#because lord knows someone needs to push for maintaining the peace

[acequinz]

I will not have Lan Xichen slander.

He is actually very smart and a great sect leader.

The only mistake he did was not being able to see past Jin Guangyao's kindness towards him and even that isn't his fault because JGY really was that bitch who rose from nothing and had the whole cultivation world in his hand.

Heck he would have continued to have it in his hand if it wasn't for NHS who succeeded in bringing wwx back.

Like thinking Lan Xichen of all people was stupid to not see his real face is both an insult to him and JGY.

Also you people forget that JGY has done a lot of good things as well. He isn't just a bad person, he's a person who is willing to do bad things to keep his power because he will not allow himself to be powerless again.

And when you look at the big picture it makes complete sense Lan Xichen would trust JGY over NMJ.

Lan Xichen has his own strict morals but he also sees the world in all of it's colours and that just shows in him cultivating a technique to be able to drink without getting drunk.

It's not just a fun little thing but shows his own code and how he looks at life.

When we meet him first, we see he is way more forgiving of Wei Wuxian and his antics than any Lan and even encourages Lan Wangji to give it a chance and be friends.

And this point Lan Wangji is just as bad as Qiren when it comes to upholding rules, (not bad as in bad person) and Lan Xichen pushes him towards Wei Wuxian because he clearly is not someone who follows rules blindly and it does help Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian is the reason Lan Wangji actually thinks of the rules and considers them, forming his own opinions on them and during all of this Lan Xichen is open and accepting of questions and patience. Because he trusts Wangji will come to the right path eventually and this time it wouldn't be him following rules blindly but they would guide him to the path he wants to take.

And then the war happens and Lan Xichen is forced to abandon his family to protect his sect and he does so.

In his lowest moment he meets JGY and is a witness to his kindness and support and at this moment Lan Xichen could give him nothing and maybe jgy tells him the truth about the general or maybe half a truth, either way, he hears his side too.

And then JGY takes on a very dangerous mission to play spy on WRH and they win mainly because JGY took these steps whole endangering himself, when it could have been so easy for him to betray others.

Also during this time him and NMJ have not been talking about JGY.

And by the time NMJ starts talking about JGY, JGY has done more rights than wrongs in Lan Xichen's book, you can't judge a person by just one action afterall, you need to consider the possibilities. Also his raging screaming and yelling black and white morals is not something that can shake Lan Xichen when he is analysing that at this point JGY is on their side and has been from the start.

Like even the reason for the proposed brotherhood was a political move and not just him wanting for his friends to get along. (When I remove my 3zun goggles*cough*) Because the high friction between Nie Mingjue and Jin clan could have very well started another war because let's remember - NMJ was highly unstable and could easily be triggered into it unless he was held back by something like a sworn brother pact- the sworn brothers pact would bring the largest three clans remaining to be tied together and unable to start another war that would cause even more harm.

Because Lan Xichen's first and foremost priorities are to avoid another war or discord that could cause casualties. He is out there taking disrespect from the kinds of Jin Zixun biting his tongue about Su She to maintain the peace in the cultivation world.

And in defense JGY does try to fix things with NMJ at the start(until nmj insulted his mom which is the trigger for him to have done almost all the on screen kills except maybe wrh) , he is indeed, kind and respectful and he did a lot for Gusu sect, all of that has got to add up.

JGY plays a dirty political game but he also did a lot of good for the cultivation world.

With the side that JGY maintains in front of LXC it's way more surprising that LXC even gave LWJ and WWX a chance to present their case.

But that was also only because Lan Xichen will always love and trust his brother, even if according to him the brother is once again back with his "toxic" situationship that almost killed him 13/16 years ago.

This is the one of the few time he chooses his brother over his sect leader duties.

Because if he was to follow the path as the sect leader the evidence presented until then compared to the words just words and no physical evidence shared by Lwj and WWX it's clear which choice he should have made.

Even in the end when we know that it is a fact that JGY has in fact never harmed or even tried to harm LXC, he still takes a stand against him. Is willing to die beside him for the one mistake he made of trusting JGY and it wasn't a blind trust, it was trust built up over months, years during and after the war.

Anyways, Lan Xichen my beloved you are doing good, great even come out of seclusion 🥺.

[acourtofthought]

Okay, say there is a dusk court, why does everyone insist that Elain and Az will rule over it? I don’t understand, what’s their argument for it? Did I miss something? Why can’t it be say, Az and Gwyn?

Elain is so very much associated with the sun and sunshine—why do they keep pushing darkness, dark things and dusk on her? SJM made a point to write a whole paragraph about how bad she looks in black. Why waste that time? Why even point that out? And not just with one line either. She also used Cassian’s POV—a very detached character from Elain. The closest she could get to a third person, unbiased POV.

Hope you have a wonderful day!!!! 😁

There's so many issues with Elain and Az as Dusk Court rulers. First, you're exactly right. They like to try to combine "shadows" and "light" to get Dusk but the problem is, you're basically forcing a character to sacrifice a part of themselves to make that relationship work. What if Elain doesn't want to have give up any of her brightness to be with someone? Being with Az means she's going to need to let go of her eternal optimism and dislike of violence because the person who ends up with Az has to understand that he's never going to be a character who is going to be completely free of his desire to get revenge on others, to inflict pain and who doesn't always want to focus on the positive. Regardless of his character arc, I can't imagine SJM is going to give him a complete personality overhaul and make him all Zen-like, where he only ever wants to "talk it out" and come to a peaceful resolution. And Az shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable realizing that there will always be a part of him that is a bit dark. Knowing Elain prefers to avoid violence is not something that's going to make Az feel good about himself for. And second, where are E/riels coming up with the idea that Az would make a good leader? He likes his own space, he likes working from the shadows, he doesn't seem like he'd be all that capable of maintaining his calm when other High Lords piss him of. Does any of that say Ruler to you? How is SJM going to drastically change Az in the span of one book to make him a fitting ruler and establish an entire new Court? It doesn't seem plausible to me.

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: The Tournament of Kingship

so I was actually working on a totally separate fic when this idea came to me and I was trying to figure out how to make it work in that ‘verse when I realized... I could just do canon lmao. So have post-canon Toph and Aang goodness.

After the war, Toph found herself a bit at loose ends. Having run away, she didn’t really have anything waiting for her after they ended the war. Sure, she could go see her parents… but really, why would she? Yes, she loved them. Yes, sometimes she even missed them. But no way was she forgetting the part where she’d been forced to invent a new form of earthbending in order to escape the people her parents had sent to kidnap her and bring her back into line.

She was willing to write to them (via Katara), willing to give them a chance to get to know her, but she was not stupid enough to willingly put herself back into a cage. She would not be seeing them in person – ever, because she couldn’t see.

At any rate, the months immediately after the war were strange, because Toph… wasn’t really needed anywhere. Sokka and Katara had eagerly returned to the South Pole to begin the work of rebuilding their tribe alongside their Father and Gran Gran, family reunited once more. Suki had fulfilled her promise to bring her warriors back home to Kyoshi Island. Aang, as the Avatar, was wanted literally everywhere and was going half mad trying to keep up with all the requests for his presence, zipping all over the world like a lunatic. Zuko, having newly been crowned Fire Lord, was working his butt off trying to reshape the Fire Nation and maintain the peace that still wasn’t quite trusted.

But Toph? Toph… didn’t have anywhere to go or anything in particular she needed to do or… really anything.

She was kind of… aimless, not really sure what she should be doing, so she just stuck close to her friends and ignored all attempts to talk about visits to the Earth Kingdom. In fact, she was avoiding the Earth Kingdom itself, because she just knew that if she was there, someone would have the bright idea to mention her parents being nearby and she just… didn’t want to deal with that.

As a result, she was pretty much always sticking around Sparky, because Sokka and Katara were both cool, but the South Pole was fucking freezing and had no earth. 

Well. There was probably earth down there somewhere. And if it was there, then Toph Beifong could bend it. But she didn’t want to freeze her toes off just to learn a new form of bending again. 

There was no danger of losing her toes in the Fire Nation and she enjoyed making uptight, racist nobles trip over themselves trying to figure out how to handle the personal friend of the Fire Lord, who was… well, Toph. Experimenting with the boundaries she could push was fun, but it did lose it’s charm after a while, especially when that while was spent doing nothing as her friend tried to drown himself in doing everything.

She barely even got to see Sparky some days. 

He’d gotten used to her storming in and kidnapping him for an adventure, but there was a limit to how far Toph could push that. Zuko needed to be made to relax – but he also had a lot of work to do and some of it really couldn’t wait just because Toph was bored.

So when word arrived that King Bumi of Omashu had died, Toph wasn’t really doing anything in particular. Which meant she was the first one Aang found to tell the news to, and then he promptly burst into tears and left her trying to figure out how to play Katara’s role.

It was not a role she was comfortable with, but she did her best. She could understand why he was distraught. Bumi was all he had from his life Before and losing him brought back all the grief of losing everyone else he’d ever known and yeah, Aang had family around him, but he’d still lost his previous family and that just sucked. 

So Toph awkwardly patted Aang on the back and let him cry into her shoulder and desperately wished that he’d found someone else first, because anyone would be better at this than her.

Thankfully, Zuko found them (eventually). He immediately wrapped Aang in a warm hug and let Toph slip away to find non-snotty clothes.

By the time she returned, Aang was in the stage of blubbering where he was starting to calm down and Zuko was walking him through some breathing exercises. They turned to her and Aang managed a smile. 

“Sorry, Toph,” he said, wiping his face. “Um, actually, I came here to find you to give you this.” 

Aang held something out in his hand, but Toph couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Oh. Uh, it’s an invitation. Bumi wrote it for you before he–” he cut himself off, breathing deeply and then clearing his throat.

“What’s it an invitation to?” Toph asked cautiously.

“The Tournament of Kingship in Omashu.”

“The what?” Zuko asked.

“It’s – it’s the way that the King of Omashu is chosen. It’s how Bumi became King. Earthbenders from all over the Earth Kingdom compete for the crown and the strongest becomes King,” Aang explained. “Bumi invited you before he… yeah.”

“Why?”

“Um. Well, the King of Omashu is the Strongest Earthbender in the World and obviously that’s you, so…”

Toph’s eyes narrowed, and she felt Aang’s heartbeat spike in response. He wasn’t lying. But he wasn’t saying the full truth.

“Sparky, what’s the invite say?”

Zuko plucked the card from Aang’s hand and read, Hey Brat, if you want to call yourself the Best Earthbender in the World, then you’d better come wipe the floor in Omashu to prove it. With me gone, you might actually stand a chance.

Toph puffed up in offense at the very idea that she needed him out of the way in order to be victorious. Admittedly, they’d never gotten the chance to fight, so she couldn’t swear that she would win against him – but he couldn’t either. Their reputations both held them as the best, but Toph would never get the chance to see if he deserved that title.

Having spent the last few months doing exactly nothing, Toph really wished that she’d made some time to at least spar with Aang’s old friend. It would have been interesting, whichever way the match went.

They would never know now. 

Toph’s lips pursed. “All right, where’s this tournament?”

“In Omashu, of course.” Aang’s demeanor was dimmer than usual, but he was upbeat and the relief she felt at that was absurd. 

Well. Seemed like she’d be going back to the Earth Kingdom after all. And so close to home, too. No way that would end well, but like hell was she going to let someone else claim the title of Best Earthbender in the World!

“Well, let’s get packing for Omashu, then!”

She could feel Zuko’s wince and apology dripped off his words. “While I’d love to watch you beat people up, I really can’t leave the Fire Nation right now.”

Toph frowned. “You’re not allowed to work yourself to death just ‘cause I’m not here to stop you,” she threatened.

Zuko huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry, my staff have taken to following your example and pestering me about things like eating and sleeping.”

“Good.” Toph punched him. 

“I have no doubt you’ll win,” Zuko said, no hint of a lie in his voice or his pulse. “So I look forward to working with the new King of Omashu when you’re done.”

“I’ll invite you to my coronation,” Toph promised. 

“Guess it’s just you and me, then, Toph,” Aang said, bouncing on his toes. “We can take Appa whenever you’re ready.”

