#Made him purple too. Cause I fully thought he was supposed to be pinkish purple in his canon art but I saw people draw him brown

[new-austin]

happy to announce I've set my crustify ray on another Curse of Strahd man

Mr. Rahadin

He has no lipssss. How will he get a kiss kiss?

[quaranmine]

Hi yeah its me again, sorry for the spam, not my fault you made cool and inspiring stuff. This time actually, i couldnt help myself and have made a short crackpodfic of an alternative universe which is basically 'AU where Mumbo is frolicking in the wild and Grian doesnt exist cause itd be too sad for him to do so, so hes gone.' Its stupid, ist badly written (literally my first ever creative writing work other than a 300 word school asignment) but like idk. if you dont want to or cant read it (cause its so bad and burns your eyes out) you can just not read it xd idc honestly but decided to maybe give you the choice of reading it or not. Excuse my weird and unusual ways of writing dialougue and monolouges This is part 1 of 3

Jellie meowed cutely, demanding for food most likely just as a familar figure walked into his cabin. —Oh Hello Cub! It's wonderful to see you again! How was the trail, you're earlier than usual, no? — Scar exclaimed happily, looking at the sweaty man now standing before him. The air was hot, the many glass windows of the watchtower could make a great greenhouse. The open windows allowed for a warm flow of the early summer's air to pass by and refresh the mostly closed space. —Hey hey. Yeah the traffic was better than usual, but there was more sand in on the trail today. I think it could be the Sahara desert dust that was supposed to get carried in with the wind. — Cub said, taking his backpack off and pulling out a rag to wipe his head off. No matter how many times he hikes through this trail it never gets much easier. — Oh, Cub. The Sahara desert was blowing on Europe! And also it's the 80s and this specific situation you're referencing is gonna happen in late March of the year 2024! That's at least 35 years into the future! —Oh yup I forgot. Sorki bout that —Cub, you silly silly man! — Scar said in a singsong tone. Both of them started laughing and looked straight into the readers eyes, smiling.  Hi reader they both thought and went back to laughing looking at each other. — Actually, Scar, while hiking I heard some tourists talking about some newfound cryptid roaming these parts, what's up with that? – Eh nothing special, some bikers saw a 'humanoid lanky bugman' or something. — The man said — I've seen it all over, people come, they see a black bear or a deer in the shadow and think it's a newfound species. But honestly! I gotta give credit to the bikers relating said encounter cause the guys were better than most at storytelling! The missing food cans, rustling in the bushes all around them, the feeling of being watched.. Truly creepy stuff! And then — Scar took in a breath, talking so much in one long exhale left him almost dizzy —the moment when they saw it fully...They described it as 'particularly lanky with black fur' and something about purple-pinkish fingertips as well as residue on its paleish naked face with a weirdly shaped snout. 'Like a Walrus' they said! A crazy comparison for a bear, but you know, human mind can do wonders! — Scar clapped at the last statement and closed his eyes smiling charmingly at his companion who was now drinking the rest of his water.. After a while, comfortable silence filled the watchtower as both of the men enjoyed eachothers company. Jellie was now purring against scars leg and promptly jumped on his lap demanding more pets as Cub had finally spoken up — Any new paintings done in the meantime? I don't recognise these two, are they new or recycled? — He asked, curiosity clear in his voice, lookin at the, indeed, two new paintings decorating the cabin. One of them depicting a landscape with a sunset. From where Cub was sitting, he could watch the same, now hidden under an overcast, mountains and trees. The other painting was of a group of three tufted titmice sitting on a branch. Cub took out his American bird field guy and read a couple of paragraphs to scar on what kind of bird has he drawn exactly. It's weird that he saw these birds cause apparently they don't live in that part of the US! Crazy.

HELPPPPP this is completely insane the best way, thank you. Love that Grian doesn't exist here because it'd be too sad for him. Love the fever-dream quality to the writing. In all the best ways you're taking me back to the crack fics I'd read on ff.net in 2013, it's great. Love the breaking the fourth wall abou the Sahara dust and the (assuming) European birds. You've got a certain hint of Douglas Adams flavoring happening with the switching to an "above" perspective for a moment to give a wry little fourth-wall comment.

Mumbo Jumbo, new forest cryptid. I can see it. If Hermitcraft!Mumbo eats redstone, do you think forest cryptid!Mumbo would eat like...rocks??? dlfjskfljslkfs

[dramaticsnakes]

The Revived - Chapter 19: Unwelcome Thoughts

This is chapter 19 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3603

Cw: blood, treating wounds, lots of pain, detailed intrusive thoughts about hurting others, tensions between characters, manipulation, spiralling, crying

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Tending to his own wounds was once a routine. It was something that he had to do frequently during the wars, and it hadn’t taken too long for him back then to grow desensitized to the feeling. As repetitive as loading a crossbow, which could cause someone else to go through the same repetitive action.

Though as Wilbur tried to recall the steps, his memory seemed to fail him. He hadn’t had treatable injuries in limbo after all. The ones he had since he was revived, other people had treated for him. Now he was out of practice. Great.

He ripped the fabric off the wound to free it. As bleeding started to come out from his wound, he remembered that the arrow ideally should be removed after the first bit of the immediate treatment.

Ah, shit.

With a piece of cloth he’d picked up, he applied as much pressure as he could to the wound. It stung, but it was better than nothing. “Now I’m going to rinse it,” Wilbur narrated. 

Ghostbur’s whimpers became clearer every time the wound was touched, and Wilbur was starting to grow tired of it. Every single time he heard it, he was momentarily brought back into the pain. It was pathetic to let himself be affected by it.

He took a water bucket and slowly poured some on the wound. Suddenly he heard Ghostbur scream.

“What’s going on, what’s going on, what’s going on?” Ghostbur pleaded.

“Huh?” Wilbur said confusedly, “I’m rinsing the wound, I just told you.”

The words were unclear through the quick breaths. “With- with what?”

“Uhh, water?” Wilbur said, confused at the question.

“O-oh-” Ghostbur said, “It- Water burns me. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect it this time.”

“Water burns you?” Wilbur asked. Abruptly, he remembered the tears steaming on the figure’s face. As if they were burning him. 

They were burning him.

“That didn’t happen last time,” he said, remembering when his wound had been rinsed way back then.

“It does now,” Ghostbur said quickly, and if it had been anyone else, Wilbur would almost have assumed it was with slight annoyance.

Wilbur hummed with acknowledgement as he picked his brain to remember if anything was different. He remembered how Ghostbur had been able to taste the consistency of the steak. The touch on the hand. The fur on the sheep. “I guess you feel things more clearly now.”

