#LOOK AT OUR SOULLESS SON

[just-another-miserable-prick]

Greasy Beaneas is complete!

@trainqueen379 take care of our son

[ofsappho]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani)

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

PART I: JESSICA

Lady Jessica focused her intent gaze on the Reverend-Mother’s... gift. This gaze, to which the minutiae of observation was second nature rather than practiced pretense, followed the lines of the girl-child’s high cheekbones up towards large eyes that appeared to overwhelm the face they were set in.

She’d seen that look in those eyes before. Perhaps a thousand times over, a million times over. Reflected in the mirror back at her on Wallach IX, reflected in the shadowed eyes of the girls she barely remembered. The girls that one by one fell, until amongst a hundred girls there stood five Bene Gesserit.

Jessica’s skirt rustled against the floor as she stalked closer, circling the child, examining every angle.

How interesting.

Such control in the child’s bearing, belied by such fear.

Paul had always been fascinated with off-world animals in the filmbooks; the agrarian creatures that inhabited Caladan for over twenty generations bore no thrill to her clever son. Jessica had never understood his fascination as the filmbooks rendered such organisms dead to her. Mere simulacrums of life with soulless eyes.

Perhaps one such simulacrum stood before her now in the form of a human girl. “Reverend-Mother, does she have a name?”

“We call her Chryse. However, if that name does not suit you, Jessica, you may name her as you wish. It is of no consequence to us.” Reverend-Mother Mohiam’s demeanor certainly hadn’t changed in the slightest from the days when she served her overtly. When Gaius Helen Mohiam spoke, everything from her inscrutable countenance to the even tones of her voice commanded subservience. “You will not harm nor bring harm to the girl-child. It is our one order.”

Jessica watched as Mohiam brushed her fingers against Chryse’s jaw to tilt her still face up towards the sallow light of the glow-globe. Not even a muscle twitched in her smooth facade. Jessica wondered what sort of chaos lay beneath, whether the girl would be like the jagged rocks under the beckoning surface of Caladan’s oceans. Only a fool would dive into the dark water blindly.

There was no other option but to acquiesce. “You have my word. She shall not come to harm under my care or the care of House Atreides.”

“Good.” A look passed between them, lasting only a second. Within that second lay an eternity.

The Reverend-Mother strode from the room with an economical gait, not sparing another iota of energy to look back.

Jessica knew then the precise nature of this “present”.

How many men had failed in the making of the Kwisatz Haderach? How many years, decades, centuries had her sisters carefully tended the most sacred plant, a mind that could bridge space and time. If Paul failed -

She stopped that fearful thought in its tracks, held it in the cradle of her mind’s eye, then let it pass through.

The Bene Gesserit were patient like mountains were patient. Time was an endless resource. It was better to cultivate many plants of good stock than to nurture a small garden and watch as its leaves shrivel and diel. Chryse was not and could never be the Kwisatz Haderach. Perhaps that fact ought to have assuaged Jessica’s fear. Yet - if Paul should die while he was only eleven, the House of Atreides forever extinguished, the child seemed poised to become the next vessel to carry the bloodline of the Kwisatz Haderach. Only ten years old, and she had mastered the prana-bindu like an adept three times her age. Who knew what sort of terror she had been bred to create?

Her son had already shown promise even without her training. Paul might flourish, grow into a man, grow into the mind that the universe needed. That would never come to pass if Chryse supplanted him.

Mohiam must have felt some minute degree of affection towards Jessica. If she hadn’t, the Reverend-Mother would not have left the girl in her care. The blade was double-edged; the Bene Gesserit cared not for which of the two survived, only that one of them did. Motherhood had softened Jessica to the point where she felt some empathy for her poor charge. Not enough empathy to entirely stay her hand, but enough that she wanted the girl to live. Enough that she intended to lift the burden of killing her from Paul’s narrow shoulders.

“Come here, girl.” Once she was close enough that the Bene Gesserit-trained woman could stretch out a single, finely-boned hand and press her fingers to the weapon’s temple, she bade her stop.

Jessica brushed her mind carefully up against Chryse’s, wary of the mind traps the girl had surely been taught from birth.

There were no traps. Not even a token protest.

Chryse had fewer defenses than a newborn infant. Her mind was splayed out in the open; even the slightest whisper of Voice guaranteed complete obedience. The Bene Gesserit had truly forged a weapon of a girl. She hadn’t a psyche of her own - where there should lay a personality was instead filled with iron bars of mind conditioning. Jessica’s heart ached for her. No child deserved to live like that.

A moment passed wherein she further plumbed the depths of her mind. Jessica knew then that Chryse could never use a Voice of her own. The same breeding that had left her mind wide open had left her unable to Speak. But of what use to the lineage of the Kwisatz Haderach was a girl entirely unable to use the Voice and critically susceptible to it?

The vision came on suddenly, as the waves did against the shores of Caladan. A figure whirled amongst dozens of men as they fell to their knees. The lady knew those movements by heart even though they felt wrong. It was the Weirding Way, without a doubt. At the same time, every action was utterly alien. Chryse moved through the battlefield like a valkyrie of old with hands that created ruination with every twitch. Her deficit of Voice was more than made up by her complete mastery over the physical realities of others. Lungs collapsed inwards; hearts refused to beat; nerves froze. Blood. Oceans of blood.

Without meaning to, her fingers fell away from the girl’s temple in astonishment and the vision dissipated like morning mist.

The Kwisatz Mother had bred an abomination.

The laws of nature should have forbidden such a being from coming into existence. No doubt, she wouldn’t have without the careful guidance of the Bene Gesserit. What infinite combination of genes could produce a person who could bend human bodies to their will? A weapon to be wielded against the very molecules of anatomy? Chryse had quite a bit further to go before she would become the war goddess Jessica saw in her vision, but her raw talent remained a cudgel poised over Paul’s head and ready to end his life.

This was an unacceptable outcome.

Forgive me, Jessica thought; forgive me for what I must do. “You will never harm Paul Atreides. You will never allow harm to come to Paul Atreides. You will always remain loyal to him and never betray him in the slightest. You will lay down your life for him.” She swallowed down her guilt as she watched her Voice take root in the blank shell of the young girl’s mind. That Chryse was now freed from Bene Gesserit absolute control was a small consolation for the crime done against her. For Paul to live, this girl must be subjugated.

Her wide, dark eyes blinked. There it was - a tiny spark of life in her young, solemn face. Chryse was just a girl. A young one, at that. Innocent. Guilt ensnared Jessica’s heart and held it in a chokehold. The sisterhood had not completely uprooted her weak personality, but there was no doubt that their conditioning program left permanent scars. Jessica’s Voice would not have affected Chryse nearly as much without it.

The lady resolved always to be tender to the girl. At a minimum, she could improve the quality of Chryse’s life. Jessica told herself this as she called for servants to take the girl, bathe her, dress her, and prepare a chamber for her near Paul’s. Was it so selfish of her to want her son to live? At any cost? Paul’s new companion would always be treated well and never punished. There were worse fates. For the Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Gesserit could commit any number of sins.

But Jessica knew her mind and herself. This was a blood debt that she could never repay.

Paul would be safe, and the girl’s powers would never be used against him. That would be her consolation.

-

Her palms smoothed over the muscled plains of Leto’s back. The Duke was her husband in all but name, and Jessica reveled in how he relaxed at her touch. At the school on Wallach IX, she’d learned everything but the warmth of trust and partnership built from deep, mutual love. There was no room in the lives of the Bene Gesserit for any kind of love besides the love of the sisterhood. It was this trust and love that had led Jessica to birth Leto a male heir instead of the daughters she’d been commanded to produce.

Leto reluctantly pulled himself away from her to pick through some papers strewn across his desk. “What’s this I hear about a new handmaiden joining our household?” 

Involuntarily, Jessica inhaled. “Ah, my new charge. Chryse. An orphan, Bene Gesserit trained but not suited to the task. Reverend-Mother Mohiam, the Imperial truth-sayer, has entrusted her safety to me.” She kept her hands out of Leto’s line of sight so he couldn’t see the tension in her white knuckles. Ever so slowly, the lady exhaled. Again, guilt. The guilt threatened to consume her whole.

Her husband had always been far too intuitive for his own good. “She is young.” Sometimes a conversation with him was like playing chess. Every word, every tone, every movement playing off those of the other. Jessica enjoyed such a conversation far more when the stakes were not nearly as high. Perhaps he knew even subconsciously what she felt, what she had done.

Jessica let the silence in the air hang.

Leto sat at his desk, his brown eyes never leaving her smooth face.

She conceded first. “It will be some time before the girl will serve as my handmaiden in truth, but is she not of an age with Paul?” Not quite a lie, not quite a truth. A certainty presented as a question even though she had already decided the answer.

With no other child from her in sight and no political marriage alliance contracted to provide others, her son remained at the forefront of his father’s concerns. “Paul must keep his attention turned towards his lessons. I trust you, Jessica. He cannot be distracted.” Leto was known to others as inscrutable and honorable. She could read every emotion that flickered across his handsome face. He was worried; that much was plain. He was worried about what the legacy he’d built and the enemies he made might do to his kind son. His only son.

Even though he would never know it, the solution to his worries was close at hand. “My love, every child needs a companion. There are no children of an age with Paul on Caladan and certainly none suitable for his station. I’ve seen his loneliness. I know you have too.” The truth in her words was undeniable. Only eleven years old, and Paul had never known a friend his age on Caladan. He glued himself to his filmbooks and the stories of Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Leto cared for more than just raising an heir. Jessica knew he loved Paul. He worried about his well-being. Her husband would grant her this wish. Check.

“What better place for a friend than a girl in his mother’s service? They won’t have to be parted for quite some time. And there is no better judge of caliber than the Bene Gesserit.”

His resigned sigh echoed in the quiet of his study. Checkmate. “You’re right.” Leto’s footsteps as he got up and drew closer to her were a comforting rhythm. She knew that rhythm by heart.

“I do tend to be.” The impulse to feel the rhythm of his pulse beneath her hands overtook her, and she let it. Jessica reached out to press herself to him. Her Duke responded in kind as he gently drew her arms around his neck and brushed his forehead against hers.

It was more than enough sometimes to breathe in the same air as her beloved. To know that she shared space, time, and life with him.

Leto pressed a kiss to her mouth. Without any further words, he left the room.

Her fingers pressed against her closed eyes as if to alleviate the burden she’d taken upon herself. All of this would be justified in the end. Jessica had to keep faith in that.

Reposting this unfinished dune fic i started during the 1st movie and orphaned on ao3! Seems as if there's interest. LMK if you want on the tag list.

[nightxcreature]

Little snippet of something I started today.

AN: Hi! I'm working on my first fanfic in like 14 ??? years so if it absolutely sucks that's my bad, Buddy. I wanted to post a little snippet to get some feedback and see if I could somehow get the creative juices flowing enough that I can get back into writing. This snippet is not that long, so sorry about that. Anyway, if you like it, please let me know and if you hate it...let me know that, too, I guess. Any tips are greatly appreciated on my writing and also how to use this fucking app because I've been lurking here for years and never made a single post, so I don't know how anything works. If there are typos or incorrect grammar, it's because my hands are shaking so bad from how nervous I am doing this. (and because I drank a cold brew on an empty stomach)

Based in Season 13 x 2 "The Rising Son". Dean Winchester x GN!Reader ? not sure if I should do this as an OC or not. Tips, Criticism, and Reblogs are always appreciated. 💕 18+ Only. Please don't steal my work, you don't have permission.

Warnings: Angst, language, writing while sleep deprived, and no proof reading

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Are you breaking up with me right now?”

Dean made no move to react aside from a slight nod of his head and then, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

               Shock reverberates through me; he cannot be serious. I shake my head, “No, you’re not.”

                “I don’t think you get to decide when someone breaks up with you, Darlin’.” Dean says coolly, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Dean, I really don't think this is the time for this..." Sam starts, looking sympathetically in my direction.

                I shake off my initial shock, gaining control of myself and start toward our bed to grab my jacket, “You are not breaking up with me in this room, in some janky-ass motel, in front of your brother and some soulless prophet who uses Mr. Rogers to make his life decisions. We’re going to look for Jack, get our emotions in check, and then we can reevaluate this conversation.”

                He had moved to grab the door as Donatello and Sam rushed out as fast as they possibly could. Dean stopped me short of reaching the hallway and bent down to whisper slyly in my ear, “The only thing I’m gonna do is go to the nearest bar and find myself a good time.”                  

“Shut the fuck up.” I say as I shove past him out the door.

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Thank you for reading! As I said above, feedback is always appreciated.

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

My Thoughts on Touchstarved

So, I've finished the demo! Let me start off by saying that I love the story! The concept is awesome, I adore that you can choose your own background, I love how immersive the setting is, everything is just... amazing. I can't wait for the full game to come out! Especially with all the special treats we're getting from the Kickstarter goals, it's going to be fantastic! And now, my friends, I shall share with you my thoughts & Headcannons for each of our lovely love interests, in order of appearance. If you'd like to see more, my requests are open!! I haven't gotten any for Touchstarved yet but I'm itching to write for them, I just... need some inspiration, so the more the merrier!

Kuras

First of all: pretty. I love his design, it's wonderful. He looks so ethereal! And very doctor-y, which was the point.

Can we talk about the hair, though???? How cool is that?? I love it. It looks very soft and fluffy. And so long... Could you imagine sleeping next to him? You wake up and you're drowning in floof.

He's very kind and gentle, but is obviously holding back. He distances himself from people, and like everybody else on this list, he needs to find someone he can really trust to open up and be himself with.

And he stays so busy, like... when does he ever take the time to relax? I know the city needs him and his clinic, but he deserves some time off, too.

To be honest Kuras gives me kinda like.... asexual vibes? Maybe demisexual? Idk, maybe I'm reading too much into him being reserved, but. I just feel like he either wouldn't be interested or he'd want to fall in love with someone before taking them to bed.

Leander

I love him, he's incredible. So talented, so kind!! I love the respect the Bloodhounds have for him, and how willing he is to go out of his way to help a stranger.

Also he blushes very easily and I love it, he's absolutely adorable

I am very very curious how he got so much skill with magic, because that doesn't seem to be normal. I bet it has something to do with his secret.

He very clearly has some serious trauma in his past, too. I wonder how he got that scar, if it has anything to do with his magic, if it is indeed the same scar running from his face to his arm....

Seems like he drowns his trauma in alcohol, his gang, and keeping himself very busy. Poor thing clearly doesn't get as much sleep as he should.

I think he just wants to be loved, but he's afraid to let himself be too vulnerable.

Vere

Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Fox-

Can I just say that I'm a little bit in love with his design. I mean I am with all of them but. Especially Vere. I love foxes and it's just. *Chef's kiss*

He's a cocky lil son of a biscuit tho. That tongue of his is quite sharp... as are his teeth~

I feel like he'd flirt with a Soulless to get what he wanted. In actuality he'd just murder it, but... you get my point. You're never sure if he's gonna seduce you or slit your neck.

Literally if Sage and Rime from Last Legacy had a child.

He's absolutely not trustworthy but I wanna get to the bottom of things and form that trust with him.

Romancing him would be very interesting. He's always three seconds away from eating you, but the question is... will he eat your soul, or your [redacted]?

Ais

He reminds me far too much of my friend's OC, and for that, I am the sliiiightest bit obsessed with him. At least that gives me a headstart on his characterization.