“Ugh.” For all that Toph loved Appa, she very definitely still hated flying on Appa. “Yeah, all right, lemme get my stuff.”

What felt like far too short a time later, it was time to leave her trusty earth and allow her senses to be narrowed down to Appa’s saddle. Zuko waved as they took off, according to Aang, and then they were headed towards the Earth Kingdom. For Toph, it would be the first time since the Day of Sozin’s Comet that she’d be returning to those shores.

Aang didn’t suggest a detour to pick up Suki or Sokka and Katara, and Toph couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, so it was just the two of them for the duration of the journey. 

She really hoped he didn’t cry again, but his friend had just died. He probably would.

Fuck.

[xazz]

The Hydra

Thinking about my Dark Ages faction similar to the Iron Lords called the Hydra. They were in direct conflict bc the leader didn't mind ghosting Risen or Warlords who fucked around and found out.

They were located in the entire boot of Italy with their headquarters in what was once Florence. Much like how the Iron Lords absolutely had an iron grip on the lands of Eastern Europe and parts of Russia the Hydra's influence encompassed all of Italy and some parts of the connecting modern day countrries.

It big time bothers me that Bungie is like 'yeah Only The Iron Lords banded together as a large collective to protect humanity'. Like not all Risen were Warlords and plenty of Risen would have had the idea to create a group to better control large areas of land.

The Hydra Den was in Florence but they weren't like the Iron Lords who only really operated out of Felwinter peak. Skye, the leader of the Hydra, gladly subjugated Warlords in his territory to make them work for him and if they didn't like it he had them ghosted and a member of Hydra installed to maintain the Lightless' protection in that area. So the grasp of the Hydra was felt as far as they wanted to reach.

They called themselves the Hydra for obvious mythological reasons but also if you managed to kill a Hydra member two more would show up. Unlike the Iron Lords which seemed to be a pretty small, tight knit, core group of people who inflicted their personal beliefs on those in their protection the Hydra was a large group of Risen and Warlords who all deferred to Skye and his judgements.

Hydra mostly left Warlords alone to manage their lands how they wanted so long as they paid tithe to the Hydra and kept a moderate level of comfort to their Lightless and not outright torture and starve them. If they did Skye would send someone to investigate and if it was bad Hydra would come to remove them to restore order and higher quality of living to the Lightless of that area. Most Warlords found that to be a better option than the alternative, which was fight the Hydra. Because they were one and Hydra was many. And also knowing if they needed to they could call on the Hydra Den for assistance a lot of Warlords and Risen who ruled over Lightless weren't as violent or intense as their brethren on the rest of the continent. Doesn't hurt that Italy has some good ass farm land.

When the Iron Lords started pushing out of their main territory in the mid Dark Ages looking for more territory for conversion they ended up running into the Hydra and there was a not insignificant fight. Some might even call it a war. It was strictly over ideological differences where the Iron Lords abided by their Iron Decree and wanted to make every Risen abide by it so they didn't go around exterminating each other. Meanwhile the Hydra saw no issue in ghosting a problematic Risen if it was for the good of the rest of humanity.

It ended with the Hydra leadership being completely destroyed and the splintering of their lands. Which led to... a lot more fighting from former Hydra members now turned Warlords the Iron Lords didn't like. The Italian boot had had relative stability other than Eliksni attacks for a few centuries under Hydra but when the Iron Lords went about their scorched earth tactics it just left a lot more trouble.

There are still some old Guardians who hold a MASSIVE grudge against the Iron Lords, 'lauded heros of the Last City', for showing up in their relatively peaceful land and deciding they were Doing It Wrong and finally killing the Hydra. Most people of the City and Guardians Risen during the end of the Dark Ages have never heard of the Hydra or most other groups of Risen trying to protect humanity in their own ways. Mostly because the Iron Lords won so wrote them out of the books.

[harryspet]

For your holiday darkfics, I'd like to request an angel reader/demon Steve, with "Your soul is mine", "Oh, did someone get lonely?", and "Remind me why I can't kill the carolers?" -🐇

your soul is mine | steve rogers 

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, demon!steve x angel!reader, noncon, kidnapping

a/n: this was a lot of fun, i hope you enjoy!

In which you’re an angel and a demon named Steve Rogers owns your soul. 

word count: 1.6k 

taglist: @buckysbunny @cherienymphe @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose

A darkness wrapped around you, invading your dream state. You went from imagining a shining sun over a meadow, running with your brothers and sisters to a setting sun and scorched earth. Your eyes snapped open and you found your captor looking at you from across the room. 

“Oh, did someone get lonely?” Steve noticed how you were curled up in your bed, hugging a book and pillow tightly. You sat up quickly, pushing the book to the side and your hair from your face, “You could hold me at night if you wished.”

You had to admit that the body that Steve was inhabiting was quite handsome. He probably chose someone strong and handsome, knowing how far it would get him in the real world. Still, the blonde hair didn’t quite match those black eyes. 

“I’d never be able to sleep with you so close to me,” You said, distaste in your tone, “And you’d probably be miserable showing any ounce of affection.”

Steve smirked, “Who said anything about affection? I imagine sinful things when I think of lying next to you, darling. Rough …. cruel, ungodly things. Your devout leader wouldn’t let you back into his gates after what I’d do to you-”

You looked away, “Stop it, please. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I know, I know, I won’t get a rise out of you. I’ve been torturing angels for two hundred years and I’ve never made one raise their voice. Even if I’m sawing off their little wings, they won’t say a cruel word towards me … it’s quite infuriating.”

You couldn’t help but imagine that pain, like your soul being torn from your body. 

“If I’m no different than the rest then I’m not sure why you keep me around,” Unexpectedly, you saw his smirk falter. He’d been stoic for your entire kidnapping but your words had struck a chord in his empty heart. 

“Your soul is mine,” He said, “And, sadly, that’s worth quite a lot so I have to get a good use out of you. Speaking of, get up and get dinner ready.”

He snapped his finger and the chain connected to the bed frame detached from the collar around your neck. The sigil engraved into the metal was a kind of angel trap which kept you tethered to the house and your powers at bay. You frowned, “You said you’d give me a break for the Holidays.”

“You know better to trust a Demon, I shouldn’t have to explain that,” Steve spoke, sound amused, “And I’ve decided that I want to get into the holiday spirit and it’s in your best interest to be merry and jolly just like me. Up, up, up.”

You stood up from the bed, your white dress falling down to your ankles, and you made your way past him. He followed you down the hallway and to the stairs. The home was old and gothic, decked out in antiques. As you made your way down the stairs, you realized why he was following. 

The house was decorated in red and green, fairy lights, and even a Christmas tree, “So? Do you feel like a human again?”

You didn’t answer immediately as you admired everything. It reminded you of a time that was very far away, “It’s beautiful,” He sensed your hesitance as you worried this was all an elaborate trick, “Why?”

Steve shrugged, “I wanted to see what the excitement was all about.”

“And do you feel it? The holiday spirit?”

He smiled, ignoring your question “I feel like I could go for a delicious Christmas Eve dinner. Get to work.”

+

You were intently listening to the cascade of angelic of voices coming from outside the door. Looking out the living room, you saw them walking along the sidewalk and singing The Little Drummer Boy. 

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” Steve asked from his chair as he stared down the burning fire. You’d finish dinner moments ago and had resigned to the living room.

“Just let one beautiful thing exist, please,” You looked at them longingly, wishing you could feel the snow, and sing the lord’s praises. Surprisingly, Steve didn’t immediately respond. A while passed and the voices of the carolers faded away and so did your peace. 

He snapped his fingers and you were out of your trance. You turned to face him, his hellish eyes burning holes into your skin, “Let’s play a game, angel,” He smiled. 

“A game?” At first, your thoughts were innocent. You imagined a board game or cards but those thoughts didn’t last long, “I’d rather not.”

“I’m sure you’d rather keep your wings as well.”

You crossed your arms, “Fine.”

“Good girl,” He smirked, “How about a simple game of Truth or Dare?”

“... Do I get to ask you questions too?” Steve’s eyes narrowed at you, “It’s only fair.”

“Right, it’s only fair. Come, sit,” He beckoned you over and you assumed he wanted you to sit on the couch but he stopped you, “No, here, on your knees.”

You paused, trying to swallow your fear. You stepped in front of him before moving down to your knees. You imagined that he wanted to maintain your power imbalance. He couldn’t have you feeling any sort of pride when you asked him truth or dare. 

“Truth or Dare, angel?” He asked, leaning forward, his eyes on your collar. 

“Truth,” You answered, looking up at him.

“Are you waiting for a particular, little boy angel or girl angel to come and save you?”

You tried to hide the emotion in your eyes, “No … not one that you haven’t already killed.” You couldn’t look at his smile without tears brimming in your eyes. He opened his mouth, probably to say something hurtful but you interrupted, “Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” 

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

He hesitated which you hadn’t expected. Demons weren’t known for having feelings, Satan had tortured it out of all of them, but you thought you saw a glimpse of something in his eyes, “I enjoy watching you break every day. Usually, I get quite bored of angels after a while. Not you.”

“But-”

“Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“You can’t say Truth twice.”

“I’ve never heard of such a rule.”

“I just made it up,” Steve grinned, “Now, what’s a good dare for an angel? I dare you to … kiss me.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “No, please, anything else.”

Your words angered him, “You could kiss something else of mine-”

“Steve…” You tried to plead with your big doe eyes, “I know you think I’m different than the others … I’m not.”

He leaned forward, his hand grabbing your face, and you shut your eyes tightly, “You are. I can see something you cannot,” Warmth spread through your body and you felt waves of darkness and violent pictures in your mind, “Kiss me. I won’t ask again.”

Shaking, you leaned forward, your eyes blinking open. Steve had closed his eyes, waiting for your lips to touch his. His fingers touched your neck and hair. Your lips were soft against his, despite how stiff you were from the nervousness. Steve stroked your cheek with his thumb as he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

He heard you whimper and his anger began to grow. The kiss deepened, and Steve got more rough as he explored your mouth. You grabbed his arm, trying to pull away, and Steve felt the light inside you only for a moment before it was stomped out. 

When you roughly pulled away, Steve knew he’d sunk his talons into you. Your eyes were dark, the light fading away, as you were overcome with emotions. You fell back on your elbows, breathing heavily, before you wiped your mouth, “What … what did you do?”

“You don’t know what happens when you kiss a demon?” Steve turned his head, looking down at you curiously. 

You scrambled away, getting to your feet, though you felt a bit lightheaded, “Y-You took my light …,” You breathed out, “No more games. Stay … please don’t touch me.”

Steve stood up, his shadow draping over you, and you stepped back, “I didn’t take it,” Steve chuckled, “I destroyed it, darling. You’ve been here in purgatory for months, you’re incredibly weak, and you won’t survive with all that good inside you. You need me.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I’d rather keep you around,” You turned to run but he grabbed you by your upper arm, pulling you into him, “Destroying that purity… fucking that darkness into you, that’s what I want.”

That winter night, Steve held you down in front of the burning fireplace. He tasted you in unthinkable ways, giving you a pleasure you’d never experienced, dipping his fingers inside of you. It hurt and you screamed but that feeling didn’t last long. He took his time making sure you were a moaning mess and, by the time, he entered you, you were a wet chasm wanting to be filled. 

He’d thrust into you deeply and watch how your eyes grew darker and darker. You tried holding onto whatever good things you could and, because it was your nature, you still wished for him to be saved. 

Your body was still writhing when he collapsed beside you. You had nothing left to say, feeling great shame for letting a demon pleasure you. “You’ll thank me later … for helping you.” Still, he carried you up to bed that night, leaving so you could sleep without the nightmares his touch would bring. 

Before you closed your eyes, you realized he hadn’t connected the chain on your collar to the bed. Though a dark cloud now surrounded your heart, you thought that maybe some of your light had sunk into him. 

[1magine-engine]

Obey Me: MC is Hiding Something

When MC first awakens in the council room no one thinks much of them. They’re sitting there shivering like a dog left out in the rain and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

Lucifer starts to wonder what in devil’s name made you a good candidate for this exchange program. You barely had enough courage to answer when Lord Diavolo welcomed you so graciously, much less look dignified in any way.

