but then they passed a surface cave, and a noise from inside caught Ren’s attention. “Hey! There’s a skeleton in there!”

Before Etho could say anything, Ren was racing off to attack the monster and steal its bones. Etho followed behind to make sure the wolf shifter didn’t die, only to nearly be shot when he entered the cave. In front of him, Ren was attacking the skeleton, which was trying to stay away from him and attack at the same time. Etho pulled out his sword and helped to attack the skeleton, and soon the monster was dead.

Ren immediately jumped to grab the bones, turning them into bone meal and then into dye. Etho looked around the cave to make sure there weren’t any monsters left, and for a moment, he thought there weren’t. But then, from a tunnel off of the cave, Etho saw the familiar green face of a creeper making its way towards Ren.

“Hey, look out!” Etho shouted. Ren looked up towards Etho who was coming at him with sword drawn. The wolf shifter then turned to look the other way, and saw the creeper starting to glow. Time seemed to slow as Etho hit the creeper away with the sword, though the slash managed to catch Ren as well in the process. Though the creeper had been knocked away slightly, it wasn’t enough to stop it from exploding, so a moment later, it did that.

As the dust settled, Etho was glad to see that he was alive, and looking over to Ren, he was as well. They were both low on health, but as long as they were careful from here on out, they would be fine. But then Etho heard growling. It wasn’t the growling of a zombie, no. It was something that normally was never meant for a player.

Etho turned and saw Ren’s sunglasses cracked from the explosion. His shirt was ripped a bit where Etho’s sword had sliced into it, blood dripping from the wound it caused. The shifter’s teeth were bared, and his normally brown eyes were red. Etho tried to back up, but before he could go far, Ren attacked him.

Etho was slain by Renthedog

[hermits-that-craft]

Chapter 48

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/62655412 TW- DEATH

Protector laughs, her long blue hair flowing behind her as she runs from her twin. They’re young, their 8th birthday was celebrated only a few days earlier. Protector races down corridors, her laughter echoing with her footsteps. 

“Octavia what are you doing?” Night asks her, picking her up and spinning her around as Builder catches up to her. “Why did you leave Alexios behind?”

“We’re playing tips!” Protector, Octavia to her close family, giggles. Night laughs, throwing her into the air before catching her.

“Me next!” Builder, or Alexios, yells, pushing Octavia out of the way. “Me next, please Ceri. Please toss me next.”

“No! Ceri was throwing me!”

“I can throw both of you.”

“Ceridwen!” Octavia wines, pushing her sibling’s leg as they pick up Alexios. “Not fair!”

---

Alexios runs behind Ceridwen, throwing his arms around the older creation’s neck. Ceri smiles sadly, spinning around and picking up the young watcher, not caring that Octavia watches from the corner of the room. Ceri spins Alexios around, and Alexios laughs before Ceri sets him down on the ground once more.

“What can I do for you, little brother.” Ceri says in a fake posh accent, picking fun at the young teen. A sad look rests behind the grin on Ceri’s face. “What’cha want?”

“Why do you look sad?” Alexios asks, concern on his face. Ceri’s face drops and they stand straighter, shaking their head, dark purple hair falling on their face.

“It’s nothing.”

---

Octavia walks with Alexios, wiping sweat off her forehead with a small towel. Blisters litter her hands from the sword and a large one rests on her ankles. She carries her shoes in her left hand, not bothering to wear the shoes around her home. Her long hair, pulled into a bun, is too messy, and she pushes it out of her eyes with frustration.

“I’m going to cut all this hair off one day.” Octavia grumbles to her brother.

“Maybe you could ask Cenn for our 17th?” Alexios suggests helpfully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“That’s ages away.” Octavia complains, pouting at her twin. “Why can’t I just cut it off myself?”

“It’s next month.”

“Lexi, would you-”

“No I won’t cut your hair.” Alexios rolls his purple eyes. Suddenly, a loud shout comes from the door they had walked past, and the twins turn back, standing near the door. More shouting echoes out of the room, and Alexios winces as something shatters in the room, before heavy footsteps make their way to the door.

A woman exits the room, dressed in a purple stola, her black hair braided on top of her head, a golden circlet braided into her hair. There are chrysanthemum flowers decaying in her hair. Her eyes hold moths and white freckles light up her skin. Rose blushes, looking away from the goddess of death. Octavia takes a deep breath in, determined to either make a good impression or to make a fool of herself.

“I’m Protector.” Octavia puts her hand out in front of her, waiting for the goddess to shake her hand.

“I will spare you the pain of death in shaking your hand.” The woman smiles. “I’m Amari.”

“That’s a cute name, pick it yourself?” Octavia tries to flirt, and Alexios chokes out a laugh. Amari doesn’t try to hide her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughs.

“You’re cute.” The goddess teases. “But I’m not interested.”

“Fair.” Octavia smirks. “What are you doing in this realm?”

“Finding out a prophecy.” Amari’s face falls as she looks at the two watchers. “I won’t bother you two with the details.”

---

Octavia sits in the corner of the library, a book in her hands but she doesn’t read it. Instead, she watcher Ceri as they bite back tears. Octavia doesn’t understand what has made Ceri look at her as though they are going to hurt her, but she doubts that they will. Ceri has always been kind, even under the persona they wear as ‘Night’. Octavia doesn’t understand why Ceri would even think about that. Amari won’t tell her anything about it, and dread builds behind Octavia’s eyes. 

Alexios creeps behind Ceri, pulling them into a hug. Ceri nearly jumps out of their skin, a dark purple blush creeping up their face. Ceri stands, Alexios getting lifted up off of the floor. 

“What do you want?” Ceri asks, leaning over so Alexios can drop off.

“I want to know if you’re alright. You look worried.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

Doubt creeps into Octavia’s mind, and she finally starts to read the book in her hands.

---

“Ale - Builder, are you sure that this is a good decision?” Octavia asks Alexios, stumbling over his watcher name. Names have power, and giving out Alexios’ true name would spell disaster, even if they are on Evo, the home planet of the Avians.

“Yes, Protector.” Alexios doesn’t stumble over her watcher name. “We should help them.”

“They will never learn to truly fly if there are no risks. Builder, we learnt over the deep void.” Octavia rolls her eyes, but she glides down onto the forest floor, sending a smile up to the woman in her treetop home. The woman nods, walking inside before she comes out, carrying a small girl with wings like fire agate and hair that flows like the ocean, the messy waves a similar colour as well. Octavia smiles, looking at the girl and messing with her own freshly cut hair, a deeper blue than the girls.

The woman holds the girl over the ledge, and Octavia gasps as the woman lets the girl drop. Every cell in her body screams at her to fly out and save her, to help the little girl despite what she had just said.

The little girl doesn’t cry, her wings snapping open and beating as though this was not the fledgling's first time flying. The small avian flies up to her mother, laughing as the woman jumps off the ledge, helping teach the small girl to fly. 

A cloud covers the sun, and Octavia turns around, spying Ceri hiding under a tree, a bright smile on their face. Octavia is taken aback, surprised that her older sibling would leave their home without their mask. Alexios and her share worried looks, jumping off the treetops to meet them under the canopy.

“You left without the mask. Is everything alright?” Octavia asks. “Night, you never do that.”

“I don’t have my mask?” Ceri lifts their hand to their face, surprise leaving a mark on their expression. “It doesn’t matter, no, none of that matters anymore.”

“What are you on?” Alexios asks, frowning at them. “Night, what the nether are you talking about?”

“I have sons.”

“What?” Octavia laughs, though she can’t contain her disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“Sons. Two of them, twins. It was only supposed to be one, but I don’t care. I love them all the same.” Ceri has a sappy smile on their face, love written along their features. “I didn’t have enough names for them. I’ll need to come up with some.”

“Ceridwen what are you saying?” Alexios says, the forbidden name snapping Ceri out of their daze.

“I have two sons. Please, you have to meet them.”

---

Ceri hums to Xisuma, bouncing him around the nursery as Exavier sleeps in his crib. Octavia watches as Ceridwen puts Xisuma down in his own crib, the baby's purple eyes wide and curious, not yet wanting to sleep but too tired to do anything else.

Ceri turns, the light smile falling from their face as they see Octavia in the doorframe. Octavia smiles, mouthing ‘good night’ to her sibling before slipping out of the doorframe, ducking behind the corner as Alexios steals away to Ceri, throwing his arms around Ceri’s neck for the last time.

“What are you planning, you’ve got the mask out again.” Alexios doesn’t ask, even though it’s phrased as a question. 

“I don’t think we can trust them.” Ceri’s voice is quiet, as though they are admitting a grave sin to an unforgiving audience. “Void, they despise me, Lexi. We can’t trust them.”

“They’re our Cenn. We have to trust them.” 

“They mean harm for Xisuma and Exavier.”

“You have no proof of this.”

“Proof? You speak of needing proof for me to distrust them and yet you do not provide any proof for either of us to trust them.” Ceri turns around, and Protector ducks her head behind the wall. “Come with us, Alexios, Builder. Join us, we can do so much good for the universe. For not only Void but for every being.”

Protector doesn’t stay for much longer, her feet carrying her to Void’s chambers, her mouth telling the god of Night’s betrayal.

---

Guilt tears at Octavia as she flies off into the distance, two small babies crying in her arms. The two sons of Ceri twisting in her arms. Void ordered her to hide them, saying that Night was playing god and going to harm the sons. Octavia doesn’t believe them, having seen how Ceri sings their sons to sleep at night, but she had agreed to this taste. She must follow through, even if she wishes she didn’t.

Surely Xisuma and Exavier will be safer with the void witch that she had been watching. The void witch may be a follower of Night, so she surely will know that the babies are Ceri’s sons. Surely she will know how to raise the babies in the void.

Protector lands on the edge of an end stone island, resting the twins on the ground lightly, drinking an invisibility potion before she runs through the halls and corridors of the temple. She finds the door she has been looking for, slightly ajar with a purple curtain hiding it without moving in even the faintest of breezes.

Protector wakes up the void witch, Octavia leading her to the screaming babies. Xisuma and Exavier stop screaming as the woman comes into view, and Octavia plants the seed of rebellion into the void witches mind before she watches the witch pick the boys up and flee.

Octavia cannot interfere any longer, not even as Protector. She’s broken so many rules already.

---

Protector walks along the world hub with Builder, secretly looking for her missing sibling. She doesn’t know why Builder agreed to come with her on this walk, though she’s glad for the company.

A scream breaks the silence of the peaceful world hub, fearful and young and in pain. Protector runs towards it, light on her feet as dread sets in her chest as the portal to Evo appears in the distance. It’s broken, the bedrock frame cracked and missing parts of it, and lying in front of it, purple wings splayed out atop him, a small boy lies. He would be only a few years younger than Xisuma and Exavier, and his messy blonde hair has dirt and blood on it. His sweater, once white, is stained red with blood and a large burn rests on his side, his sweater still burning.

Builder summons water over the boy, dousing him in water. Protector summons healing potions, throwing them over the boy. He still screams, and Builder picks him up, waving at Protector.

“Find out what happened. I’ll take him home.” Protector only nods, forcing a portal open to the world.

Acrid smoke hits Protector’s nose, and the screams of the dead and dying fill her ears. Evo is alight, the flames licking at the buildings that Protector and Builder helped to erect, at forests that Builder summoned for the avians to live in. 

Bodies litter the floor, some still groaning with pain in their final moments. Some still stand, refusing to die without a fight. Some aid the dying, holding their hands in their final moments. Some do not fall just yet, fighting the arsonists with all their might. Others go out in the air, the smoke sending them to the floor. Night stands in the middle of the smoke, the mask on their face telling Protector that this was an attack planned by the creator of the nether and the void realms. Night looks to Protector and the arsonists vanish, spears going through as many of the living’s hearts as they leave. Those dead still standing fall, and the living raise to stand as Amari walks amongst them silently, invisible to all but Octavia.