“O-okay. Please-” Ghostbur cut himself off.

“Please what?”

“W-warn me next time?” It was asked like a question. Uncertainty dripping off every syllable. It was familiar in a sense.

“Sure,” Wilbur said with a nod. “I’m supposed to be rinsing it for a couple of minutes though. To avoid infection.”

“Your time or my time?”

“My time.” Wilbur said, and the words tasted bitterly in his mouth.

“Okay,” Ghostbur whispered, his voice so hushed, that Wilbur could’ve easily missed it.

Wilbur continued to rinse the wound with water, Ghostbur’s whimpers coming through every once in a while, though they turned quieter and quieter. He thought of the way the tears had burned the ghost. He thought of the sobs, the pleas and the cries.

For how long had Ghostbur been crying?

Wilbur pushed the thought away as fast as he could, because he didn’t need it right now. It attempted to drag him towards the ground, and he was so so close to taking off. He was so close to letting his mind wander into the comforting freedom that came with the control he’d gained. He disinfected the wound, inhaling sharply at the feeling.

“I’m done rinsing it,” he said after a little while, and the ghost stopped whimpering. He took the bandages off the surface of the chest next to him, and wrapped them around his leg. He took a big sip from the potion of regeneration, the pinkish purple mixture making it into his veins. It felt a lot more comfortable than an instant health one. It settled, as if everything was being stitched together with a grip as gentle as water. 

Or well, perhaps not water in everyone’s case. 

There was silence from Ghostbur, and Wilbur hummed, satisfied with his work. “See? I’ve taken care of the wound, just like you wanted.” He chuckled lightly, “How do you feel?”

The ghost swallowed something in his throat. “Better,” he said, though the words sounded choked.

Wilbur remembered the buttons underneath his fingers, and the satisfaction that came with breaking something in his hands. He thought of George, backed up into a corner. “Hmm? Are you happy now?” he said, and somehow it didn’t feel like he was the one saying it. It was, of course. It was something he would say.

Ghostbur sounded like he was about to sob again, though it was hindered. After a few moments of silence, he spoke, “...thank you.”

Wilbur felt his shoulders fall into a relaxed position, as he looked straight ahead onto the books on the shelves. “You’re welcome,” he said. It came out quieter than he intended.

Once the potion had done some more work, he could go have a look at the books. Figure out his next course of action. But there was no rush. Not really. That was another pro to working alone. He decided when he was working, without the weight of expectations keeping him down.

Ghostbur sobbed, before cutting himself off again. “Wilby, ‘m sorry.” he said. It didn’t mix in with the rest of the pleas. It was intended for Wilbur properly this time.

“For what?” Wilbur asked, a bit of confusion slipping in with the nonchalance. 

Ghostbur’s breathing wavered. “Sorry for it hurting too much.”

It took Wilbur a moment to comprehend the words, and when he did he wasn’t sure whether to frown or to laugh. An apology. The ghost was apologizing to Wilbur for feeling pain. It was just like the other times, and it truly dawned upon Wilbur just how apologetic the ghost was. How the ghost would go silent just for feeling unwanted.

How easy it was, to make the ghost go silent.

The thoughts came to Wilbur like little gusts of wind. Like the button underneath his fingertips. Ghostbur couldn’t do anything, and Wilbur held every ounce of power to do whatever he wanted. The pure water didn’t harm Wilbur in the slightest. He imagined letting the water stream down himself, hearing the ghost’s pleas and faint apologies. He would beg Wilbur to stop, and Wilbur could touch his old wounds, and jump in a tank until he was entirely covered in water. The ghost’s apologies would fill his mind, and Wilbur would encourage them fully. He would take them at face value. He could have Ghostbur never talk again. He could finally be alone. Because breathing at the surface of the ocean was hardly necessary when you were brilliant enough to breathe underneath it.

As the thoughts appeared, he had a difficult time pushing them out. They lingered there, temptingly.  They shouldn’t, Wilbur realized. That didn’t make sense at all. He shook his head quickly.

Wilbur spent so long feeling like nothing. Feeling pathetic. Prime, how he yearned for the freedom. Wanted to be everything he knew he had the potential to be. Wanted to ride that high, that led him to the button that destroyed everything he’d created.

And yet, a faint hint of the ground he was standing on before, tried to drag him back. Tried to push the familiar high away. 

What the hell was he thinking? What did all of those thoughts mean?

He needed control. He really really needed control.

It was strange to have a ghost in his mind that lacked control whatsoever. Any knowledge was given by Wilbur, and even then, the poor thing still needed an explanation at times. The ghost spoke in the back of his mind, “I heard from Phil that when you get an injury you should use rice. Not the food though, he told me not to use actual rice.” Ghostbur chuckled somberly, “It’s an acronym. Tells you that you should rest, ice, compression, and elevate something when it hurts. I- I know that we don’t have ice, but can you- if it’s not a bother- elevate it?” Ghostbur quickly added, “Just a bit please.”

How far could he push the kind soul? How much would he take before nodding along to what Wilbur said. “It is a bother,” he said dully, the words seeming automatic. They tasted wrong as he continued to speak, “You’re lucky I’m kind enough to take care of you.” He grabbed the chair near him and laid his leg onto it, shifting it slightly so it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Thank you,” the words were strained, almost a whisper that slightly shook.

You’re welcome, stayed on his tongue. It tasted more and more bitter the more he considered it. Silence lingered between them. He barely had the words to say what he wanted to say.

A small part of him said to apologize. Perhaps that part was infected by Ghostbur as the rest of him was so boldly different. The thoughts reoccurred, louder this time, swarming him with all the ways he could make Ghostbur silent. “Shut up,” he muttered to nothing in particular. 

A muffled whimper filled his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his mind or Ghostbur as the ghost’s screams echoed in his mind. He moved the chair under him slightly, making it so he could reach the bookshelf in Tubbo’s bunker. Perhaps light reading would take his mind off of things.

He skimmed the titles with his eyes. Most of them were about L’Manberg and Schlatt2020, but a few stood out. He thought carefully before picking the book that read, “Pandora’s Box”. The name felt familiar. Someone must’ve told him about it, but he couldn’t remember a name. 

He leaned over, barely grabbed the book as it was near the end, and put it onto the table in front of him. He opened it, skimmed through the index, and flipped to the first page.

“Pandora’s Box, is a massive prison, commissioned by Dream on the 6th of December 2020. It was primarily built by Awesamdude, with the help of BadBoyHalo, Antfrost, and Dream. The prison is said to be entirely inescapable.”