Something odd he does observe though is, despite your silence and obvious terror, you seemed to accept the concepts of a Devildom and of RAD and him and his brother very easily or maybe you were just nodding along insipidly.

Mammon’s opinion of you is even lower. He already hated the idea of having to watch and make sure some stupid human didn’t get themselves killed on their first week. Damn it! That wasn’t his job! They can’t even carry a conversation, always just staring and watching everybody.

The human doesnt seem to have any kind of motivations or idea as to what they wanna do. Lucifer will never know if he leaves you alone at school for a while considering you’ve found your friends group with the other exchange students. And at home he sees no problem with letting you go off for just an hour or two. All you really do is walk around and examine the rooms and grounds. Maybe you’re an architecture freak or something.

Leviathan barely pays you any mind when you arrive, not like he ever has the chance to, being that he never leaves his room outside of going to class. But during breakfast he does notice how interested you seemed in the game console he’s playing on. And for a moment he wonders if you’re a gamer or an otaku too

but no, ugh you’re just some normie. You watch Asmo obsess over his compact mirror and Satan over whatever book he’s holding just the same. And you’re conversation is shit like Mammon said. Listless and lacking enthusiasm. But he doesnt stop you when you watch over his shoulder when he plays.

Satan doesn’t have a problem with you. That said, he doesn’t particularly like you. But he can respect how much time you seem to spend in the library, and how many books you borrow about the devildom and kinds of demons. It made sense, you wanted to know the kind of creatures you were surrounded by.

he does wonder though, why one day you seem to be borrowing a lot of Solomon’s books and Solomon’s time as well. But then again, that makes sense too, you were both human after all. Maybe you would stop flinching and get even a little more comortable with someone your race around. When one of his tomes disappear, he interrogates Mammon because of course, it’s Mammon.

Asmo likes your style. It’s not particularly glamorous or eye-catching but it matches your aesthetic. He especially admired your choices in acessories. The amulet you’re always wearing is so pretty and he swears sometimes it almost glows. And your rings were peak Devildom fashion, sharp, edgy iron designs. But he especially adored the silver spike earring you wore.

He was both delighted and smug that he was the first one to get a little closer to you. But of course, how could you resist! You even complimented the perfume he was wearing and asked where he got it. And he directed you to his favorite oils and essences shop that supplied products and ingredients from every realm. And while applying some to your wrist he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from under your sleeve but you pull your hand away, bashful. Oh, he’ll get you to show him someday. Heehee.

Beel is curious how a human can eat so much. He’s been told human athletes apparently eat a lot to maintain muscle mass and strength and the like but looking at you, you didn’t seem the type to do anything strenuous. Except he does notice that when a demon bumps you in the hall, you’re not hurt or thrown off despite the size difference. And when you’re purposely knocked into by someone else, your reaction is fast, pivoting out of the way and behind the demon and you almost look like...

Nah. You weren’t going to attack him, you began to cower and apologize again and again until Mammon had to drag you way before it got any more embarrassing. The next time you pique his interest is at the gym in the house. You always make sure to go at a time when there isn’t anyone else and he happened to go after you. But it couldn’t have been you that just used that machine. Were you really capable of lifting that much?

Luke and Simeon are sympathetic, Simeon understands the discomfort and the adjustment and answers any questions you have about the brothers and how not to piss them off or placate them if ever you did make them angry. He answers your questions about RAD and the program but does wonder. Wherever did you get an angel relic like the one hanging from your ear?

Luke says you shouldn’t be afraid of those no good demons, if anything happens you can run to Purgatory Hall and they’ll help. He promises. He likes your company and starts up baking with you, teaching dishes and pastries. He tells you a lot about Michael and lets slip things about Lucifer and the brothers back when they were still angels. You don’t push him on the subjects but you do seem pretty interested.

it all came together, very easily. First the lights, Leviathan’s screams echo in the halls as he laments not having saved soon enough. Asmodeus’ whining about losing such good selfie lighting came next and both come out into the hall, yelling for their older brother. “Lucifer!”

If not for that, Lucifer probably wouldn’t have noticed, having been locked up in his firelit office since dinner was over. Heaving a sigh he gets up. All of the yelling told him the lights were out so how could he have expected the brilliant flash of white that burned his eyes when he opened his door. He stumbles, leaning on the door frame for support as footfalls race down the hall.

He growls, feeling his wings and horns materialize but something isn’t right. His vision doesn’t return and his skin starts to burn. In the air he catches the faintest scent of something he hasn’t smelled in a long time. Holy oil.

When the little light in the fridge fades, Beel thinks he may have fucked up. But then it turns out the whole house is out so it must just be some prank. He keeps eating, uncaring whether or not he identifies what it is he’s shoveling into his mouth. Then he smells it.

once upon a time he’d caught Luke with some kind of cookies from the celestial realm. And they were some of the best cookies he’d ever had in his existence. He could never forget that smell, so when it wafts through the air coming from the main hall, he follows. Drool begins to gather beneath his tongue.

He misses the sharp, metallic scent drifting beneath it.

Satan’s vexation spikes when his reading light goes out and his peace and quiet is distrubed by his idiot brothers. Mammon probably tried to turn the power off in Levi’s room to get him out so he can sneak in and steal his stuff again. But then Asmo starts yelling, and one cry from Lucifer rattles his bones.

It’s enough to get him on his feet. But what draws a gasp from him is the flash of lightning that gives him his sight for a moment. White lightning, an impossibility in the devildom’s ever red tinged sky. He goes to the window, knocking a stack of tomes over and unlatches it. But it doesn’t budge. Using the light on his D.D.D. he tries again but it just won’t open.

Outside Satan’s door heavy footsteps, thump along in a slow rhythm. Satan races to the door and Beel is there trudging along the carpet like a zombie, his nose perched in the air.

“Beel?! What the-? What are you doing?”

“Hey what’s the big idea!? Where are you guys!? Who’s doing that weird singing?!”

Mammon calls out into the mansions, just as confused as everyone else. Satan’s brows furrow; he didn’t cause this, then. He’s about to answer but Mammon yelps, and a resounding thwack has Satan grab Beel, and race towards the sound, almost stumbling over each other’s feet in the dark. They’re only guide is the ocassional flash of white and the sound of chanting growing louder as they grow near.

It is still pitch black but years of experience and spatial awareness tells him they’re in the foyer. Satan ventures out, almost tripping over something on the ground; it’s Mammon. He lays at the top of the steps, passed out. Satan is about to shake him awake when Leviathan and Asmo come out of a hall holding up Lucifer between them. Another flash. Lucifer’s demon form flickers in and out, smoke rising from his blistering skin. Satan freezes and Beel picks up Mammon in his arms.

“Satan! What the hell is going on!?” Levi calls out into the dark over the spell.

The chanting stops. So does the lightning and they’re plunged into complete darkness. They hear the sound of plastic and a baggie hits Beelzebub square in the chest, landing on Mammon’s stomach. “Cookies?”

He smells that first but then they recognise the other scent prominent in the air as blood.

Human blood.

“Wait, where’s MC?!” Asmo’s voice comes from the black. “Are they trapped somewhere?”

Someone laughs.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Lightning flashes again, bathing the foyer in glaring white. It’s only for a moment but their eyes are quick enough. It becomes clear where the stench of blood was coming from. “After all, I’m not trapped in here with you...”

Your eyes seem to glow, vacant of whatever fear or trepidation you’ve deceived them with for weeks. In your hand is the earring Asmo admired so much, the silver tip dripping red. At your side, your palm is sliced open, already clotting as you’ve used all you needed for the seal activating the devil’s trap around the entire house. Your sleeves are pushed up to the elbows the sigils and signs inked into your skin tasting air again after so long. As you place your hand on the seal they come alight. Your lips curl over your teeth.

“You’re trapped in here....with me.”

Solomon knows a demon slayer when he sees one. And he tells you right off the bat whatever you’re planning it isn’t a good idea. You’re outnumbered and overpowered by them.

but then he sees otherworldly magic light up the skies and decides maybe it’s a good time to visit the House of Lamentations.

Part 2

[theredsuzuran]

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Poseidon´s Passion

Out of all the three realms connected to the earth, the sea was by far the most extensive one. An entire underwater universe lurked beneath the surface, with more diversity in its inhabitants than both heaven and earth. Poseidon was the ruler of that realm, with the responsibility of maintaining the planet itself in balance. Oceanic currents and tectonic movement were crucial for the mortals´ survival. The god of the sea had inherited the realm after the Titanomachy, given to him by the true embodiment of the sea, Oceanus. He and his titan spouse had given birth to many of the phenomena Poseidon had to keep in check.

But the normally boisterous god was unusually quiet, sitting down in his chariot heading back to the cold depths of his kingdom. The words of his brothers resonated within him. Could it really be possible for Typhon to escape? And more importantly, would he be able to protect all the creatures under his rule? Keeping balance was Poseidon´s primary priority, which made the whole situation even more alarming for him. He took the reins tying the hippocampi pulling his chariot and pressured them to move faster. He had to reach the Oceanic Retreat, also known as the sunken city of Atlantis, to consult with the court about his next course of action.

The palace was located in the center of the underwater capital, adorned with bright gems and bright colorful coral. The city was so deep under the sea, it was unreachable by Apollo´s power. But despite the lack of sunlight, luminescent beings shone brightly to light the streets and buildings. Poseidon´s chariot floated over the gates of the palace and parked on one of the numerous sea gardens, which were filled with creatures and coral normally found on superficial reefs. Triton, Poseidon´s heir, and most trusted advisor greeted him from the gates of the palace.

"That bad huh?"

He asked as soon as he caught a glimpse of the god´s grim visage. The muscular deity approached his son carrying his massive trident with ease, the muscles in his arm pulsing with supernatural strength. The strength to make the earth shake and the ocean rise. Both gods rushed inside the palace to his throne room, while Poseidon put Triton up to date. The young deity was eager to learn the ways of Olympus, for when it was his turn to rise to the throne, so he listened carefully every time his father complained about their extended family.

"How fitting of uncle Zeus to find a way to try to compete with all of you. But if what he and Hades said is right, then we have no time to waste."

"It won´t be so easy son. Our job is to keep balance, and granting divinity to a mortal can very much upset the natural equilibrium of the planet. Just remember where we´re standing right now."

The city of Atlantis, once a thriving metropolis of the ancient world, had fallen victim to the whims of a fallen hero´s delirium and a heavenly dispute. After being defeated by the patron city of Poseidon´s niece, the Atlanteans fell into despair. They managed to get the favor of the god of the sea, who granted power beyond belief to their heroic leader. But this human wasn´t meant to rise as a new god, so the rest of Olympus rejected him, and punished the city by sinking it to the depths of the ocean.

While Triton pondered on his father´s worries, they reached the throne room. A glowing golden throne adorned with all kinds of underwater flora and fauna was in the center of the room, surrounded by a half-circle of different chairs more modest, but still ornamental to symbolize the sea´s royalty. Poseidon stood in front of his throne and slammed the enormous trident on the ground, producing an explosive sound that resonated within the entire ocean.

After a couple of seconds, the god of the sea´s call was answered by the most prominent figures in the oceanic realm. A representative for both the Oceanids, sea nymphs and the Potamoi, the rivers of the world, were the first to appear. Poseidon´s spouse Amphitrite also arrived fast and took her place right next to her husband. Polyphemus came next, the representative for the cyclops who were all devoted to the god of the sea. The old man of the sea, Nereus himself, showed up next. His relationship with Poseidon was more like a truce than a hierarchy, but Nereus´ connection to the ocean realm´s mortal creatures, including his daughters, was a good reason to keep him as an ally. The last one to show up was Styx, the embodiment of the river of the same name coursing through Hades´ realm.

As the court of the sea assembled, Triton took his seat on the right of his father and watched as the gigantic god paraded his muscular physique floating across the room.

"As some of you may know, I was summoned by Zeus for an emergency meeting. It seems the original monster is trying to break free from Tartarus. Is that true Styx?"

Automatically all eyes turned to the river´s seat expectantly. After Hades and the chthonic gods, the underworld river was supposed to know all the happenings of the realm.