Evo has fallen, burnt to a crisp with little left of it to remember it by. The dead stain the ground red with blood, and Amari takes some with her even as they still breath. Amari nods to Octavia, walking past with the dead following behind her. 

Protector takes the living with her, to watcher towers across the universe, hiding them from Night’s wrath. Octavia wants to cry, but she tells Void of Ceri’s crimes. Night deserves to die for this, but Void doesn’t put any price onto Night’s head.

---

Octavia and Alexios sit in some back end bar at the edge of a little known world at the edge of the world hub. Octavia and Alexios look up every time the small door creaks open, waiting for Ceri to come through. Or more so, Octavia looks up, Alexios has already lost himself in drink waiting for their sibling to come. Octavia doesn’t know if they’ll come, if Ceri is too lost to Night to hear the reason that they’ll provide. Surely Ceri wants to come home.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. You have any diamonds?” Ceri’s voice is quiet, sliding into the stool next to Octavia.

“Another round, I’ll buy their first as well.” Octavia puts the diamonds onto the bar, the red slime behind the counter nodding and preparing the drinks. “Ceri, what have you done?”

“I want them back. Void took them, Tavi. They can’t be raised by some stranger. I will find them again.” Ceri swears, taking a swig of the drink that was placed in front of them. 

“You tore apart Evo.” Octavia glares at them, but they shrug. 

“You would do the same. Wait until you have kids.”

“No, Ceri I don’t understand-”

“Of course you don’t.”

“It was genocide, Ceri. You’re lucky that Void loves you, there's no price on your head yet.”

“Void doesn’t love anyone but themselves.”

“Ceri! You made it!” Alexios slurs, taking Octavia’s untouched drink as he finishes his fourth round. “You look sad, penny for your thoughts?”

Ceri and Octavia laugh as Alexios gets up, throwing his arms around Ceri’s neck. Ceri shoves him into Octavia, and the twins laugh as Ceri frowns. 

“You know, I’ve got the most brilliant idea for a world.” Alexios says, leaning against the bar and drinking more of Octavia’s drink. “Everything is wrong. The mountains reach the build height. Everything can kill you.”

“Lexi we’re here to convince Ceri to come back, not to get drunk.” Octavia reminds her twin for the third time that night.

“Shh, let him finish.” Ceri winks at Octavia. “What would live there?”

“Murder sheep.” Alexios says, completely seriously. Octavia and Ceridwen can’t hold in their laughter any longer, laughing at their drunk brother.

---

Protector adjusts her cream coloured stola, a red shall wrapped over her hair and shoulders loosely. She feels out of place in the party, wishing she was at home with her son and brother. Grian has improved so much, he should be alright with Alexios, though Protector worries for him. Alexios cares for him deeply, but he will let Grian stay up late and eat sweets. She can’t focus on that, instead listening idly to King Silas as he describes what the Vex have been up to. Watchers and Vex dance and mill about the room, laughing.

A woman enters the room, dressed in a green mantua style ball gown with gold embroidery. Her long red hair flows over her shoulders, and Protector flushes as the vex woman’s bright blue eyes meet her red red ones. Protector can hardly breathe, her heart hammering in her chest. She excuses herself from Silas’ side, walking over to the woman.

“Hi.” Protector’s voice is small, her nervousness showing through her carefully constructed facade. 

“Hello.” The woman smiles and Protector flushes, unable to think. “Could I have a dance with you?”

“Uh, yes of course.” Protector stumbles over her words, blinking as the woman takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. “I’m Oct- I’m Protector.”

“My vex title is Rose.” Rose smiles at her, leading Protector through a dance. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The two women dance and spend the night together, hiding behind the columns and in small rooms. Protector can hardly think through the night, laughing with the woman as they sneak through the corridors of the palace. The hide in the palace gardens, in the library, in the kitchens, talking to each other like old friends and sneaking around like lovers.

Perhaps they are lovers, as when the night is over Rose slips Protector a handkerchief and an address, telling Protector to return the handkerchief when she ‘realises she has it’.

---

Octavia steals out of her house, Grian and Builder sound asleep. She sneaks out in the dead of night, flying to a forest far away from her home. Octavia won’t sleep tonight.

“Hello, Protector.” Rose’s voice is quiet as she lands in the clearing. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m more glad to see you again.” Octavia kisses Rose’s hand, making the woman giggle. “You can call me Octavia, though.”

“You’re giving me your name?” Rose’s voice is quiet, shocked. Octavia steals a kiss from the woman as she leads her into a dance. 

“Of course.”

“My name is Lillian.”

“It suits you.”

“How so?” Rose, Lillian, laughs quietly.

“It’s just as beautiful as you.” Octavia mumbles, spinning Lillian around. 

“Liar.”

“How could I lie to you? You’ve entranced me.”  Octavia pressing her forehead to Lillian’s. “I love you.”

“Through the void and back.”

---

“Hey Mum, you’ve got a letter.” Grian grins over the breakfast table. Builder had already left for some world that had to be customised. Octavia looks up at him, the teenager smirking at him.

“Oh?”

“It’s from that girl you keep sneaking out to meet.” Grian takes a bite of his cereal, smirking. “It’s probably a ‘please meet up again’ letter.”

“How do you know that, young man?”

“Dad’s the only one who can sleep through you getting ready to leave. Honestly, I don’t mind, just make sure you treat her alright.”

“Grian are you insinuating that I don’t already?”

“I’m just saying that you could probably marry her, but you’re too much of a coward to do so.” Grian hands Octavia the letter. “Go on, I’ve seen the ring. Go give it to her before I mail it to her myself.”

Octavia opens the letter, reading the time that Rose wants to meet with her. Sunset, the flower forest near Lillian’s home. Octavia quickly pens a letter to her, Grian reading over her shoulder.

---

Octavia lands in the flower field, Grian insisting on her wearing a nice white shirt and black pants to meet with Lilllian. Lillian stands in the middle of the flower forest, wearing a pink sundress with a large straw hat on her head. Her red hair is pulled into a bun, and Octavia plucks a daisy, tucking it behind Lillian’s ear.

Lillian kneels, pulling out a ring with a red gem centered in it. Octavia gasps before she kneels, pulling out a ring with a blue crystal on it. Lillian laughs, and Octavia picks the woman up, spinning her around the field. They kiss as the sun sets, affianced to each other. Engaged.

---

“Through every world,” Rose says loudly, her wedding vows echoing over the beach and into the dark oak forest. Her dress is a pale gold, with white roses braided into her hair. “I will be with you, sickness and health be damned, my love for you will out number the stars.”

“In every universe, I will be by your side.” Protector finishes the vow, holding Rose’s hands. Protector wears a white suit with a black shirt and a golden tie, and a white rose rests on the lapel of her suit jacket. “You will be in my heart, the thorn in the side of my heart.”

“You may now kiss the bride.” Builder smiles, and Rose pulls Protector into the kiss. The sun glows behind them, casting everything and everyone in gold.

The walk down to the guests, exchanging small pleasantries and teases with the guests. Protector spies Night at the edge of the forest, a small bag in their hand that they place down where they stand before they leave. 

“Congrats.”

“Scar, I didn’t think you would be able to make it!” Rose smiles, pulling her nephew into a hug. “How’s hermitcraft?”

“It’s lovely, I wish you two could see it.” Scar smiles, before looking around the room. “Aw, Protector’s son didn’t come?”

“He was busy. Some civil war that he had to deal with.” Protector shrugs it off. “It’s understandable. Where is your brother?”

“Stuck with the hermits. He gave me a gift to give you both.” Scar hands them a small box. “I left my gift on the table.”

“Thank you, Scar.” Rose kisses his cheeks. “Send Cub our thanks as well.”

“Of course.”

---

“I found something.” Lillian says, sitting on Octavia’s desk. She puts a heavy book down onto the desk, and Octavia looks up, and eyebrow raised.

“What is it?”

“Something to make a kid that would be related to both of us.” Lillian says, showing Octavia the passage. 

“It’s a tough spell, flower.” Octavia mumbles, reading through the spell. “I’m not sure if it would be the safest thing to do-”

“I’ll carry them.” Lillian says. “You can continue your work.”

“That’s the least of my concerns.” Octavia brushes some of Lillian’s red hair behind her ear. “Your health is infinitely more important to me.”

“I think we should try this. We have a nursery, may as well use it.” Lillian’s voice is light, but Octavia remember’s why they built the house. 

“As long as you will be safe” Octavia reads through the spell one more time, carefully looking over the passage. “I think this could work.”

---

Protector jolts upwards, her hand slipping through where Builder should be. She slowly stands, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It feels like her head has been stuffed with cotton, and she looks around the room. It’s made of marble and quartz and a dark rock that Protector doesn’t recognise. She reaches for her sword to find air where her scabbard should be. She stands, her usual armour replaced with a white peplos. She walks along the black carpet, out of the small room and into a large hall, the building reminding her of an old castle mixed with some ancient greek temple.

Protector finds herself in front of a large, dark oak door, and for the first time ever she feels small. Her heart doesn’t beat in her chest, though she feels nervous. She doesn’t want to know what's beyond those doors, what fate awaits her.

She opens the doors anyways, walking through them. There is no bright light, however there is a woman, sitting atop a red and gold throne, wearing a pale purple stola. A golden circlet rests in her eyes and sadness laces her eyes. Amari beckons Protector towards her, and Protector suddenly remembers the first time that they met. This is the prophecy that Amari had heard. Protector is dead. Protector can’t move, her hand covering her mouth as she tries to stifle a cry. She’s failed, she’s left her family alone with Night. She has fulfilled her end of the prophecy but that does not guarantee anyone’s life.

“You’re an hour late, Octavia.” Amari’s voice is filled with sorrow, pulling Octavia into a hug. “Did you monologue?”

“I don’t want to die.” Octavia cries, falling into the goddess of death's arms. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go.”

[senseandaccountability]

Fic update: ‘I can see us gather at the gates’, part 8/32

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Female Trevelyan/Iron Bull Rating: M for future updates Summary: He doesn’t trust mages, she doesn’t trust Qunari; it feels oddly fair. A former Circle mage and an estranged Qunari spy get entangled in each other’s lives over assorted Thedosian drinks. Chapter summary: Like all the previous times he’s been on the edge of it, dying is pretty overrated. Notes: I scream into the void with this fic but there you go. :D 

Chapter 8: Dragon Piss (Fallow Mire) (AO3 link)

x. 

He’s just a kid, unhorned and soft -  fat as a qalaba, Vasaad says, racing him to the outskirts of the jungle where the rocks form challenges and the sun never reach - and they climb the old trees and even older stone. They stumble, kids always do up there and that is the very clever reason they are not allowed to go. But they're just kids, far from clever. They stumble and fall and Vasaad is lucky, gets caught on a few softer corners and tree branches; Ashkaari crashes.  Everything after is blurry and gentle, the edges softened by potions.

“What were you supposed to do today?” Tama asks, without removing her hand from his arm.

Slowly, grasping for his memory, he begins to rattle off the tasks and duties; they’re as many as his fingers. Maybe that’s the point, to make them remember.

“So why did you run to the jungle?”