Wilbur nodded along with the words, and flipped to a page that detailed the captives. 

“Current prisoners: Dream, imprisoned on February 7th 2021”

Wilbur chuckled to himself. Oh the irony. Trapped in one's own prison. Truly the fate for someone considered a villain.

Wilbur’s mind was silent. There were barely any whimpers. Wilbur hated how his heart seemed to jump to his throat for a moment at the realization. He turned the page back to the part detailing the entry protocol.

“To gain access to the prison, the guest must summon the warden by clicking the button at the entrance hall and travel through the portal grid controlled by the warden.”

Silence. Wilbur felt his heart rate increasing.

“Upon entering, the warden at the desk has the visitor sign waivers waiving the prison's responsibility and gives the prisoner the responsibility for all risks.”

Wilbur tried to absorb the information, as he became increasingly aware of his own breathing.  “In addition, the guest is vetted through interrogation with questions regarding the visitor's visit history, relationship with the prisoner, and the location of residence.”

Wilbur remembered the faint apologies. Sorry for it hurting too much. Yet there was barely a sound in his head, and all he could hear was his heart, and his breathing, and he had one foot on the ground, and the other elevated. He was no longer about to fly. His mind wanted to, but it couldn’t seem to find a place to take off. The click of buttons seemed foreign to him. He wanted to throw the book away to make sense of his mind, and all the desires blasting through it at miles a second. The desires he didn’t want to have, the desires he was supposed to have, the doubts he thought he shook off long ago. 

Pathetic. Pathetic shell with nothing to offer for his time. A legacy, a crater in the ground. He wasn’t going to be pathetic anymore. He knew he could do so much more. He could affect miles worth of land. Could fill so many pages in history directly and indirectly. Wilbur was a genius! A work of art, and no one else knew. No one else understood. No one else could truly see the big picture the way he could.

Control. He really really needed control.

Wilbur shut the book abruptly. “Ghostbur, do you want me to read something out loud to you?” The words came out so quickly, that he barely realized he was the one who’d said them.

“Huh?” a moment of hesitation followed, “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I- I don’t know.”

“There are quite a few books here,” Wilbur said, his voice softening.

“I…” A few confused silent breaths came out, “What- what am I supposed to answer?”

“Hm?” 

“I’m sorry, this is hard, I don’t… I don’t know. What do you want me to respond? You said I shouldn’t-” There were some quiet unintelligible mumbles.

Wilbur’s hand shook on the cover of the book, his back suddenly straightened. It had worked. Just a few words, slipping out as a small test, and the ghost was right there, trying to please Wilbur’s every whim. The ghost was in his head, and the ghost was desperate. The ghost feared him, and Wilbur wasn’t even sure if the ghost knew how much more Wilbur was capable of or not. Just how little Wilbur had to do, for the pleas to never cease, or for the silence to extend forever. 

And perhaps, there was a little bit of influence lingering elsewhere, because the thought made Wilbur feel sick. Dizzy from the power, yet lacking any sort of grasp or control when it came to his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur said out loud, the words echoing the ghost’s own muffled apologies.

“Huh?” Ghostbur said.

“There is no right answer,” Wilbur said. “Just uh… Pick what you want.”

“Would it… Would either bother you?” Ghostbur asked, his voice choked.

Wilbur shook his head, though the ghost couldn’t see it. “No. Reading brings me information regardless and reading some out loud would just… Help me memorize it.”

Yes. Wilbur didn’t care either way. What did Wilbur care about anyway?

“Oh.” Ghostbur said, taking a deep breath, “R-reading is calming. If it isn’t any trouble I wouldn’t mind listening for a bit. Sorry.”

Wilbur flinched slightly at the apology. “No reason to be sorry,” Wilbur said. “What do you wanna hear about?” He asked, looking at the shelves, “Oooh, how about all this Egg stuff? I don’t know much about that.”

Ghostbur made a small hum of agreement, “Whatever you’d like.”

Wilbur insisted on Ghostbur’s opinions to be heard, the persisting guilt pressing onto him painfully, “Do you not have a preference or do you secretly want a certain book?”

Ghostbur’s voice wavered, “I- I’m sorry. Just um- whatever you want.”

Wilbur hated that he could tell Ghostbur had a preferred book. Yet, he knew the ghost was distressed enough as it was and decided to force himself to not dwell on it too long. Of course it lingered in the back of his mind, but he pulled a book titled “The Egg” off of the bookshelf. He took a shaky breath as he opened the book. 

He didn’t bother looking at the table of contents as he cleared his voice, “The Crimson, also known as The Egg, is a strange large red egg that was discovered by BadBoyHalo while mining out his statue room before December 6, 2020.”

The silence was present, but it wasn’t as loud as before. It slightly irritated him as it taunted him in the back of his mind.

“Since then, it has grown much larger and exhibits a strange phenomenon of weeping vines and tendrils that have been found across different locations. The Egg appears to be sentient, talking to the infected in a strange language.”

Wilbur awkwardly laughed, “That’s sorta cool.”

He hoped for a passive agreement that was tinged with melancholy, but instead, silence greeted him. No- it wasn’t a greeting. It was a harsh intrusion that played on repeat.

“The vines, also ca- called Blood Vines appear to be slowly growing across populated areas. The v- vines reek of iron, and taste like metal.” 

Wilbur’s hands shook the book as he looked up at the ceiling. He almost expected the stone surface to morph into Ghostbur himself, and proceed to tell him how horrible of a person he was. It was welcomed more than the silence. He knew he didn’t deserve Ghostbur’s voice, but he wanted to hear him laugh again. He just needed the reassurance he would be okay.

The thought made him look back at the book. He shouldn’t be so soft. The ghost had done nothing for him. He only knew him for a few days. He shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t. 

Ghostbur probably didn't care either. He probably pretended to, for a way out of limbo. Yet, part of him knew Ghostbur wouldn’t be silent if that was his goal. He would ask questions about Dream or the train, instead of leaving him alone in his own mind.

“Ghostbur, please just-” Wilbur didn’t even acknowledge what he was saying. He screwed his eyes shut as he put his head down on the table. He felt his eyes water despite being closed. He wasn’t crying if he didn’t let the tears fall, was he?

He didn’t even know what he wanted Ghostbur to say, but it certainly wasn’t what the ghost said. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”

A sob reached out of Wilbur’s throat. He constantly ruined everything. It wasn’t any wonder why everyone preferred Ghostbur over him. Apart from the occasional person that preferred Dream over him. The one written down to be the villain that everyone regarded out of malice. He couldn’t have a moment without someone wishing he was gone and it killed him.