"I have heard some rumors, but Lord Hades hasn´t told me anything. Things feel pretty normal in the underworld though. I haven´t sensed any fluctuations within my currents, which are pretty sensitive for any changes in the realm."

"That's very strange, but the fates wouldn´t lie. There is no way they would fall victims of a simple rumor."

Answered Poseidon meditating on the river´s answer. Styx was known to be direct and efficient, seeking to form a bridge between the realms so mortal souls reached their resting space safely. It wouldn´t bother to try and deceive the rest of the deities, especially on such a delicate matter. But then, who was lying? Triton raised from his seat and continued talking, trying to explain the situation his father was telling him about a couple of minutes ago.

"It seems the king of the gods has called for a new Champion to be chosen."

"Is that true Poseidon?"

Asked Amphitrite looking at her husband with worry in her eyes. Poseidon´s days of violence ended eons ago, and she was worried a heavenly competition like the trial of the Champion was going to get the worst out of her husband again.

"Zeus commanded each of the twelve Olympians to choose a champion. As you can imagine, I´m very reluctant to do so again."

Answered Poseidon with a serious tone. The last thing he wanted was to put his subjects through another catastrophe, but something smelled fishy in the whole situation. He wasn´t keen on trusting his family, but the odds were too high. He had to assume the worst in order to prepare. Nereus rose from his seat, his long white beard filled with barnacles floating around him, and talked in a raspy voice that sounded like a shipwreck crashing in the bottom of the sea.

"You have to make a choice Poseidon. We cannot risk Typhon getting out, it would mean extinction for our kind. Your newfound love for balance will have to wait until this situation is resolved."

"How dare you tell me how I should act old man. Remember I am the god of the sea, one of the twelve Olympians, and your ruler. I know what is best for my kingdom."

Growled Poseidon angrily, as his trident caused the floor to shake with fury. Nereus smirked slightly, knowing he reached the god´s weakest spot: his authoritarian nature. No matter how he tried to hide it, Poseidon was infatuated by battle and carnage. And he was going to demonstrate to all the sea that the king still had the will of expanding the realm. A Champion of the sea on earth would create the perfect opportunity to take over the terrestrial plane.

"Leave the sentimentalism aside Poseidon. You have to make a choice. Will you risk the present´s balance to secure the future?"

Everyone looked at the silent god of the sea. Poseidon hated Nereus, but he was right. Balance is not worth it if the future is put in doubt. He had made his choice. As hard as it was, he had to gift a mortal again with divinity. Triton stared worriedly at his father. The advisor knew what his king was capable of, and it scared him. But in the end, the risk had to be worth the benefits. He reached to touch his father´s giant shoulder.

"Father…"

Poseidon then raised his trident, as a powerful twisting current propelled him upwards, going through the open roof and heading for the surface. If his brothers wanted a Champion, they were going to have one. For the sake of the ocean, and the balance of the future.

  It was a peculiarly cold day on top of the St. Helena frigate. Ltjg. Gabo Ramirez was making his usual rounds on the top deck, making sure everyone was doing their respective tasks. The young man had joined the navy in hopes of finding some stability in his chaotic life. He had always felt attracted to the sea, its vast expanse offering the peace of mind that a problematic orphaned child needed. Growing up on the coast let him escape very often to meet his secret lover. He got infatuated when he was very young, and his mother was still alive. She took him to the beach every day to collect different treasures like seashells or pieces of broken coral in order to make jewelry out of them. Young Gabo felt proud he was helping support his widowed mother.

His father was a fisherman, but he barely had any memory of him, because he died when Gabo was barely a toddler. His mother told him his fishing ship sank during one of the common hurricanes predating on the beautiful Caribbean coast. But even though the sea had taken one of his progenitors away, Gabo couldn´t help but fall deeper in love with it. As he grew up, money grew tight. His mother tried desperately to provide for her son, so he could go to school and do something with his life. Life pushed her to more desperate means, selling herself so her son could have a future. In the end, things turned out grim for the poor boy.

He still remembered the stormy night when someone knocked on the door of their little apartment. A tall police officer told him the bad news. They found her on a bench close to the harbor. His mother died trying to protect her son. His childhood ended on that instant, and he was thrown down an administrative rabbit hole that turned his life into a living nightmare. He jumped from orphanages to foster homes over and over again. He felt like the world had betrayed him, taking his greatest love away from him. The sweet child turned into a sour teenager, who caused trouble and mischief wherever he went. His only refuge was still the sea. After all that had happened, it was the only place where Gabo felt grounded and alive. After his mother passed away it became his greatest love.

After he miraculously made his way through school, he decided to leave Puerto Rico and enlist in the U.S. navy. He was conscious his life needed to take a turn for the better, so he was mentally prepared for whichever challenge the tough military system was going to throw at him. The problem was, he was not physically ready for them, struggling through the first years of training. A life of chaos had left him with a scrawny underfed body, which was agile enough to get him swiftly out of trouble, but not strong enough to face it.

He remained adamant on his decision, and he endured the painful years of training, swallowing his deep survival instinct of fleeing before he was entirely committed. Gabo was used to swiftly getting out of trouble, thanks to his more cowardly nature. But he studied hard, put his life on track, and was rewarded for it. Now he got to spend a life together with his love, the sea, watching its waves flow into the horizon. A blue paradise extended before him.

Ltjg. Ramirez diverted his gaze from the ocean and went back to realizing his tasks to their full extent. The frigate was on standby close to the arctic sea, between Greenland and Europe, so there wasn´t a lot to do. The wind outside was pretty cold, nothing but dark water and a few small icebergs in the surroundings. He went back into the ship to finish his active shift and get something to eat in the cafeteria.

"Hey, Ramirez! Come here, we´re playing poker. This asshole has been running his mouth about beating you all afternoon!"

Said Lt. March calling him to one of the tables, where some of his crewmates were gathered. The person running his mouth was Lt. Krass. He and March were Ramirez´s superiors, but they had grown to like the mousy kid. His skills in gambling were known on the whole ship and made his crewmates and some of his superiors very interested in testing his skills. Life on the streets had taught him everything he needed to know to be a good gambler, and he had a good poker face to finish his killer combination.

"I can gladly take all your money off of you sir."

Said Ramirez laughing as he sat on the table to play with the cards. Sailors had to enjoy every second of interaction, or else they started suffering some mental issues that came with the constant isolation and lack of new stimuli.

"I´m telling you kid if you didn´t look like a toothpick I would´ve beaten your ass for taking a week´s worth of salary."

Said the much bigger Lt. March in an intimidating way, but just with the right amount of joyfulness to let Gabo know he was joking. He could probably pick the small junior lieutenant and throw him overboard if he felt like it.

"Give him a break March. It´s not his fault you´re a dumb player. Besides, I´ll get that money and will take you to a nice bar with it when we touch land again."

Laughed the equally big Krass punching his mate on the shoulder. In fact, Ramirez was probably the smallest man on board. The 24-year-old barely made the height cut on the recruiting process, and although he had gained some muscle mass from the rigorous training, it wasn´t enough to get close to his crewmate´s giant sizes. But his appearance was what caused his crewmates and superiors to gain a certain fondness for the young recruit. He was the runt of the litter.

After a while of laughing at Krass´s dumbfound expression as Ramirez managed to beat him and take all his money as well, the boys called off the night and everyone was in their chambers by curfew. Ramirez laid on his bed feeling the soft movement of the waves rocking his bed, enjoying the sensation. He thought about his mother and the beach in his childhood, as his memories carried him to deep sleep, completely ignorant of the approaching menace on the cold waters of the ocean.

 All sailors woke up at five in the morning, swiftly getting out of bed and lining up to clean themselves. Gabo woke up agitated. He had a strange feeling, but he couldn´t exactly distinguish what was going on. He also had strange dreams that night, about a giant black whale stalking the tumbling frigate, whilst he watched powerlessly from the deck of the ship.

"Not a very good night kid? It must be that guilty conscience for stealing from your favorite superior."

Said Lt. March, who was directly in line in front of him. Ramirez managed to get a nervous laugh out.

"It´s nothing, sir. Just a bad dream."

March looked at him with concern. He really cared for the well being of his subordinates, and he was worried being on the sea for so long was starting to take its toll on the novice sailor. He knew the young junior lieutenant was very passionate about his work, but he was still inexperienced to recognize the effects of long-term isolation.

"Listen Ramirez. I´m your superior, but we´re a team. There´s not a lot to do today, so why don't you take it easy just for a day."

The young recruit smiled broadly at the big man in front of him.

"Thanks, sir, but I can handle work. I know what I signed up for."

Lt. March smiled back, impressed at the discipline of his subordinate. This kid was going to go far he thought, as both made their way into the small shower cabin. While they were undressing, Krass approached March and whispered something to him quietly. Ramirez couldn´t hear a word, but judging by March´s expression it wasn´t good news. Krass then left the bathroom, and March turned around to face Ramirez. His big chest was inches away from Gabo´s face, and his lower part was tightly covered by a small towel.

It wasn´t a secret Ramirez was into both men and women. All his crewmates respected his orientation and felt comfortable around him. So much they didn´t mind parading themselves naked from time to time, testing the young recruit´s self-control. It was harder in the beginning, but now Gabo was used to it, casually having conversations with his fellow naked sailors. He still enjoyed the show, only silently and respectfully. He has had few sexual experiences in the past, but nothing to boast about. Still, his crew was untouchable for him, the comradery far outweighing the lust.

March was another story though. The man sported an impressive physique build through years and years of discipline and hard training. His chest was very prominent, followed by a big muscular gut that was still a couple of inches behind. Powerful arms capable of pulling even the heaviest anchor hung to his side, and tree trunk legs supported the almost 300 pounds man. He was also a good head taller than Ramirez, making the younger sailor a dwarf in comparison. Even though Ramirez tried his best, he couldn´t help but feel a certain level of attraction for the muscular man. After gawking at his superior´s body for enough time, Gabo looked up to hear what he was about to say.

"It seems there is a storm heading our way. It´s gonna be a full day of work after all Ramirez. You´ll get your chance to shine."

Ltjg. Ramirez never faced an open sea storm on his few months on board, so he didn´t know what to expect. A feeling in his gut was telling him to pretend he was sick to stay under the deck, but Gabo was no coward. He was going to do his work and prove why he was there among those big burly men. He finished showering and looked at himself in the mirror.

His dark brown hair was neatly cut in a conscription cut, perfectly square and short. His young face had a scar on his chin product of a street brawl a couple of years ago, but his features still retained the innocent look that came with youth. His beautiful light brown skin was free of any blemishes. His smooth body had slight muscle definition, but more because of little body fat than actual lean mass. He quickly glanced inside the towel to look at his manhood. He couldn´t be disappointed because there were smaller dicks around, but he was nowhere near to someone endowed. He was more like on the average to the low part of the scale. He was feeling good and confident about himself today. Gabo quickly put on his uniform and rushed outside to start his tasks for the day.

He headed up the deck to quickly brush the floors, check the analog temperature measurements and check that the lifeboats were in a good state. People quickly mobilized after news of the storm spread around. The captain made a formal announcement during lunch, telling the crew they should brace for the storm in the early hours of the night. No one seemed to be too scared about it, making their usual jokes and talking loudly lie every day. Still, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was starting to bother Ramirez. He had a bad feeling about today. And as a kid from the street, Gabo knew trusting his feelings was crucial for survival. The nerves were causing him to barely touch his food.

Lt. March noticed the kid staring quietly at his tray. It was unusual for the lively Latin kid to go dead silent, so he approached and sat down next to him.

"Don´t worry kid, it´s just a storm. Occupational hazards. It will be gone sooner than you think."

Even though Ramirez loved the sea, storms were always a cause of anxiety for him. He was reminded that a storm killed his father. And worse of all, a storm was raging the night he found out about his mother. Storms were a bad omen for him. He turned around to face the rugged, but the concerned face of his superior.

"I trust you, sir. It´s just I have a bad history with storms."

"I assure you kid, it´s gonna be a better night than one with you taking all my money."