Ashkaari has no answer that Tama will want to hear so he drags it out, pretending to think while her touch remains. "You must take better care of yourself," she says sternly.  The Qun hates wastefulness and dead imekari is a terrible shame. For her, for them all. He doesn't want to make Tama look bad. He will remember.  For several months, at least.

x. “Welcome back,” Armaas says. His commander, the voice in the field. Hissrad can’t remember being gone, but his body is full of pain. A broken rib, a punctured lung, a long, deep wound running from his left shoulder blade to right side and he has to sleep propped up on his stomach in the infirmary. He learns that he has been out for days. He learns, too, that they're right about his commander. Doesn't lose a single man, they say. He leads from the front and shouts you back from the dead if he has to. The intense pair of eyes that follows Hissrad's every move here certainly looks like it belongs to someone who could. Years later, on Seheron, he’ll look into those eyes again before his axe falls down over Armaas's neck. Your soul is dust, Tal-Vashoth, he'll think but he won't be sure ever again. x. “Your blocking is still shit,” Hissrad manages from where he lies propped up by pillows and blankets and a wasted bedroll. Even his horns hurt. “Your plans are still shit,” Vasaad counters. “You’ll be the death of me, big guy. Can’t believe they gave you command.” “Maybe you were the only other option.” “Maybe they just want to let Seheron kill you so they don’t have to,” Vasaad says and there’s warmth and mockery and bone-hard truths in the joke. Hissrad grins. It must be the hundredth time one of them gets wrecked in battle, yet every single one feels like absolute crap, everyone worse than the others. Hissrad has carried Vasaad’s skinny ass across half a jungle, cursing into the skin on his back -  don’t you dare, asshole - and Vasaad’s dragged him out of burning buildings, pits of poison, traps laid by mages and rebels and they’ve always survived. They’ll always survive until one of them fails. x. Their newest Viddathari may be little more than a twitchy kid but he’s got hands strong as iron, knows curses in several tongues and he refuses to leave Hissrad’s bedside until Hissrad gets well enough to carry him out and lock the door. “Hey!” the kid protests but Hissrad is determined. His right arm may still be broken and the bone-deep wound along his side smarts like fuck but malnourished elves are tiny. “Sorry, Gatt,” he says and pats the elf’s head. “Can’t recover with an audience.” x.  Boss is heading towards the building where they expect to find the clan leader of the Avvar, her jaw set and her determination cut in stone, as if she’s gone and become a brawler when Bull wasn’t looking. They have my soldiers. She had been very closed-off this morning, grim and focused, barely had time for a briefing before they set out and her tone is still clipped whenever someone brings something up with her. “Surely you are not challenging their chieftain in battle, darling?” Vivienne’s voice betrays nothing but Bull is willing to bet she isn’t looking forward to having her day ruined by a bashed-in skull. “It will be fine.” At first it almost is. As fine as it ever is, fighting in someone else's stronghold, lacking every advantage of the enemy. But for a while they can make up for what they lack in strength with what they possess in terms of sheer determination. Until they can't. “Take out their mages!” “Let’s not,” Bull growls, carving his blade into the spine of an attacker. In the corner of his eye he can see the Avvar leader rushing forth, his greataxe in front of him, ramming into their flimsy line of defense and Bull curses, trying to wrestle free from the archers he’s stuck with but it takes too long. Vivienne shouts something, Boss shouts something back and when Bull finally shoves the last dead archer from his blade, there’s no time left. He pushes the mages back, hears them swear at him and then, things become a little blurry. --- He wakes up in darkness. Total, throbbing darkness and his first thought is that he’s lost his other eye. That would definitely be shitty. “Bull, can you hear me?” He does, he can. But when he tries to speak, there are no sounds emerging from his body. Great, now he’ll be both blind and mute. What a gift to send back to Par Vollen. Maybe they can put a ribbon on his horns. He feels her hands on his chest, magic flowing out of them and into him and it’s soft, like a warm bath but then she twists it, angles it so he gasps for air instead, crying out in pain, and immediately it stops. She’s leaning over him, judging by her breath against his neck, her voice closer to his ear now. “I’m sorry.” The pad of her thumb brushes over his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Bull, but I have to do that again. I’m trying to find what’s wrong.” Less talking, more healing, he thinks. She does the same magical crap again. And again. The pain is just as sharp, just as staggering. He feels like he’s losing his mind. There’s something broken that won’t mend, something stubborn that won’t budge. “Hurry,” Vivienne says somewhere nearby. “He’s bleeding quite a lot, darling.” “I know. Can you…  shit.” Boss’s touch leaves him and if he could speak, he would have asked for it to return. Magic or not, her hands are soothing and if he’s dying here, he’d like to feel calm about it. Like all the previous times he’s been on the edge of it, dying is pretty overrated. A burning, painful kind of overrated that he could do without. In the end lies glory, so the Qun claims. Perhaps that's right, he just can't see it. But then again his eyesight never really recovered from losing one eye. Even bad jokes are wasted on death. The last thing he hears is Boss, her voice increasingly desperate, telling him to stay with her as she pulls at the threads of his flesh with her magic, forcing it to close over his wounds. --- He drifts in and out of consciousness and sleep and through it all he can hear her voice. In fact, she never stops talking. She’s quiet when she’s nervous and she talks when she’s afraid; he knows this about her. He knows this about her and in this particular setting, it twists its way into the back of his mind, lingers. As the pain torments him and whatever draughts and spells he’s been exposed to do their thing, he hears her mutter her way through what sounds like magical theory in Orlesian. Between a nightmare and a potion-induced episode about ghouls he can discern sentences from a book on the Inquisition of old - he knows because the nights in camp get long and sometimes there's nothing to do but read the only thing someone like Cassandra or Boss has carried with them. He prefers it when they bring Varric’s crappy but hilarious smut novels over the tedious ones on human history, but he’ll read anything. "You can't take blows meant for me," she tells him because - as he’s come to understand - she truly has no idea what front-line bodyguard means, its concept as foreign to her as stealth or frivolity. Bull replies in grunts and monosyllabic words. “Don’t die on me, you stupid man,” she whispers to him as he drifts out of sleep momentarily, blinking as the sunlight from the window falls across her features. It makes her look on fire, lit with the sun itself. If he had been an Andrastian, he’d probably be praying by now.   “I’m sorry,” she says and he’s feeling more awake by then, though not awake enough to argue through the lack of strategy with his boss. He keeps his eyes closed. Feels her hands running over his chest, then quickly brushing against his forehead. She’s got the lightest of touches; it leaves some kind of mark. “This is on me. It’s my fault. Please, survive.” --- He wakes up, properly now, to her sleeping form. The room is dimly lit but his senses have returned, making it possible for him to discern the actual shapes of everything around him. A pile of medical supplies by his bed, a couple of books, a warm blanket and a goblet of what looks like water. Outside the only window in the room, darkness has fallen. He feels sluggish and heavy, unused to his own body. And there’s a sense of oddness somewhere below his chest. At first he can’t tell what the sensation comes from and blinks, prepared for all sorts of bad news as always after being knocked out in battle. You never know what limbs you’ve lost or what new impairment you’ve suffered, any warrior could tell you that. But this, Bull realises rather quickly, this isn’t him. It’s Boss, sleeping with her face pressed into his belly, her arms spread out over his upper body and her hair tickling his chest. Small puffs of warm breath dampen his skin as her body rises and falls over his; there are soft snores and sleep-sounds and there’s an intimacy to the scene that snakes its way into his chest, the unfamiliar outline of it at once thrilling and strange. It’s definitely…  something. All the gentleness in her, everything about her that she keeps hidden as they work methodically side by side to push this damn world back from the brink of destruction, is suddenly visible in the way she’s sleeping, unarmed, undone. Her hair is loose, strands of it cascading over his flesh; her neck is bared and looks more inviting in the candlelight than he’s ever seen it before; lacking its usual multi-layered outfit, her body sleeps free and soft, curved around him, around itself, the generous shape of her ass almost impossible not to reach out and touch. It’s the intense privacy of the moment, he thinks. The intimacy of sleep coupled with the fact that she had worried. About him. He pretends to be asleep when she wakes, startling herself, bolting upright like someone’s caught her in the act which effectively ruins his. Bull can’t hold back a laugh, even though it hurts deep inside him, all the way up along his ribs. Boss flushes bright red, cursing under her breath. The tension in her body is so acute, so severe that it practically cuts through the air. For a brief moment he wonders if she’ll set something on fire. Then, when she forces herself to look at him, he can see nothing but relief in her eyes. It hits him, like a hammer. Maybe it hits her, too, because she scratches the back of her head and looks away. She takes a step to the side. Another one forward. Glances at the doorway over her shoulder. “I’m - this-” she exhales slowly. “Not a word, Bull.” He remains exactly where he is, watching her and grinning - because it seems to infuriate her in a subtle and delightful way and also, mostly, because he can’t help himself. “My lips are sealed.” He gestures towards his mouth, ignoring the pain the motion brings. “I won’t tell a living soul that you snore like a bronto, Boss.” “You’re an ass.” Then, quiet and already half-way outside the room. “I’m glad you live.”

[faquarlofmycenae]

Lo and behold, another original from the house of FOM! I haven’t even settled for a title, even though the work title initially was Death, three millenia in the making, but in hindsight it simply doesn’t fit and ideas shifted, etc etc etc, so here we are. 

Either way, have this excerpt of the AU that’s floating around in my head like a Windows XP screensaver. There’s an old face, a new one and one already featured elsewhere but after a bit of a transformation... one might even call it an upgrade, depending on what you think of it. 

It’s a lot that I wrote down in one day, and now that I got it out of my system I can move onto the next fic which I already plotted out a bit :^)

At last but not least, a big shout out to both Nunki @sine-luce-angor-minus for inspiring me with his phenomenal art and Posi @shadowy-dumbo-octopus for both brainstorming with me and sharing her great ideas!

Enjoy!

The impenetrable darkness had been there for so long that to call it an eternity was a vast understatement. It was a part of him by now and it replaced everything that had been there before. Be it the things that were very much his own; his voice, his substance, his feelings, his senses, even his personality and maybe as well as his most treasured memories, all of that was overshadowed by the void that ate at him ever since he was in here. He could scarcely remember how he got there, he knew someone had to do with it and if he ever managed to get a hold of that someone, provided he hadn’t been killed, his future would find its end right there and then. 

And then — it was no more. The thick oppressive cocoon had surrounded him like dark honey and it took him a moment to realize it was all gone and the light blinded him. He cloaked himself in shadows and darkness as if he were a fetus that didn’t want to leave the comfort of the womb until he realized that his martyrdom on this wicked and cursed Earth was so close to being over. The light burned what remained of his essence to its core as if it were purest silver and he silently pleaded for the bonds that still tied him to this mortal realm to finally set him free. 

The Other Place… it was still his home, where he belonged. Earth might have once felt like home to him but the connection that once firmly tied him here, a chain that was sweeter than a lover’s caress had been violently torn into pieces. The memory of it was foggy but it was there.

Through the darkness, something pushed through. That surprised him. The intruder didn’t cut or slash their way through the shadows shielding him, but calmly shoved them aside with gentle hands. It wore the face of a human and there was nothing but humanity in its face but still… something underneath the mask was familiar to him.

What have they done to you?

The voice was quiet, in a language he understood despite not remembering which one, and he hated it for being so soothing; he was no squabbling human child, he was a marid of immeasurable power, he could tear this peon apart like it was less than nothing. 

But was it worth it? He was so exhausted and the accursed bonds wouldn’t break.

Soft fingers ran along his form in the dark, he didn’t have time to recoil from the touch but underneath them he felt the unmistakable energy of the Other Place.

O great spirit, in whose name shall your revenge be?

Ammet gazed into the eyes, into the fire within them, green and bright and otherworldly. One of the names he spoke was one that hasn't been heard in many years, forgotten to the world, and he had been the only being privy to know it besides its owner, an immense privilege.

Senusret, and Ammet.

It didn't matter to say it out loud, the human face with the energy of his home was not real, something like this couldn't exist and this was the end. He was going home

It had been seconds but it felt like so much more than that when the invisible chains broke. He didn’t let out a cry of joy, he never did, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t glad to leave this spinning ball of mud — may it burn down and all of humanity as well as the spirits remaining there with it.