Would sell you to Satan for one cornchip, but fortunately MC interests him enough to keep them around

And Princess???? Oh my god. My heart. I adore her, I adore him, yes please

And he calls the MC "Sparrow"!!! That's absolutely precious. I love how he has nicknames for people, it's wonderful

Ais seems like the person who will tell you he doesn't care what happens to you and you can go get yourself killed for all he cares, then move heaven and earth to save you once you're even slightly in danger.

Mhin

Baby needs a hug. Enough said.

l absolutely adore them. They have stolen my heart.

And yes, maybe I do have the slightest bit of a savior complex, shut up. I'm just addicted to the hurt/comfort angst of it all, okay?

Literally hates everyone and everyone hates them (Except for, y'know, Kuras) because they're such a grumpy little loner and dear god just let me love you, let me teach you what love is.

They definitely fit into the whole "stronger than they appear" archetype because they're specifically mentioned to be pretty scrawny, but they have an impressive amount of strength and holy hells they're good with that dagger. That's incredible skill

I just. I want to break down those walls and earn their trust and teach them they have someone they can rely on who won't betray them, no matter what happens or how dark things get.

I just want to cuddle them and reassure them that everything's gonna be alright, is that a crime?

[witchersmistress]

Forbbiden Fruit- Ann's POV

This version wouldnt not stop swimming around in my head so here it is. @livesinfantasyland here is what you were thinking

Trigger warning: public sex, alcohol, a small act of violence. Ire that is going to be directed at me from the real Ann, highly likely

word count: 2.9K

Ann’s POV

I hated political events, especially ones like these. I'd be glued to Julian'side all night. We rode in silence to the event. He was engrossed by his phone and ignoring me as usual. I could not stop thinking about that tall dark stranger whose bed I was in so many nights ago. My toes involuntarily curled at the memory of the earth shattering orgasms  that man gave me. He probably has permanent nail marks in his scalp, as I clawed at his head while I rode his face. I could feel a blush making my way up my cheeks, pressing my warm cheek to the glass as I looked out the window. We pulled up to the venue and got out.

Julian escorted me inside, we stopped for pictures and to greet people but I couldn't care less. I'd rather be at home curled up in comfy pjs and watching the Witcher, because have you not seen Henry Cavill 🥵

Snapping drew me back to reality. Julian was snapping his fingers in my face. “ Excuse us for a moment, she isn't feeling well” he yanked me towards him and over to an empty corner, pushing my back into the wall and pinning my wrist to my chest, they would definitely be bruised. “What the fuck do you think you are doing? You embarrassed me, in front of those people, because you couldn't stop day dreaming like a damn child for two minutes?! I ripped my arm out of his grasp and shoved him away. “ You cannot talk to me that way..” he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him, his soulless eyes boring into mine “ That is where you are wrong. I. OWN. YOU. From the moment your father signed the contract agreeing to our marriage, I've owned you. You are mine to own, fuck, pimp and whore you out as I see fit. You no longer have any control over your life. So here is what you are going to do Anneliese. You are going to stay silent and listen, open those pretty legs when I tell you to and give me a son. After that I’ll decide if it is worth keeping you around if you are going to cause this much trouble '' I could feel the tears pricking at the back of my eyelids but I refused to let them fall. He kissed me angrily and I bit him. “You little bitch” he hissed when he pulled back and wiped away the blood. “ You’ll pay for that, you stupid girl marked my words and he stormed away.

I could taste the copper on my tongue and it was making my stomach churn. I ran to the closet bathroom and heaved till nothing was left. Sinking to the floor, I fished for my clutch with a shaking hand and grabbed my phone, I sent a text off and a few minutes later, the door pushed open and shut with a click of the lock “ Ann? Where are you?” a soft feminine voice call, pushing open the stall door to reveal my mother, she was a short woman. Long black dress, simple diamond bracelet and a stylish updo. “ Mija” she came over and cradled me in her arms. I refused to cry. She held me for a few moments before standing and bringing me to my feet with her, she fussed with my dress “ Come mija, show him you are not a woman easily broken.” looking in the mirror to check my appearance, we made our way down the stairs and into the ballroom, to where my father was waiting. My father looked up in our direction as my mother approached him  “ Ahh there she is, my pride and joy, besides my darling wife,”  he placed a quick kiss on her cheek as she approached his side “ Director Sloane, Agent Walker, i’d like you to meet my only daughter” they turned to face me and my heart dropped into my vagina. It was him, the dark haired devil I was in bed with, God I'd forgotten how breathtaking he was. Tall with dark hair, cerulean blue eyes, strong jawline covered in scruff and a sleek mustache. His eyes light up with amusement. Extending out a hand to the woman to his right then himself. He raised my knuckles to his mouth and kissed them “ It's a pleasure to meet you” he released my hand and excused himself, his eyes sparkled with mischief as he walked away. I watch him make his way to the bar and then down a hallway. Excusing myself, I followed after him.

“What are you doing Ann?” I scolded myself as I made my way down the hall searching for him “Chasing after a dangerous man” I laughed to myself. Still mumbling to myself “ of course the man i choose to sleep with hand to be the world's most..'' I felt a strong arm reach out and snatch me, pinning me and covering my mouth as I let out a yelp. Bergamot and a blend of honey and brown sugar from the whiskey that is on his lips. It was him. He tested the door before pushing us inside. As the door shut with a soft click and he turned on the light I spun on my heels to look at him.

His cerulean blue eyes focused on me. He looked so calm and collected, I couldn't decide if I wanted to slap him across the face or kiss him like it would be the last time I'd ever see him again. I approached him and went with a gut reaction, slapping him across the face, the slap echoing off the walls. “ How dare you think you can follow me..” he grabbed my face and began to kiss me, i tried to fight him off but i was losing every second, i gave in to the kiss and began to fight him another way. Sucking his lower lip into my mouth I bit down on it. Releasing it with a satisfied smirk, i went to go do it again but he dragged his lips away from mine, placing a kiss on my forehead “ I did not follow you, i didn't know anything about you, except how good you ride my cock and scream my name as you come undone, it’s a beautiful thing to watch” he said with a smirk.

 I could feel the heat in my cheeks making its way down my neck and into my chest, as I shoved at him with all my strength but it was like pushing a brick wall. I got nowhere fast. “ You cannot ever do that again'' i hissed at him, i half expected a smart ass remark, but he just looked at me with a wicked grin, pinning my against the wall  and began bringing up layers of my tulle skirt “ August, we cannot have sex again, i have a fiance, albeit an arranged marriage, but i just can't. It was a one time thing” this was a losing battle, my false bravado was slipping but i was willing to die on this hill" “ I don't even want to have sex with you again” i babbled on as he continued on his mission. 

I felt his rough touch against my panties. Goddammit, why did I have to wear the matching lingerie for this dress?!?! He slipped a finger inside me. We both knew what he had found, the truth to my lies. He found me soaking wet and dripping for him, from the moment my father called me over to introduce us. A shiver ran through my body as he moved his finger around my wet channel. “ Tsk tsk tsk little mouse” he clicked at me as he removed his finger that was glistening with my juices “ I think that you are a liar” he stuck his finger in his mouth as he began to lick it clean and released it with a pop.

“ Fuckkk, you taste just like i remember, fucking nirvana” dropping to his knees, he holds the bunch of my tulle skirt and hands it to me “ Here hold this for me” grabbing the skirts with a shaking hand, i watched as he slid off my panties and pocketed them. Grabbing my left leg he draped it over his shoulder so my pussy was wide open to him. “ You better be a quiet little mouse, so that no one can hear you” I glared at him so hard that bullets could pass through his head with ease. He flicked his tongue out to lick my pulsating clit. I  grabbed a handful of his hair trying to get him to stop but it was fruitless.

He nips at my thighs and labia, squeaking as he nips at the tender flesh. I pulled back and locked eyes with him, his eyes dark with lust “What do you want Walker'' i spat at him, as he continued to nipping at my thigh again and pushing two fingers into my weeping cunt, and began to pump them in and out of her as he  spoke '' I want you to beg me Ann, to eat you, to devour you, soul and all. Letting you walk out of this room like you just didnt get fucked by the most dangerous man in the room” he picked up his pace,  adding pressure to my clit with his thumb rubbing it in tight circles, letting my  head fall back against the wall, wanton moans falling from my lips not bothering to try and conceal them “August” i beg breathlessly as i tug on his hair “ Please, please, devour me” “Don't mind if i do” he said as he buries his face in my aching pussy.

A dark chuckle skitters across my core, and I’m ashamed of how my body responds. My hips curve towards his mouth without permission, seeking what it needs. His tongue dives into my pussy, licking inside of me with ravenous strokes. A cry leaves my lips, breathless and embarrassingly loud. The pressure builds as he finally does what I’ve been silently begging for. His tongue swirls up to my clit with the perfect amount of pressure, paying special attention to the abused bud before dipping lower again and spearing the muscle inside of my pussy. Cries of pleasure echo throughout the room.  I don’t want him to hear what he’s doing to me, but I can’t seem to contain myself either. I just lose myself. To him and the thrashing of his tongue on my clit. It’s impossible to resist as the coil deep in my stomach curls painfully tight. I can’t stop him from sucking my clit into his mouth any more than I can control the orgasm from reaching its peak. I suck in a sharp breath, a strangled cry escaping as my body falls over the edge. He plunges two fingers inside me just as I do, and the bliss is catastrophic. I no longer care to hold back the sharp screams, nor do I stop my thighs from clamping his head firmly between them. He continues to nibble and suck pussy as I come down from my high.

Slowly opening my thighs to let him escape. He lowered my leg off his shoulder with a kiss to my thigh. He rose to his full height and adjusted my skirts so I was covered. I was struggling to breathe let alone think of the consequences of my actions as he grabbed me by the neck and dragged me to him for a passionate kiss. I can taste a hint of whiskey and the taste of me on his lips and it is intoxicating. Fisting his dress shirt in my hands as I attempted to  undress him. He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. Reaching into his pocket he fished out my panties and kneeled helping me back into them, he then turned me to the door and pointed “ Go I’ll be 10 minutes behind you” nodding quietly, I slipped out the door and down the hall back towards the party.

Making my way back out into the crowd I heard my father yell my name “ Ann my darling girl” I turned and made my way towards him. He was conversing with a group of men, including father in law and the Ambassador. Reaching my father's side, he tucked me into his arm and placed a kiss on my head. My father in law was eyeing me up and down when the band began to play. “Daddy” I said. He looked over at me “ Yes my darling girl?” I suggested going to the dance floor. “Would you like to dance with me?” He smiled at me. “ Excuse me gentlemen, but my daughter would like to dance.” He stepped away and swept me out onto the dance floor. We danced in silence for a few moments before he said “I'm so proud of you, for the young woman you've become” . I smiled softly at him. He took a deep breath and spun us around. My eyes landed on August, relief flashed in his eyes as he looked me up and down before making his way to his boss. “ Sweetheart” my dad drew me back to reality. He was smiling but it did reach his eyes “Qué pasa papá?” what is it papa?  even with his eyes trained on me, his thoughts were miles away “ Nada mi querida niña, lo siento mucho, no pude darte la vida que querías.” I’m just so damn sorry that I couldn't give you the life you wanted” he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, resting his palm on my face as if he was trying to engrave my face into his memory. 

A tap to his shoulder disrupted us.  “Excuse me sir, would you mind if I had a dance with your daughter?” August asked, my father  nodded,placing a kiss on my cheek before handing me over to him. I watched him walk over to my mother and embrace her, at least they would always have each other.

August spun me around and placed a hand on the back of my  waist and drew me close as other couples left us. Holding my hand  we waltzed around the ballroom. “Ann…” he spoke in a soft but firm tone.  shaking my head and said “No, no more talking, let's just dance” he let out a heavy sigh as he spun me out in a wide circle as the music changed to the haunting melody of Lana Del Ray’s Young and beautiful I watched him as we spun, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax into his arms. Some part of me knew that this would be the last time that was ever at peace like this again. 

I felt the world melt away around us, we were just him and I again. Me calling him a devil while he had me pinned by my throat and he fucked me ruthlessly. The orgasm that ripped through me as I struggled to breath. It's something I won't ever forget. With one last slow spin the song came to an end and I opened my eyes to look at him, when I saw a hand tap him on the shoulder “ Julian” he growled. He just looked at us before he said “ Walker, I hope you don't mind, but Anneliese and I need to get going” “Ann” we both snapped at him. He just rolled his eyes as I excluded myself and went to grab my things, then Julian was practically dragging me up the stairs, he was seething, August snatched my wrist, stopping me short and almost knocking Julian over. HA that would have been priceless to see. Looking at August i said 

“ Déjame ir” Let me go,  glancing back at Julian, his brows knitted in confusion. 

“Si te dejo ir, ciertamente morirás en su mano.” he spoke in a soft tone If i let you go, you will certainly die by his hand 

 My heart grew heavier knowing he knew my fate but also that his hands were tied and he couldn't help me, giving him a small but sad smile . “Mi destino fue decidido por mí hace mucho tiempo, no hay escapatoria” she chuckled slightly “Lo más feliz que me sentí fue contigo esas noches atrás, me hiciste sentir viva y por eso siempre te estaré agradecido pero es hora de dejarme ir.”   “My fate was decided for me long ago, there is no escape” she chuckled slightly “ the happiest i ever felt was with you those few nights ago, you made me feel alive and for that i will  always be grateful but it's time to let me go. 

He loosened his grip on my  wrist so i  could pull my hand away,  “ Fairfarren, Alice perhaps I will see you again in another lifetime” i spoke with one final squeeze to my hand before he stepped away and let my hand fall back to my side as i was pulled up the stairs by a monster.

Standing on the steps waiting for the valet to bring the car, Julian was fuming, as the car pulled up, I looked  up and saw August standing on the balcony just watching me. Climbing in the car and I looked back one last time as we started to pull away, till he was nothing but white speak in the darkening horizon. 

[daintylotusflower]

The Hunt: Epilogue ONE

The Strategist - Asher Carson

We had to move rather quickly, as the place was getting crowded by now. Not just because we arrived, but also because of the saved girls who really needed to get away from this horror place.

Volkov and Kyle were quick, professionals, as expected, when hurrying everyone into secure cars and hurrying everyone to drive off. Naturally none of the fathers and sons wanted to leave their daughters and girlfriends alone, so it was a cozy family trip driving outside of the city.

Everyone needed some fresh air to breathe, though a few amongst them didn’t have lungs to live anymore.

I looked at Killian through the mirror while driving. 
King’s daughter was seated on his lap, head buried in his neck. She was asleep, or fainted from all the exhaustion. 

Poor girl.

The last days were sure a nightmare for her but the happenings from the last hours must’ve truly knocked her out.

„LANDON DON’T“

It was Levi King’s voice that echoed from the other room when we just stepped into the playfield of the devil. Aiden was quick to interrupt his bickering with Kyle to rush to his cousin and nephew.


His nephew, a tall brunette copy of Levi King, was standing in the middle of the room and shot a man that was captured and beaten, right between his eyes.

He was breathing like an angry bull, his body tensed and his eyes… hollow.

Aiden rushed to his side with his cousin and they quickly took away the gun.


„Landon! This won’t —“

„Nothing, will bring her back“ I felt the hair on my neck standing up.. he sounded like..