The light-hearted joke made both men laugh, as the tense aura around Gabo dissipated. He trusted his lieutenant. He saw in him the father figure he never had. They finished eating their meal and dispersed around the ship to finish the preparations for the bad forecast. When the sun started setting down is when the dark clouds started gathering over the frigate. Strong winds pushed everything exposed to the surface, and increasingly agitated waves crashed against the ship, making the most remote corners of the shell creak under the water´s pressure. Ramirez finished his tasks on deck and looked to the horizon for the last time of the day. An ominous dark mass was approaching the ship. Little droplets started falling from the sky. They were the last preface of what was about to come. The junior lieutenant went back under deck quickly as the slow rain turned into a tempestuous downpour.

He found his crewmates in the cafeteria as usual, but there were no games this time. Everyone was eating quietly, expectant of the first order barked through the loudspeakers. March wasn´t there, nor Krass. Ramirez assumed that command was having a meeting about the current situation. He sat down on a corner with his tray, unable to take a bite. All his instincts were telling him to run, to get out of there swiftly, so he could survive. Ramirez was fighting his innate fleeing nature. He kept reassuring himself why he got enlisted, why he was doing everything he was told to. He wanted stability, he craved it. But a part of him didn´t want to leave his past self behind. It was what kept him alive for so long after all. But he couldn´t go back to fleeing from his problem. And most important of all he couldn´t let his crew know he was so scared. Bravery in the face of adversity was a virtue after all. This little sacrifice was for his future self, and no one else.

The sailors left the cafeteria quietly. One by one they retired to their chambers. Ramirez followed his crewmates and was able to go to bed early as he didn´t have any guard shift that night. He zoned out for a while, unable to reach deep sleep. After a few hours, around midnight, the alarm made him jump out of bed and get dressed. He got out of his chambers to see all his crewmates heading for the upper doors. The hallway was lit red, and a reverberating sound echoed through the passages of the frigate. Ramirez tried his best not to fall due to what he assumed was disorientation until the entire crew including him were thrown to the side. He wasn´t dizzy, it was the waves crashing against the ship that caused it to rock back and forth intensively.

When he made it to the upper deck, his fellow sailors were all running to their stations. Many went to prepare the lifeboats, while others reinforced the previously tied up materials so the storm couldn´t blow them again. Ramirez went to his emergency station next to the edge to secure the supplies he was supposed to. The sky was completely painted black, like the furious sea bellow him. Rain poured down intensively, and an icy wind blew with all force against the ship and its crew. Ramirez was freezing, his frail body more exposed thanks to its lack of body mass, and the tempestuous currents kept throwing him around like a little leaf during an autumn breeze.

A big wave crashed against the frigate, making the vessel lean completely to the opposite side. One of the crates on the opposite side of Ramirez got untied and came sliding fast towards the terrified recruit, who was holding on to the rails on the edge for his life. He turned around just on time to see the giant box charging against him, and closed his eyes preparing for the inevitable. He immediately heard his name echo in the distance and felt a powerful pair of hands push him from the back out of the crate´s trajectory. Ramirez looked back just in time to see his protector Lt. March flies off the board into the raging waters below.

"Lt. March!"

Screamed the tearful junior lieutenant. His fear was completely erased in an instant, triggering his quick reaction speed. He grabbed a safety rope next to him and without thinking he threw himself into the mouth of the beast. The black waters of the sea swallowed him whole. The only thing he felt was a bone-chilling sensation taking over his entire body, as he swam in the direction of his superior.

"Kid what are you doing here?! You crazy son of a bitch!"

Said March in a mixture of awe, anger, and gratefulness.

"It´s my duty to protect my crew lieutenant! Quick, grab the rope!"

He handed over the rope to the more experienced March, who started tying a strong knot so the crew could pull them out. Their brief moment of relief ended in an instant, as another giant wave stroke from their side this time, separating the young Ramirez from his lieutenant. The crew started pulling the rope, just to get only March back on board. The big man immediately perched on the edge and frantically searched with his eyes for the young subordinate.

"Ramirez! Ramirez!"

But only darkness remained, with no sight of the young recruit. Meanwhile, Ramirez struggled to swim against a powerful current. He considered himself a good swimmer, having grown close to the water. But no matter how hard he kicked and flailed, the underwater stream kept pulling him downwards. The cold was starting to numb his senses, as he let out a last bubble of breath and his unconscious body was dragged into the infinite abyss.

 Ramirez then woke up surrounded by complete darkness. He was laying on a rocky wet floor, dripping wet and feeling breathless. He coughed a couple of times, expelling a good amount of water out of his lungs. He stood up, but couldn't see anything around him. There was no breeze, no sound, absolutely nothing. He was about to take a step when a strong voice made him freeze in his tracks.

"Lt. Ramirez. I´ve been looking for someone like you."

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Those questions don´t matter anymore child. You´re under my protection, that´s all that matters."

He then heard a resounding metallic sound against the rocky floor and was completely shocked by what he saw. The trident of the god of the sea emitted a powerful glow, which then seeped into the cracks on the bedrock bellow to illuminate Ramirez´s surroundings. He was inside a big air compartment under what it seemed to be the ocean, and in front of him was an extremely muscular man holding a giant trident. Poseidon then approached the young lieutenant, holding up his chin with his strong hand.

"You will do just fine. Your potential is unmeasurable, and you know the meaning of suffering and the price of balance. A noble soul like you will be of great use to me and my realm."

"I have to get back to my ship sir. Please help me, my crew is in danger."

Said Ramirez nervously while he scanned the god in front of him with his eyes. The prominent chest was probably as wide as Ramirez holding both of his arms to his sides, with strong protruding abdominal muscles supporting it. He had the biggest arms he had ever seen, even among the famous bodybuilders he always liked to watch on the internet. His lower body was even more powerful. He was only wearing the lower part of a short white robe, with gold accessories adorning his wrists and belt. Two penetrating blue eyes glowed like the deepest of oceans, set as the highlight of a rugged but beautiful face. The cherry on top was a luscious chestnut-colored beard falling right on top of his upper chest. Poseidon noticed the way this kid was looking at him and smiled broadly. He liked his ego stroked like all the gods.

"The ship was spared. But that passion is what I´m looking for. A loving protector, who is strong enough to crush anything on his way."

He pointed his trident towards the young lieutenant and smiled.

"Meet me on the base of Mount Olympus in Greece by the next full moon. I will grant you the true love of my kingdom, in exchange for your loyalty and strength. I´m counting on you."

A blue light came out of the trident, completely enveloping Ramirez. The cold sensation was gone, together with the exhaustion he felt before regaining consciousness. When the light faded, Poseidon was gone. The air bubble around him started popping, letting water in again. Ramirez was quickly swallowed by the ocean, having only time to briefly hold his breath. Once he could not hold it any longer, he coughed only to find out he was able to breathe normally underwater. He also thought about how he practically was immune to the pressure of the sea above him, not feeling any strain on his body.

He took off his uniform so he could swim better, leaving him only wearing the pair of black boxer shorts he had on, and started exploring his surroundings. The light the trident had infused on the ground remained there and formed a path leading the young sailor forward into the darkness. After swimming for a while, he found the strangest creature he had ever seen. A beautiful horse with the tail of a fish was waiting at the end of the illuminated road. The animal looked at Ramirez, and he immediately knew what he had to do. He floated towards the hippocampus, and rode on its back, grabbing its neck as the animal swiftly swam towards the surface.

He must have been pretty deep thought Ramirez because it took a long time until he saw the weak rays of sunlight replace the absolute darkness he was in before. He could feel the water caressing his body, but it opposed little resistance to the fast creature and the young sailor on top. It also wasn´t cold like before, but getting warmer the more the sea horse carried him through the vastness of the ocean. He was fascinated by its massive expanse and could feel its sheer power pulsating through the water.

They passed all kinds of sea creatures like schools of fishes, dolphins and even a few whales. Ramirez´s connection with the sea grew stronger, together with his love for it. He was so enthralled by the fascinating view in front of him that he missed the sensation the stronger current was causing on his body. The swirling water quickly surrounded him, tying him to the back of the hippocampus and constraining his limbs. Ramirez felt a dull pain product of the waters slowly pulling his limbs and spine further away from each other, rapidly adding inches to his height until the formerly short sailor reached a towering 7 feet height. The pulling didn´t stop there though, as each bone grew to form the canvas for the muscle that was coming in next.

The warm water caressed and massaged each individual muscle, transferring the titanic strength of the ocean to them. The legs holding on to the hippocampus started growing first. It looked like water was being pumped directly into his skin. Quadriceps strong enough to crush rocks between them formed on his upper legs, with edges carving themselves out of the gigantic muscles. His calves were pulled apart and rearranged by the current until two diamond-shaped calves replaced the former toothpick lower legs. His feet grew even bigger for a man his size, necessary for the swift propulsion underwater. The growth moved to his butt cheeks, the sensation finally making Ramirez aware of what was happening to him. He felt a strong cramp in his ass, as both glutei raised further and further from the back of the sea horse. His underwear strained to the maximum under the pressure of the new watermelon-sized ass cheeks.

Ramirez watched his lower body turn into the one of a card-carrying professional bodybuilder. The sensations invading his body were too intense for him to remain calm. He felt incredible awe for the creatures that were crossing through his sight. He felt the warm and pleasurable caress of the water on his body. He felt the strong rocking of the hippocampus´ swimming. And he felt a crushing pain as the pressure in the water reformed his body. He let go of the creature to grab his stomach in pain. He felt like the water was suctioning each individual brick in his abdomen out, and he was quickly left with a powerful eight pack cut into his midsection. His Adonis belt protruded out of his sides, and his serratus muscles carved themselves so deep it looked like the man had developed gills.

Ramirez then felt the current push him from the back of the sea horse, and the sailor fell to the back watching the creature swim away from him. He immediately began swimming trying to reach it, but his newly developed lower body still moved clumsily lacking the coordination needed to move such a heavy mass. Ramirez focused all of his strength on reaching the hippocampus when suddenly a strong water current propelled him forward and he was able to reach the creature. He then realized he was practically flying underwater, enjoying the freedom of moving like a torpedo through the ocean. He swam graciously together with the hippocampus, both dancing synchronized to the rhythm of the waters.

Small whirlpools formed around his brown nipples, sending waves of pleasure through the man and increasing their size to fit into the new gigantic chest that was about to come. His pectoral muscles squared on the lower end, and then pushed further out inflating like two water mattresses. The water was putting so much pressure on his upper body the sailor felt his bones were going to get crushed. Ramirez was left with a herculean chest powerful enough to fight the roaring waves of a tsunami. His shoulders were next, as each deltoid inflated bigger than cannonballs with enough strength to lift an anchor above his head.

He then felt the current pull his arms so hard he thought they were going to be ripped apart. The pressure in his muscles made him wince in pain, while his triceps dripped and grew like marlin´s dorsal fin, pushing the former noodles to the sides of his body, and his biceps inflated like water balloons about to pop due to their sheer size. Massive sinews formed on his upper arms, and his hands grew massively muscular, wide enough to push large amounts of water on a single stroke.

He examined both of his new arms when a cramp in his back made him bend forward and scream in pain. He felt the water vibrating on his spine, spreading the sensation to every muscle like a flare. The upper back started extending and rounding up like a turtle shell, and the lats on each side protruded so far, he looked more like a giant T instead of a V. His back was by far the strongest muscle on his body, designed to propel the new man through the chaotic waters with ease.

The current then swirled around his neck, starting to choke him. The traps raised to connect to his ears and complete the growth of the monstrous back. He could hear his grumble grow lower as his neck expanded with muscle, leaving his head looking like a tiny pin on a godly body. The pain was overwhelming the young sailor. He opened his mouth to let out a painful scream when suddenly water flowed into his body with intensity. Veins started popping out of his limbs, improving the oxygen saturation, and therefore endurance for the giant.

Large veins popped on his lower abdomen, and then he felt an excruciating pressure pushing behind his manhood. His penis then started inflating, far surpassing the limits of the already strained underpants, which were ripped off by the strong currents. His newly improved appendage kept growing and pulsing so much, Ramirez thought it was going to explode. It stopped growing at almost a foot in length, and a jaw-breaking girth. It looked like a glass bottle that was hanging from his legs. His balls were next, inflating to an equine size and falling heavy between his monstrous legs.