…

…

…

The very second he was back, he began to regain his strength and with strength came clarity of mind. The darkness had transformed his consciousness into something twisted, strange and revolting but the energies of the Other Place were softly pushing away the fog had clouded everything the longer he stayed here. Time ran differently here than it did on Earth but something that had roughly been five terrestrial years, maybe even more, passed by and with each moment he grew stronger and stronger, but some of the wounds left behind on his essence but especially on his pride simply wouldn't close but instead festered and the pain they caused could only be lessened by retribution.

Oh, he wouldn't simply kill the djinni. He'd draw out his suffering to something no spirit or human had ever experienced — he'd make Bartimaeus of Uruk wish that he had simply been plunged into the Dismal Flame instead of what was waiting for him now. But… How much time has passed exactly while in the amphora? He still didn't know. 

…

He felt a scratch on his essence — no, a gentle pull. The same way he'd seen these pathetic human children pull on their equally pathetic progenitors. If he had a form, he would've kicked at the sensation, or even better, sent a lightning bolt at the offender.

Another pull, this time much more insistent. Leave me be, vile wretch, unless you want a marid's wrath upon you, he wanted to scream but the next pull was so much more violent than the previous one that it knocked the metaphorical breath out of him. 

Then he was pulled through the elemental walls, as if someone was pulling him through a narrow pipe and —

He was surrounded by light once again. Ammet hissed and brought down the room temperature in an instant. Ice crystals materialized within seconds but the light didn't subside. Someone let out a curse, a particularly vicious one — in a language that vaguely sounded like Greek, perhaps even a Barbarian language. 

The form he had picked was a combination of two of his favourite guises — a creature made out of the human skeletons dyed in red, each corpse with its own autonomy (and in some cases rotting flesh hanging from their bones) and a head shaped like the skull of a crocodile, with more teeth than one could count and huge skeletal wings; it had been quite the hit in Ombos when Set had been around. The other was one he used to slip into without thinking about it; a shadow, a perfect replica made of darkness belonging to someone he had once loved.

The black beast, the heart-eater, was cloaked in absolute blackness with shadows hanging from it and while the eye sockets were empty, he could perfectly see his surroundings. First of all, the pentacle in which he stood was of an infuriating perfection that he wanted nothing more than to smash himself against its wards in the futile effort to destroy it. Secondly, the room… had a strange aura. It was a room, alright, these had existed ever since the fleshlings had learned how to construct buildings (not that they did the building, of course), but something in here or maybe it was the way Earth worked now that was so radically different from him as a spirit that he recoiled. 

The walls were made of stark grey stone, on the ceiling a long vertical imp-light flickered in pale yellow and besides pots of incense and herbs, there were no actual objects in the room nor windows. They most likely were underground. 

Oh, and there was the magician standing in a pentacle opposite of him.

It was a slender woman, not very tall of height but not exactly short either. Dark curls fell upon her shoulders and framed a round face that by human standards was most likely considered very beautiful, shallow and vapid as they were. The lips were full and gave the impression that she was perpetually pouting, her skin light brown with a glow that indicated she was out in the sun quite often. There was youth in her face, but the faint wrinkles on her forehead told a different story. One of her eyes was of a cold dark brown, the other not organic at all; an orb made of shining gold with painted iris and pupils for the sake of realism. The pupil was a deep black, the iris a vibrant blue similar to lapis lazuli but even brighter. The eye pulsated with magic on the higher planes as the piercing gaze burned through his form and he knew, for a fact, that this feeble creature, so insignificant compared to him, could see his true form — for what he really was.  

„Ammet; Bezalel; Rahab.“ She spoke Greek, alright, even if it was a curious dialect. He still understood her every word; a side effect of the summons, as it was most useful for the slave to understand the master‘s commands. It sounded different than the Greek he had been used to previously but still not far enough to have evolved over so many years. Years in which his name had been unearthed.

Apophis curse this world; the face had not been a product of his imagination or confused state. Him saying names had been real —

He let out a furious roar, one that made the implight tremble, the room shake by a margin — but not the magician, oh no. She didn't even twitch but merely sneered in anger at the obvious disrespect, raised a hand, opened her mouth to speak a punishment — and caught herself. She took a deep breath, halted her respiration for one, two, three seconds and then exhaled once again.

„A powerful demon you might be but now you are my slave. Bow your head and do my bidding as I command, elsewhile I will rattle your essence with a pestilence that even you will carry the pain for the remainder of your days here and in the Nowhere.”

Ammet gritted his teeth but nevertheless bowed his head. He was regaining his composure once again but the fire of fury raged within him. But there was a time and place for this… not now. Not while in the damned pentacle. 

“Your word is my command, mistress.” 

He spoke, soft and gentle. That coupled with a gentle and discreet guise would occasionally — and if the magician was an amateur and/or took a greater bite than they could chew — do the trick and lure the human into a false sense of security. But Ammet was in the mood for anything but a gentle guise and this individual’s strength, as feeble as she might seem, judging by her aura hadn't faded in the least so as far as magicians went, she probably packed quite the punch. In addition to that, she had summoned him all on her own, which already was a tremendous task for the likes of her kind, so he probably was not going to be lucky with her. That strength, unapparent to the untrained eye but blatant to anyone who knew of real power, reminded him of someone he had once loved.

The magician jutted her chin upwards, a smug expression on her face.

“You are a smart slave then, smarter than many who have been in my service. Hear me out: needless to say as I included it in your bindings, you are prohibited from harming not only me but all those you interact with, be it by magical or physical attack. You shall answer every question that is asked of you, without hesitation and in earnest — as alien as honesty is to the likes of vile demons like yourself.” She wrinkled her nose before she spoke next. “Afterwards, you shall be dismissed; that is, if you decide to cooperate. Refuse to, and your fate shall be worse than what you went through in that jar of wine.”

The golden eye glinted and with a sharp snap of her fingers, something materialized in the air in front of the magician. She got a hold of it and held it out to him. It was a small box of black wood, polished to a gleam. A small net of silvery veins ran over it and a similar magical energy resided within it as the golden eye.

“The people who made this call it Pandora's Box. It doesn't come close to the real deal, obviously, but it has its surprises.” The magician smiled. “You will get cozy with them, should you choose to act unwisely.”

Ammet considered the box. It didn't seem like a lot but the thought of being imprisoned once again gave him the most unpleasant of sensations.

He fluttered his wings and continued his swaying, but didn't respond.

The magician nodded. “Now that we have that out of our way: fulfill your charge.” She clapped her hands and Ammet dissolved into shards of shadows and bone. A sensation pulled him elsewhere; one moment he was in the strange vault many meters beneath the ground — and the other he was gone.

The light that burned Ammet now — a bothersome habit, as he had apparently developed a sensibility for light during his captivity — came of no cold implight but was rather the light of the setting sun. It shone through a tall window, warming him even through the glass. 

The revolting aura from the vault remained but wasn’t as amplified which meant that the effect was relatively widespread.

He didn't stand in a pentacle but on white tiles, making his dark form appear even blacker as he remained there. The walls were tiled wood, rich mahogany, and in the center of the room stood a long dinner table with a total of fourteen chairs around it. It had a costly air about it, and confirmed to Ammet that even though time might pass, humans were still exactly the same; utterly obsessed with material goods and hedonistic to the maximum. 

He scoffed.

“Enjoying the view?”

It wasn't the fact that someone had entered the room behind him that made him spin around at neckbreak speed; it was because whoever had spoken was the owner to the voice belonging to the face. 

The language itself was nothing close to any language Ammet consciously understood, its sounds being mumbled and so ugly compared to the refined beauty of Egyptian or even the cruder Arabic, and yet he knew exactly what she said. It also meant that he was either far from home or actually a lot of time had passed for language to evolve into… whatever this could be considered, regardless of the magician’s Greek.

Just like the golden-eyed magician, this one was also a woman — although judging by the stench of incense clinging on her skin if not directly her bizarre clothes (form-fitting lower garments that covered her ankles and a way too short tunic on her upper body) she most likely was either one as well or at least associated with them frequently — but quite different from her too which, well, was better than them looking alike, a nasty tendency humans had.

Taller and pale of skin, she had auburn hair mixed in with grey that was tied together with a few loose strands. Her face was angular, her nose straight and pointy which made her look like a songbird. Freckles grew on her face like pimples on a youth’s visage, crow’s feet and lines under her eyes indicated at least forty years of age. The fire of the Other Place wasn’t to be found in the eyes, instead they were of a dull light brown with green specks — green specks that did not have anything within them that reminded him of home. Her aura did burn a little brighter than that of your ordinary human though, but ultimately that didn’t need to mean anything.

“What you see out there,” she said and pointed outside of the window, “is a country named Spain; its most Southern part to be precise, we call it Andalusia.”

Ammet didn't respond nor did he look outside. Neither of those names meant anything to him. 

“I hope it's a more pleasant view than the cellar in which you were summoned. I hate to say it under the circumstances which, let's face it, are always unpleasant but: welcome back to Earth, Lord Ammet.”

Soft food steps walked away and for a moment, Ammet considered sending a black bolt of lightning her way and into her back as she had it turned on him. Then he remembered the box.

“I apologize for any harshness my colleague showed you; she is still of the old school and old habits die hard.” She sighed. “Maybe even never. But we don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, do we?” Her voice was clear and strong and if it wasn’t just a product of his imagination, Ammet could swear that there was a current within her tone that wasn’t human at all.

She turned around to face Ammet and to the marid‘s surprise, the expression on her face was a welcoming smile. He immediately distrusted her. 

“Please, sit down. I know it doesn't lessen the pain of being bound but for the sake of courtesy, I rarely like to have my guests standing around.”

Ammet didn't move, he merely looked at her. 

“I was told to answer questions.”

The woman didn't look up as she poured herself a glass of white wine (the smell of the alcohol was sweet and pungent, so unlike red wine) and moved to sit at the head of the table.

“And that you will, and as soon as that is done, you are free to return to the Other Place.” She looked at him over the rim of her glass and took a sip. “To be a good host and as a show of good faith towards you, Lord Ammet, I will tell you something of this world, as well as about my own person.” She smiled as if she remembered something. “Well, not everything, obviously, but everything I deem deserving for you to. But first of all, let me apologize for the predicament I put you under — prying your name from you while you were in a confused state is a great betrayal to do upon a spirit, yet while I regret it, there was no other way around it.”

Ammet tilted his head slightly at those words. Well, here was someone who knew her way with words. 

“So it was you who freed me. For many years I thought you weren't real.”

She smiled.

“Yes, but like I said… It is a rather double-edged sword. You had been imprisoned in a wine amphora for, ah, quite some time. Five years ago an archeological expedition looking to loot long-sunken treasures in the hopes of discovering powerful magical artifacts brought many things, among them the vessel that contained you, to the surface. I happened to be around and,”, her lips curved into a smile, “felt your aura, faint as it was, even from afar. Freeing you was the right thing to do, obviously, but I wanted to know the identity of the one I had saved - cue me asking. A bit melodramatic, yes, but it did the trick, did it not?”

She put down her glass and observed him. 

“The search for you wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, even though I had your name. According to Herodotus, the last sighting of you was in Ombos 1000 BCE, give or take.”

“BCE?”

“... Ah. Yes.”

The number the woman said then would have knocked any and all breath out of Ammet's lungs if he had them. No, no no, it cannot be!

“I know, even for a spirit this is a lot to take him.”