He sounded like fucking Arianna.
Empty, soulless and ..gone

I heard about the King men and their lack of emotions and ..heart.. Aiden has been a long-life friend and I witnessed him and his son with my own eyes but this.. this was entirely different.

Aiden was a ruthless son-of-a-bitch but he still had humanity in him. He was maybe -okay most definitely - not sharing the same moral compass as the rest of the world, but he had some.

But Landon King ? He looked like the epitome of anarchy and doom at this very moment.

„What’s going on here?“, Kyle entered the room and looked at the dead man like it was another piece of trash in the hallway.

Volkov entered too, hands in his pocket. He looked around rather calculative and somewhat annoyed by the fact that he had to leave his daughter’s side to come here.

Kyle stepped closer.

„Landon? King? What’s going on?“

Something was off, when Aiden pulled Landon away by his neck and Levi held his arms back when he tried to free himself from his uncle.

They both rushed out of the room but not before Landon was yelling at them to show the prove.

Prove?

Prove for what?

Glyndon stirred in her sleep, her fingers gripping into Killian’s chest. She was having a nightmare.
Killian’s jaw tensed and he pulled her even closer, whispering things into her ear I couldn’t decipher. It seemed to work.

„How long, Dad?“, my son sounded tired.

„An hour left“

„We can’t be going too far away from these bastards. It will only give them the opportunity to flee!“

„I don’t think they want to run, son“

„They will.“ Our eyes met through the mirror for a split second and it was like I saw myself in his eyes. Like that time when Arianna died and I blamed the world for it and stupidly my own love. But especially like that time when I found out the truth and Reina was taken away from me. And I saw her beaten up in her own blood. The rage over what had happened and how I almost lost the love of my entire fucking being, was so fucking overwhelming, I would’ve burned the world for her. Including myself.

„They will“, I agreed and something flashed in Killian’s usually emotionless eyes.

Surprise?

I nodded towards the rode.


„We will take a break-“

„I don’t need a break“, he cut me off, stroking Glyndon’s hair back while he continued gazing out of the window.

„No. You don’t“ I wasn’t being sarcastic. I knew that he couldn’t rest until justice was served.

„But Glyndon might when she wakes up. She needs water and something to eat until she gets the nutrition’s from the doctor“

Glyndon had been captive for what seemed like days without food or water. Killian did his best by nurturing her as much as he could when they rescued her. Naturally a doctor was supposed to see her and give her a nutrition boost but because of recent event’s we all needed to pack as quick as possible and change locations.

Some men stayed there, including Aiden, Kyle and Eli to go over everything.

They wanted to be sure that they had seen and found every clue possible, before joining us.

I halted at a gas station and got out, opening the door on Killian’s side.

„What are you doing?“, he looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

„I’ll pump gas and check with the others. You go and wash your damn face, grab some snacks and water for Glyndon and come back“

„I won’t leave her“, he said with a final tone.

„I’m here“

„Kill..“ I sighed and crouched down. I slowly lifted a finger and stroked a hair out Glyndon’s face, my son tensed visibly.

„Stop that“, he threatened. I allowed myself a little proud smile at that, before cupping Killian’s head and forcing him to look at me.

„You are my son Killian. And no matter what happened between us in the past and how far we are in healing.. this.. all of that doesn’t fucking matter in this situation. Because I want you to be assured that you can always, fucking always trust me“

I leaned our foreheads together. „Trust me, son. Glyndon has become my daughter the moment you brought her home and I saw you -“

„Normal“, he looked at me calmly. He didn’t sound accusatory, merely like he was stating a fact.

„Being yourself!“, I corrected him. „I know I wasn’t the best father you deserved. But let me prove to you, that no one will love you like I do son. Trust me, okay? I’d protect my daughter-in-law with my life if necessary! “

Killian’s nostrils flared and I let him go so he could look down at Glyndon’s face for a second.

He didn’t answer nor reciprocate in any form. I didn’t expect him to because I knew he wasn’t doing emotions. But him putting Glyndon softly into a comfortable sleeping position and getting out of the car was already a big prove of trust. 

I straightened so he could get out of the car. I locked the doors after closing them. He nodded once before he disappeared to grab the snacks.

While pumping the gas I dialed Aiden’s number.

„Are you done?“

„Almost.“ I heared painful groaning in the background

„Did you guys arrive at the location?“

„Almost“ I gave him back his answer. „Will you be there on time?“

„Don’t worry, honey, I know you can’t do shit without me“

I smirked.

„Fuck you, King“

„I pass“ He replied and hung up. 

Being able to fight with Aiden gave me still a form of sanity in this whole damn mess. I texted with the others, apparently some of them already had arrived.

Killian came back a few minutes later, looking a bit fresher than before. Some water droplets were dripping down from his hair strands and gave him a much more awake look. He was carrying some snacks. Maybe a bit too many for the remaining hour. He looked into the car, checking if Glyndon was still asleep.

„Feeling better?“

„No“, he answered calmly. „Not yet“

I nodded, knowing what he meant. I paid for the gas and sat into the driver’s seat and surprisingly, Killian joined me on the passenger side after covering Glyndon with his jacket and making sure that she rested well in the back.

I allowed myself a small smile.

„What did he mean?“, I asked into the 20min silence. From the corner of my eye I saw Killian’s muscles flexing.

„Who“

„Her brother. What did he mean by -“

„Not now, Dad“

I furrowed my eyebrows and passed a large truck before answering.

„I don’t think there are any better moments, son“


He sighed and I watched his Adams apple bob in silent. Was.. Killian struggling to tell me something? No, that can’t be. My son would never struggle with the truth. He didn’t have that empathy level.

„But there are worse…“, he mumbled.

Normally I would argue with him, fight with him and blame him for how he was not responding and hiding important information from me. But just a moment ago I asked him to trust me and ..I needed to trust him too.

I needed to trust in his ability to know what was right now and what was .. just not necessary at this moment.

Levi King calls my son a few minutes after, and he assures him that Glyndon is save. They arrived and were waiting for us. I could see that King was not fond of leaving his little baby girl only after finding her again but he had his hands full with Landon and Nikolai, who was giving updates on his other son.

By all the information I got, he was poisoned.

And though I could see that the elder King wasn’t the greatest fan of my son, I knew that he trusted him in protecting his daughter.

“Tell me about Ilya”, I try this time. We still had 30min to go and there was nothing wrong with getting all the information’s I might’ve missed.

“He betrayed us, what else is there to tell?”

Ilya disappeared with Knight and his daughter, Jeremy’s girlfriend Cecily.

When they were rescuing Annika, Ilya used the opportunity when shit went down to free the men that had been captured and kidnap Knight and Cecily when realizing that the latter was remembering things she shouldn’t.

“What motive does he have?”

“You mean besides Maya?”

I tilt my head down, contemplating. “Why didn’t you tell Jeremy earlier.. maybe he would’ve been more careful-“

“I doubt that”

Killian looked back to Glyndon when she made a soft noise in her dreams. He reached back to stroke her hair back, not for her, but for himself. 

Because he needed her touch just like a drug.

I waited for him to continue.

“Otherwise, it would be my fault, or rather my stupidity for not understanding it earlier but it’s not that”

Killian’s finger started drumming against the window.

“It’s about the fact that Ilya wasn’t so sure about what to do himself.”

I lifted one eyebrow.

“How do you know?”

“Cecily was about to be kidnapped again. Shortly after she was rescued. Ilya checked the room. Now knowing what we know, it’s clear that he was in onto the plan. He knew the room was rigged and yet lied to Jeremy it being safe.”

He stopped drumming and for a moment it seemed like he was lost in his thoughts.

“We dissected the room and quickly found all the cameras and hidden traps. But I also saw something, that I didn’t understand at the beginning.”

I looked over to him intrigued.

“The window. Apparently, it was shut when the men came.”

“So?”

“Are we not using our brain Carson?”

I smirked. “Watch it, punk!”

I could deal with big mouth and provoking Killian. He was much better than soulless Kill.

He chuckled humorlessly.

“So, we established that Ilya chose and prepared the room for Jeremy. Cecily woke up from the men entering the room because the window wasn’t open like it was supposed to be. They had to crash in, which woke up Cecily.”

I raised my eyebrows. It made sense.

“So, you think Ilya did it on purpose, so Jeremy had a chance to rescue her?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s a theory”

“Why would you think that? Maybe the men were really just too dumb? Maybe they didn’t expect Jeremy to be close by or for Cecily to wake up.”

“Possible” 

My son took a deep breath and rubbed his chest, right over his heart. The physical exhaustion was slowly eating him up.

“But I don’t think they planned everything so perfectly, only to fail at such simple tasks.”

“And why would Ilya kidnap Cecily and her father now, if he wanted them to have a chance?”

“Because his motive is Maya, Dad.” He turned his head to look at me and for the first time it seemed like an ounce of empathy was swimming in his cold blue eyes.

“Ilya didn’t betray Jeremy, just to betray him. He did it because of Maya.”

“Are you defending him?”

“Would you?”

Killian looked at me when I stopped at a red light.

“Defend him?”

“No. Betray your –”

“No”, I interrupted him as flashbacks filled my mind. 

“I would never not communicate and hide my problems ever again”

I felt my son’s eyes on me and though we had never told him about his aunt, he knew that a certain family member gave us the worst time of our lives.

She almost made me lose my one true love but she was only so strong because we allowed her to be. We never talked, never shared our pain with each other which is why we almost lost each other for good.

“Ilya should’ve talked to Jeremy.”

My son turned his head back and a silent filled the car until I slowly saw the airport trajectory.

“What is this?”, Kilian asked as we saw our friends and family standing in front of Volkov’s private Jet.

“Would you?”

“What?” 

I parked next to the scattered cars and looked over to him.

“Would you betray your own to safe Glyndon?”

We looked at each other for a long moment, his icy blue eyes vibrating with intensity as he thought hard about his answer.

He looked over to Glyndon who was softly sighing in her sleep when he answered.

“Yes”

Though I didn’t suspect a different answer, I couldn’t help the sting in my chest.

“Because she is my empathy. Without her, I don’t own a different perspective.”

He nodded over to her.

“So, with her being save here, I can rationalize what you are saying. It’s understandable and it’s…” He furrowed his eyebrows as if he was tasting his words “it’s probably the right thing to do. The moral-ethnical and socially acceptable way of seeing this.”

“But.. it’s not how I function Dad. Not how I will ever work. Glyndon is my only sanity so if she disappears-“

“You’d lure your cousin into a trap?”, I interrupted. I knew I had no right to feel attacked. I knew he was being brutally honest with me which I appreciated. Fuck, I appreciated it so much, even though the truth about my son would always hurt me.

But I was proud of how reflective he was and most of all, how he was trying for us all.

Even if he said it was only for Glyndon, it wasn’t true.

It was maybe because of Glyndon, which is why he learned perspective and patience, but he had always put on a mask in order to not hurt us, hurt his mother.

Even if he acted like he didn’t care and yes, yes because of how his brain worked he might not.

But he cared differently.

He adjusted to us to not make us feel sad even if he wasn’t aware that that was a form of empathy.

Killian’s eyes darkened.

“Never. Mia… “ He broke eye contact as he looked out to the others, Adrian Volkov looked at me expectantly.

“I am not defending what Levitsky did” He spat his name like a curse.

“That motherfucker deserves a slow death for what he did to Mia”

He looked then at me again, a shadow darkened his eyes now. Making him look deathly. Ruthless.

“But if someone asked me to exchange Landon for Glyndon. I gladly would”

I allowed a low chuckle knowing how much my son hated his girlfriend’s brother.

The corner of his mouth twitched for a split second before he nodded towards the others.

“We are sending the girls off, right?”

I nodded.

His jaw tensed and he looked back at Glyndon again. Desperation and reluctance were written in his face.

“She will be safe”, I assured him.

“She will be safe”, he said, emphasizing the last words when he met my eyes.

He wasn’t assuring himself or me. 

It was a dark promise.. almost like a threat.

-

Astor’s boy and Aiden’s younger boy decided to stay with the girls.

Well, not quite freely.

Nash’s youngest daughter was clearly a mess and her boyfriend would’ve rather chewed his own leg then to let go of her in any circumstances.

Her father clearly approved, though I knew that Cole would never admit that out loud. But he needed to focus on his still lost daughter and I could tell that he was relieved that she didn’t need to stand alone through whatever she’s been through.

Aiden’s youngest son, Creighton, wasn’t as easy to convince. 

But he wasn’t happy with neither staying nor leaving with Annika.

He knew that she needed to head back home, that she needed to leave this hell hole and he wanted to stay with her and protect her but at the same time the need to kill was also there. Present.

It was a back and forth until Adrian grabbed him by his shoulder and looked down on him though they were almost the same height and told him to choose himself just like Annika did too before.

I didn’t know what they meant by that.

Without using the words for it, Adrian basically told him, that he wanted him to stay with his daughter.

Creighton looked back before they entered.

“I want the one who took her”

And then he disappeared into the plane. It was clear as day what he meant by that.

He wouldn’t be here to find those men and punish them for what they did but he wanted to have at least one to torture which would be the one who took Annika in the first place.

Adrian nodded.

I didn’t look when Killian hugged Glyndon to his chest and I didn’t listen when he whispered her that he loved her and that he would come back as soon as the fuckers who did that to her would be bleeding. 

Levi approached his daughter shortly after and helped her inside.

His son was nowhere to be seen.

The girls would be sent back to one of Adrian’s hidden houses and would have the best security to protect them. 

We watched the plane start from afar when Jeremy’s phone went off. He had been quite the whole time, watching in silence when I knew that his soul was shattering.

“WHAT?”

We all looked at him tensed when he yelled into the phone. His eyes met Levi’s who stepped closer.

In return he held his phone out and put it on speakerphone so everyone could hear my nephew talk.

“Like I said. Levitsky is here. Knight and Cecily are here too.”

We looked at each other in disbelief. Why the hell is Ilya back? 

“Is Knight alright?”, Astor asked, stepping closer.

“He lost a lot of blood and is unconscious at the moment.” He waited a beat. “Cecily is with him and my men are with her”

This information was clearly for Jeremy who was now basically killing his phone with his death grip and laser eyes.

Nikolai growled like he was trying to control his beast.

“He also brought the antidote”

“Are you sure it’s the correct one?” Levi asked now taking Jeremy’s phone. The latter’s muscles ticked but he didn’t stop him.

“It’s the only one we have Mr. King... we need to hurry”

“Nikolai! What if it’s a trick-?”

“It’s not”, Killian cut in, looking at the phone with an empty look.

“How do you know, Carson?”

I looked back at my son.

“Brandon was already dying. What difference would a few hours make?”

Levi bit down on his teeth at the image of his son slowly losing his life.

“Don’t let him out of your eyes Niko!”, Jeremy barked in before they could continue to argue about Ilya’s intentions.

There was a moment of silence on the other line. Nikolai didn’t sound like himself. I knew his boyfriend was fighting for his life at this moment but knowing that he received the antidote should actually make him sound. -maybe not happy.. but more alive?

So why did he still sound like he was trying to make Brandon breathe again.

“He’ll stay. He.. is waiting for you”

Jeremy hissed, his jaw ticking with unleashed anger when he grabbed his phone back.

“Send me the fucking location of the hospital Nikolai and so help me God when I see him because he wished he’d run away”

“You’d be surprised”, Nikolai echoed with an almost hollow voice and hung up.

What was that supposed to mean?