Not literally, even if he wished so. He didn’t stop his cries from tumbling out. He went to cover his mouth with a hand, but he couldn’t see a point anymore. The worst that could happen was the villain finally reaching the end of his story. A story that finished months ago, but now the creators of life were releasing the sequel that nobody asked for. 

“Wilbur? Is there something I can help you with?” Ghostbur’s voice was so small and hesitant compared to all the thoughts in his head. He got up from his seat, just to curl himself up under the table, moving his leg slightly. He winced from the pain, but he kept it stretched straight to make it hurt a little less.

“G- Ghostie?” Wilbur stuttered through sobs.

Ghostbur’s voice had a fondness that shined through it slightly. A pang of guilt roughly hit him at the gentleness he didn’t deserve. “I’m here.”

Wilbur’s mind ran as he blurted, “Ghostie, please don’t stop talking. I- I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the train station anymore. I need someone else. Please.” Wilbur’s voice cracked on itself as he grabbed part of his hair. He hated the fucking train station, the silence that constantly rang in his ears. The gray walls and ceiling taunted him as if freedom was on the other side. If he ran far enough, he would find the end of the tunnel. If he ran quick enough, no one would even notice he was gone.

It took him a while to hear the thoughts in the back of his mind, “-t was a silly idea! B- but Tommy insisted. So we took a bag with us with some potions in it. They weren’t for me but just Tommy. We ran out into the snow, it was so much fun!”

Wilbur put his head between his knees as he felt the wall against his back. Tommy. Snow. Potions. Ghostbur. No train station. He was out. He tried to count his breathing, but it only worked so well as his breath kept on hitching.

“He was wearing three layers and I was wearing… I guess one? Phil said he needed more layers to feel warm, but I always felt warm since I was a ghost and stuff. So I just wore my normal outfit.”

Wilbur nodded as his voice shook, “Mhm. P- Phil is really nice.”

“Yeah. Phil is part bird, I think? Or angel maybe, some people have said. He has wings and he makes little chirping noises when he’s happy. Sometimes he makes higher ones if he’s worried.” Wilbur already knew all of it, but he felt familiarity with the information that comforted him.

Ghostbur continued to talk and Wilbur was appreciative of it. He’d add small comments occasionally. It took longer than it should have for Wilbur to stop crying, but at the end, in a smaller voice than he wanted, he muttered a quick, “Thank you.”

Ghostbur sighed peacefully, “You’re welcome.”

“Tired,” Wilbur’s eyes desperately wanted to close but he made sure to keep them open. He didn’t want to leave Ghostbur. Not right now.

“Go to sleep, Wil. I’ll be here in the morning.” Wilbur could barely hear the rest, nonetheless debate that he didn’t want to leave Ghostur alone, as he passed out under the table without another word.

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 5

A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi. You wake up from your first night in the Obsidian Palace ready to explore and maybe get to know more about how you ended up here

_______________________

You slept much later than you had intended, judging by how well-rested you felt. You cursed, wishing there was a way to distinguish time. The sky was always the same. You dressed yourself in the most basic dress that had been placed in your closet, a deep purple dress, but it was still beautiful.

You gently pushed open the door and headed out into the castle. There was no one in the great hall, and no one in the throne room. You didn’t want to bother Yoongi straight away, you decided you would try to catch him as he went out to the Sea.

You turned and went down a passage you hadn’t been down yet. You were surprised to see that there was a door in the middle of this hallway that appeared to lead to the outside. You turned the handle, walked down a few steps, and found yourself in a circle, about 15 meters in diameter. The Underworld sky shone above you, the walls of the castle surrounded you on all sides. It was an empty space full with black gravel covering the ground.

This could use some improvement you thought as you stretched your fingers out, allowing green energy to flow freely. You began by creating lush grass beneath your feet. You waved your hands, creating hedges in a circle configuration with space for a path. You next added some lilies and an archway above the space. You continued to add more bushes and lilies throughout. When you arrived at the middle you created a large purple Chrysanthemum bush.

You smiled, satisfied with the garden so far. You next added some ivy running up the Palace walls.

“Oh my word. That’s stunning!” you heard a voice call out. You turned toward the door and saw Lethe standing there.

“Thank you. I do love creating a new garden from scratch,” you replied, brushing your hands together.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw something green.” Lethe responds, her mouth slightly open in awe. She walked down the steps and into the garden. “This is amazing.”

You smiled proudly.

“I was out looking for you. Is there anything I can get for you today?”

“Is there any way to tell time around here? The sky never changes,” you asked as you look up.

Lethe thinks for a moment. “I can never tell time here, but I know Lord Yoongi uses a special hourglass. Maybe he could teach you how to read it.” she shrugged. “I just do the same thing every day and count the times he leaves. He’s left once. So it’s after morning but not very late in the afternoon.”

“I suppose it really doesn’t matter all that much,” you sighed, sitting down on the ground and hugging your knees to your chest.

“M’lady surely we can bring you a bench or something to sit on out here.”

You looked up at Lethe and gave her a lopsided grin,“I’m not quite the Goddess you expected am I?”

“Oh no, you’re much nicer than any of the Goddesses from the Athenian Palace.” She immediately threw her hands up to her mouth, “Forgive me. Please forget I said that.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m a nature Goddess, not an Olypian. You are all treating me too well here. I don’t live in a palace in the mortal realm so this,“ you gestured to your dress and to the walls around you, “would definitely be seen as an upgrade.”

“I thought all Gods and Goddesses had courts and palaces?” Lethe responded as she ran a hand along one of the hedges.

“My brother keeps a palace and a court. I visit from time to time and have a room there. But, I mostly wander around nature. I sleep in caves. I find quiet coves near the ocean. Hollowed out trees. I think I might have one pair of shoes that I keep in my room at the Spring Court. Really. I am not some fancy lady,” you stood up. “What’s your favorite flower Lethe?”

“Gladiolus.” she said quietly.

You spread out your fingers and then a small bush appeared, it’s pinkish-purple blooms appearing within seconds.

“You might not be a fancy lady, but you are a great one,” Lethe said, her eyes growing wet with tears.

You decided it would be best to give her a moment, “I’m heading to the Library. Can you please let me know the next time Lord Yoongi is leaving for the Sea?”

“Of course,” you heard her say as you began your walk back to the Southern part of the castle.