The tone being calming did nothing for him. Ammet felt the edges of his form tremble and with a horrid piercing cry he released a great force of energy and made the planes shudder. Oh, how he wished to exact his wrath upon — well, everything under this accursed sun. The golden-eyed magician was lucky to have made the binding clause so tight, otherwise Ammet would have found or simply disregarded the finer lines and wreaked untold havok on whatever and whoever were to cross his path — man, spirit, it didn't matter to him. He was of such power that they could impossibly stand in his way.

When he calmed down, silence beat down upon them. The woman looked a bit disheveled but had mostly maintained her composure, as if she had assumed something like this to happen. She coughed and finished the remains in her glass in one go, then steeped her fingers.

“Time is nothing to the likes of us—”

“Us?” Ammet's voice was a roar and he moved at lightning speed to stand over the woman. His eyes were raging fires now, spewing contempt and hatred with such fury and even like this, it was nothing compared to the anger burning within him.

“What sort of wicked and foolish creature are you? How dare you compare yourself to an entity like me?”

If she was unnerved, she didn't bother with showing it.

“My name is Nimuë, and there are no creatures like me.”

Ammet hissed like an aggressive cobra and shook his head. His claws dug deep into the table, something not missed by Nimuë who raised an eyebrow.

“Don't make me laugh. You are human, but so unlike all of them.” Even as he said it, he knew at least the first part to be a lie. 

She straightened her shoulders and stood from the chair with a fluid motion.

“Human a part of me is, yes, and unlike all of them I am too — including Senusret.”

Ammet was quicker than thought; he reached out to rip her in two, binding clauses be damned, but somehow she was even quicker. There was a crash and the marid spun around to the window where a human-shaped hole had appeared when it hadn't been there before and a flash of auburn winked in the waning sunlight. Ammet opened shadowy wings and followed her, making sure to break through the window with enough gusto. 

The stench of incense and her alien aura led him down the hill on which the large house was seated upon. Among olive trees and scrubs he looked for her, but no more flashes of auburn or even a single sound. 

“I'll tear your human flesh from your bones and throw what remains of you into the sea, as even the sacred beasts would heave at your vile nature.” He screamed and listened in closely to the ensuing silence. But then! A cracking, maybe of branches underneath a foot, he whirled around, ready to strike and tear her apart into her atoms! — and was struck square in the chest with not just one but two surprisingly potent purple lightning bolts.

His detonation missed its target by several meters as his aim was thrown off and he was flung backwards and into an olive tree which broke and splintered under his weight. 

As he laid on his back like a scarab turned upside down, the woman named Nimuë came into his view. She was floating downwards to the ground, auburn but greying hair not bound anymore and flowing freely, but Ammet didn't care about the fact that she could fly — it was the eyes, which positively radiated energy from the Other Place. Green fires burned brightly and cast her human features into something incomprehensible and otherworldly. 

“I don't think so.” Her feet touched the ground and she crossed her arms. The green fires died down to a glow and now he saw that her expression was less one of anger but rather extreme crossness, like an usually benevolent priestess whose acolytes had vexed her one time too many.

“So, tell me: could he do that? I know the answer, and now let me continue. Be lucky you haven't harmed me, or you'd be back in Circe's gentle care — you will find that she has no love whatsoever for spirits.”

The voice remained the same but if there had just been a gentle hint of the Other Place in it before, now it was the defining trait of it. 

Ammet got back on his feet and as he did so shifted back into the shadowy silhouette. 

Instantly, Nimuë's demeanor changed. Her eyes widened and her hands twitched and as if she wanted to reach out. 

“That form.” She whispered.

“Only the clause is preventing me from causing you such pain that your screams would be heard on even the most desolate corners of this spinning ball of mud.” Ammet spat. The lightning had caused him hurt momentarily but nothing he couldn't shrug off after mere seconds. It had been of the force of something an afrit could've hurled at him, but on no plane, not the first seven nor anything above was Nimuë anything but human.

“Good.” She stated coldly and leaned against an olive tree. “Can we continue? I'd prefer it down here, in case you decide to lose your marbles again. As much as you are a guest to me I am a guest in that house.”

Ammet pressed his shadowy lips together tightly like he had seen it done before so many times but nodded. Nimuë let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair, tying it up once again. 

“Either way, Ombos… Set's city back then. But it wasn't the name” She made a meaningful gesture with her hand. “You told me. Those who held it were prominent rulers of Egypt, alright, but not a single magician. So, evidently, it had to be someone either off the records or they were on the records but not as that. To this day, I don't know who it is but considering your reaction… well, you catch my drift.”

She grinned. Ammet's guise had no facial expressions but he most certainly wouldn't have smiled.

“You were considered dead for the last three millenia, so imagine my surprise when that is anything but the case. For a spirit to show up alive after the only reports I found of him were in some old tomes that haven't been touched in two centuries, that was quite something. And of course, no one just happens to stumble into an amphora, especially when that one is at the bottom of the ocean. So someone must've not just done you dirty but done so while fully intending to make it as horrible as possible. I figured you would both need rest as well as desire for retribution — but the former was more important than the latter.” She sneered. “You should be glad you couldn't see the sorry state of your essence when I destroyed the jar. And the way the world has changed in the last millennium and a half… well, if my essence crawls at the thought of it, and I have witnessed all of its development, then I don't want to know how it must've been for you.”

Ammet stared at her. 

“To answer your question concerning me, I trust you as a spirit to keep this a secret, especially because I might be the greatest ally whose paths you crossed on Earth. But yes, I am of the Other Place, despite what appearances might say otherwise.”

The maid's essence shivered in disgust as he considered what she said. “But you are not visible as a spirit.”

Nimuë smiled, and even though she couldn't change her form it had a sharpness to it only spirits could manage.

“Yes, and as revolting it might be to you, I have my fair share of advantages in turn.”

“Such as?” 

Nimuë curled her upper lip in a self-sufficient smile. She was too human to be a spirit, there was no doubt about it.

“No pain whatsoever, Lord Ammet.”

No pain? But…

“What about the human?”

Nimuë grinned. “Oh, she's here — but at the moment I hold the reins. It felt appropriate to speak from spirit to spirit so she took a backseat.”

The marid regarded the creature. Oh, there was not a doubt that she had lost her mind. Whoever willingly shared a body with a human… what a perverse thought. And yet, unbidden memories came to him, of a time when he had wished he could just do that… when he had done it, only momentarily though and it was never enough...

“You disgust me.”

The spirit in a human's body scoffed. “What a way to show gratitude. I won't let you be locked up by Circe, as she no doubt showed you her wicked little prison, but I'm nevertheless disappointed. And here I thought that a spirit who held such a curious and invaluable possession in obvious affection could see the future just as I do!” She sniffed. “Yes, I do share a body with a human being. It is a quite benevolent and mutually agreeable partnership and I am not bound by cruel words, bonds and contracts.”

Ammet wanted to respond to that but found out he couldn't. Nimuë seemed to notice too and took that unashamedly as a victory.

“Do you wish to know anything else about me? Or is enough of my oh so disgusting nature revealed to you?”

The marid gave her a sharp look but still was silent.

“Alright. Because I have a proposition for you. A cooperation, the summons are a necessary part of it at first, sadly, but we'll find a way around that.”

Ammet let out a dry laugh. “I'd like to see you try merging me with a human. I would rather eat myself.”

Nimuë cackled, it was an unpleasant sound coming from a spirit who thought themself more human than anything else. “Oh, I doubt you'd commit to that part. I consider myself as something of a visionary, thanks to having made use of some groundbreaking discoveries that were right in front of humanity's nose but as always, they either don't have the ability to see it or are too wrapped up in their hedonism and selfishness to think further than themselves.” The green fires lit up for a brief moment, mischief sparking within them. “Let me tell you a bit about that and then onto my questions — or rather, my question. Then regardless of your answer you are free to return to Circe's gentle hands for her to dismiss you for you to return home. She won't like it but she will have to live with it. She is the sort of magician who hates all spirits after having been wronged by a single one of them despite being tied to his charge.” 

Nimuë shook her head.

“What about the box? Was that just an empty threat?”

Instead of an answer, Nimuë simply smiled. Then she pushed herself off the tree and approached Ammet. In front of him, she stretched out her hand for him to shake.

“A good magician never reveals his tricks. So, what do you say? Is there an angle for a deal here?”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: War is the death of Honor

General Xiaon stood outside his command bunker and looked towards the sky. The night was clear and the lights danced across horizon likes crystal gem stones. But Xiaon knew the truth. The majority of those lights were not stars, but running lights of enemy warships that now circled his home world.

Since the destruction of the Combra fleet several days ago the Coalition had been holding orbit around the Combra home planet, their final stronghold. 

Xiaon remembered how the campaign began and how things had changed such drastically since then. When legions of Combra warriors marched into waiting dropships to be ferried to their fleet number in the tens of thousands, how they had set out and conquered dozens of systems  and expanded their great empire. Then how one by one the planets had been reclaimed by the Coalition, how armies were decimated, their fleets lured into traps and cut down bit by bit, until now the Combra had been driven back to their homeworld waiting for the final battle. It was a battle that Xiaon knew his people would never win, yet they would fight all the same. Many would die, but Xiaon knew his people would survive and rise again. The Coalition was comprised of many species that were not as familiar with war as the Combra and had only joined together for mutual stability and support. Xiaon had not considered them a threat and after several years of fighting they had nearly been broken by the Combra war machine. It wasn’t until the latest species had joined their coalition and brought fresh fire and spirit that gave them hope to turn the tide.

They called themselves “Humanity”, and they were as skilled in warfare as the Combra. They were now the main driving force behind the Coalition’s counter attack and had the reason Xiaon now was forcing himself to do the unthinkable. 

He turned on the spot and reentered the command bunker, the hallways filled with officers carrying reports of troop deployments, ration supplies, and other such material needed for the final battle while warriors stood guard at every entry. As he looked at each as they passed by he could see that they had not lost the will to fight and would die before they surrendered. This both pleased and saddened Xiaon. 

Entering the main control room all the officers present stood to salute their leader. Xiaon returned the salute and motioned for them to continue with their work. He sat at his control console and gazed around at them for several seconds.

“This will be my legacy.” He thought to himself as he began preparing for what he was about to do. “But it must be done for the salvation of my people.” 

“I’m sorry General, did you say something?” Xiaon realized he had spoken the last part out loud and caught the attention of his second in command. “Frolock, I want you to open a direct line of communication to the enemy fleet.” Frolock paused for a moment. “But would that not give away our position?” Xiaon chuckled. “They have plenty of time to map out all of our military positions by now. Believe me, they know already this is our HQ.” Frolock nodded. “As you command general.”

Frolock walked away and fiddled with his own console for a few moments. “We have a direct line general.”

Xiaon paused again. There was no going back now....

“This is General Xiaon of the Combar Empire. I wish to speak with the leaders of the Coalition and discuss the terms of the Empire’s surrender.” 

The room suddenly went dead quiet. Every pair of eyes turning towards the general, not fully wishing to understand what they had just heard. Some of them looked as if to speak but Xiaon held a clenched fist into the air and glared at any that looked like they would cause a scene, his gaze was intense enough to make several look away. 

“General Xiaon, this is the flagship Newbury Castle, please repeat previous message.” The shrill voice over the comm told Xiaon that he was speaking with a human. He had tortured enough to know their tone of voice. “I say again, this is General Xiaon of the Combar Empire. I wish to speak with the Coalition leadership and discuss the terms of the Empire’s surrender.” 

Another long pause, no response. The command center was a still as the grave and no one dared even move for fear of being cut to ribbons by the tension in the air. 

“Understood General Xiaon. A dropship has been dispatched to your location for retrieval so you may speak face to face with the leadership. It will arrive in the next ten minutes. In the meantime, please issue a general stand down order to your remaining forces. Failure to do so will rendered your Empire’s chance at a peaceful end to this war null and void.” 