Jeremy didn’t wait to find it out as he rushed to his car, his father following. I knew that Adrian also had a vendetta against Ilya for betraying his son like that.

“How are we sure this is not a trap?”, Astor asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I don’t think so”, Killian threw in.

“What? Do you think he suddenly had a change of heart?”, Levi spat. His tone towards my son was pure poison and I was about to punch his fucking face for that.

“Not a change but maybe a loss..”

Again, his eyes swam into a further nothing when I could practically hear his brain working.

“What are you saying, Kill?”, I asked.

“I said I would betray my people for Glyndon, Dad. Now empathize with me. When would I come back?”

He looked at me – no, past me. Like he was chasing a long-gone shadow. 

I furrowed my eyebrows thinking about his question.

What did he mean?

When would Killian come back?

Especially like Ilya. Why would he all of a sudden try to help? Seemingly?

If he wanted to safe Maya then-

My eyes widened when realization slapped me.

I felt like someone poured cold water over my head, freezing me to my bones.

“Mr King. Please show me the picture of Mia”

Mia? Wait – why Mia?

Levi looked at me for a second before he looked back at my son.

“Why?”

He just reached out his hand, waiting for him to give him the phone.

After three heartbeats Levi reluctantly handed him his photo after opening something and –

Fuck- FUCK

Was this my heart breaking?

My lungs that were shuttering?

The corners of my eyes blackened for a moment when I blinked, my eyes desperately trying to focus on the picture in front of me but my body was revolting to even witness what I was seeing.

No, no, no. Not my little princess. Not my beautiful, innocent niece!

Not M-

“Maya. This is Maya” 

Killian’s voice came out like the reapers.

Dark and lifeless.

Gone.

“The message said-“

“It’s a lie. Only to pitch Landon against us. This is Maya.. ..I ..recognize my cousin”

A heavy and dark blanket laid upon us as we all stared down to the picture. No, not everyone. Astor, Nash and King were avoiding it.  So they knew before.

And.. I looked at Killian. 

He knew too. He didn’t see the picture, obviously a mix up happened between the twins, but he knew that his cousin died. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me.

“That’s why Ilya came back”, I whispered.

That’s the only reason Killian would come back too. If it was too late. If he had lost Glyndon. Only then he’d help for a last time.

Maybe him not because of guilt but because of revenge. To stop them from plotting and pull them all to hell with him. 

“Maya is..”

“What about my daughter?”

The voice belonged to my brother-in-law. Kyle Hunter who stepped out of Aiden’s car together with him and his son Eli.

He had stayed with them behind to clean any mess they might’ve left with their last snooping and got rid of unnecessary attention.

We were so indulged that we didn’t even hear them approaching, yet alone getting out of the car.

Levi snatched the phone back from Killian and everyone kind of stepped away from the circle we all built.

“We got Ilya”

Killian announced to his uncle. “We are heading to the hospital; Brandon is being treated.”

I refused to look into Kyle’s eyes as I followed my son back to the car, but a strong arm stopped me.

“Ash” 

The familiarity broke me for a second and my eyes met with Aiden’s who was looking at us from a few feet away with a calculative look.

“What did you guys talk about? What happened to my daughter?”

I felt like needles were piercing my skin and a heavy stone was setting in my throat.

“She-“

Sudden gun shots interrupted me when we found ourselves in the middle of an attack. 

Kyle pulled my head down and we ran to the next car, jumping in.

I checked if my son got in safely but gladly there was nobody left on the open field as we raced out of danger. How the fuck did they find us so quickly?

I dialed Aiden’s number, and he picked up after the first ring.

“Did everyone make it?”

“Yeah” I heard him driving over a man.

“Everyone’s safe.” He sounded too calm.

“Put it on loudspeaker”, Kyle grunted next to me.

“How many can you see King?”

“A few. Your little trap worked.”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You brought them here?”

“We were on a hunt remember? Time to catch the prey.”

I looked back and saw Aiden behind us, both him and his son looking almost bored as multiple cars were chasing them. 

“By putting everyone in danger?”

“We didn’t. We knew they would come, obviously” Aiden stated through the phone. “Why chase them when we can let them follow us.”

“Work smarter not harder” I smirked, and I knew Aiden was doing the same. It was his motto since I could remember.

“How did you lure them in?”

I asked, not quite understanding yet why they were suddenly so open with their attacks.

“Simple”, Aiden said with and obvious undertone. “Find out that Adam is not the only one behind this shit and kidnap their accomplice who most definitely would spill his whereabouts with a tiny bit of torture”

“What a pussy”, Kyle grunted, obviously speaking about a session they both had when we left.

How long were they gone exactly?

But wait? Accomplice? As in-

“It’s not Adam Herran behind this?”

“Oh he is”

“But he apparently wasn’t alone”, Kyle commented while he made a sharp left turn, the car chase getting more difficult as we snaked through the traffic.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Who?”

“An old high school friend”

I waited.

“Christopher Vans”, he spoke darkly. 

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Song of Starlight: A Starfall Story

For the 2023 Inklings Christmas Challenge at @inklings-challenge, he's a story set and posted on December 28th--the Feast of the Holy Innocents.

A Song of Starlight

Johannes had once considered Oskar Abel a friend. The bright young manager who ran the theater, concert hall, and opera house funded by the Diriks starfall had secured Johannes the audition with the symphony orchestra, where he'd risen to first chair and featured violinist in this Christmas season's concerts. Now, as the slim, balding young man sat stiff and stone-faced behind the paper-strewn desk in his wood-paneled office, he looked like nothing but a toadying, soulless businessman.

Through the cracked-open window, Johannes could hear the daily rumble of the city street--the rattle of carriages, the distant chime of church bells, the shouts of girls selling stardust and boys selling newspapers. An entire world unaware that this supposed friend had just sent Johannes' world crashing down.

In a low voice, Johannes asked, "What do you mean, dismissed?"

Abel straightened a stack of papers against the top of his desk. "Lady Diriks has ordered that your employment with the Diriks Symphony Orchestra come to an end."

"Now? Three days after Christmas? In the middle of concert season?"

"Our patroness saw no other alternative." Abel pushed up his wire-rimmed spectacles. "I'm certain you're aware of the theft of one of the stars from the chandelier."

"Aware? The entire orchestra's been talking about nothing else since Christmas Eve!"

"I'm afraid suspicion has fallen on you."

Johannes' blood ran cold.

The star chandelier had been planned as the crowning glory of the Diriks family's new concert hall. Their mountain starfall was the prime landing place for solara stars--the largest and brightest stars that gave off the purest white light--and the intricate silver chandelier would hold a thousand of them. Lady Diriks' own son had supervised the construction, cutting every facet of every star himself. The day before its grand unveiling, one whole star had gone missing. Lady Diriks was out for blood.

Johannes had never dreamed it would be his blood.

After the shock passed, Johannes' temper rose. "What does that have to do with me? I've never seen the star! I barely walk past the workroom!"

The manager polished his glasses. "I'm afraid the circumstantial evidence against you is strong."

"What circumstantial evidence?"

"Several witnesses maintain that you were the last one in the building before the star was stolen."

"I stay late every night. I'm the featured violinist! This could make my career! I can't practice at home when I've got two sleeping daughters."

"You have recently purchased notably more expensive clothing."

"One suit! That I've been saving up for since July! I can't play for an audience of starfall elites in my old Sunday clothes."

"Stardust has been found in your dressing room."

"Cufflinks!" As the manager's face twisted in confusion, Johannes explained, "I can't afford real star fragments. I bought glass beads filled with stardust. They look almost like the real thing, but they shattered the first time I fastened them."

None of his explanations had any effect on the manager's placid face. "Nevertheless," Abel said, putting his glasses back on his face, "until a more thorough investigation can determine the star's whereabouts, Lady Diriks has deemed it best that you not be allowed on the premises."

"And how do they plan to give the Christmas concerts? Who else is supposed to play my solos?"

"Lars Henning is quite familiar with the music."

"Henning!" Johannes spat. "He's the one who accused me, isn't he?"

The manager blinked and did not speak.

The delay, the hesitation--he might as well have said it aloud.

Henning had hated Johannes since the day he had been given first chair. Johannes had seen the contempt and envy in his eyes every moment of every day. Henning couldn't accept that a starcatcher's son could rise above a scion of one of the city's wealthiest houses.

Johannes snarled, "And he's believed because his father owns a starfall while mine only gathered the stars that fell on it!"

Abel straightened his spectacles. "I assure you that no individual witness had any effect on our patroness' decision."

It would have made all the difference in the world. Starfall stock held fast to their own.

Johannes felt like the floor was falling out from under him. His anger turned into desperation. He leaned over the desk looked into the manager's eyes. "Oskar," he said, man to man, friend to friend, "you have to help me. I've worked for years to get here. I have a wife at home. Children. They need me to bring in--"

The manager's face softened. "A man of your talent will find employment in another company."

Johannes barked a humorless laugh. "A suspected star thief? Accused by Lady Diriks herself? They won't let me near the footlights!"

The manager sighed, and for a moment, he looked almost human. "I'm very sorry, Vinter, but the decision is out of my hands."

If he were sorry, he would have done something. Instead he'd caved to their patroness' demands without question. The odious, spineless, toadying pencil-pusher. A man of business in a house of art. If Johannes shook him, his brains would probably clink like coins.

Johannes picked up his violin and stormed toward the office door. "That'll be a comfort to me when my children are in the poorhouse, I'm sure."

#

Johannes refused to slink out of the theater like a disgraced criminal, so he put on his hat, overcoat, scarf, and gloves with professional precision, took up his violin case, and strode through the main lobby of the Diriks Concert Hall. The silver chandelier sprawled overhead, its million arms curling like ocean waves. In the light of day, its thousand stars were shuttered in closed lanterns that could be opened with the turning of a single lever. The masterpiece of Lord Bastiaan Diriks himself. Johannes hoped he'd go blind from it.

A single star missing out of a thousand, and Johannes' life was destroyed--his dreams, his hopes, an entire lifetime of work. Johannes' father had nurtured his talent for music, working double shifts to pay for his music lessons and later, to cover the costs that came even to students who went to the music schools on a full scholarship.

You're made for more than the starfields, his father had said. Find a job where they don't search your pockets for stars at sunrise like you're a common thief.

Now here Johannes was, a rising violinist in a prestigious symphony orchestra, cast out for the theft of a star. He could have laughed at the irony if he'd had any heart for it.

Outside, the sky was bright but overcast, sending down a light shower of snowflakes. Carriages rattled past, horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestones. The sidewalks were crowded with the skirts of window-shopping ladies, their children gazing in awe upon the the beautiful theaters. Johannes had hoped to bring his children here someday to see him play. Clara was almost old enough to come. She and Dorit would stay home this year, but his wife Agathe had tickets for the front row on New Year's Eve.

He couldn't face them yet. Couldn't come home in the afternoon when they wouldn't expect him until after midnight. He couldn't go into a tavern or cafe. He didn't dare to waste money on dining or drinking, and had no wish for company who'd know his face and want his story.

So he walked. Up and down the streets of the cruel stone city that had once been the fulfillment of all his hopes. Past markets filled with the luxuries he'd never be able to buy his children. Past houses owned by people who didn't know what it was to struggle and scrimp and have all your dreams destroyed. Past towering churches that seemed to laugh at all his prayers.

Night came early this time of year, and soon the city was darkening to match his mood. The lampkeepers emerged to uncover the streetlamps and unveil the common yellow star fragments within. High above in the clear, cold sky, a million stars, white and distant, seemed to mock him. Johannes knew the old tales of stars falling down to make the fortune of the penniless, virtuous hero who stumbled upon the treasure. If those stories had ever had any truth to them, they were only fantasy now. Should the largest, brightest star in all the heavens fall at his feet, Lady Diriks and her like would see him thrown in prison for touching it.

Ragged urchins came out of the shadows to gather stardust that had fallen from the lamps, or to offer it as heat or light to passersby. Johannes took a pinch of warming dust offered by a dirty-faced girl, placed it in his gloves, and immediately regretted the eighth-krenin he tossed her. He was like her now--always had been, he supposed--living off whatever scraps the rich saw fit to spare him, and he could spare few coins now.

Children shouted as a carriage sped through the streets--large and glossy, with gilded scrollwork and four of its very own star lamps. Through an open curtain, Johannes glimpsed a woman in a red silk gown who wore a dozen colored star fragments as jewels in her hair. Late to the theater, no doubt.

Were Johannes still with the orchestra, he'd be tuning up now. About to play one of the finest symphonies ever written for a crowd of the city's elite--people who'd paid hundreds of krenins to hear him play.

Johannes' temper rose. Lady Diriks had money enough to keep the world's finest musicians as trained pets, and keep the music they played as a luxury for the rich. All these people in the streets around him--good-hearted housewives, grocers, seamstresses, lampkeepers, even dustgirls--could not dream of such wonders.

Johannes could give them the symphony--his part of it, at least. His violin was tuned, his fingers were trained. He could give these people music that the wealthy of the city spent hundreds to hear. If Lady Diriks didn't want him, he would give her music away.

Johannes strode into the pool of yellow light cast by the nearest star lamp. With brisk motions, he set down his case, removed his gloves, picked up his violin, and began to play.

#

Birgit rushed toward the shining pile of stardust near the lamp post. She knelt on the frozen walkway and tried to gather the glowing treasure into Mama's little clay jar. Mama said falling stardust was the cleanest--Birgit should have been here when the lampkeeper uncovered and cleaned the lamp--but maybe Birgit could wash it in the fountain near the church. She'd watched Mama do it a hundred times. Stardust floated, and she could skim it up with her cloak. Then she could take it to the glassmaker on 42nd Street. He was kindest and gave the most coins.

Birgit had to sell all the stardust she could. Stardust meant coins, which meant clothes and bread and maybe a bed. There was no Mama to get these things. Mama was cold and white and stiff, and Birgit was too afraid to go in the room with those open, frozen eyes.

The memory of this morning put tears in Birgit's eyes. She wasn't crying. She was too big to cry--nearly six years old. But with no Mama--there was no Mama--Birgit felt very small, and the world felt very big and dark and cold. The icy wind sent cold knives through Birgit's threadbare cloak. She huddled against the lamp post and felt too sad and afraid to move.

In the light of the next lamp, a man stopped. He wore a thick brown coat and had shiny black boots. The lamplight made him glow, like the angels holding stars in the big church. Birgit sat up and watched.

The man set a case on the ground and pulled out a fiddle. Then he began to play.

Birgit had heard fiddles before, in taverns and on street corners, but this fiddle sang as those fiddles never had. Its voice was sweet and soft, rich and pure, like angels or lullabies. It sang to the stars, its voice reaching, stretching, quavering, making Birgit think of being warm in Mama's arms.

The song became louder, faster, richer, warmer. It made Birgit think of dancing, of candles, of the big church on Copper Hill. The cold, dark world fell away. Birgit forgot who and where she was. She knew only the music, beautiful and bright, so real that everything else seemed like shadows. Her spirit swam, soared, and danced, following the song high and low, happy and sad, joy and sorrow and so many feelings that Birgit thought she might burst. Stars surrounded her, all sizes and colors, coming down from heaven to hear the music with her.

After eternity had come and gone, the song slowed and faded away, and Birgit was herself again--cold and alone, but no longer afraid.