Male hormones combined with divine power started flowing through his body, boosted by the invading water current inside of him. He felt a cracking pressure on his head, which grew proportional to the new body size. His angular face grew more masculine, his jaw broadening into a thick square, and his brow pushing further over his eyes giving him a menacing look. His nose then cracked and widened, while his lips plumped a bit more. His already short dark brown hair retreated into his scalp, leaving him with a short buzz cut. The amount of testosterone in his body was so high, his hairline receded a little bit. His face was then invaded by a permanent shadow with the potential of growing a thick beard. The rest of his body sucked in his body hair, leaving his smooth. His beautiful brown skin darkened a bit more. His pores then started producing a small amount of oil, that gave him a shiny look and helped him oppose little resistance to the forces of the sea, making underwater travel far easier.

The current then stopped forcing its way into his body and released his limbs from their invisible shackles. Ramirez started touching his body incredulously, incapable of dimensioning the change he just went through. He felt the raw power of the sea pulse within him. He touched his face and felt his young skin under his fingers. His scar was gone too. The sight of the new man might have been bizarre, due to him still looking young despite his overwhelming masculinity. Ramirez was so distracted by his new body, that he missed the waters getting slowly more superficial and the hippocampus turning around and leaving back into the abyss.

The sailor propelled himself further into the shallowing waters when he was suddenly greeted by the figure of a beautiful young man sitting on an underwater rock. He couldn´t be older than the junior lieutenant, although his presence and demeanor felt older than civilization itself. His long hair flowed along with the current, glistening with silver light. He had the carved body of an Olympic swimmer, with defined and strong limbs made to love underwater and a very wide back developed from physical activity in the sea. He was also completely smooth, the only hair on his body remaining on his head, eyebrows, and long eyelashes. He beamed a white smile as radiant as the sun at the stranger.

Ramirez approached the young Adonis with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Even though his sexual experience was limited, he was very familiar with the feelings of lust invading his body. Only this time, they were overwhelmingly strong, almost clouding his entire conscience. The man got up from the rock and touched Gabo´s muscular chest.

"Father was right, you turned out better than expected."

He had a melodious hypnotic voice almost too beautiful to be coming out of a hunk like him. Ramirez looked down at the man caressing his body. His knees shook nervously, while he let himself be seduced by the apparition before him. But something in his mind suddenly snapped. He felt the pressure from before again, only this time inside his thoughts as if the water was rinsing the old cowardly nature of the sailor. For some reason, the situation didn´t feel right. He was the one supposed to be doing the seduction, not the other way around.

He took the young man from his legs and pulled him close to his body raising him to his same height. He then proceeded to passionately make out with the stud, both their tongues dancing in each other's mouth. Ramirez felt like sea spume was filling his head, making it harder and harder to focus. He started losing his grip on reality. Like waves carving and molding the strong rocks underneath, the magical power carved out a new man out of the young sailor. More and more dominance asserted itself into his persona, replacing the old more submissive nature. His body language was a dead giveaway of what was happening in his mind.

The sea hunk noticed how his lover´s kiss started to grow more aggressive, invading his mouth with a strong tongue. His big hands started squeezing the young man´s ass, ways of pleasuring a person during sex being engraved in his memory. Years of experience pushed their way into the new man, his face growing more rugged with lines of age and his body gaining more thickness that comes with years of labor. His giant manhood was already grown at full mast, stroking the cheeks of his prey like a sea serpent just before attacking and spreading his self-produced oil on his skin. The young man then guided the hard rod to the entrance of his body, pushing down ever so slightly to get the head in.

The hunk had been with many lovers before, but this was still considered to be a very big phallus. He carefully slid down in order to accommodate the muscular man´s size inside of him. Ramirez kept fighting the tide inside his head. He was scared of changing, of letting go of who he was. A part of him still wanted to flee and pretend none of this had happened. But remembering his hometown beach stopped his train of thought. He remembered the beautiful waters shining in the sunlight, of all the creatures dependent on them, from little crabs on the beach to the big metropolis of the world. The ocean´s ecosystem was the most important one in the world, and it had to be protected. The love he felt for the sea turned into a massive tidal wave inside of him that finally broke down all his mental barriers and completely dragged his old personality out of existence. He didn´t have to flee anymore, he possessed the strength to break the earth and part the ocean. He could destroy anything that got in his way of protecting what he loved.

Ltjg. Gabo Ramirez was reborn in the form of Gabriel, the name his mother had originally given him, and the new protector of the sea. The last bits of his personality evaporating like the sea breeze under the scorching sun. His young lover watched in awe as the eyes of the titan started to glow, and a deep blue color washed his former brown irises away. Once his manhood had entered the hunk completely, he started thrusting back and forth with the strength to shake the earth. He was a god among men, and he had the right to be pleased. Still, he liked to share the pleasure with his lovers, and care for them. He liked feeling like the strong protector he was born to be. The young sea hunk smiled broadly knowing the transformation was complete, and let himself be completely dominated and pleased by the titan inside of him.

 The sun was already setting when Gabriel came out of the warm waters. He wasn´t in the frosty northern sea anymore but the warm coasts of southern Greece. He was only wearing the bikini strap the young hunk had given him once they parted ways, along with a kiss and the promise of meeting him again. Gabriel looked at the vast sea before him and smiled. He was going to do whatever it took to protect his new home. He was going to honor his Lord´s will by conquering and crushing anything in his way. He still had a couple of days before the full moon, which should be enough to get to Mount Olympus. He then thought about all the life and all the pleasure he could have on his way. He was going to bless a lot of mortals with his sexual prowess. He took one last deep breath before heading inland, his nostrils filling with the salty smell of the sea breeze along with his own radiating masculine scent, his skin shimmering under the setting sun. The giant then disappeared into the prairie, ready for whatever challenge the world may throw at him.

In the distance sitting next to a cliff was Nereus, watching the newly chosen one walk towards his destiny. He found the Olympians obnoxious, but he had to admit they did a pretty fine handiwork. The new man looked like he jumped out of a perverted fever dream, with enough power to shatter the earth with each step.

"He really does feel like he looks, father."

A joyful voice said on the back. Nereus turned around to see his own son Nerites staring playfully at him. The young god loved to play around but was filled with respect for his father. The beautiful merman smiled broadly at the old man, who gave him an approving nod.

"Well done son. I knew Poseidon needed a little push. I´m glad to see his opus got your sign of approval."

"It´s going to be an interesting time after all. Life is just fun."

Said Nerites enthusiastically as both gods stared into the distance wondering about the Olympian´s intricate rivalries and plots in the sky.

[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking the King Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing

Lisabet is a high born Lady of Oleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

A bit of a plot heavy chapter, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

Lisabeta had seen no more than a glimpse of Henry’s sun kissed locks as he strode away that morning. Not, of course, that she wanted to see the King. She had seen enough of him last night. More than enough, she added, as the image of him in all his naked splendor slipped its way into her mind.

That vexing image seemed to be branded into her brain, so often did she find herself thinking of it when she let her mind drift. His skin, dotted with freckles and crossed with scars that somehow failed to detract from his masculine beauty. The breadth of his shoulders that tapered slowly, over a long distance, to his narrow hips. How could one so unquestionably awful be so unquestionably awe arousing? It was simply not fair!

She had barely slept last night, so active had been her mind. Her body also seemed more alive than usual. There was a curious heat within her, to the point that she wondered if she was feverish. Her skin tingled, and her stomach felt unsettled. Most distracting of all was the odd ache she felt in her womanly organs. She was not due for her courses for weeks, why was she feeling so out of sorts there? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to blame the English King.

She hated him, more than she had ever hated anyone. He had toyed with her, she knew it! And yet, how could that be when to him she was simply one of his pages. The fact that he had treated her with such disinterest and disregard only meant her disguise was working, for no well born man, even an Englishman, would ever behave so in front of gently bread lady. And yet it maddened her to no end that he had been so with her. She wanted more than ever to find him and run him through with her sword. If she had to wait on him again, no doubt she would do so.

And yet, it was even more insufferable that he did not send for her. Lisabeta was not a woman used to being overlooked, particularly by men. She commanded attention the moment she arrived in a room by virtue of both her looks and her natural spirit. To be forced to sit idly waiting for Henry to call on her was not to be endured.

Around midday of the day following the tent incident she had been sent for, but it was not the King who had called her. She was beginning to wonder what pages were expected to do in a royal camp, and how she was to maintain her anonymity. The night before she had simply found a place on the ground near a fire, using her saddle roll as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. It was a long night, with only restless sleeping on the hard ground, but she had endured it. In the morning she had snuck between a tent and a wagon towards the tree line and relieved herself, frantic lest someone should see her. It could not go on like this for long, and she knew it.

When summons had come, she assumed it was from the King. After all, who else knew she was there? Instead, she had been brought to a smaller tent not far from where the Royal Standard flew. A desk took up most of the space, somehow both neat and cluttered with papers and ink. Sitting behind it was a thin, balding man who looked less like a soldier that Lisabet herself. She guessed him to be her father’s age, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“You are Phillipe Cavot, the King’s new page?” the man asked in a voice as tired as his eyes.

“I am, my Lord, what would you have with me?” Lisabeta struggled to make her voice sound more like an anxious page and less like a confident lady.

“King Henry thought I might make use of you,” the man sounded uncertain as he looked her over.

What! The King was handing her off like so much unwanted baggage to one of his underlings? Lisabeta seethed internally. How dare he be so high handed?

“Did he indeed, how generous of him,” she bit off.

“I thought it so, if what he says is true,” the man’s voice was mild and slightly perplexed at her answer. “Your hand, I take it, is decipherable? If so, you will be better than the last. I am Laurence, Henry’s secretary. I have a stack of documents to write, and time is not a friend to me of late. You will assist me here with all my work. I know it is less exciting task to aid a secretary than knight. But here at least some comfort does exist. There is a cot for you to sleep upon, and there behind the screen a chamber pot. Perhaps it is no luxury for you, but when one reaches my age, one will find such niceties are of a great import.”

Lisabeta was at first inclined to be outraged, if only because outrage seemed to be her reaction to all that Henry said or did. To be stuck in this tent with a reedy man with a reedy voice all day was not the reason why she had come here. On the other hand, it did neatly solve both of her core problems. It was as if providence had given her a way to stay until she figured out the next step in her plan.

In addition to all of this, it occurred to Lisabeta that this could be just the place she needed to be. If this man was King Henry’s secretary, then the documents scattered about his desk took on an entirely new interest to her. It was possible that hidden among the mounds of papers that looked to be mostly correspondences could be maps, perhaps even battle plans, detailing the English forces’ intentions. If she could put her hands on those documents, it could be a turning point in this war.

In her mind, Lisabeta pushed away the picture of Henry mercilessly and in its place forced in what must be seen as a happier view. She would wait until the secretary had left, of perhaps gone to sleep as it looked like he must soon do. Once he was out of the way, she would find the betraying documents, copy them down, and slip from the camp. How easy would it be then to send them via courier, or maybe even bring them herself, to the French King and his constable in Paris? Lisabeta could singlehandedly win this wretched war for France!

It was a plan, and she would see it done. She need never cross paths with the arrogant King Henry again. Let him preen around his camp in the mud for another day or two, she would not be there to wash it from his body. And all the better for that, she insisted to herself, even as she fought back regret.

***

“Your Majesty, what brings you to our tents?” Sir Stephen Boyd asked, beginning to drop to one knee in the mud before Henry waved away the need.

“My restless legs that needed room to stretched,” Henry laughed good naturedly. “How goes it with our enforced visitors?”

“Well, my Lord, when all is said and done. One little lad no more than three years old did give us all some trouble at the start.”

“Precocious lad! How did he manage that?”

“With screaming morn and night, to wake the dead. I tell you Sire, I’ve seen my share of war. I’ve fought in wars whose blood would fill a lake, and thought my life was ended more than once. But never have I known a greater fear than when the cub did last drift off to sleep and any noise did threaten our brief peace.”