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

Yoongi walked back from his first reaping of the day. Charon had delivered the letter to Apollo and now all you two could do is wait. He shook his hair out of his face as he entered his office. He was surprised to see the flowers from the previous night were still blooming on his desk. He smiled and moved them over to one side, next to the glass orb you had arrived in.

He found himself feeling lighter than he had in centuries and wondered what he had done last night to feel so well-rested today. He walked over to the bookshelves and scanned them for a moment. Settling on one of his many notebooks he took it out and began writing. Writing music was something he had started to do as a way to break up the monotony of the Underworld. He began playing on the harpsichord, testing the notes he had envisioned during his walk earlier.

Satisfied, he moved on to lyrics. This part was more difficult. He could write music. He could write lyrics. Matching the two up for an actual song was always a series of trial and error. He poked his tongue out and found himself wondering what you were doing today. He scribbled a few lines down and decided to go and see.

He wandered through the Great Hall and saw Penthos. “Penthos, have you seen Lady Persephone today?” he asked, running his fingers through his black hair.

“I haven’t. Lethe left a while ago to see if she needed anything and hasn’t returned yet. Is there anything you need from me today m’Lord?”

“Holly’s food is getting low, please take care of that.” Yoongi put his hands on his hips as he looked around the great hall, appraising it for the first time in years.

“Yes m’lord. Anything else?”

“No,” he responded and went back into the main hallway.

He walked down the hallway and up to the quicksilver door and knocked. He suddenly felt very nervous and wondered what exactly he was going to say to you. To his slight relief and also disappointment there was no response. He continued down the Eastern corridor and was surprised to see the door to the small courtyard open. He practiced in his head Good afternoon Persephone did you sleep well? Did you like the dresses. No. Too weird. Ugh He walked over and was shocked to see a fully in bloom garden there. Well you had definitely been here. He carefully walked down, afraid he would harm even the grass that was freshly created. He hadn’t visited the mortal realm in centuries and other than the flowers last night, he hadn’t seen anything like this in forever. He gently touched one of the white flowers, afraid his touch might cause it to wither and die like the mortals said. To his pleasant surprise, the flower remained. He let out a breath, he wasn’t a monster. He wandered through the rest of the small area admiring the blooms and the pleasant fragrance in the air.

He walked back over to the hallway and closed the door behind him. He heard footsteps approaching as Lethe rounded the corner.

“Lord Yoongi.”

“Good day Lethe. Have you seen Lady Persephone?”

“Yes, I just left her in the library. Shall I go fetch her?” Lethe asked, beginning to turn around.

“No, no. Thank you.” he started walking over that way.

He pushed open the black glass doors to the library, his footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Much like the Quicksilver room and the Throne room, the shelves and benches in here were carved into the very Obsidian with which they were made.

Yoongi walked over and saw you gently levitating some books on the second floor, dusting them off with a breeze, and sending dust out the window. The dress Arachne had made fit you perfectly, he admired from the library entrance.

You turned and looked down at him, “Just doing some Spring cleaning.” you grinned. “Get it? Because I’m Spring,” you laughed at your own terrible pun.

For a minute he just stood there looking confused, and then a small gummy smile crept across his face. And then he started to laugh as well

.

“I know, I know, I am hilarious.” you put that stack of books back and summoned another one. Satisfied with that finished row you turned towards Yoongi. “How are you today?”

“Surprisingly refreshed.” he responded and walked up a few steps so he was on the same level as you. He walked over to the open window. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, fidgeting with his black shirt sleeve.

“I did. Thank you for the clothes. I’d love to give the seamstress my compliments. The material is so soft and well made.”

“I’ll let her know,” Yoogi smirked as he turned back towards the window. Making eye contact was always difficult for him.

“I wouldn’t mind doing so myself.” you responded, walking closer.

Yoongi clicked his tongue, “Maybe another time. She’s uh...not quite human and very much a creature of the Underworld. But I’ll let her know.”

You walked over and sat in the window seat next to where he was standing.

He looked over at your face, and even though he’d only known you for around twenty-four hours, he could detect something was wrong; the air of cheerfulness gone from you. And he couldn’t explain why he cared so much that you seemed unhappy. “Is something bothering you Persephone?”

You let out a sigh. “Not really bothering me per say but there are a few things I would like to ask you.”

Yoongi felt his heart rate beginning to pick up. He had lied to himself thinking you were happy here. You were going to demand that he return you immediately. His breathing became more shallow.

You looked over and noticed his eyes were suddenly pinched shut and he wasn't breathing. You reached out and took his hand, shaking it slightly “Hey. Are you ok?”

He looked down at where the two of you were connected and he was suddenly pulled out of his own self-destructive thoughts. He pulled his hand away gently, “Of course. What did you want to ask me?”

“Ok, first: how do you tell time down here?” you ask exasperated.

Yoongi laughed, suddenly feeling like an idiot for his almost meltdown a few seconds ago,

“That’s what you wanted to ask me? The most important thing?” he turned and smiled at you.

“Yes. It’s the most important thing ever. Ever. I can deal with being kidnapped but I really just need to know the time of day,” you say dramatically. “Seriously though. It’s very disorienting.

You probably don’t even notice it because you’ve lived here for so long, but not having morning, midday, and night is really confusing.”

He ran a hand along his jaw, “I suppose that’s true. I just go down to the shore three times a day. If there are even 24 hours in a day here,” he seemed to think this over thoughtfully.

“So you don’t really know either?” you smirked.

Yoongi pressed his lips together in a way that looked almost like a duck making you giggle.

“Alright. So time doesn’t matter here in the Underworld. Got it.” you throw up your hand, holding up two fingers, “Next question: Why did Namjoon bring me here specifically?”

“Ah, a real concern.” Yoongi stated quietly.

“More of a question than a concern really. I’d much rather be with you than anywhere with Namjoon,” you stated as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

You’d be the first Yoongi thought but he was so surprised and happy at what you said, a blush started to form on his face and he forgot what you had asked him exactly.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to tell me, but if you know I’d really appreciate it,” you said quietly, looking out the window.

“Aish, sorry. It’s um. Embarrassing it all. He uhh….thought I could use some company.” he looked down at his feet. “He thinks I must be lonely down here.” he added quietly.

“Were you?” you asked looking over your shoulder.

His gaze remained at the floor and he shrugged his shoulders. Yes. Gods yes. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Liar

The two of you stay there for an indeterminate amount of time before you ask, “What are those called?”

“Pardon?” he walked over to the window, leaning over behind you to see what you were gesturing to. “Those are called, those mountains over there, North of the Castle.” he laughed, you could feel his breath on your neck.