The music was a warm and glowing treasure in her heart, a bright, beautiful secret that no one could take away from her. And on the ground, in the lamplight, was money. Big silver coins and little copper ones, sitting in and around the man's black case. The stars had brought it, Birgit knew. She knew the stories, had seen it herself. They had come to the call of the music and turned into money. Money that meant clothes and fire and bread for sad and lonely girls.

Birgit forgot to be tired and rushed toward the money. It had fallen from heaven, so it was free to take, just like stardust. She gathered handfuls of coins, holding them close against her dress.

And then a shadow blocked the starlamp, and Birgit remembered to be afraid again.

#

Johannes saw the stars surround him as he played. At Christmastime, everyone who owned anything with the faintest claim toward being a piece of star jewelry--whether it was a fragment in a necklace, a shard in a ring, or even just some stardust on a hair comb--would wear it on the street. The people that surrounded him wore stars in all colors and sizes, but he could barely do more than glance at them, because the music had him in its thrall.

When Johannes emerged from the song, he was surprised to see the coins at his feet. At first, he was ashamed--he, classically trained, being thrown coins like a common beggar. But that was what he was now, or would be. Once the story spread, respectable people might refuse to give him even coins.

A small, ragged form darted out of the shadows started swiping coins from his case. Johannes' blood rose. The dirty little urchin! Were the creatures everywhere? A plague, an infestation on this city, stealing food from his children's mouths.

Johannes lunged for the coins, prepared to fight off the thief.

The thief looked up, and they met, face-to-face. She was young. A child. As young as his little Clara--no, younger. With sunken cheeks, unbrushed brown hair, bony hands, fingers and nails blue from the cold. Her little gray cloak was thinner than his shirt. Her shoes, scuffed and tattered, barely fit on her feet.

She had nothing, this tiny girl, fighting for her life in the cold, hard city. And he, with a thick overcoat, new shoes, a warm house, and a violin worth a small fortune, had been prepared to fight her for a handful of krenin. Johannes was ashamed of himself.

As the child stared at him, frozen with terror, Johannes gathered a handful of coins and dumped them into the girl's lap. He placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder.

"Little girl," he asked. "Do you have somewhere to get out of the cold?"

#

Agathe, bless her, understood everything. She gave the child--Birgit--a warm bath and a clean set of clothes--Clara's smallest were still too large on her--while Johannes told her what he had gathered of the girl's history. Her mother dead just this morning--frozen to death, by the sound of it. She had no lice, thank goodness, nor signs of any catching disease, so they gave her a cot near the kitchen stove, after feeding her what they thought she could safely stomach of thin porridge and plain bread.

As Birgit curled up beneath a pink-and-white patchwork quilt, she looked something like a kitten snuggling before a fire, not so different from Clara at that age. She clutched the cloth bag full of coins--she insisted on calling it "star money"--to her chest like a rag doll

"We could take her to the sisters in the morning," Agathe said. "They'll know what to do with her."

"She may have family still living. I could make inquiries."

He'd have time to, now that he was not needed at the concert hall.

"I should have been playing onstage just then," Johannes said. "If I hadn't been there, what would have become of her?" He had a sudden vision of that little face, white and frozen in an alleyway, unseen by dozens of comfortably prosperous people passing by.

Agathe took his hand. "You had far more important places to play tonight."

Johannes looked down upon his wife, the lamplight giving her brown hair an angelic glow. He'd been so concerned for himself--his loss of status, the death of dreams--and so afraid of disappointing his wife and children. Yet his saintly little wife saw only the good this disaster had brought.

"What about tomorrow?" Johannes asked softly. "And all the days after? The story will spread. I may not get work with another orchestra."

"People know you," Agathe said firmly. "They ought to know that the man who'd take in a starving child would never steal a star. If they don't know it, you don't want to play for them."

"Who else can I play for?" Johannes asked. "We can't raise two girls off of coins from the street. I have no other trade."

"Talent like yours will find release. On another city's stage. As a teacher. Even if you only play at home, it will do some good in the world. Whatever happens, God will provide." She squeezed his hand. "It is nice to have you home at Christmastime for a change."

In the distance, church bells chimed the hour. Snowflakes fell softly outside the window. The white walls of the kitchen were bright and clean, the room warm and cozy. This was more pleasant than a practice room.

Boards creaked heavily in the hall, and two small, bleary-eyed girls in white nightdresses peered into the kitchen.

"Girls," Agathe cried, moving toward them. "What are you doing up?"

Clara and Dorit raced past her, their faces alight with joy. "Papa!" Clara shrieked, throwing her arms around his waist. Dorit pressed her face against his legs. Johannes crouched to gather them in his arms.

"You're home early!" Clara said as Johannes pressed a kiss into her hair.

"I couldn't spend another night away from my girls," Johannes said.

Birgit started awake, sitting upright and wide-eyed as she goggled at the riotous little intruders.

Dorit tugged at Johannes' sleeve. "Who's that?"

How to explain a dustgirl--unimaginable poverty and desperation--to such innocents? "She's a little friend who needed a place to sleep. I met her when I was playing my violin on the street."

Clara seized one of her Johannes' wrists and tried to drag him toward where his violin case sat on the kitchen table. "Can you play for us, Papa? We haven't had any Christmas music yet! You give it all to everyone else."

Johannes was startled. When was the last time he'd played for the girls? He'd spent so much time practicing at the concert hall lately, living deep within the symphony, that he hadn't considered how little music they had in their lives.

On the cot, little Birgit sat with tangled hair and dark circles under her eyes. Johannes told his daughters, "Maybe tomorrow. Our guest needs to sleep."

The girls broke into an outcry of, "No!" and "Please, Papa!"

To his surprise, one of the voices was a small, raspy one from the cot.

Johannes crouched beside the little dustgirl. "Would you like to hear some music?"

The little girl's eyes glowed with wonder, as if he'd just offered to do magic. "Please," she whispered.

Johannes clapped his hands against his knees. "Very well." He sprang to his feet and removed his violin from its case with a flourish. It glowed golden-brown in the lamplight, and seemed to be quivering--almost alive--beneath his fingers. He placed the rest between his chin and held the bow over the strings.

He basked in the glow of in his warm little kitchen, with snowflakes falling outside, surrounded by the shining eyes of his wife and daughters and one adoring little dustgirl. He was home with his family instead of hidden away in a practice room. A child who might not have survived the night was now warm and safe. What were concerts, accusations, and even Lars Henning's jealousy, compared to that? All troubles could wait until morning. For now, Johannes would be grateful.

With a smile, Johannes touched his bow to the strings and played a song about a Christmas star.

[katerinaaqu]

High Fantasy consept art inspired by Iliad and Odyssey (a small analysis of a forgotten character)

So let me be a bit annoying and call your attention for one second for an amazing artist and a great friend whom you can find here in Tumblr as well with the alias @artsofmetamoor. Her work is always a great dedication to detail, paying more attention to quality over quantity and, quite frankly, gaining inspiration of various sources.

She began getting more and more annoying talk from me XD regarding my passion for the classics like Iliad and Odyssey and the talk brought about the armors of Mycenaean Greece and she came up with a masterful piece of art:

Quite frankly we rarely ever see high fantasy armors or clothing inspired by anything else but western europe clothing (mixture between medieval Europe and 18th century details) and we rarely ever see high fantasy concepts inspired by ancient art and much less bronze age Greece that has some amazing pieces not many people know. My friend came up with an amazing concept design of a light armor that was heavily inspired by Iliad descriptions particularly Odysseus's helmet.

As you can see we were heavily inspired by Boar Tusk Helmets

The armor is essentially consisted by a light thorax and a boar-tusk or a horned helmet. Alternatives can be seen here:

Our character seems to be heavily linked to Odysseus. This is Caleb, from the comic series W.I.T.C.H and the animated adaptation but both her and I took a different route on the character creating our own original concepts of him

So why is he like Odysseus?

Caleb in the comic is a Whisperer, a type of plant-looking creature that was created as a soulless servant to a cruel magician Prince named Phobos who ruled with a Tyranical way the kingdom of Meridian. Caleb broke free from his control by seer will and became the leader of Rebellion against his creator to restore justice (much like Odysseus who couldn't avoid the war but did his best in it, Caleb struggles every day for the greater good)

Intelligent and clever. Caleb comes up with the craziest of plans in a second and he can in fact make his risky tactics to work. Much like Odysseus he is a master of survival and can guide his people in the toughest of situations

Team spirit that exceeds expectations. The rebel leader is capable of throwing himself to the fire for his comrades coming forward to save them if necessary

Family man like Odysseus, later in our story after a great ordeal that lasts almost 10 years in total, Caleb manages to return to the love of his life and start a family. He has an only son, whose name is Kai and Caleb will always return to them

Death fears him. No, honestly, Caleb escapes like some crazy situations in his lifetime! Hahaha He and Odysseus have a lot to discuss!

Notorious and Famous. His friends love him his enemies hate him. What more can one say?

Trained by a "goddess"

Well technically a bit of a stretch but Caleb is trained by a huge and powerful woman who also protects his every step. The woman named Dilla, is a warrior of a special Tribe of people (one can say she was inspired by Amazons and Viking warriors among others). She is tall, big and powerful but she has a golden heart and she makes it a goal of her life to protect him at any cost

Dilla teaches Caleb many things from her people including combat and customs and she protects him as his bodyguard. She is also "bright eyed" as you see (gosh Athena vibes being strong!) since she is blind but has hightened senses. She has also a very strong sense of justice and she is often the voice of reason among the crazy adult kid rebels! XD

Second in Command and Opposition

Caleb has also a brother who was adopted by his very adopted father by the name Diego and yup he is our "Eurylochus" in this case. He is loyal to death to Caleb but his often nasty attitude disrupts the team. That however comes from his own unresolved psychological issues, his complicated feelings and his complex personality.

Please consider checking her art out and we are both open to questions! ^_^

She has also created millions of AUs one can use as inspiration back for their own ideas! Trust me! She's awesome!

[saintsenara]

Hi, if you're still doing the ask game, may I inquire about your opinion on the following ships ? : Tomarrinny, Bartymort, Quirrellmort, Petermort and Tom Sr/Cecilia/Merope. Also, thoughts on MoD!Voldemort or on how a meeting between Snape and Petunia would have gone ? Thanks !

thank you very much, @take-the-unknow-road-now for this wonderful selection of unhinged things for me to talk about. i am always ready for asks which inspire chaos:

tomarrinny

when she's eleven, harry's twelve, and tom is an immortal shard of soul? no.

when she's thirty, harry's thirty-one, and tom is back from the dead for some reason? absolutely.

after all, why shouldn't ginny be allowed two orphans, as a treat? and why shouldn't tom be allowed two people who are clearly less good-looking than him to pay him attention? plus, two quidditch players will definitely be willing to do all the work, allowing him to achieve his true form: undying pillow princess.

but - in reality - we all know which way the power dynamic actually lies: tom and ginny are both harry's subs.

let's hope that their ability to jointly write a poem has improved since the "his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" days...

bartymort

canon.

there has never been a man with a more flagrant daddy kink than barty crouch jr., and we all know that he threw himself onto lord voldemort's lap the second he arrived in his first death eater meeting.

the dark lord advised him that he'd be physically chastised if this behaviour continued. unfortunately for him, that was exactly what barty wanted to happen.

the reason it burned out hard is because lord voldemort also has towering daddy issues. he is even forced to reveal what his real name and background is in an effort to make barty understand that sometimes he'd like to do something other than put on a double-breasted suit and pretend he's come home on time to attend a birthday party. [for example: "hello son, i've come to pick you up from the orphanage" role-play.)

barty literally couldn't give less of a fuck. lord voldemort isn't sorry when he gets turned into a soulless husk.

quirrellmort

lord voldemort - overcome with joy at being back in a human body after a decade - doesn't think through how awkward the aftermath of this will be, and spends the first night he's attached to quirrell's head directing him in a... let's just say... exploration of his anatomy.

quirrell is so pathetically suggestible that - from that point onwards - he can't get off unless the dark lord is talking dirty to him. but can you imagine how cringe trying to speak sexily to quirrell must be?

[hey baby, what are you wearing? a turban which smells of garlic?]

voldemort simply pretends not to have heard when quirrell brings this up. unfortunately, all this does is make quirrell want to talk about his feelings.

lord voldemort isn't sorry when harry kills him.

petermort

flopping. lord voldemort hates wormtail, because he betrayed a man to whom he would give his affections: james potter.

[seriously, he is a simp for james. there is no other explanation for why he insists that james fought him bravely when he turned up on halloween when we canonically know that what james actually did was run into the hall without his wand and then fall over.]

but don't worry. wormtail is getting some god-tier hate sex out of snape.

tom riddle sr./cecilia/merope gaunt

i'm going to answer this lightly, on the assumption that this triad is consensual.

tom sr. is getting thrown out of the bedroom within seconds. they're lesbians.

[he'll be fine. he goes for a little walk to sulk and ends up making out with frank bryce against a rose trellis. the four of them become bffs.]

and then our not-ship questions:

lord voldemort as the master of death

sounds like a lot of hard work, plus both of his parents keep appearing whenever he touches the resurrection stone to shout at him.

snape versus petunia

snape went round to speak to her about what a dick he thinks harry is [dumbledore told him to speak to her about the blood protection, he didn't want to].

they fucked.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

[...]

Vance described two possibilities that many on the New Right imagine—that our system will either fall apart naturally, or that a great leader will assume semi-dictatorial powers.

“So there’s this guy Curtis Yarvin, who has written about some of these things,” Vance said. Murphy chortled knowingly. “So one [option] is to basically accept that this entire thing is going to fall in on itself,” Vance went on. “And so the task of conservatives right now is to preserve as much as can be preserved,” waiting for the “inevitable collapse” of the current order.

He said he thought this was pessimistic. “I tend to think that we should seize the institutions of the left,” he said. “And turn them against the left. We need like a de-Baathification program, a de-woke-ification program.”

“I think Trump is going to run again in 2024,” he said. “I think that what Trump should do, if I was giving him one piece of advice: Fire every single midlevel bureaucrat, every civil servant in the administrative state, replace them with our people.”

“And when the courts stop you,” he went on, “stand before the country, and say—” he quoted Andrew Jackson, giving a challenge to the entire constitutional order—“the chief justice has made his ruling. Now let him enforce it.”

This is a description, essentially, of a coup.

“We are in a late republican period,” Vance said later, evoking the common New Right view of America as Rome awaiting its Caesar. “If we’re going to push back against it, we’re going to have to get pretty wild, and pretty far out there, and go in directions that a lot of conservatives right now are uncomfortable with.”

“Indeed,” Murphy said. “Among some of my circle, the phrase ‘extra-constitutional’ has come up quite a bit.”

I’d asked Vance to tell me, on the record, what he’d like liberal Americans who thought that what he was proposing was a fascist takeover of America to understand.

He spoke earnestly. “I think the cultural world you operate in is incredibly biased,” he said—against his movement and “the leaders of it, like me in particular.” He encouraged me to resist this tendency, which he thought was the product of a media machine leading us toward a soulless dystopia that none of us want to live in. “That impulse,” he said, “is fundamentally in service of something that is far worse than anything, in your wildest nightmares, than what you see here.”

He gave me an imploring look, as though to suggest that he was more on the side of the kind of people who read Vanity Fair than most of you realize.

If what he was doing worked, he said, “it will mean that my son grows up in a world where his masculinity—his support of his family and his community, his love of his community—is more important than whether it works for fucking McKinsey.”

[...]