“Understood. I will issue the order now and be waiting by the landing fields.” Xiaon killed the communication. He then switched on the override signal his command status gave him and spoke to the entire planet. 

“People of the Combra Empire, this is General Xiaon. We have fought long and hard and we have done our ancestors proud. I count you all as my brothers and sisters for your loyalty. But as your kin I feel it is my duty to tell hard truths, and the turth is this war is over....The enemy orbits our planet now with the same fleets that have driven us from our conquests for the last year and is ready to wreck untold damage across our beloved homeworld. I can not bare to see anymore of my kin die, nor see our world ripped away from us.”

“Moments ago I communicated with the coalition and offered to discuss the terms of our surrender. Many of you will hate me and want me dead for such actions and will say I am a disgrace. I can not refute that claim I will bare that shame if it means my people will see another sunrise, that our warriors can return to their families, if no one else must die. We have lost this war, but that does not mean we will not rise again. I ask that you honor my final wish as your leader and follow my order with the same loyalty as any other I have issued before. Believe me....this was the only way.”

Xiaon killed the communication and stood from his chair before marching away. There were no cries of disloyalty nor attempts made against Xiaon as he marched away. Officers and warriors stood aside for him and saluted, but Xiaon could not bring himself to meet their gazes. 

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

Xiaon had ridden the dropship into space and had gazed at the elaborate rows of ships surrounding his homeworld. A vast armada of ships of every size with wings of fighters and bombers circling each one.

He saw sleek Slimpton cruisers with their smoothed edges and reflective surfaces, Morbith ramshackle bardges that looked like garbage dumps with rockets attached to them, Ziplin war spheres with their elegant gravity rings circling them in ever changing patterns; but most of all he saw the box like ships of humanity. The most numerous ships of the fleet, Xiaon estimated humanity provided 75-80% of the total fleet strength present. What they lacked in style they more than made up for in understanding of war. Each ship was armed with dozens of weapon batteries, missile launchers, rail guns, and shielding that Xiaon was surprised humanity had not followed the Combra way and begun a path of conquest. 

His dropship had taken him to the flagship Newbury Castle, a massive human battleship. When he exited into the hangar he was met by a considerable security detail who performed another search of his personage. He had already been searched once before entering the dropship but the security was not taking any chances when it came to the protection of their leaders. 

He was led through the halls of polished steel flanked by armed guards. The path was entirely cleared by security teams and onlookers watched from behind security checkpoints. Xiaon gazed at them and saw many faces of disgust and hatred. Some shouted at him, some spit in his direction, one even tried to lob a object of some type at him before a security guard caught their arm and stopped them. Rather than beat the offender the guard merely shook their head at the would be attacker and they backed down. Xiaon was hardly surprised at the response. They had been fighting for years now and expected nothing less, that was how all true warriors should be on the battlefield. 

Finally, Xiaon stood before massive doors depicting some sort art work. The doors parted and Xiaon saw a massive room. An entire side of the room was a reinforced window showing the Combra homeworld below. Xiaon saw a group of figures huddled around the window and he assumed they were the leadership. Some turned to face Xiaon as the doors opened, others glanced in his direction before resuming conversations they were already having, one figure Xiaon noticed had not appeared to react at all and continued looking out the window at the planet below. 

“Presenting General Xoon as requested.” One of the security guards spoke. “It’s General “Xiaon” actually.” Xiaon said to the guard. The guard turned to him and leaned in close and whispered “I don’t give a fuck what you call yourself. If it were up to me I would have blown your ass out the nearest airlock the moment you entered this ship-” 

 “Thank you master of arms.” The new voice came from the seated figure who had not risen when Xiaon entered. The guard saluted the figure without hesitation and stepped back several paces. Xiaon recognized respect when he saw it and clearly this human guard held the figure in high admiration. 

A slender Slimpton stepped forward from the group. “Would you please come closer General, we can hardly discuss such  important matters with you so far away.” Xiaon looked around the room and then back at the guards. “Do you not think I would not use my arms to strangle the lot of you were I to get close to you?” Xiaon responded. Several of the figures took a step back in fear but the seated figure merely chuckled. “I’m sure you would try, but I have faith that my security team would be over you in a matter of seconds and break your legs and arms without hesitation.” “You would not kill me?” The figure chuckled again. “Unlike your kind, we do not shoot the messenger here.” 

Xiaon stepped closer to the group and was now at the base of the window. He could all of the Coalition species here. One by one they introduced themselves until only the sitting figure remained. “Who are you?” Xiaon asked. 

The figure finally stood up and turned to face him. They appeared as a human female. Youth radiated off her dark skin like the heat of a sun yet Xiaon could see some grey strands of hair making him unable to properly judge her age. She had a strange cloth wrapped around her head revealing only her face, but this concerned Xiaon little as he had never bothered with human fashion. 

“You may call me Admiral Amara, leader of the retaliatory fleets.” Xiaon snorted. “Were it not for your victories I would have laughed at the idea of a female leader of war.” Without warning a guard stepped in behind Xiaon and brought the butt of their rifle hard against the back of Xiaon’s knee causing him to fall to the ground. “YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO THE ADMIRAL WITH SUCH DISRESPECT!” The guard shouted. He raised their rifle again to strike Xiaon when Amara held up a hand to stop them. 

“Thank you master of arms. You don’t need to worry on my account over such trifling thins as insults. They are the signs of a poor loser which only makes the general’s situation all the more laughable, wouldn’t you agree?” The guard saluted again and stepped back into position. 

Xiaon rose to his feet unsteadily. From the reactions of the surrounding leaders it was clear that even though it was a coalition, humanity played a larger role when it came to handling matters. None had sought to stop or censor the guard or the Admiral for their actions.

Admiral Amara returned to her chair and looked at Xiaon. “I believe you came here to discuss something did you now?” She spoke with a smile. Xiaon nodded. “I have come before you as the leader of the Combra Empire to discuss a cessation of hostilities and lay the ground work for a better future for our children.” 

Many of the delegates nodded and smiled at the words. Xiaon could only imagine that many had longed for the day to see the Combra people defeated. Xiaon eyed Amara as she sat in silence. Were it not for humans the Combra would have won the war and these fools would be at his feet begging for mercy. 

“Do you have children General?” Amara’s question took him by surprise. “Excuse me?” “Do you have children General Xiaon?” Amara asked again, her head cocked to the side as she smiled at him. “I have two sons who both serve alongside me. They are still on the planet below.” Amara nodded at the answer. “With a reputation such as your I imagined so. Females of you species must be lining up to bear the great war heroes children.” she chuckled.

Xiaon was unsure how to respond to that and shuffled in place. Before he could answer Amara turned to the other delegates. “Anyone else here have kids?” They all rattled off varying answers, Xiaon was suprised to hear that the Morbith member had some 500 children back on their homeworld. With each answer Amara smiled and nodded her head until she was the last one. 

She pulled a picture from her pocket and showed it. “This is my daughter Gabi, I carry this picture with me every day so I can see her smile.” Amara flipped the picture around and looked at it. “One of the smartest kids at the academies back on Earth. Aced all her classes, never got into any trouble, always willing to help her friends when they needed it. The size of her heart would make any parent proud.” 

Amara stared at it for several seconds more. Xiaon was confused by the situation, this was not what he had expected when he had decided to surrender. From the looks of the other leaders Xiaon knew they were just as confused as he was. 

Amara seemed to remember that there were others in the room. “Apologies, I got distracted. General Xiaon, I couldn’t hear what you said earlier. Could you come closer and say it again?” Xiaon stepped pas the other members until he was in front of Admiral Amara. 

“I, General Xiaon, have come to-” 

A sudden kick in his knee sent Xiaon sprawling to the ground again. Before he could utter another word he felt a metal band placed over his mouth by one of the guards. It that latched to his head and prevented him from speaking and despite how much he clawed at it he could not remove it. 

“I’m sorry General, I still didn’t catch that.” Xiaon glared at Amara who was still sitting and smiling at him. He made to lunge at her but was once again bashed to the ground by the guards. They grabbed hold of his arms and held him on his knees in front of the Admiral. 

“Admiral Amara,” spoke the Slimptom leader spoke, “this is hardly the proper way to-”  Amara held up a finger to her mouth and shushed the member. 

She returned her gaze to the kneeling Xiaon. “Clearly the general here needs time to gather his thoughts about a proper surrender so while he does that I will just speak until he is ready.” She turned to the other delegates. “Understood?” They all nodded in silence, afraid that they would be treated the same if they objected. 

“Do you remember how humanity was drawn into this war general?” Xiaon looked at Amara not understanding the question. “Humanity had no interest in either side and we were fine with staying to our own affairs. That was until one day a Cambora scout vessel fired upon an unarmed cruise liner that was making its way between Earth and one of the coalition worlds.” 

Xiaon remembered it. The scout vessel mistook it for a military cargo ship run by the Morbith and destroyed it. Several hundred of the passengers had been human and the outrage had pushed humanity to enter the war. 

“I remember that week very clearly General.” Amara continued. “Gabi had just finished her time at the academy and had lined up a job with a ship yard orbiting Pluto. She called me to tell me how excited she was to help build the next generation of ships. She had been working herself studying every day and night for weeks to pass and was completely wiped out afterwards. I mean, during our conversation I’m sure she passed out at least once.” She chuckled.

“So I suggested she take some time for herself and go on a vacation before starting the new job. To let loose and have fun.” She turned the picture of her daughter around so Xiaon could see it clearly. 

“Can you guess what she decided to do General?” 

Xiaon tried to speak but all that came out were grunts as a horrifying realization came over him. 

“That’s right....she decided to go on a cruise.” 

Amara’s face lost all warmth instantly and Xiaon now felt as if he could sense a deep rage from her that he did not think humans capable of. 

“She went on a cruise with some of her friends and that’s when your people blew up her ship. Despite repeated calls that they were unarmed, despite the clear signs that it wasn’t a military vessel, despite there being a fucking swimming pool on the deck in plain view!” Amara’s hand was trembling, the picture shaking in her grasp. “And if it was not bad enough for the universe to take my only daughter away from me they never found her body among the wreckage.” She stood from her chair and went to the window. 

“My baby girl is out there somewhere in that cold void, alone and so far from home. My baby girl....” 

She met Xiaon with a gaze cut him to the bone. “You attacked an unarmed ship! You murdered hundreds of innocent lives! You took away the only thing that mattered to me!”

She stormed towards him with her arm raised ready to strike him, but stopped herself. The tension in the room felt like a knifes edge as all watched on waiting for what would happen next. 

Finally, Amara lowered her hand and straightened herself. 

“You attacked the innocent,” She said, the smile slowly returning to her face “and by doing so you have removed any sense of regret I would feel over this.”

She turned back to the window ignoring Xiaon’s confused face. 

“Attention all ships.” She spoke loud and with a commanding voice. “The Combra delegate that came aboard my flagship with promises of surrender spoke only lies and attempted to murder the entire leadership.” 

“MMPHFR?!?!?” Xiaon shouted into his gag. 

“In light of these actions it has become clear that the Combra can not be trusted to peacefully lay down their arms and coexist with the rest of the galaxy. Therefore, for the preservation of peace I hereby authorize orbital bombardments on the entire surface. Turn their world to ash so our fallen may rest in peace. Prepare to fire on my command.” 

Xiaon was now screaming into his gag and trying to rise only to be beaten by the guards holding him. 

“Admiral Amara we must protest!” The delegates now seemed to find their courage. “We can not permit such actions!” “It is nothing less than genocide!” “We must be better than these animals!” 

All Amara had to do was raise a hand to silence them. 

“Any ideals of honor or respect between enemies went right out the window the moment they attacked innocent people.” 

She stared down the lot of them. 