You scrunched up your nose and turned to face him, “That is a truly unimaginative name.”

“Add it to the list. You’ve got a cave and a mountain range to name.”

“So much responsibility.” you pretended to whine.

Yoongi smiled at you and made the mistake of looking into your eyes because he suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were and took a few steps back. He rubbed his hands together. “Well it’s about time to go collect some more dead people.”

“Wow, when you put it like that it sounds much less interesting.” you mused.

“Will you be joining me?” he asked, trying to not sound too eager.

You looked around the library. Your cleaning could wait until later even though you felt slightly compelled to finish what you had started. “I’d love to.” NEXT CHAPTER

[jayietheriverwarrior]

Well, it’s certainly been a while since I drew this guy. ^^ Okay, some context for those who haven’t heard of any of this. Some time ago, I used to be a big fan of a podcast called “Welcome to Night Vale.” I really loved the show, but I sorta fell behind on episodes for a while, then I fell further behind, then so many episodes piled up that I felt overwhelmed at the thought of trying to catch back up. That was a few years ago. Recently, with my new job and being able to do some of my work while listening to something in one ear, I decided to get myself back into Night Vale. I recently caught back up, and my love for the podcast has returned full-force. :D I have now listened to all of the episodes, and have read both of the novels, and loved them all (though some of the continuity stuff in “It Devours” is a bit weird, and I overall preferred the first novel I think). For those who haven’t heard of this podcast before, “Welcome to Night Vale” is a podcast that takes the form of a local radio show of a fictional US town, Night Vale, located somewhere in the desert. Anything supernatural or horrifying, like a Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, or hooded figures that lurk around a forbidden dog park, or the Sheriff having a Secret Police force, or government agents watching everyone’s every move, are all seen as completely ordinary and mundane to those living in Night Vale. ^^ The radio show is hosted by a man named Cecil, who reports on the events that happen in his town, occasionally sharing his own thoughts on the matter, and gushes over the handsome scientist who just moved into town. ^^ The fun of the podcast is seeing what bizarre events happen in the town, and how most of it is seen as run-of-the-mill to those who live there. The fun of it is also the great writing, wonderful characters, wonderful relationships between those characters, and great representation for minorities and for the LGBT community. :D Anyway, I decided to make a new design for the main character, Cecil, since I drew my old design for him ages ago. Since the podcast is all audio and no visual, and since Cecil’s appearance is never described to us, fans are able to depict Cecil however they like, although tentacle tattoos, white/gray hair, and a third eye are all common in fan depictions of Cecil. There were certain aspects of my old design for him that I retained for this design, but I changed a fair bit of it. And yes, I know, I know, my design looks like just about every other skinny, white-haired, tattooed Cecil design out there. I wasn’t going for originality so much as trying to just come up with a design that felt the most like Cecil to me, if that makes sense, that I could make to fit my mental image of him. And I’ve seen far too many white-haired, tentacle-tattooed Cecil designs over the years to wildly alter my mental image of him at this point. And I didn’t really want to. I just wanted to have fun coming up with my own version of him to fit my mental image while still being sorta original in my design. Anyway, the design itself. I kept a similar idea of the hair sorta swooping back and then tufting back up. But I was able to portray that much better here, the way I meant for it to look, not the wild, mad scientist sorta hair I drew him with before. :P His hair isn’t as tall and doesn’t stick up as much as on his old design. I also changed the coloring, as the gray from before with all of the flecks of other colors just didn’t look right anymore. Instead, I played around with a bunch of different options before finally settling on a two-toned look like other Cecil designs I’ve seen. It seems that most two-toned hairstyles like this involve the dark part of the hair being very short and close to the scalp to contrast with the lighter hair being longer, but… oh well. :P I like the look of him having full hair throughout, at least for my design, there’s definitely good and cool designs of him out there with the short hair on part of the head. :D I always intended for Cecil to have a very narrow sort of face. I made it really thin and long in his old design, and I was not very good at portraying that in a realistic manner. :P Here, I think I managed to get that across much better, while still having his face look fairly realistic. Fun fact – I actually used pictures of Hugh Laurie as a reference while drawing this. ^^ He has the sort of narrow-faced look I was going for, though I didn’t copy the elements of his face exactly, I just used the pictures to help suss out the anatomy at this angle. I used a mix of yellow and purple in his old tattoo designs, sort of trying to emphasize how Night Vale and Desert Bluffs are connected. While I liked that idea, I just couldn’t get that blend of colors to look right on this new design, so I ditched the yellow and just stuck to various shades of purple. Before, I had given him unusually-large amber irises, with a pupil that was just a darker shade of amber rather than black. I didn’t have any particular reason for this, I just thought it looked cool, and emphasized Cecil’s not-quite-human-ness. :P But before coming up with this design, I had an interesting idea, and I’m honestly not sure if anyone’s incorporated this into a Cecil design before (probably) – instead of regular eyes, what if I made the eye-moon thing in the Night Vale logo his actual eyes? I decided to try it out, and I really liked how it looked, so I stuck with it. :D I like to think that Cecil was born with normal eyes, maybe brown or something, but when he was officially declared the new Voice of Night Vale, as such an important representative and voice of their weird little community, his eyes literally became the symbol of Night Vale, symbolizing how he represents and speaks for the town. I really like how those eyes look on him. It shows his connection with the town, it’s a cool color for his eyes, and the lack of white in his eyes or black pupils further emphasizes his not-quite-human-ness. I image they’re also quite freaky to those not from Night Vale and not used to its ways. Carlos was probably quite alarmed when he first saw those eyes, and also quite confused as to why he found such frightening eyes attractive, before eventually getting used to Night Vale and its strangeness and fully embracing how attractive he found Cecil. ^^ I also changed my design for his facial tattoos, though I think his arm tattoos will mostly stay the same, though the colors will be simplified to just light and dark purple, and some of the design might be simplified and shifted around. I’m pretty sure I’ll also keep the tattoo monster thing on his chest and back, ‘cause I like the idea of it. ^^ Anyway, I decided to get rid of the lines and shapes on his face from his old design, and just go for a few tentacle tattoos on his face framing his eyes. I kept the moon-eye on his forehead, but I added some eyelashes just to make it stand out, and I got rid of the line around it and just put more tentacle tattoos beside it. As I said before, I got rid of the yellow in the tattoo coloration, and just used dark purple as the outline, and a light, pinkish purple to fill in the tattoo. I think the colors work really well together, and I like how the tattoos came out looking. :D Overall, I’m really happy with this new design for Cecil. :D I was too lazy to draw a full body shot of him, and I really just wanted to focus on his face at the moment, but maybe some time I’ll draw his full design with his new tattoos. I know Night Vale’s fashion sense, and Cecil’s in particular, is supposed to be completely ridiculous and nonsensical and over-the-top and not matching – Cecil has been described as wearing antlers and hip-weighters, furry pants, a poncho with cat ears and goulashes, and god knows what else - but I just can’t seem to get rid of my mental image of him in a nice shirt and waistcoat, it’s just been my mental image of him for too long. Maybe one day I’ll eventually embrace his canonical mis-matching fashion sense, but for now I’ll just keep drawing him this way. :P I decided to keep the shading simple on this, and I just added a bit of a starry background so it wasn’t too plain. Honestly though, for not having drawn humans for several years, I’m honestly ridiculously proud of how this turned out. :D The anatomy looks way better than the last time I drew humans, and it just looks really good, I think. :D