[hyprmemes]

bullet train (2022) starters edit as you see fit

“a father’s job is to protect his family”

“you never know what horrible fate your bad luck has saved you from”

“you are getting the new and improved me”

“i’m less reactive to situations, i’m more accepting of people’s shortcomings”

“you put peace out in the world, you get peace back”

“my bad luck is biblical”

“i’m not even trying to kill people and someone dies”

“talk about a candidate for self-improvement”

“please tell me you didn’t order the sleeping powder”

“you don’t have to nick the biscuits, man”

“i think they’ll notice the childish code names first”

“oh, now he’s callin’ a fruit sophisticated”

“when was the last time you ate a lemon meringue pie?”

“i’m sorry, are you talking about lemons?”

“you idiots work for my father?”

“we could deliver you back to your pops in a box”

“you ever watch thomas the tank engine?”

“i always bring my stickers with me, you know that”

“your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble you got yourself into, didn’t you, naughty boy”

“you’re startin’ to get on my tits”

“our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside”

“he doesn’t need a reason to kill people like you, he needs a reason not to”

“family’s more important than money, right?”

“why do i even bother forwarding you the briefings?”

“there’s this soulless psychotic leader with the largest criminal organization on the planet shoved right inside our fucking ass cheeks”

“if you mention thomas the tank engine one more time, I’m gonna shoot you in the fucking face”

“but i’m not in someone else’s story”

“you’re going to kill him for me”

“i will ruin your life the way you ruined mine”

“let this be a lesson in the toxicity of anger”

"talk to him or, like, talk to him?”

“you are fuckin’ excused”

“the guy who stabbed me, i spilled wine on his suit”

“i’m really gonna have to process my part in the incident on monday”

“i didn’t realize i was gettin’ a babysitter to come cut my bollocks”

“this rude enough for ya, ya fucking prick?”

“shove that fuckin’ hat up your fuckin’ asshole, you hear me?”

“gotta use your small inside voice in here”

“there’s a gun underneath this table pointed right at you, so i would…”

“you look like every white homeless man i’ve ever seen”

“well, you also have a shoot-able face”

“i’ve learned that with any potential conflict there’s an opportunity for growth, a path to a peaceful outcome”

“every day is a fucking headache with you, innit”

“you’re alive, i’m alive, everyone’s happy”

“i ain’t got the time or the patience, let alone the interest”

“would you describe me as someone who lives in perpetual anxiety?”

“it’s some fuckin’ ’80s dance-off, innit?”

“do us a favor, get the fuck off my back, will ya?”

“you shoot first and come up with the answers later”

“oh, my god, did you just say “whack”?”

“well, i don’t think they were in the market for fucking dildos and pantyhose, were they?”

“you’re a terrible father, and your son is going to pay for all the mistakes that you’ve made”

“i’m gonna go find a temple and reevaluate my choices or something”

“you’re gonna close your eyes, and i’m gonna count to three”

“you’re not even afraid and your lip’s quivering”

“thirty seconds before the venom does its thing”

“are you lying on the ground in the fetal position?”

“you gonna fuckin’ waltz up here and blow my brains out in front of the whole fuckin’ carriage of witnesses?”

“keep your fucking knickers on, all right?”

“make sure you do something that brings you peace, ’cause everything else is a pain in the ass”

“you’re not going to let me get hurt”

“a blind man could see you are the one in the dark”

“fate for me is just another word for bad luck”

“i will finally be allowed to make things right”

“when we are so quick to anger, we are slow to understand”

“i’m fast to kick your ass, though, i swear to god”

“i should’ve put a bullet through your ass!”

“why are you motherfuckers using metaphors?”

“i built myself up from the nothing you gave me”

“i’m more like you than that little fuck up ever was”

“kill me like you did all the others who tried the same”

“shouldn’t the plum give up all resentment?”

[edgymuses]

༶ ﾟ🥀 ┄─ having dreams should be a goal that anyone should fulfill in life. it's what drives someone and bring happiness when living in a cruel soulless world. of course with big or "unreasonable" dream, there are those who loved to bring it down. grounding a dreamer to harsh reality. a person that comes to mind is mr. mishina, his dad. he had no clue about eikichi’s double life. being a perfect son at home, but to the outside world, plus his mom, he was michel; a flamboyant front man of a rock group called gas chamber. even with his father’s expectations for his son to run the family’s sushi restaurant; this would not stop eikichi to fulfill his dream. a dream since his first year of middle school. what is that dream? making his indie rock band famous! no more daydreaming in class or pretending to have screaming adoring crowd cheering his name while singing in the shower. no more what ifs. or letting his father dictate his life using fear. it's the year of making dreams happen.

even with a dream it was rough making it happen. gas chamber became like expired chips, stale. it was time to spice things up by introducing a new interesting act to their band. what better way of getting new blood than to put flyers around town and on the web. an advertisement saying, “new member needed for our vkei band gas chambers! any instrument welcomed. refreshments and food will be provided given a generous donation of 768 yen. new member will be announced to said member’s email. tryouts at sumaru prison. let’s kick some ass and show the world who gas chamber really are!!!! good luck!!!!”

on the day of the tryouts the call was answered by a few people with a variety of instruments. tambourines, lutes, cellos, and so much more! but something wasn’t clicking. the tryouts continued on and eikichi was not satisfied with some of the acts present. that was until the piano players’ turn to try out. At first dull, but soon this next person caught his eye, drawing it to the vibrant yellow scarf.

as soon as the stranger puts their portable keyboard down and their fingers dance across the keys; eikichi was entranced by the music like a snake being charmed by a pungi. eyes closed as his foot taps along with the beat of the music until the song ends. that sprit and enthusiasm to his art just clicked. right then and there all the bandmates knew they had their fifth member of gas chamber! so much so, the group of boys at the end of tryouts ran after the stranger stopping him to announcing the news. along with this news they presented him with a matching armband of the band’s logo.

a few weeks of band practice and nonband related activities; the rest of the members began to warm up to the newcomer and learn his name, ryoji mochizuki. perhaps having ryoji in the band or crossing paths with ladyuck, after their usual show at open mic night a flyer for a music competition appeared on the cafe’s bulletin board. the prize for the winners was a record deal with the company hosting the competition and what appears to be a large sum of yen. finally! gas chamber’s lucky break! no more performing at open mic nights or hole-in-the-wall bars! or half the time performing at karaoke bars. not only will they be performing to eikichi's small group of friends, but for a pack crowd! hell if the band was successful enough, a solid out stadium!

with this exciting development, gas chamber began the perpetration. fast forward a week before the competition, eikichi agreed to meet ryoji at the cafe that usually host the open mic night. this meeting was to practiced for the big day and give a makeover to ryoji. the new comer need a little michel flare to his look. eyeliner and all. his eyes shot up as soon as the bell above the door rang. a person with a recognizable yellow scarf stepped into the cafe.

❛❛ yo ryoji, get your ass over here!! you can’t keep the most handsome guy in the room waiting! ❜❜ 

@enshijou 💜'd for a plotted starter!

[mirkwoodshewolf]

IATCOD Chap. 28; Plan in motion

*Author's note*

This was a chapter long in the making due to life getting in the way but I finally got around a week ago to finally get this chapter done. Not a lot of action in this, just some plot settings to get ready for the main action that'll happen the next few chapters. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter no matter what. And yes I had to use the death whistle from Puss in boots the Last wish so credit goes to Dreamworks for that. 

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@thats-s0-ravenn

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

_________________________________________________________________

After Cain had returned back to Hela's chambers and told everyone what Druig had suggested, there was silence in the room. Everyone pondering in concern, fear, and denial.

"And you're sure there is no other way?" asked Gandalf.

"It has worked one other time. With Fili and Kili sons of Dis, nephews of Thorin Oakenshield. Hela gave to them the very gauntlets she wears that holds our kins celestial stones. When Sauron took full control over her body, the stones used both their bodies as a host to banish Sauron's spirit from her very body before releasing them."

"Bofur and my uncle Oin did tell me that tale when I was still a lad. Never before had they been both in awe and struck with terror at the sight of what happened that night."

"I too was there when it happened. Never would I have thought that two Dwarves could hold the power of nine Celestial gems and live." Said Legolas recalling that night at Bard's house.

"But Merry still needs time to heal. He's not ready." Proclaimed Pippin worriedly.

"And the raw power of a Celestial's stone is nothing to be trifled with. I have seen what gripping a celestial stone can do." Aragorn said with a distant yet horrified look in his eye as he remembered one incident with some wild men in the North when they came to take out the remaining members of the Dúnedain.

The chief of the wild men had foolishly thought he could take Thena's stone for himself to enhance his weapon's strength and durability. But when he went to take the stone from Hela's gauntlet after ripping it from her arm, his body began to crack and burn like firewood.

His screams sounding like something both unholy and holy at the same time. His eyes became soulless white and gold until his body exploded into a pure light before Hela managed to contain Thena's stone once again.

"How do we not know that the same could happen to Merry if he takes hold of Druig's stone?" continued Aragorn.

"He wouldn't have suggested Merry if he didn't feel some sort of connection to him. Trust me Aragorn, I don't like this either but we are running out of options and out of time." Cain said as thunder rumbled once again and the red lightning began to flash in the sky once more. Cain and Aragorn turned to Merry and Aragorn said to him.

"The choice is yours Merry." Everyone turned to the hobbit who still looked exhausted from his Black breath recovery. Merry slowly stood up, Pippin tried to help but he held his hand out to refuse help. He slowly walked to the center of the room and said to everyone present.

"Since starting this quest back in the borders of the Shire, Pip and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. But even then I didn't care, all I wanted was to see Frodo away from the danger. Only to find out that he must bravely face the danger himself to destroy the biggest threat to our home. And Sam, loyal hearted that he is, he willingly without a second thought vowed to go alongside Frodo even if it costs him his own life. Boromir died to save Pippin and I. Without a second thought, he kept bravely fighting until his last breath took hold. I have lost—many of my friends, and thousands-nay millions more all over Middle Earth will suffer if Hela is not awakened. If there is a chance to free her from her curse, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to play my part in saving Middle Earth."

Everyone took to heart of what Merry had to say. He walked back over to Druig's stone and called for him once again. The black onyx stone glew bright until a golden light shot out once again and appearing before him once again was Druig.

"You have made your decision." He spoke down to the young hobbit.

"I have." Replied Merry.

"Then what say you, Meriadoc Brandybuck?" Merry took a deep breath before exhaling through his nose and he said.

"How do we save Hela from herself?" A slight grin came across Druig's face then he told Merry.

"Take my stone within your hand, once you feel the full strength of my power coursing through your body, press the stone to the crown of your head. And we shall become One mind, One body, One soul."

"You both shall become one? But will Merry still be there? Your soul won't overwhelm his?" asked Pippin.

"He has accepted the terms young Peregrin Took." Druig said turning towards the other hobbit. "Time is of the dire most essence now, and we must bring her back now before it is too late." Druig's spirit then shot back into his stone and the glow of the stone faded.

"He's right Pip. If we're going to do this, it has to be now. If Hela is truly dying from this spell, Druig and I need to act now. And we've already lost a day already." Merry and Pippin looked at each other then after a moment of staring at each other, Pippin gave him a nod.

"Pippin, come join us." Cain said as he took out his knife and he slide the blade across his palm. Pippin walked over towards the others who were now starting to huddle on the other side of the room.

Using his blood, Cain drew along the floor a Celestial rune circle to protect everyone within the tower from any Celestial power outbursts. Everyone stood within the circle while Merry stood over the table where Druig's stone rested.

He turned to the others as Cain now began to wrap his wounded palm and he gave the young hobbit a strong nod. Merry nodded to him and took a deep breath as he reached out and took the stone within his bare hand.

As he grasp the stone into his palm, Merry's arm began to slowly crackle open like lava seeping through Mount Doom itself, he fell to his knees in agony as the power of the Mind celestial began coursing through his veins. But he kept a firm grip on the stone as well as holding his enclosed fist with his free hand.

The group watched in despair as Merry was forced to endure this pain alone. Pippin softly whimpered and said.

"We have to make him let it go! He's hurting can't you see he's in such agony!"

"No Pippin, we cannot interfere at this point." Gandalf warned him as he held him back.

"Merry?" cried out Aragorn. Merry continued to grunt and cry in agony.

"Merry talk to us." Cain ordered. As Merry continued to groan and pant in agony he finally spoke up.

"I'm fine. I'm alright." Slowly he raised his enclosed hand as he felt the full power of the Mind Celestial coursing through his entire body. But even with such power coursing through him, it was causing the gem to feel so heavy, he could barely lift his own arm.

However Merry knew he had to do what Druig had told him. Using his free hand, he guided his enclosed fist towards his head and with a cry, he open his palm and pressed the stone into his very head before a flash of light and wave of red energy shot out hitting the barrier but knocking down all the furniture in place. Then Merry fell onto his back with a thud and Druig's gem embedded into his very skin.

"MERRY!" cried Pippin as he ran through the barrier. Everyone crowded over him but Cain warned them.

"Don't move him!" Gimli held Pippin back as both Gandalf and Cain knelt over the unconscious Merry. Cain used his enhanced senses and could hear Merry's heart beating normally. "His heartrate and breathing is normal." Gandalf waved a hand over Merry's face.

"And his spirit is still in-tact." Suddenly Merry's eyes shot open but they glowed the same golden light that Druig produces whenever he used his mind controlling abilities. Cain and Gandalf backed away as did everyone else as Merry now stood up but there was a difference to the way he stood. He looked down at his hands and he said.

"I almost forgotten what it's like to have an actual body."

"Is that you Druig?" asked Cain.

"No, it's Sauron. Of course it's me." He turned over to Pippin and said, "And don't worry Pippin, Merry's still here. I just need to take control when performing the spell. However I do need to request something of you all. Performing this spell, requires my full concentration and power. Both Merry's body and Hela's will be completely defenseless, so someone needs to stand guard over us in case time runs out." They all turned to one another before Haldir spoke up.

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to him and Haldir said as he looked to Cain, "It's what Hela would've done for me." Cain nodded.

"I admire your heart and loyalty to my sweet Hela, but you'll need a better weapon than your own. Take Aeglos and place the tip of the blade to Thena's gemstone. It was once the host of her powers, and should any Deviants come to the tower seeking her or my power, you'll need the power of the Celestial of War to aid you." Druig told him. Haldir nodded then Merry walked over towards Hela.

He stood over the head of the bed and placed his hands on each side of Hela's temples. Golden light emanated from his palms and bounced between his palms and Hela's temples which also began to glow. Soon the small glow from Merry's eyes grew bigger until his whole eyes were nothing but a pure golden light.

"It's happening. Now it's up to him and Merry. The rest of us will continue to get the people down below and prepare for the Deviants as well as the Celestials of Sauron's attack." Said Cain. As the others began to leave the tower leaving Haldir alone, Cain said to him, "Haldir," the march warden turned to him. "Take it from someone who has tasted vengeance for over 2 Ages. When Nergal shows himself, do not engage him alone. You will wait for us to aid you in taking him down, understood?" Haldir turned his head with a narrowed, hateful look in his eyes. "Understood?" Cain asked in a firmer tone.

"Go help the others in getting the people to the lower levels of the city. They've suffered enough at the hands of a leader who could care less about them." Haldir said as he went over and took Aeglos from Hela's side.

Cain turned but had a suspicious look on his face as he left to join the others to help evacuate and prepare Gondor for the oncoming Deviants.