“You might think I am alone in this but there are several hundred grieving families back on Earth that also lost their loved ones to those that didn’t care if they murdered innocent people. We went to war because of them and you all are standing here because of their murder because were it not for that you all would be bowing to this asshole here!” She pointed at Xiaon who was still struggling to get free. 

“So shut the hell up, smile for the damn cameras, and go home and say you won the damn war. Because so help me if any of you attempt to get in our way we will hold you no different from the monsters we are about to erase from the galaxy.” 

The delegates went silent. No one would dare risk the wrath of humanity, not after learning that a few hundred deaths of humans would make them wish to exterminate an entire species. 

“Admiral, all ships report ready to fire.” Came the announcement over the loudspeaker. 

Amara looked down at Xiaon one last time as he pleaded as loud as he could for mercy. 

“Burn it all.” 

[tanjamikaelson]

LOVE FOR ETERNITY - PART 82

MASTERLIST

PART 82: | DARKNESS AT THE EDGE OF THE TOWN |

Freya was ready to perform a spell and bring Natali back. She picked up the jar of ashes and removed the lid before dumping it's content into the mixture of soil and water she's created in her stone coffin. She then thrusts her hands forwards and lifts up her arms as she begins her spell, "Fian en che en kanu! Fian en che en kanu!"

She continues her resurrection spell, which has caused all of the lit candles around her to flare brightly and starts to chant loudly, "Fian en che en kanu! Fian en che en kanu!"

Suddenly, all of the flames from the lit candles around die out and Freya stops chanting. Kol and Freya anxiously look at the stone coffin, whose soil, ash and water mixture has completely solidified.

They watch the bow-solidified soil and ash mixture as it begins to crack, but to their surprise nothing else happened.

  - Kol looks into the coffin, “Where the bloody hell is she?” he demanded to know.

  - “It’s like she wasn’t there at all.” Freya says, “Maybe the ancestor got to her first.”

  - “Do it again!” Kol exclaims furiously.

  - “I can’t, that’s it Kol.” Freya tells him.

  - “You should have never agree with her plan. I should have never agree.” Kol says angrily.

  - “But it worked, we defeated Lucian.” Freya tells him.

  - “Shut up, Freya.” Kol shouted, making her flinch, “Obviously I’m the only one here who can make good plans and decisions. So now you listen to me, we’ll go to the ancestral world and find her.”

  - “Are you mad?” Freya asks him.

  - “You know the answer to that question.” Kol replies.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

Kol, Freya and Rebekah were in the courtyard and they prepared everything for the spell to take them to the ancestor world.

  - “So how exactly does this work?” Rebekah asked them as she sat in the circle between the two of them.

  - “You will be our anchor to this side.” Kol tells her and uses a knife to slice open his palm, then he also uses a knife on her palm, while Freya repeats their actions.

  - “Once we cross over we’re going to be in enemy territory. We’re gonna have to move quick and find Natali. Otherwise the ancestors are gonna shut us both down.” Freya says and takes out a potion and drinks it. 

  - Kol looks at Rebekah, “Bekah, just don’t go mad while we’re there.” 

She just gives him a small smile, hoping that won’t happen. They both take Rebekah’s hand and lay back with their eyes closed. Freya then begins to chant in order to bring them to the witch purgatory, “Prezeve lyen lavi nou. Prezeve lyen lavi nou. Prezeve lyen lavi nou.”

Kol gasps awake a moment later sitting up straight in the ancestral world. Freya also awakens as they both get to their feet. Freya uses Natali’s necklace so they and find her, while Kol stands behind her watching and waiting.

While Freya was chanting Kol saw someone in the dark and realized that it was Davina.

  - “Davina.” Kol says as he sees her and walks towards her.

  - She turns to face him, “I guess you came here to look for Natali.” she remarks.

  - “Where is she? What did you do to her?” Kol demanded an answer.

  - “She is not here anymore.” Davina tells him.

  - “What do you mean by that?” Kol asked.

  - “When she died in my body, the both of us came here and the ancestors were waiting.” Davina began, “I don’t know what they did to her, but she was suck into oblivion and she isn’t here anymore. So whatever you try to do to bring her back, it won’t work.”

  - “Kol, it’s true. I can’t find her.” Freya tells him, approaching him from behind, “We need to go back.”

  - “First you need to pay for what you did to me.” Davina says and starts giving Kol an aneurysm.

Freya reacts quickly and thrusts him out of the ancestral world. Kol awakens beside Rebekah with a gasp, releasing her hand. 

  - Rebekah looks at him confused, “What happened? You haven’t been there long.”

  - “Natali isn’t there.” Kol tells her.

  - “Where the hell is she then?” Rebekah asks.

  - Kol was silent for a moment, processing what they just found out and all he could say was, “I have no idea.”

Few moments later Freya also awakened with a gasp.

  - “Freya, are you okay?” Rebekah asked her.

  - “I’m fine.” Freya replied, then she looks at Kol, “I told you it wasn’t safe to go there, who knows what would happen if we stayed longer.”

  - “Well, at least now we know that Natali isn’t there and I can try and find another way to bring her back.” Kol tells her.

  - “I’m sorry Kol, but I’m not sure if it’s even possible.” Freya says honestly.

  - “You don’t know anything.” Kol says, “And you know what, I personally hope the bloody prophecy is true, you can all rot in hell for all I care. I’m just sorry I won’t be around to see it.”

He turns away from her and Rebekah, and begins to walk out of the room.

  - “Where are you going?” Freya called out.

  - “None of your business, alright? There is nothing for me here.” Kol told her.

  - “Kol, you know that’s not true. Your family..” Freya trailed off, trying to convince him to stay. 

  - Kol turned to face her suddenly, anger taking over his features, “Do not lecture me about family, sister or not! Now you may have spent your entire life searching for us, but I never for a second wanted you.” he growled at her before finally leaving.

  - “I’ll talk to him.” Rebekah tells Freya and follows Kol.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

Rebekah went to Fangtasia because she knew that was probably a place where she will find Kol. When she walked in the only person at a bar was Eric.

  - “Hello, Rebekah.” Eric said the moment he saw her.

  - “Hey Eric. Is Kol here? Did you see him?” Rebekah asked.

  - “Yeah, he basically run up stairs, didn’t even said Hi.” Eric told her, “I’m guessing plans didn’t go as planned?”

  - Rebekah sighs, “Natali isn’t in the ancestral world, we don’t know where she is and if she can even be brought back.”

  - “I never thought something like this could happen, especially not to her.” Eric tells her, “She’s been through a lot of things to just be gone like this. But I’m sure Kol will do everything to bring her back.”

  - “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Rebekah says, “He will kill everyone who fail to bring her back and a lot more, because that’s the way he will fill the void inside of him.”

  - “I know. I’ve been around long enough to see how he deals with anger.” Eric told her.

  - “Anyway, I’ll go up stair to try and talk with him.” Rebekah tells him, “It was nice talking to you.”

  - Eric smiles at her, “Hopefully we can do this sometime again, over drinks?”

  - Rebekah gives him a small smile, “Maybe after my family deals with this prophecy that is set to destroy us.”

  - “Whenever you are ready I’ll be waiting.” Eric replies and Rebekah leaves to find Kol.

Rebekah found Kol in his and Natali’s room, he had a few grimoires on the bed and was looking through them. 

  - “Kol, can I come in?” Rebekah asks nicely.

  - Kol looks at her direction, “You already did.” he remarks.

  - “I just want you to know that I’ll be by your side and help you with whatever you need.” Rebekah told him.

  - “I don’t need your help.” Kol simply tells her.

  - Rebekah sighs, “Don’t be like that, Kol.”

  - “Like what?” Kol trailed off, “Please enlighten me how should I be right now.”

  - “Just let me help you.” Rebekah says, "This doesn't affect only you. I care about Natali too, she was my best friend."

  - Kol let’s out a laugh, “Like you can. You don’t know anything. And besides I’m going away from New Orleans and you better don’t come with me because we both know as soon as Klaus needs you, you will leave.” 

Suddenly, Rebekah’s face grows cold and it’s clear that the darkness from her curse has flared up at this statement.

  - “You know what I think? I think you need some good old daggering right now.” Rebekah tells him.

  - “What did you just said?” Kol asks her and when he looks at her he saw that her eyes darkened. He immediately stops what he was doing and looks at her with concern.

  - “Yeah, you’ve heard me right.” Rebekah says.

  - “This isn’t you talking, it’s because of the curse.” Kol stated.

  - Rebekah walks towards him, ignoring what he said, “At least Klaus was right about that, he knew when to put you down.”

  - But Kol didn’t liked what she was talking about, so he strikes back “The only person who needs to be daggered right now is you. And trust me sister, if he could you would be the first person he daggers right now. I’ll never understand why you always choose to be by his side.”

  - “Just as you would always choose Natali over your sister, I always choose Nik over you.” Rebekah told him, “We always needed to run from our father because you would cause havoc wherever we go. Best times I had was when you weren’t around.” 

  - “Good thing then that I’ll go away and you won’t see me for a long time.” Kol told her, trying his best to keep his calm because he knew that wasn’t her talking.

Rebekah’s vampire face comes out, along with her fangs, as she lunges for Kol. She tries to shove Kol in his chest but he grabs both of her hands.

  - “I’m not going to fight you, Rebekah. I have better things to do.” Kol tells her before he snapped her neck, because that was the only way to put her down.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

Now Kol is in his car on his way out of town as he speeds through the back roads he's anxious and clearly on edge. His phone rings, and he sees it's Rebekah.

He shakes his head and tries to ignore it, biting the knuckles on his left hand in an attempt to keep himself in check. Rebekah’s call goes to voicemail and Kol was listening to what she was saying, “I'm sorry for what I said earlier and now you probably already left New Orleans, I just wanted to tell you that I just found out that Marcel is dead. He had Lucian’s serum, Elijah killed him before he took it.”

Kol just approached a sign that reads, “NOW LEAVING NEW ORLEANS CITY LIMITS” and suddenly he screams in agony as his skin starts to turn gray and desiccated, starting with his fingertips and making its way down his arms toward his torso. 

He screeches to a halt and gets out of his car, leaning against the hood as he tries to figure out what's going on. When he sees the sign, he vamp-speeds back over the New Orleans border, which stops the desiccation but increases his anger. As the powerful feelings rush back, he roars furiously. 

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

MASTERLIST

Soo, what do you think about Rebekah and Eric?

Tags: @mikaelsonsmagic   @p3nny4urth0ught5   @cute-freak27   @ias-born  @superhalsteads  @characterobsessed   @hinata7346   @luiza-4-ever  @huntress1428  @infiniteoblivion21

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker-Check

Right now, I like to write about him so expect a few more works, I’m sorry! I just saw the last movie and I really loved it.

Plot: He had a date for the homecoming dance, he had the perfect suit and a proper preparation. Peter Parker didn’t think about the winged man

The mask that had been his friend so many times wasn’t letting him breath. He could feel the harsh material on his mouth, and the glasses were more than broken. As half of his body, probably. Peter couldn’t know exactly how many bones he had broken with that fall, but he knew that at least four ribs weren’t in their right place. He tried to remember his aunt’s calm voice, Ned’s rambling about Star Wars or the smell of Mr Delmar’s shop. Anything that could make him forget about the pain.

Nothing came up, and he cried out in pain

His right hand was crushed under a huge stone pillar, so he couldn’t get his mask completely off. The left one was trying to do all the job, failing miserably.

He tried to get air into his lungs, but all he got was more dust that made him cough the little oxygen he had left. Peter had to wait a few minutes until he could get off the mask and look around properly. The explosion must had knocked him out, because the events of the last hour were a little confusing. His eyes fought against the dust and the dark and soon he could made out some details of where he was trapped. In his mind, the past hours started to run by, and he tried to grasp anything that helped him to know what had happened.