[kittykatslender]

Meetings (RichaXRevenant-22)

Risha jogged down the stairs to the Hall of Guardians, waving to Shaxx as she passed by him.

"You needed to see me Cayde?" She said, high-fiving a passing Guardian.

"Yea. We got a new Hunter here." He said, clapping a Hunter on the back. "His names Revenant-22. Mind showing him around?"

"Sure," she said and turned to Revenant and punched his shoulders lightly. "Names Risha."

"Pleasure to meet you." He said winking. Risha giggled holding a finger up and walked around the table, pulling on Zavala's shoulder pauldron and kissed his cheek. The giant Vanguard chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a brief squeeze. Grinning, she jumped onto the table and ran back to Revenant.

"Hey! Watch my map, Risha!" Cayde said as the two Hunters ran off before he could wring Risha's neck.

"So you and Zavala?" He pressed, taking in her red hair, yellow tattoo, blue eyes and deep purple skin.

"Yea. We kind of hit it off a little bit after my resurrection. Cayde was a little peeved but I told him I annoy Zavala when he was off duty for him and he calmed down. I wouldn't try anything with Ikora though. So take that idea from your mind." Risha said, laughing louder when he pouted. "Hey. I know where we can go first."

Grabbing Revenants arm, she ran to the lunch hall, and led him to two more Awoken women. One he noticed was a Titan with silver hair and that she also had deep purple skin. When she turned to him, he noticed that she had bright blue eyes just like Risha, but she had a thin black tattoo on her nose. Her laugh reached her eyes and made them shine brighter.

"Whoa, who's she?" He said absentmindedly. The Titans laughter bubbled to his audials as the Warlock in front of her spit out her food with a disgusted face.

"What the fuck?!" the Warlock yelled coughing. Guardians around them laughed as she scrabbled to slurp any kind of beverage she could get her hands on down her throat.

"The silver haired Titan is my older twin sister, Richa." Risha said, walking to the table. "Hey guys! We've got a new Guardian around."

She gestured to Revenant and grinned at Richa.

"Revenant, this is my sister Richa and our best friend, Zorlee." Risha said, gesturing to the two Guardians, Richa waved, tears in her eyes as she continued to laugh at Zorlee. Zorlee coughed downing another glass of water that a male Titan gave her.

"Don't worry about her. She'll be alright soon enough. Some of the guys decided to dare her to try the lunch halls surprise soup." She giggled scooting over. Rev smiled sitting down beside her and leaning onto the table.

"Honestly I thought this would be something Titans do. Not Warlocks."

"Yea, well Zorlee is a nutcase and doesn't conform to stereotype." Richa said watching the Pinkish-Red haired girl as she tried to suck down the rest of the soup, clenching her eyes in obvious disgust. "It's what makes us best friends."

"Really? Well, you two sound like my kind of people."

They both laughed watching as the crowd of Guardians grow as the light blue-eyed Guardian basically forced herself to eat the remaining soup.

"Are you happy now Phoenix??!!" Zorlee said setting the bowl down as Phoenix, a white Exo with silver accents sat beside her and wrapped his arm around Zorlee shoulders.

"Very. You managed to not throw up this time." He said, his deep voice reverberated around the circle. Zorlee laughed leaning in, kissing his cheek.

"Hey, uh. You want to get out of here? Go somewhere nice and quiet?" Richa said looking at him. "I know a café we can go to but we'll need to ditch our armor."

"Sure but why ditch the armor?" He said standing with her.

"Eh, they don't know I'm a Guardian so I don't get treated like some royalty. I enjoy it. It's a really nice feeling, ya know?"

"Well, I'm sure I will one day. But right now."

"Ah, right. I forgot you're new." She giggled walking across the plaza to a set of double doors and pushed them open. "These are the Guardians Quarters. Though I would invest in something to cancel noises. Especially when Zavala and Risha get into it."

"Like. Screaming? Or..." He made a scissor motion with his two index and middle fingers.

"Yes. Whenever they fuck. From what I've seen of her in the mornings after it's something intense."

Rev looked at her with a questioning look on his face. She chuckled softly stopping in front of a door.

"Hey, your rooms right across from mine. Awesome." She bounced as she punched in a keycode and opened her door. "I'll see you soon, yea?"

"Yea." He smiled at her, unbeknownst to Richa the lights in between the seams in his cheeks were flashing, his version of a blush was spread across his cheeks. His ghost, Dinklebot, appeared and did his version of a grin at Revenant.

"You like her." He teased as Rev walked in and started stripping himself of his armor and reached for civilian clothes.

"Shut up, Dinklebot."

~Meanwhile~

Amon floated around Risha as she dressed in a silver tank top and black jeans.

"You like him!"

"Shush." Richa said eyes flickering to the door. "Don't let him hear you, Amon."

"Sorry, but Richa you're absolutely head over heels over him." Amon said floating around, flexing his shell here and there. Richa slipped on some combat boots over her jeans and laced them up and proceeded to flop back onto the bed.

"What if he doesn't like me though Amon?" She said staring up at the ceiling. She had carved intricate designs into the ceiling that were almost like the constellations. Her Ghost flew down and plopped himself onto her forehead and looked up to the ceiling also. A knock came at her door and a second later it opened to reveal Revenant, wearing a dark green hoodie with black pants and sneakers. He looked around at her knickknacks and snorted when his eyes landed on her and Amon, tilting his head.

"Well, he sure looks comfortable," Rev said watching her as she rose and grabbed her Ghost. "Have you named yours?"