Henry could not but laugh at the thought of the bluff old knight fearing a lad of three. The very sight of him proclaimed the battles he spoke of. Still, there lived inside the blustery warrior a soft heart. Henry remembered being found out by Sir Stephen after his first taste of battle. An overwhelmed squire, Henry had been horrified by the carnage he had witnessed. Ashamed of himself, he had hidden behind a wagon to empty his stomach before crouching down trembling from the shock, terrified lest someone should see him so unmanned.

But when Sir Stephen had discovered him, the older knight had not mocked or scolded him. Instead, he had hunched down next to him and handed over a flask of water for Henry to rinse his mouth. After Henry had stopped shaking, Sir Stephen had spoken to him in a matter of fact voice, telling him that all men of intellect were shaken by the reality of war. It was only the dull or the cruel who escaped unscathed. Any man worth following would react as Henry had, he opined, and he was proud that his future lord was such a one. With a nod, he had risen and walked away, leaving behind the water and a more thoughtful Henry.

It was because of this innate compassion that Henry had chosen him to have custody of the hostages. Other, higher ranked men had chafed, wanting the potentially lucrative position where they could extort money from anxiety ridden parents. Henry had thwarted them all, placing in stead an honorable man who would do his best to keep the young hostages safe and well looked after.

“A mighty terror indeed, how solved you it?” he asked now with a shudder.

“I handed off the boy to Mistress Mead,” Sir Stephen replied, face reddening. “She’s wife to Seargent Mead, a doughty man, and raised a brood of children of her own. I know your Grace did put him in my charge, but at his age he needs a woman’s care. I hope you know I meant no harm by it. I’d trust the goodwife my very life.”

“As I trust you with mine, my blustery friend,” Henry assured him. “I should have thought to do so from the start. I thank you, Sir, for seeing to it now.”

They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching a pair of lads in oversized helmets batter at each other. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he had come here. He had been at his desk going over the papers his secretary had left for him, but his mind was not really focused. He needed to walk, to exercise. To get away from his tent where his eyes and mind kept drifting over to the large tub where the Gascoigne lass had bathed him two nights before. He had not been able to stop thinking of her since.

It was only because he had been celibate, he assured himself. That was the reason why he had responded so strongly to the chit. She was completely lacking skill in her ministrations. Her touch had been hesitant, shy, barely skimming over his skin. And yet, that had changed as she proceeded. She had grown bolder, pulling slightly on his hair, rubbing his aching shoulders and back. He had been loud in his appreciation, moaning as he felt the tension and stiffness melt out of him.

Well, it had melted out of his upper body, his lower body had been an entirely different story. As her hands drifted lower, his erection had become painful in its insistence. She was just inches away, all it would take was a small dip down for her soft hand to be wrapped around his length. He had wanted it with an intensity that left him throbbing. If he had not sent her away at that point, he would have dragged her into the tub with him.

It was a thought that kept occurring to him through the night and all the next day.

He thought he had hit on the perfect solution by handing her off to Laurence. The man could use an extra hand, and he could only imagine the girl’s education had included penmanship. He could not have her running about his camp, just waiting for someone to realize she was a woman, for god’s sake. She was a scandal just waiting to happen, in no small part because she seemed incapable of staying unobtrusive.

Laurance, on the other hand, could be trusted implicitly with her. The man was discreet to a fault, as one who preferences were as his had to be in their society. As Henry suspected, he had sussed out her true nature the first day, but rather than confront her with it had quietly brought it to his King’s attention. When Henry indicated that he knew her identity, but wished to do nothing for present, his secretary had sighed but nodded, mumbling that at least she had a passable hand a quick mind, if an even quicker tongue. She would be safe with him until he decided how to proceed.

He just needed to find out more about her, which brought him to his current location.

“Tell me, Sir, how does the young Gascoigne?” he asked, attempting nonchalance.

“Little Phillipe? He does right well, my Lord,” Stephen answered, slight curiosity in his voice. “That be him over there, the one in blue. He’ll make a proper Knight if ‘ere he grows. A bit to clever, like to one I know. But taking to account his lineage and vast side of the force he’ll one day lead, that is no bad thing, as I think you know.”

Henry watched the boy as he traded blows with another a head taller than him. He saw what Sir Stephen alluded to. The larger boy clearly had strength and reach on his side, but Phillipe easily side stepped the attacks launched on him. He had an excellent eye for what his opponent was about to do next. If only he had a better control of his own weapon. Acting on instinct, Henry strode forward, grabbing a practice sword from the wrack as he did.

“Your grip is wrong, if I may intercede?”

He didn’t raise his voice, he seldom did, but the two boys drew back, instantly lowering their blades. Phillipe dropped to one knee, and after a slight pause the other boy did the same, removing their borrowed helms.

“Rise up, Phillipe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he offered, along with his hand to help the boy to rise.

He was a handsome lad, Henry observed. Very much the boyish version of his sister. Henry was continually amused at how everyone else took her for a boy. Her hips were obviously those of a woman, and the combination of padding and binding did not completely hide her other curves. On top of that, the planes of her face were more feminine, if older and sharper than the boy before him.

He spent the next hour happily helping Phillipe improve his grip. The boy had stamina, and after the first few moments lost his stiffness with the King. Henry enjoyed physical activity of all sorts and had been unhappy with the idleness. The lesson was just what he had needed to restore his good humor.

“Well done, my lad, I think you have the trick,” he said at last, setting aside his sword and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I thank you, Sire, for sparing me your time,” Phillipe said shyly, panting a bit. “I father doth despair of my poor skill. Why even my own sister Lisabet can best me when it cometh to the blade.”

“Ah, Lisabet! That is your sister’s name!” Henry said, remembering now that he had heard the lovely moniker before.

“Why yes, my Lord, but know you Lisabet?”

Henry cursed silently, damning his tongue for saying the name out loud. A lovely name, he thought, although perhaps too soft for the sassy brat who had infiltrated his camp.

“By reputation only, to my woe,” he said with an easy smile to, “I hear she is the jewel of all of France.”

“So all do say, though I do see it not,” the boy made a face all brothers of sisters would recognize before continuing to ramble. “A willful fury, with a biting tongue is more the face that she does show to me. But those who know the fashion of the world have dubbed her oft an incomparable. My parents seek to make for her a match with every single gentleman of name.”

“And is there any one she most prefers?” Henry asked, irritated at the idea that the innocent vixen in his tent last night might be promised to another.

“No, not when last I spoke to her, my Lord. Papa would wed her to Lord Constable, I heard him say the match was all but made. But Lisabet just curled her lip at that. I think she fancies more to be a queen, or empress who could manage one and all. She certainly does like to get her way. But do not, please, mistake me good my Lord. Though she can be a right pain in my side, she is at heart a loving sister still. She wept when I did leave to be our pledge.”

“Belike she thought I meant to use you ill. I hope, Phillip, that has not been the case?”

“Why no, my Lord, though I should say it not, the days that I have spent here in your camp seem almost as a holiday to me!”

“Then I am glad to give you such a treat. You must inform your sister of the truth.

“I will when I am back at home with her. She will just roll her eyes and scoff at me and tell me that I do betray our house. She would have had us fight till all were dead, or ere she ever flew the flag of truce.” 

“She sounds a truly formidable foe. How glad I am I had to fight her naught.”

 “As you should be, she wields a blade with skill!”

“Gascoigne, will you talk the good king mad? Come over here and help to clean the blades!”

Chastised by the should from Sir Stephen, the boy ducked his head and bowed to Henry before running over to assist in the work. Henry smiled in reply, but him mind was elsewhere. So, his fiery, would be page was set to marry the Constable of France? And, moreover, she was a fierce opponent of the peace with England. That would not bode well for Henry or for Fance. He hoped to settle the matter of his sovereignty, and the good Constable was a stumbling block in his way. If the man were wed to a woman of passion who stood against Henry’s claim, he would be only more likely to dig in and voice his dissent. No, Henry did not think he could allow such a union to take place.

It had nothing at all, of course, to do with his own attraction to the woman.

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[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

[lesbiansforboromir]

HC - Prince Adrahil’s Effect on the Steward Family

SO! Let me tell you all about Finduilas’ dad. Adrahil is a rather complex man. On paper he was a wise ruler, a dedicated father and a loving husband, the very picture of his line’s ethereal and lofty mythology.  And these things might all be true! However, he was also controlling, self-aggrandising and overly ambitious. Adrahil wanted all things in his life, land and family to be just so, and it made him an incredibly difficult father for all his children, albeit in different ways. 

If you were to ask Boromir why he does not get along with his grandfather, he would tell you that Adrahil blamed Denethor for Finduilas’ death and was the cause of the rumours surrounding it. ‘Finduilas died because she was too long away from Dol Amroth’ and ‘the Lord Steward kept her too jealously’ were whispered about Minas Tirith and even further afield, and it made an already painful time even harder to bear for Finduilas’ husband and sons. 

However this explanation is really only a brief overview of a far more complex issue, partly because of Boromir’s reticence, but also because he is unaware of the longer history.

Adrahil had actually been using similar rumours to try and control Finduilas long before her death. She was never quite the daughter he wished her to be and the constant push/pull of Finduilas trying to define herself, whilst Adrahil tried to reign her back in, was the most prominent aspect of their relationship. You would think that one’s daughter marrying the heir to the Stewardship would make any father proud, but Adrahil found the autonomy and independence Finduilas had away from him as a married woman infuriating. He was sure she would be worse off for being out of his control. Finduilas meanwhile was very happy, sharing her life with someone whom she understood and who understood her to a degree she had not encountered before. 

And the only way Adrahil was able to exert anymore control over Finduilas was by attacking that relationship. Hence the rumours of her being stifled in Minas Tirith and being kept away from her ancestral home, taking advantage of the myths surrounding elves and the sea to enforce the point and make the gossip compelling. Adrahil had always felt that Denethor had stolen away his daughter and turned her into someone she was not, and any blame he laid at Denethor’s door after her death was just a continuation of that attitude. 

Which brings us to what Boromir is being reticent about. Because there had been a period of semi-calm before Finduilas died. With his grandsons growing up and Adrahil wanting to know them, and the parents not wanting to deny their children a relationship with their grandparents, there was incentive for peace and restraint between all parties. So Boromir knew Adrahil, felt the safe attachment of a child to a kind and indulgent family member and loved him because he knew that that was what Adrahil needed from him. And Adrahil took advantage of that. 

In Adrahil’s mind, if he couldn’t ‘save’ Finduilas from Denethor’s influence, he could at least keep a hold of his grandsons (and so still have control over a part of her.) And he both overestimated how much influence he had over Boromir, whilst underestimating how close he was to his father. This lead to Adrahil trying to convince Boromir of the rumours as well. 

This did not go well for him, but it wasn’t a smoothly dealt with scenario either. Boromir was old enough to internally understand that something was wrong with this situation, with what his grandfather was telling him and the way he was behaving, that he was being manipulated. But he had no ability to concisely explain those feelings. And Adrahil was an adult, easily able to divert and skew conversations to his favour without really even trying. So in a time when Boromir was already grieving his mother and struggling with expressing that grief, a man he wanted to trust and rely on was actively trying to convince him that the father he loved had killed his mother.

This was the start of a period in Boromir’s childhood where he struggled to control his anger and, particularly, his frustration. Adrahil’s attempts to manipulate him ended quite abruptly when ten year old Boromir (finding nothing else worked) lashed out at him violently and left his grandfather with an ugly bruise over his cheek and nose. (Boromir having always been inexplicably strong since he was a child, something that had never been more than an amusing family curiosity until now.) But Boromir struggled with the aftermath of it for some years later, having to come up with coping mechanisms and strategies to keep himself from breaking things in fits. He asked not to see his grandfather again, a request Denethor was only too happy to oblige. 

Faramir was old enough to understand that something was happening within his family, but still too young to full internalise it and was also very taken up with his own difficult grief. Hence, he maintained a fond relationship with his grandfather for the rest of his life. Adrahil was more subtle in his approach to Faramir and also truly held genuine love for him and his influence can still be seen decades later within Faramir’s attitude towards both Denethor and Boromir. The impression that Boromir is ‘un-intellectual’ and this kind of ‘only thinks with his fists’ idea either comes directly from Adrahil, or was at least heartily encouraged by him. In fact Faramir sometimes humorously reminds his brother of ‘that time you hit our grandfather’ as teasing proof of these concepts, unaware of the deeper meaning behind the incedent. 