Within Hela's mind, both Druig and Merry walked through a dark chasm with the only light coming from the very floor they walked upon. However the floor itself was a sea of souls glowing a pure blue light.

"Is this really what's inside Hela's mind?"

"We're only at the gate. Everyone has their own unique gateway into their subconscious." explained Druig.

"So what is it that we're looking for?"

"A tree. A very large tree."

"A tree?" asked Merry unsurely.

"Being the Mind Celestial I've come to see that in everyone's mind, no matter the race or species, the gates of their minds hold a very special tree to which I've called them the Tree of Life. Each branch representing a person's memory or thought. It's what makes them the person or creature that they are. And if my hunch is correct, Hela's tree may not look like it once was." As they treaded through the ankle-deep water, Merry began to grow weary of the souls that were moaning and weeping.

"Who are all these people?"

"The souls that had been lost but could not move on. Remember Hela is the bridge between the Seen and the Unseen world. Souls pass through her in order to move onto Mandos' halls, even under this spell they continue to come to her. But they're trapped here until she gives them her blessing."

'You are correct.' A voice spoke up. The boys stopped and Druig stood in front of Merry protectively as a spirit soon raised itself up from the water before taking the shape of King Theoden.

"Theoden King?" Merry gawked.

"Hello Meriadoc." He then turned to Druig and said, "And you must be her twin brother Lord Druig. Hela told me many stories of you and your sister Makkari the Speedster when I was a lad." Druig nodded and Merry said.

"Theoden King, we're looking for Hela's Tree of Life, can you take us to it?"

"I can but I must warn you. The spell that has imprisoned not only us but Hela herself has grown too strong. If you dive too deep into her mind, you too may also suffer the same fate as she."

"That's a risk we have to take. I won't leave here without knowing my sister will be okay." Answered Druig firmly. Theoden's spirit looked at both of them as Merry gave him a strong nod.

"Very well." He faded back into a spirit ball and began the light to guide them through the darkness and towards where they needed to go. Eventually they came upon a grand willow tree that stood nearly as tall as Treebeard himself, but just as Druig had thought, the lush green vines had been dried up and were starting to crumbling.

Within the vines were small thought bubbles that would normally be as bright as bubbles should be, but they were now dimmed and grey with faded memories hazed over.

"This is Hela's Tree of Life?" asked Merry.

"Yes. But it's worse than I imagined it would be." They walked up to the tree as Theoden's voice spoke to them.

'Remember, dive too deep and you too may suffer the same fate as she. Though I do hope you are successful in returning our Hela home. Good luck.' His spirit then dove back into the sea of souls. Merry walked up to the tree and touched the main trunk. He could feel just how malnourished the tree was.

"Any ideas on how we can fix it?"

"It's not up to us, it's up to Hela. Only she can mend her own Tree."

"But how are we going to find her?" Druig walked around Hela's tree until he had found what he'd expect to find. Glowing in a haunting green and black aura of magic was a large mushroom that was attached to one of the roots of Hela's tree. The light pulsating and almost sounding like a heartbeat but what had Druig in awe was the mushroom was showing a vision much like Hela's thought bubbles on the vines of her trees had.

"I think I might have found her." Merry came around and knelt down beside him. The two of them stared at the mirrored image of what looked like a large green pasture (much like the Shire) and Hela was out folding laundry. "You ready for this?"

"Let's do it." Answered Merry. Druig took his hand and together with their free hands, they reach out and touched the mushroom all while their eyes glowed a pure gold. The second they touched the mushroom, the black and green aura shot out like lighting trying to fend off Druig's and Merry's touch. Both the Celestial and the Hobbit groaned and cried out in pain but they kept a firm hold on the mushroom. Until they were encompassed by the green light.

"Merry? Merry! Wake up!" Merry's eyes shot open and he saw Druig kneeling over him. "Easy there halfling." Merry held his head in pain as he let out a small groan.

"What happened?"

"We got absorbed by the curse and sent into this false world. I must say I'm impressed by your mental stamina, any normal person would've crumbled by now. Think there might be a future for you being a Mind Celestial." Druig held his hand and helped Merry onto his feet.

"Hela once said I would make a clever one."

"And for myself I can see why she said that." Merry gave a slight smile before asking.

"Now that we're here, how do we find Hela? This place is nearly as big as the Shire."

"We just start walking. Hopefully we'll come across her. And we may just find out just what exactly this curse is doing to her." The two then proceeded to walk once again onward this time through the peaceful green pastures.

Back in the real world, Cain was standing along the very edge of the city where Denethor had leapt to his death. He could sense the very change in the air from the darkened clouds, the difference in the lightning and the very air seemed denser as if a dark spell had once again been placed over all of Middle Earth.

"We've gotten the last of the civilians gathered in the lower caves. And Faramir and Gandalf finally managed to work out the protection spell Hela had made for the city. It should be up later tonight." Aragorn said behind him.

"With all that Denethor allowed to happen, this city doesn't need to suffer twice at the hands of a bigger threat than orcs, trolls and wargs." Said Cain. Aragorn stood beside him and said.

"They'll find a way to bring her back."

"It's not bringing Hela back that I'm worried about." One look on Cain's somber face and Aragorn knew what he meant.

"You fear for Haldir's mental state at losing Hela."

"Grief—is a powerful feeling. Especially if it's fueled by rage. I may not be able to physically see his eyes but I can sense his heartbeat. His deep, sharp breaths through his nose, and the anxious ticks he's now been having at the tips of his hands, especially since he took hold of Aeglos."

"You fear he might turn into what you became." Cain solemnly let out a deep sigh. Aragorn placed a hand to Cain's shoulder and he told him, "He may not know it now, but he'll need your guidance before the end. Who better to understand what he's going through, if you can find the way, he will too before the end."

"I hope so Aragorn, I really hope so." Aragorn turned and headed back inside the palace leaving Cain to stand alone once again. However Cain felt a dark presence behind him and he withdrew his axe and his blade soon met with another and a voice said to him.

"You can even sense Death coming for you. Impressive."

"Deimos." The two of them uncrossed their crossed their weapons. "Why are you here?" Cain sneered lowly in the tone he's always used for those who were impure of heart.

"Apologizes for interrupting your little brotherly love session with Isildur's heir, but I had to come see for myself what wasteful plan you all have tried to come up with to save yourselves." Deimos chuckled sinisterly.

"You underestimate them. Even in their darkest hours, until there is no hope remaining, the Fellowship and the people of Gondor will continue to fight till their last breath."

"It's a waste. You cannot save them from the inevitable. Without Hela's power, the Deviants will take each race of Middle Earth, one by one until all is nothing but shadow and stone."

"And what do you three get out of all this in the end? If all is meant to be shadow and stone, what will you and your brothers do?"

"What Perses and Nergal want is up to them. I, however, have a different score to settle." Cain heard as Deimos unsheathed his second sickle. "As I'm sure you're aware, each Celestial while cut from the same cloth based on one's powers, there are the Celestials gifted with sub-level powers. A power solely focused to one main power."

"Yes. Like those celestials who could only control one element, or be able to see into the future."

"Hela had her time to be the high Celestial of Death, but she missed the whole point of her existence entirely."

"How so? By teaching that death shouldn't be feared? That it is another path to the next life."

"That! That right there!" Deimos snarled in distain. "You actually believe that death is a merciful, that it's something to be fully embraced and accepted like how you view Life. No, no, no. Death should be feared, uncertain, and permanent." He emphasized on the word permanent as Cain could feel his red eyes cutting right through him.

"You've come for me." Cain realized.

"Now you're catching on." Deimos then began to circle around Cain like a predator, eyeing him as he continued, "When you were brought back by the desperation of your brother Ikaris, you didn't value what he had given you. And while I find the very idea of resurrections and reincarnations absurd, what I loathe more than anything in this world are those who think they can cheat Death."

"As you said, it wasn't my choice to be brought back to life."

"You don't think I don't know how throughout the first 100 years of your banishment you tried to end your own life? And yet with each time, you survived."

Cain's heartbeat escalated, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold chill ran up his entire body. He could hear the blades of Deimos' sickles cut across the cobbled stone beneath them.

"But here's how we can rectify all of this. When the time's right, I will come for you, and you and I shall face off in a duel to the death. See who truly has the blessing of the Valor on their side. You do that, and I swear to not harm a single hair on anyone else's heads."

"You really think I'll trust you to do that? After the way you beat Haldir and Hela nearly to death."

"A mere demonstration for what I have in stored for you. They were just so I could get to you. You agree to fight me, and death will only come for you." Deimos then let out a soft yet haunting whistle and when Cain turned around, he could sense that Deimos was gone, only hearing the brief whistle before it too was silenced.

PLAY VIDEO

Almost as if he had been strung up on strings, he collapsed to his knees, his heart still racing in such fear that he only felt when he came before the Nine Nazgul.

In Hela's mind, Merry and Druig continued walking along the grassy over hills until they came to a quaint little cabin. To Merry it almost resembled Frodo and Bilbo's home of Bag-end with a similar green circular door but it was a big-people sized home.

It had a small front deck with a porch swing, and the front yard was covered with wild flowers. A gazebo that looked exactly like the one in Lothlorien stood at the side of the cabin.

"Is this what Hela dreams about?" asked Merry.

"She was never one for riches or grand castles. When we were children, she always said she'd get herself a cabin and plant wild flowers as far as the eye could see." Said Druig. "But even so, this is still a prison so don't get swept by whatever you see. Remember Theoden's warning." Merry nodded as the two of them soon heard the sound of arrows being twanged from an bow around back. They heard the arrow hit a target so they came around to see someone who looked like Haldir doing some target practice.

Instead of the normal Marchwarden uniform or even armor, he donned on a simple dark green tunic and grey trousers. Haldir notched another arrow into his bow and released it and it split the arrow that was already in the target.

"Can he see us?" Merry quietly asked.

"No. This is an illusion, they usually can't see nor hear us."

"Even if this were an illusion, we Elves can hear the flutter of a humming bird's wings 10 leagues away." Haldir actually responded to them. He turned towards them and greeted with a warm smile and a bow of his head, "Welcome Merry, and back already Druig? It's not even been 20 minutes since you left." Merry looked up at Druig worriedly. While Druig's eyes expressed shock, he turned to Merry and told him telepathically.

'Just follow my lead.' Druig cleared his throat and said, "Well you know how it is. Big brothers and all, can't leave you two alone for one second."

"Even after all this time we've been married, you still can't trust us alone. Though I can understand, being an older brother myself. What can I do you both for?"

"We're actually here for Hela. Is she in the cabin?" Merry asked the Haldir illusion.

"Unfortunately you won't find her in the cabin. At this time of the day she's down at the farm just over that hill. What do you want with her?" there was a hint of suspicion to this fake Haldir's tone but Druig plainly said.

"Just received a message from Keoghan about the Midsummer's ball tonight. Apparently Kingo once again burned the cake and they need Hela's help since she is the best baker out of all our kinsman."

"Very well. But I must warn you, one of the cows just recently gave birth. She'll be on the fight if you anywhere near her pen."

"Thanks for the heads up Haldir. Good day." The two of them bowed to Haldir the Mind Celestial bow before heading over the hill where Haldir said the farm was at. "Tell me you caught the way he got suspicious on why we needed Hela."

"I did. There was also something in his eyes that gleamed the same color as the spell that shot out around us when we touched that mushroom on her Tree."

"You are indeed a clever hobbit Master Merry." They soon came up and looked down at a large farm. With large shire horses running freely around the wooded area in the back, large mountain dogs helping log around eggs, crates of apples and corn, and ducks and chickens waddling about the farm grounds.

As they walked through the farm grounds, they heard soft humming coming from the stables. They slowly walked in and soon found Hela brushing a white stallion's mane humming softly.

"Hela?" Merry called out to her. She jumped and smiled.

"Merry, this is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you till next month for Pippin's birthday. And Druig, back so soon. Let me guess, you thought Haldir and I were having another sweet rendezvous at the gazebo that you walked in on just shortly after we began courting." At that openly suggestive statement, Druig's cheeks went red as he said.

"No but thank you for that unholy image that is now seared into my brain." Hela giggled and said as she stroked the stallion's nose. "So what brings you both here?"

Merry turned to Druig wondering if they should break it to her now since looking at her, it seemed like they had found the real Hela. Druig was torn because the last time he had seen his sister this happy was when they were children. After Sauron came fully into power by the time the three of them came of age, Hela always held such a burden on her shoulders. Like the weight of the world fell on top of her weighing her down and taking her innocence away bit by bit until all that was left was a hollowed shell.

Here she seemed—happy, relieved even. No wonder why she's refused to awaken from such a dream. But he knew she had to, but they had to approach it delicately at first.

"Keoghan reached out to me halfway on my journey telling me that Kingo burnt the cake for the midsummer's ball again." Hela let out a sigh and shook her head.

"That Kingo, he can put on a show with Sprite but when it comes to drawing or cooking, he's hopeless. And I thought Apollo had banished him from the kitchen?"

"He did, and that banishment is still in affect but you know how Kingo is."

"He always finds a way." Both he and Hela said together. "Sorry Snowmane, afraid this grooming session's gonna have to be cut short." Snowmane huffed and let out a shocked whinny. "Don't blame me, if I don't go stop Kingo, he could blow the whole castle up." she got out of Snowmane's stable and walked pass Druig and Merry. "C'mon, we better get a move on. I'll have to tell Haldir first of where I'll be heading."

"Actually we just told him that before we came to find you." Merry said.

"Oh well okay then. That's one less thing to worry about." As they stepped out, Hela raised up her fingers and let out a sharp, loud whistle that almost resembled an eagle's scream. They waited for a bit until finally a real eagle's cry was heard and swooping down was Hela's great eagle Icarus. "Hey Icarus, think you can carry Merry to the palace?" he let out a soft trill before lowering himself down for Merry to climb on.

Druig nudged the hobbit forward and Merry raced up and with Hela's help, mounted on top of the great eagle.

"But what about you?" asked Druig.

"Why would I need Icarus to fly?" Hela's normal dress soon morphed into the Starlight Celestial armor. "Being born a Starlight Celestial, I never need aid in flying again." As Hela shot up onto the air like a shooting star, Merry and Druig looked at each other worriedly before Icarus soon took off following behind his mother and Druig used his levitating powers to fly right beside Merry and Icarus.

Another night was passing even through the dark, thunderous clouds that covered all of Middle Earth. Gandalf, Aragorn and Cain all stood along the balcony near the throne room as Cain said.

"One more day to go, and the Deviants will return to Middle Earth."

"Any word of Merry and Druig's progress?" asked Aragorn.

"I had just met with Haldir, no changes." Gandalf replied solemnly. "I know Merry is strong and Druig is powerful but I fear they may not bring our Celestial of Death back in time."

"We still have time." Aragorn stated. "All we can do now is give Merry and Druig the aid they need. We've coded the protection spell, the second we see those demons appear, we activate the spell."

"It won't just be the Deviants we'll need to worry about. Nergal, Perses and Deimos will also need to be stopped. I fear their goals are more than just what Sauron had intended for them. And if they try to stop Merry and Druig from helping Hela, Varda help us all." Cain said as thunder once again rumbled in the sky and red lightning flashed in the sky.

[fourgods-nobrakes]

the scattering of the primarchs

As it happens in The First Heretic, an incredibly important turning point for the characters involved, and a great moment of the Powers extending their influence into realspace.