"Yea he was and yes. His names Amon. It's an old Egyptian name." She said lovingly petting the Ghost who seemed to purr and lean into her as she stood. Rev took her shape and all the other small details about her in. She had small scars that puckered up between her breasts and stomach, intricate tattoos wound their way up her arms and shoulders around her neck and breasts and down her sides. And despite her strength and muscles she was a small framed woman though she came up to where his nose would've been.

Holding one arm out he flourished his other towards the door.

"Shall we go then milady?" he asked watching Amon fly towards Richa and disappear. Richa laughed softly taking his arm.

"And women in the Last City say chivalry is dead."

"Well they never met me." He said walking down the corridor after she locked up her room. Rev tried to keep his eyes on hers but sometimes he'd catch them trailing down the tattoos along her neck and breast. Which also didn't help that her breast bounced with every springing step she took. As they walked into the Plaza some of the Guardians stopped and stared at the young exotic looking woman on Revs arm.

~Time Skip~

Rev sat at a table and watched Richa across the table order a thing she liked to call her 'wakeup call'. A Cinnamon latte with double shot of vanilla and expresso topped with chocolate syrup. When the drink was delivered, the waiter, a young teenage looking boy left a napkin with his number on it. Rev glared slightly at the boy, causing him to scurry off.

Richa laughed sadly ripping the napkin off before saying in a whispered voice.

"It wouldn't happen anyway. I'd rather not be found to be a Guardian. Much less a Titan."

"Are you ashamed of being a Titan?" He asked her, studying her drink and making a face. That made her bust out into her bubbly laughter.

"What?"

"That thing smells way too sweet. But you avoided my question."

"Ah and that's where you're wrong Revvy." She said, eyes twinkling at her nickname for him. The lights in his mouth and cheeks flickered brightly as he watched her gingerly sip the coffee.

"I'm most definitely NOT ashamed of my class. It just makes romances... weird."

"How so?"

"Well. Many of the male Guardians aren't very fond of a woman being stronger or as strong as them and the females...There's very few female Titans and tons of female Hunters and Warlocks think Titans are brutal. Which, yes, I agree. The sex can be brutal but what I've heard from Risha, sex with Zavala's worth all the bruises. I guess she's the only one who'd think so."

"Hmm. I'd like to find out what sex with you is like." The words slipped from his mouth before he had time to stop himself. His systems heated up faster than before and the lights on his face started flaring bright red, bright enough to reflect into Richa's hair and eyes. A darker, deeper, purple blush was flushed against her cheeks. Revenant rubbed the back of his neck in extreme embarrassment and he looked down. "Th-That wasn't supposed to come out."

A few seconds of awkward silent air hung between the two, Rev was sure he could reach out and grab the awkwardness and it'd still be there. That's how thick it was. Or so it was until Richa laughed softly, drinking longer gulps now that her coffee had cooled off a bit. Leaning back into her chair she stared out the window of the café up at the Traveler.

"Maybe one day I'll take you up on that offer, Revvy."

"Well, changing subjects. How much do you remember of your past life?" He said quietly, glancing at some civilians walking by.

"Not much. Most of its fuzzy except for one detail." She said setting her empty cup to the side where a waiter would pick it up and ordered a new one.

"What's that?" He asked, curiosity peaked.

"The day I died." She said staring at her ungloved hand. It was badly calloused and her nails were brittle.

"Care to talk about it?" Rev asked sitting up straighter. Richa smiled at him slightly taking the new cup of coffee.

"It was me, Risha and another girl. I think she was our sister but I can't fully remember. She's... blurred whenever I try to focus on her. We had just graduated from an Academy and were in Russia on vacation. I remember a car speeding toward us, driving on the wrong side of the road and then we were sent flying. The car... rolled and Risha..." She sniffed shaking her head and looked out the window. "Risha's head snapped into the dashboard and then against the window so hard her head snapped. I... I remember being impaled. I think it was a tree branch or maybe it was a steel pole. But I didn't die from blood loss. I died from blunt force trauma from slamming my head so hard on the steering wheel. I remember the girl in the back screaming but I died before the first responders could get us out. I'm still haunted by the girls screams and watching Risha's neck snap."

"What was it like? Dying I mean?"

"At first it was just numbness, then I started getting colder and..." she trailed off. "They say death is like embracing a lover and all pain is gone. I felt so much agony and then nothing. Next thing I knew Amon was resurrecting me. And here we are. Do you remember anything about your death?" He hesitated slightly and leaned back.

"Not much. I just remember a man and a gun. And then Dinklebot was in my face."

Richa laughed leaning her elbows against the table. A glint in her eyes danced in the café lights and Rev leaned in too. Suddenly a quiet hiss sounded from inside Rev's hoodie pocket.

"Uh, Guardians. I hate to interrupt."

"No, you don't." Rev cut him off.

"Hush. Anyway, we're needed in the Tower."

Richa sighed, finishing the coffee and got up leaving a glimmer card with the total and a small tip. When Rev saw the one glimmer cube of a tip he smirked and snorted, getting up and chasing after the Titan.

"So. What's your input on the which class is more superior?" He asked shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. Richa sighed linking her arm into his and ran a hand through her hair and looked up at the sky. Well. What sky they could see that wasn't covered by the Traveler.

"I think it's stupid. We're Guardians. We're supposed to work together. Each class has its strengths and weaknesses. A Titan makes up what a Hunter and Warlock lack and vice versa. Guardians shouldn't fight over who's superior. It's ridiculous and childish."

Rev smiled at her as they made their way into an alley, where their ghosts transmatted them up to the Tower. Laughing, they walked down to the Hall of Guardians and to the Vanguard. Zavala looked up from his datapads at the two unarmored Guardians.

"Any reason you two are not in your armor, Guardians?" He asked watching as Richa walked over and took a datapad from his outstretched hand.

"Mmm. Date night?" Rev said standing by Cayde, arms held up and away from his body.

"Don't you and Risha go on dates?" Richa teased him earning a small glare from her mentor. She grinned sheepishly looking over the report. "Do you think Rev's up for this, Commander?"

"I believe he is. What better way to learn than from you and Zorlee?" he said patting her shoulder. Something happened between the two Titans once Zavala started dating Risha. He was still hard on her, but he became a fatherly figure to the young Titan. She leaned back slightly grinning handing the datapad back to Zavala.

"Amon, get ahold of Aku Aku. Have him and Zor meet us at the Ishtar Sink. Come on Rev." She said walking around and grabbing Rev's arm, dragging him from his conversation with Cayde.

"Noooo!!!" he whined playfully. The Vanguard all laughed watching the two disappear. _____________

Well this isn't how the meetings went in real life. My Snowberry played Destiny a lot more than me but I thought this would be cute ^_^