Dancing classes with aunt May, checked. The horrible perfume he had to wear, checked. Perfect suit with the blue tie, checked. The homecoming dance, his friends waving at him from the inside. Then, he ran out because he had seen something strange and he had found the man with the wings. Finally, the explosion. He knew that there was something missing on that equation, as when he forgot to put the negative symbol in on, but he didn’t know what. Just when he was about to lose his mind, he remembered.

Dancing classes with aunt May while you laughed in the couch in your beautiful white and blue dress. The horrible perfume you had made him wear. Perfect suit with the blue tie, the white rose that matched with your dress and the small bracelet he had given you for your birthday that year. The homecoming dance where he had gone with you, and his friends waving at him as you gripped his hand. You following him when he left the building and him not noticing until he was ready to enter. Him begging you to hide while he talked with the man with the wings, and you listening to the conversation from behind one big pillar.

Finally, the explosion.

Bile rose up through his throat to his mouth and he felt himself choke. He started hyperventilating as he looked around. Peter was trapped between two big and heavy blokes, face down and only one hand sticking out. He tried to reach Karen, but the operative system was on the other suit. The only thing he had was a stupid pyjamas and a huge void of anxiety and panic.

“Y/N?” he whispered and looked around. “Oh God, oh God. Y-Y/N? Y/N! H-Hey, Y/N are you o-okay?!”

Around him, only the small particles of powder moved. He tried once more to move a little, just an inch so that he could free his other hand. Nothing happened.

“Where are you?! I can’t-I’m trapped!” he shouted again. “Y/N! C-Can you move?! I-I need help!”

Moving wasn’t working, so his next option was to try the webs. Sure, his old suit might not had over 500 types of them, but he knew how to handle the normal one; he didn’t need the rest. What he needed was the shooter to work, yet it was as empty as that building. Peter let out a cry of frustration, and called your name again. He screamed it, whispered, cried, sobbed and shouted until his throat felt as pained as the rest of his body.

The tears were hitting the ground under him and the empty and wide space gave him back his sobs and screams. Not your voice or a sign that you were alive. It could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know; Peter just kept pushing until he felt how the shoulder that wasn’t hurting so bad cracked under the pressure.

“Hello?! Is-Is someone in there?! I need help!” he shouted desperately. “I’m-I’m Spiderman!”

If someone had appeared in that moment, they would have seen him without the mask. They would have seen Peter Parker with the spiderman suit and badly wounded, crying like a child. He used to think it was the worst situation he could find himself into, but thinking about your limp body between all those debris was much worse. It was his worst nightmare.

“Y/N” he cried out your name once more.

He had managed to pull up the huge slab a few inches, but as soon as he did that, he felt every muscle of his weak body cry in pain, so he had to let it down again. It didn’t fully it him, because he was trapped in a small space where his body could fit yet not get out. Thoughts about how you might had ended made him sick on the stomach.

“Please, answer me. I-I need to know you’re okay. I need to know” Peter sobbed. He tried to steady his breathing as he repeated your name as a mantra. “You can’t leave me alone in here.”

Something on his right caught his attention, a small movement that could be misplaced as an animal or the wind shaking a leaf. But the suit was not the only thing that made his senses better, he could distinguish those small details on his own. He watched with wide eyes as the stone moved again forwards, as if it was in the end of a cliff and wanted to fall off.

“Pete?”

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. Like when you thought he was sleeping and you had a nightmare. Or when you had discovered he was spiderman after he had forgotten you were still on his house. He tried to find his voice and ask you if you were okay, yet the sound of you being alive brought more tears to his eyes and broke his breathing rhythm.

Short and pained sobs left his mouth in a row, and within two seconds he was hyperventilating once more. Peter tried to move again, but the strength he had left was being used in trying not to die due to an anxiety attack.

“Baby, calm down. Come on, you’ve gotta breath for me” you talked again.

If he could have seen your face, the problem would have been solved. He had had anxiety attacks before too many times. He had facetimed you at three in the morning because he couldn’t keep up with his life. And you had gone to his apartment at seven in the morning when he couldn’t get up from the floor. Peter knew that they were bad and too common, and also that, as long as he had you, they were under control.

“Hey, Pete, why don’t you try counting with me? We-I’ll start. When I say the number, you breath, a-alright?” your voice was shaky but he managed to get out every word. With a soft okay from his part, you started counting.

One, he thought about the hug Mr Stark almost gave him when he left him for the first time in his house. It had been a misunderstanding from his part, but he liked to think that one day he would hug him for real.

Two, Mr Delmar’s cat purring into his hand as he bought his usual order. It was fat and sometimes stank, yet he had growth used to the little animal.

Three, the smell of aunt May’s failed cooking. Sometimes, when Peter was out for too long and you had to cover up for him, he would bring you to have dinner with them. Aunt May always tried to impress you with something new, and she failed every time.

Four, Ned’s rambling about the new Lego puzzle he had gotten recently. Peter hadn’t been able to build it with him the first time, but he had managed to help him the second.

Five, he remembered your hand running up and down his hair slowly. He had been sick for a whole week, and every day you had come to visit and take care of him. You would lie down with him and ran your hands through his locks until he fell asleep.

He didn’t hear the rest of them, instead focusing on regaining some composure. You kept talking to him, and your sweet and caring voice was enough for him to stop the tears and think about a solution.

In his mind, a list was already being done. Facts that he knew; his body hurt like hell, he was trapped from every side and couldn’t get out, needed to keep his breathing at bay and that you were alive a few meters away. Facts that he didn’t know; where was he hurt, if you were hurt, and how he was going to get out of there.

Peter decided to solve the second one in that moment.

“Y/N, are you hurt? Can-Can you move?” he asked.

“I don’t know” your voice sounded much further than a minute before. “I-The space is too s-small, I don’t-I think-“

“Okay, okay. Let’s- Your right arm, can you move it?”

“I-Yeah” you answered. “I think-I think I can move everything.”

He sighed in relief, his own pain nearly forgotten. The thought of you being crushed like he was felt terrifying. Peter tried to let that relief sink into his heart, to understand that you were alright and that everything was going to be fine, but something was stopping him from doing so. Besides Ned, you had always been there with him, first as his neighbour and best friend since you had diapers and then as a couple. So he could know just by the slightly low tone on your voice that there was something wrong.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, fearing the answer. It took you a few seconds to answer, and for Peter they were the most stressful of his entire life.

“I can’t-Pete, I can’t see anything” you whispered.

It was normal, he thought. That night, the moon wasn’t shinning on the sky, and the only lights that had been around the building had been destroyed in the explosion. It was okay that you didn’t see where you were, it was fine.

His sight had been able to adjust better on the dark, so he could distinguish the bigger parts of bricks and some buildings that were close to him. Still, if you were under a pile of debris, it was coherent. Peter repeated those words a few times, as if he was trying to convince himself that you could not see and still be fine.

“That’s fine. That’s okay” he let out a small laugh, that sounded too forced. “It’s night time, and-and there aren’t a-any lights. So, that’s-“

“No, Pete, I mean it. I can’t-I don’t know why I can’t see. But my eyes hurt” your muttered, and his heart broke. “C-Can you get me out of here? I want-I need to get out.”

Peter’s eyes filled once again with tears, the panic nesting on his chest. He was spiderman, he could do it. He could lift whatever he had on top of him, get you out of there, catch the bad guy and then prove Mr Stark that he was worthy of the suit. A stupid piece of stone couldn’t get on his way, right?

“I can’t-I can’t move Y/N” he cried out. “I’m trapped, a-and I-I-“

“Don’t say that you can’t” you cut him off. “You’re-Pete, you’re spiderman. I don’t care about what that- that man said. You can do it, alright?”

Was it him or you seemed to be father from him each time you talked? He breathed slowly and thought about all those times where someone had underestimated or mocked him.

Come on, spiderman. Flash, that kid from his class, calling him ‘Penis’ Parker and throwing his books to the floor. He thought about that time when, as he was leaving the high school, Flash threw him to a pool of dirty water and he kept stinking for a week.

Come on, spiderman. Liz telling him that he wasn’t… good enough to date him. He didn’t know why he did it, but he was glad he did. Her rejection was the push he needed to understand that he wanted you, not some girl who didn’t appreciate him. Peter remembered the loud laughs of her friends as she rejected him, with a arrogant smirk and cruel words.

Come on, spiderman. Mr Stark’s disappointed gaze when he discovered Peter trying to save people. He thought he couldn’t do great things, that he was made of glass, and Peter was dying to prove him wrong. He was someone without the suit, he was Peter Parker, the guy who had fought the winged man and won, and who took his girlfriend home in one piece.

Come on, spiderman! Picking up his books when Flash threw them, checked. Comforting him when Liz embarrassed him, checked. Wiping his tears when Mr Stark told him he shouldn’t be spiderman, checked. You had always been there for him, and he was going to do the same.

It was heavier than what he had originally thought; that was because it was not only a piece of ceiling, it was a whole metal structure above him. Peter managed to lift it until he could fit under it and, getting on his knees, he pushed it backwards with a loud thud.

Thousands of little particles of dust got up and moved around for a little bit, so he had to cover his eyes and shout at you to do the same. When it was finally clear, he looked around and finally found you.

“Oh God”

You were curled in a small ball some meters away from where he had been trapped, with your arms covering your face. He ran towards you avoiding the remains of the building and crouched in front of your face.

“Hey, Y/N” he whispered, watching as you looked up to him. “How-Are you s-seeing something? Is-Is it better now?”

Peter was scared to the bone that something serious might had happened to you. Besides May and Ned, you were the only thing he had. So he couldn’t help his shaky hands to reach your face and wipe all the dust out of it.

Your lips formed a soft smile that had him crying all over again. He hugged you close, not minding his own injuries but being careful with your body. The tears became sobs and the sobs incoherent words that you couldn’t understand. Peter squeezed you tight for a while, letting your, now ruined, dress drench with his tears. You whispered sweet nothings to his ear until he was able to breathe again.

“I’m, I’m seeing a little blurry” you chuckled. You eyes were bloodshot and the pupils too dilatated, but you were getting your sight back little by little. “Thank you.”

“For what, for almost letting you die?” his bottom lip quivered again. “You-“

“No, for getting me out” you pecked his dry lips quickly, a faint blush covering both of your cheeks. “You should go get that guy.”

“What? No!” Peter frowned. “I-You need to go to the hospital!”

“I’m fine. I can walk there, you have to go.”

“But-“

“Go.”

You stared at each other until Peter looked down. You knew he wanted nothing more than to go after that guy, to catch him and to show Tony Stark that he could be a trustworthy avenger. Your hand searched his and you intertwined your fingers. It almost felt like if nothing had happened, as if you were still in May’s car avoiding her awkward questions.

He looked at them as if they were the most interesting thing in that place, and squeezed them softly. His hand was full of small cuts and already bruising, as probably the rest of his body. Not like yours, that, even covered in dust, was still perfect. Peter looked up and smiled.

“I don’t want to go”

“What? You need to, Pete!”

“No, Mr Stark has already been notified with this. He-I don’t want to handle this. He can, it’s his job after all.”

“But if-“

“Y/N” he cut you off that time with a small laugh. “I don’t-I’m sure being an avenger is great, but being with you is better. I’m-I’m okay with being Peter Parker, I don’t need to be Spiderman. I just need you.”

You couldn’t help yourself and threw your arms around him. He let out a few pained grunts, but received you with a chuckle. His lips laced with you within a second and his hands found your back. Above you, millions of Mr Stark’s robots flew to stop the winged man and solve the problem.

Peter didn’t even glanced at them

What he needed? Checked.

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