[this is the last scene of Chapter 17; Argel Tal and the other not-yet-Gal Vorbak have been taken to various places and times by the daemon Ingethel the Ascended, who promised to show them the truth of the universe and their own history. The final place it takes them is the laboratory where the infant primarchs are nearly ready to be "born" from their Geller Field-protected cradles.]

“The Legions tell the tale of the Emperor’s twenty sons being cast into the heavens by some great tragedy, some flaw in their creation process.’

You have been raised with tales of the primarchs that lead your Legions, but you have been fed centuries of lies. In a matter of moments, you will witness the truth. The Anathema dealt with the Powers of the warp long before he left Earth on the Great Crusade.

The Anathema desired mighty sons, and the gods granted him the lore to forge them with a union of divine genetics and psychic sorcery. He came to my masters, hungry for answers, beseeching the gods for power. With the lore they gave him, he shaped his twenty sons.

But treacheries have occurred. Oaths – sworn in blood and paid in soul – have been broken. The Anathema now refuses to show humanity the Primordial Truth, and the gods of the warp grow wrathful.

The Anathema is keeping its twenty primarch sons and paying no price to the Powers that gifted him with the knowledge to shape them.

Xaphen gripped the handrail to keep from going to his knees. ‘Our father – all of our fathers – are the spawn of ancient blood rituals and forbidden science.’

Argel Tal couldn’t keep from laughing. ‘The Emperor that denies all forms of divinity shaped his own sons with the blessings of forgotten gods. Prayers and sorcery are written upon their gestation pods. This is the most glorious madness.’

Be ready. The reckoning comes. The Powers will reach into the material realm to reclaim the sons they helped breed.

Argel Tal looked at the pods through a smile that wouldn’t fade. ‘This Geller Field. It fails, doesn’t it?’

It will fail in exactly thirty-seven beats of your heart, Argel Tal.

‘And the primarchs are seized – taken by your masters in the warp. That’s the accident that casts them across the galaxy.’

The warp gods are the primarchs’ rightful fathers. This is not to spite your Emperor. It is nothing but divine justice. And as these perfect children travel through the stars, they will grow. This is the first step in the gods’ plans to save mankind.

‘And Aurelian…’

Is the most important one of all. Lorgar’s incubation pod will be carried to Colchis, to walk the first steps to enlightening humanity of the Primordial Truth, and the gods behind the stars. Without the gods, humanity will die, piece by piece, under the predation of the aliens that still lay claim to much of the galaxy. Those that remain will die as the eldar died: in agony, unable to see the Primordial Truth before their very eyes.

This is Fate. It is written in the stars. Lorgar knows that humanity needs divinity – it is what shaped his life and Legion. It is why he was chosen as the favoured son.

Xaphen closed his eyes, murmuring a litany from the Word. ‘Faith raises us above the soulless and the damned. It is the soul’s fuel, and the driving force behind millennia of mankind’s survival. We are hollow without it.’

Argel Tal drew his weapons. The swords of red iron slid free from their scabbards with twin hisses.

Yes. Yes…

Both blades sparked into electrical life as the captain pulled the handle-triggers. Xaphen regarded him with hooded eyes.

‘Do it,’ the Chaplain said. ‘Let it begin.’

Argel Tal whirled the blades in slow, arcing loops, their crackling power fields growing more intense, the blades emanating ozone mist as they burned and rasped through the frozen air.

‘Aurelian,’ whispered Malnor. ‘For Lorgar.’

‘For the truth,’ Torgal said. ‘Do it, and we will carry these answers back to the Imperium.’

Argel Tal looked at Dagotal; the youngest of his sergeants, only recently promoted before the Legion’s humiliation. The outrider commander’s eyes were distant.

‘I am weary of being lied to by the Emperor, brother. I am so tired of being ashamed, when what we believe is the truth.’ Dagotal nodded, meeting his captain’s eyes at last. ‘Do it.’

Three.

He stepped forward, staring at a cluster of vein-like cables twitching as they channelled artificial blood around the semi-organic tower machine.

Two.

Argel Tal span the swords, leaving blurred trails of lightning in their wake.

One.

The blades chopped down, crashing through steel, iron, rubber, copper, bronze and vat-grown blood.

Both swords exploded in his hands, their blades shattering like smashed glass and decorating his bare face with bloody cuts.

And then, for one horrific, familiar moment, Argel Tal saw nothing but burning, psychic gold.

[emotionalcadaver]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging @shelbydelrey, @confidentandgood, @moral-terpitude, @runnning-outof-time, @zablife, @call-sign-shark, @peakyltd, @detectivelokis, @eclecticwildflowers, @roofgeese, @amyowl470, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @scaryscarecrows, and anyone else interested!

Dance of Darkness Chapter 7: Ride or Die

(Tommy Shelby x OC)

Apologies in advance to all the Polly fans out there!

“Business first,” Tommy ordered. Polly leapt from her seat, physically shoving Lucy out of the way in her haste to get at Tommy. Lucy caught herself against the wall with a yelp, head whirling to stare at her in shock.

“They took Michael.”

Tommy held up a hand. “I said business first. And don’t push Lucy, Polly.”

Polly continued to try to talk, but Tommy shouted over her. 

“Polly, business first!” he barked. She went silent, glowering. Lucy moved so that she was on the other side of Tommy from her, putting him between them, just in case. A movement that wasn’t lost on Tommy, if the way that his eyes tracked her were any indication. He turned back to his brother. “John?” he said, encouraging him to continue with his report. All of their whiskey had been taken, vans impounded and warehouses locked. They’d lost the Eden Club back to Sabini. Alfie had framed Arthur for Billy Kitchen’s death, so their truce with the Black Country boys was over.  

“I don’t give a fuck about whiskey,” Polly interupted. “I don’t give a fuck about Billy Kitchen. I want my son out of prison, now!” she slammed her hand on a desk.

“Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs–” Esme began.

“This meeting should just be family!” Polly raged.

“I can help–” Esme tried.

“Let her talk!” Lucy said.

“It’s family only, she’s not blood, Tommy!” Polly practically screeched. 

“Let her speak,” Tommy ordered.

“Or is this a business–have you forgotten our family–” her eyes locked on Lucy, like she’d just realized that she was there, and her face turned bright red, all the hatred that she’d kept locked up towards her spilling out in one sudden, demented roar. “Get your soulless, disgusting, bitch of a slut out of here, now!”

Lucy recoiled like she’d been slapped, sinking into herself, her back hitting the wall behind her.

“Enough!” Tommy shouted. 

But Polly wasn’t done. “We all know that you just keep her around as a hole to shove your cock into–” 

“Enough!” Tommy roared, in a voice Lucy had never heard him use before. He sounded monstrous, terrifying in a way that wasn’t wholly human. Polly went silent, eyes widening, taking a step back, like she’d actually realized that she’d gone too far. Lucy stared at the floor, eyes blinking hard, feeling the rise of warmth in her cheeks from humiliation, unable to look at any of the other people in the room, though she could feel all of their eyes on her. “Enough, Polly,” his voice was lower, but the dangerous growl was still there.

Dance of Darkness Chapter 8: Happy or Sad

(Tommy Shelby x OC)

Don't worry, there are no spoilers for chapter 7 here!

She’d picked out a bright red dress with a long skirt and intricate black beading, and had swapped out her usually simplistic and less flashy jewelry for a few of the more expensive, lavish pieces she owned. Most of which had been gifts that Tommy had gotten her throughout the years. Fussing over her hair one last time, she sighed, and began to climb down the stairs, careful in the heels she was wearing so that she didn’t fall. She heard the door open and close, as James finally left for the night.

When Tommy saw her, his eyes lit up, crossing the room to her in several quick, long strides, hands landing on her waist as he kissed her.

“You look beautiful.”

She blushed under the praise. “Thanks.”

He’d prepared the sitting room while she was upstairs, turning on a few of the lights and getting a fire started, the dim glow leaving the room feeling seductive and romantic. He had shed his coat, leaving him in only his waistcoat, slacks, and white button down shirt, making it easier for her to feel the muscles in his biceps flex as she ran a hand along his arm. 

“What if she doesn’t show up?” she asked, nerves spiking again. Tommy looked her up and down, clearly appreciative.

“I’m sure we can think of something to do.”

She laughed, leaning more solidly against his chest. He rubbed her back.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Princess of Dragonstone: Chapter 19. Final chapter before the end.

Description: Daella became Aemonds prisoner and learned the importance of magic from her half sister, Alys. Things werent as they appeard and now everyone will pay the price for it.

warnings: Major character death, Targaryen insanity, magic, Alys rivers, Pregnancy failures, childloss and childmurder, hallucinations and stillborns, blood, choking servants, abusing servants, calling a stillborn child a monster unintended suicide

I'm soulless but this made me cry.

Aemond did not bother to join me for bed that night. I would not have let him into our rooms anyway. I am too busy hugging my stillborn child, my beautiful little boy.

Isn’t it poetic that Aemond will never be able to become a father, after he never had one himself? I like to think it is.

Eventually, one of the maids of Aemond disturbs me. No one did that day. They all ignored me. Alicent, the Queen, the King. They all were busy mourning their own losses when I was giving birth to my most beautiful creation. ‘’M-my lady…’’She gawks at my eyeless, winged boy. I shoot her a glare that will hopefully remind her who she is speaking off. ‘’I-I brought the prince a blanket, my lady. As you requested.’’ She wants to grab my son, my sweet son. I smack her hands away, causing her to cry out. I take the blanket from her as she drops it, wrapping it around my special son.

The insolent wench keeps eyeing us, worry and concern written in her eyes. The wench dares to question me. The wench dares to bother me. ‘’Good. Now leave us. I wish to be alone with my son.’’ I announce to her, cradling my sweet boy. He is the only thing giving me joy. He is all I live for. I finally found peace in a way that I never would imagine that motherhood would grant me.

The maid gulps before speaking, as if she knows that she is making a grave mistake. She tries to take the child from my arms. She tries to take away my son. ‘’He’s dead, my lady. He never lived. He came outside of you, silent as the grave. He does not have eyes, my Lady. He’s a mon-’’ I put my son down in his cradle. Before she can finish her sentence and call my son an awful name, I have wrapped my hands around her throat and started choking with all my might, as I try to snap her neck as if its a unworthy stick of wood.

The wench cried out and its hard to believe I once tried to save her life by whoring myself to Aemond. I just want her to shut up. I want everyone to just shut up. ‘’My lady! Grgk!’

I chuckle with a voice much unlike my own. ‘’You dare, call my son, the prince of Dragonstone, a monster?’’ I eye my son, but he is still safely in his crib. Good. If anyone touches him…

It will be the last thing they feel before they die. ‘’Please, my lady. He is. You must cremate him and move on. You are slowly becoming dangerous my lady.’’ Cremate him? Why would I? He is my son. He will never leave me. They took too much from me. No one will take anything from me again. Not my son.

I laugh, in her face. ‘’I never was not dangerous. I just lied to myself. I don’t want to lie anymore. My son, he is all I have. Do you understand? Aemond and his whore-bitch took it all from me. I will bathe in their blood.’’

"Stop!" Of course. I turn around, still choking the maid. Aemond is there. He is here. Good. He is next.

I lash out, forgetting he is supposed to mean nothing to me. ‘’She called him a monster. She called him a monster!” I softly mumble the rest of the words, as tears burst from my eyes and sobs rock my body. Aemond sighs before taking my hands from her throat. She runs off instantly.

‘Where is she.’’ I ask him, without looking in his direction. I notice his brows start to knit together with worry and concern as he takes in our son.

Aemond is surprised. ‘’You haven’t cremated him yet.’’ I would rather throw myself in the flames than offer my innocent babe to it.

I smile, chuckling. Aemond doesn’t know. Aemond’s stupid. He always has been blinded. Not by his eye, but by his bloodlust, his greed, his ambitions. ‘’You will not touch him. You have no right to touch the future king of the seven Kingdoms.’’

Aemond becomes uneasy. ‘’Are you hearing yourself speak?! You’ve gone insane.’’ Now it is his throat that I am holding. ‘’Who’s to blame for that? Is it our blood causing the insanity, or is it our lifes full of tragedy and never-ending heartbreak.’ Aemond easily kicks himself free, kicking me in my stomach. The wounds have not yet healed. He does help me up once I have let go of him.

‘’Where is she.’’ I grit out. ‘’I need to stop her. We all need-’’

‘’You are delirious.’’

‘’I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything anymore. Do you have any idea what it is like, pushing something out of you that is cold and dead?’’ I chuckle. Of course he doesn’t. His face softens. ‘’Daella…’’

‘’I did this for you! I wanted you back! You only cared about me for some pity revenge against my mother! It was never about me! It was always about you, you and you!’

He becomes insulted. Good. ‘’Daella!’

‘’Go back to Harrenhal. Go fucking fuck that whore sister of mine, and fuck yourself into a early grave. You will never lay with me again. He will be our only son. If you ever become as stupid as to bring your witchling children here, I swear they won’t survive to see the next day.’’

‘’You dare threaten my children?’’ He groans. I only chuckle.

‘’You dared to murder ours. I have nothing left, Aemond….’’ I notice that the crib is empty. Empty as I feel inside. I run to the crib, when desperate screams leave my body. ‘’No, no no no! My son! My beautiful baby boy!’

Aemond is shocked as well. ‘’That is impossible.’’

I am close to ripping my own hair out. ‘’It is not! Don’t you understand? She has taken him! She needs him!’’ Why is he so stupid. And why can’t I tell him what I want?

Aemond scoffs. ‘’She needs our dead son?’’

This man. ‘’Aemond, it was never about you.’’ Alys appears, finally. She rubs her pregnant belly mockingly and smiles when kissing Aemond’s cheek. ‘’You have tried very hard to put a son inside me. Unfortunately, I don’t have use for our child.’’ With a simple wave of her wrist a blade appears. She drives it through her own stomach, cutting out the child. Aemond bristles in anger and fear.

She turns to look at me. ‘’And you, little sister. Torn in my eye…’’ I have barely any energy left to fight. The voices speak loud. They scream. They tell me that Alys is pregnant. It is over for all of us. It will be over for all of us soon.

Aemond defends me but he is too late. ‘’You will not hurt her.’’ I need to find him. I need to protect him. He cannot be the monster she wants him to be. Alys will make him a weapon. She will destroy him and this world.

The witch chuckles as I bite my fingers, trying to find my son under pillows. ‘’I don’t have to Aemond.’’ ‘’You did it for me. Just look at her. She has gone fully mad, the poor thing.’’

Aemond realises that Alys kills me, but he handed her the knife. ‘’Stop. You are doing this. I know you are. Make her stop. I can’t bare to see her like this.’’

I repeat more and more phrases, faster and faster as my vision starts to blur. ‘’Pregnant. She’s pregnant. It’s all over. The blade, the dagger. The song of ice and fire. The seed is strong, the dragons danced, its over. Protect the blade.’’

I laugh. ‘’My son…I must…find…my…son.’’ I see him, outside of the windows. He smiles at me, my son. He is beautiful. He is flapping his wings, he is free and his eyes. They are beautiful. Almost seen through. Like two perfect diamonds. My beautiful boy. I must go to him. Now.

Aemond can’t move to stop me as I rush to the window and let myself fall down. Aemond can hear how my body splashes against the ground, before likely bursting into different pieces ‘’No!’’