Meanwhile it wasn’t until Boromir was an adult that he re-established contact with Adrahil. It was an awkward and stiff affair, but it smoothed out as the years went by, mostly thanks to Boromir’s now fully grown and iron-clade self control. However Boromir still minimised the time he had to spend in Adrahil’s company simply because he was one of the only people that truly threatened that self control. Whilst Boromir has always been good at letting grievances go, he found his anger at his grandfather’s actions only grew as the years passed and he understood more and more how cruel and exploitative they had been.

Boromir might have never truly gone through an ‘’adolescent phase’’ as we would know it, but Adrahil was a presence that brought out that self serving and destructive yearning in him. By 18 he had decided and planned for his sexuality to never be discovered by any of his family and was absolutely married to being a master of concealment. And indeed! It was vital he did so, not only for his own position, but the Stewardship and Gondor as a whole! 

And yet everytime he met his grandfather Boromir could not drown out the voice in his head that tempted; ‘You want to tell him you like dick so bad, you want to see how much more you can ruin this relationship, you want to cause family catastrophes on a massive scale. It will be horrible and you want it to be.’

And, in that moment, he really truly does, which is a disconcerting fact that Boromir tries his best to avoid and minimise as much as possible. 

[athys-obelia]

character/s: claude de alger obelia, diana of siodonna, felix robane

synopsis: it's...uhm....an empress!diana x concubine!claude crackfic 😭😭

warning/s: uhh a sprinkle of politics, the robane duchy is now siodonnan and not obelian screw canon, diana is lowkey mean to rogrog

a/n: i'm so sorry this is so bad

part one

felix's foot taps against the tiles of the empress' room impatiently. "you stayed up finalising the agreement all night, your majesty, perhaps some rest is due?"

diana spares him glance, turning sideways from her position on her bed. "what was his name again?"

  "pardon?"

  "the painter," she elaborates, pointing towards the painting on the ceiling above the bed. "i keep...i don't know, i keep finding new things the more i look at it."

  "is that so?"

the painting itself, a coronation gift from felix, depicts the goddess diana reaching out to the children of the world and vice versa. "if you look at the sky closely - remember our old siodonann classes?- 'for the people' is hidden in the stars. isn't that cool?"

the knight squints at the painting. "oh, i see it! i wonder why it's in old siodonann, though?"

  "i would guess it's because the imperial family wasn't worshipped in the old days," diana explains, "for example - right now, in some parts of the empire, my late father - bless him - and i may actually have shrines because people believe the imperial family's descent is from the gods. when the kingdom was just formed, though, kings and queens weren't allowed to ride alone in carriages as they greeted their subjects- they needed to have a slave with them at all times, who kept on repeating 'you are human' to them. 'you are human', 'we are all the same in the eyes of the true gods."

the sound of the army of maids behind the door is enough to pull felix out of his trance. "er...horatius calvus, your majesty."

  "hm?"

  "the artist, that's his name."

  "ah." diana turns to the painting once more, eyes staring at the goddess' hair that melted into the night sky. "would you be able to get in contact with him? i'd like to commission a piece."

felix bows gracefully. "as your majesty commands. oh, and - for the obelian delegates' farewell celebration tonight...has your majesty decided on an escort?"

she groans, falling back on the bed. "i've had so much free time lately, the harem is all i think about!"

  "very funny, ma'am. then...shall i prepare the usual?"

diana shakes her head. "i'll visit viscaria palace later and see for myself. the obelians brought some concubines with them as presents, it's be nice to weed through the bunch."

felix's eyes nearly pop out. "you're visiting the harem?! your majesty! did you find someone you like??"

she chucks a pillow at him before he can continue. "you weren't loud enough just now, fe, i don't think all of siodonna heard you."

  "...apologies, ma'am."

three years ago, when she had only just come into power, diana remembers being afraid of the large, gold doors between her and the council room. she remembers pausing before entering, regaining her breath, preparing her mind. projecting an image.

if there is one thing she has learnt, though, it's that only fools can be afraid of their own property. their assets. the larger-than-life doors swing at her command, allow or deny entrance with solely her permission. confidence comes easy when you act like you own the place - nevermind the fact that she did own most places.

but i have no reason to be afraid.

the obelian delegates stand at her arrival and bow like good little lords should before an empress. one of the more prominent ones stands to address her as soon as the meeting commences.

  "blessings and glory upon the sun of the great siodonnan empire," he says.

diana raises an amused eyebrow. this game, hm? "is that an obelian greeting, duke? how interesting. here, one would usually wish 'a long life to the protector of the siodonnan people'. that's all i am, after all - how could i be the sun?"

duke alpheus sputters. "er...i failed to acquaint myself with siodonnan culture appropriately, my apologies, your majesty. i shall do better next time."

how arrogant. still, she smiles, "i must confess, duke alpheus - i am slightly susceptible to praise, so i'll let you off this time."

  "thank you, ma'am."

  "although making the assumption that there will be a next time at all was quite courageous of you." diana signals the guards, who open the door to let the final participant of the meeting inside. "however -courage and bravery are traits best suited for kings and queens, duke. not lords."

the obelian delegates pale as they watch their - former - emperor, wrists bound, enter the hall with an entourage of knights.

diana glances at the newcomer. "although i suppose even for an emperor, too much of a bravado may cost a war."

anastacius de alger obelia glowers at her.

she frowns at the knights. "how come such a precious friend of mine is tied up like this? is this how we siodonnans treat our guests?"

felix bows deeply. "i apologise, ma'am - he was resisting far too much."

  "whatever the case. get a seat set up right here, beside me - after all," diana smiles at the fuming obelian, "we were dining together just a few months ago, weren't we?"

  "three months ago, to be precise," anastacius spits out, "after which you decided to switch tides and invade us like a coward."

she watches one of the knights set down a fancy chair to the left of hers, reaching out to untie the bindings on anastacius' wrist. diana frowns suddenly, waving over felix, "ah, is this the leash my brother used when he tamed his dragon?"

the former emperor flinches, staring down at it. "someone here tamed a dragon?" a light pink dusts his cheeks - did he really touch the actual leash of a dragon?

felix shakes his head with a small smirk. "this is the leash her majesty the late dowager empress used, ma'am. for her dog."

  "-ah, right, i remember now! all the ones marked with this little purple line are used for tying down senseless animals, aren't they?"

  "yes, your majesty." felix returns to his spot behind her, clear amusement swimming in his grey eyes as he watches the obelians try and maintain their composure.

diana gently lets the leash loose, a hand on the stunned anastacius' shoulder to lightly push him into the seat. "you aren't wrong - i did betray your hospitality, didn't i?"

roger alpheus winces at the sudden authority in her tone as the knights pass out a document to each of the obelian lords.

  "obelia's greeting and offer for peace was kind to me, so i must return this generosity. your country is now part of the siodonnan empire, so we should be parting on a good note. will a little present suffice?"

a brunette diana remembers to be a count speaks up, "...a gift, your majesty?"

felix moves closer to the table, watching the detailed map of siodonna carved into its centre. as he raises his hand, almost as if it were a chess piece, a small island moves to the left. its color flickers between a siodonnan purple and the obelian teal.

diana sighs. "i was planning on the island of delphine, since it not only contains a relatively large gold mine, but also much tourist attraction."

oh, she can see the stars in alpheus' eyes already. "thank you, your ma-"

  "but." he shrivels under her piercing gaze, "but, obelia doesn't need gold, does it? what you need is better foreign relations. and what better way to form an alliance..."

she eyes the map, and with a flick of felix's wrist, a small stretch of land connecting two continents switches from its original purple to a hue of blue.

diana looks up now, meeting even anastacius' shocked eyes. he eyes her suspiciously, "do you really-?"

she nods. "...consider it a gift from your sovereign. it is enough, yes?"

  "i- uh," duke alpheus blinks twice, "the isthmus of erven is...an adequate present, yes, your majesty. the people of obelia shall thrive due to your generosity."

  "it is not generosity, duke. your people are my subjects now. however, i hope you realise the isthmus isn't obelian property for obvious reasons. there is no trust between us. despite this, what i will allow is some access." diana stands, watching the foreign nobles mirror the action. "the terms and conditions of our relationship from this point onwards are in the papers before you and are, obviously, subject to change. feel free to approach me with concerns, should you have any."

  "you were firmer than i'd expected with the obelians, your majesty," felix comments.

diana recoils as his eyes light up at the sight of viscaria palace. "remember when i visited obelia for anastacius' coronation? i was only seventeen, but two years into my studies as heir - and they were all over duke renauld's son! poor cousin ronnie couldn't stop apologising."

felix snorts. "the renaulds wouldn't have dared challenge your majesty's claim, not while the late empress dowager was behind you."

  "ha! that's right, everyone was scared of mama." she grins fondly, "papa most of all."

the knight nods, murmuring a prayer.

  "i want them gone as soon as possible," diana admits, "but there's much to settle before that. i need to fix up anastacius before we can let him back, the second prince is still...what was his name, again?"

  "claude de alger obelia, ma'am."

she winces. "yes, he's an impo-"

a commotion sounds from within viscaria. felix raises an eyebrow at the shouts echoing from the beautiful building, a hand already atop his sheathed sword. "ma'am, stay back, i'll have a look- your majesty! where are you going-?!"

navigating through the decorated halls, diana halts before the entrance of the garden. the argument is between two men she doesn't recognise, as the older concubines gather to the side, amusing twinkling in their eyes.

  "attention!" felix roars, "her imperial majesty, empress diana celeste!"

the two freeze in fear.

  "disrupting my peace. how dare you?" diana demands.

one of them, dressed too finely for someone she hadn't even seen yet, steps forward. "your majesty, my name is xerre, i was only-"

she raises a hand, effectively shutting him up. tone softening, diana turns to the group crowding around the desert table. "lex?"

the group shuffles to let a young, silver haired young man forward. lex bows gracefully, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. "yes, my lady?"

  "do you know what happened here?"

lex nods. "the monthly salary was being distributed, your majesty, and xerre - being a present from the kingdom of masur - had some trouble believing his amount was the same as a former obelian slave's. verhan stepped in to argue that your majesty was the one to decide this, and they began fighting."

  "shall i prepare for his voyage back to masur, majesty?" felix asks, as the rest of the concubines roll their eyes at his antics.

diana studies the masurian concubine, beckoning him closer. "it is common knowledge i do not generally accept gifted concubines from territories out of my own."

she watches his adam's apple rise and fall, tracing a nail over the well defined jawline. xerre shivers.

  "however, your king is new to his throne, and his queen one of my dearest friends. do you realise how our alliance will look were i to send you back?"

he nods cautiously.

  "i do not wish to withdraw support from someone i consider a brother, xerre. especially when he is engaged in armed conflict on two fronts."

  "i- i am prepared for any punishment your majesty deems appropriate."

diana sighs softly. "i would send you to work for me in the capitol, but the rules state every concubine entering must reside here for a certain amount of time. until then, bear with it. this palace, and a life of luxury, is only meant for my favorites. clear?"

  "yes, your majesty."

  "my apologies, ma'am," felix says once the crowd disperses, his head hanging. "i should've prepared for your arrival with more care."

she waves off the apology, heading to the guest hall to take a look at the new obelian  concubines.

  "vera leaves for her son's wedding for a week and we've already had an incident. honestly, felix."

  "...who's vera?"

diana pauses at the unfamiliar voice. her gaze falls on the figure sitting on the window seat, entirely immersed in the book in his hands. she blinks, stunned, watching the colourful window's filtered light paint the brilliant blonde of his hair.

felix is the first to address him, scoffing, "i believe your majesty's beauty has enchanted one of the gods - who else would dare address the empress of our nation so casually?"

diana chuckles, watching as the man stands, intrigued. she stays silent, breath hitched, as he towers over her, studying her with a curiosity that rivals hers from a moment ago. and only when he finally lowers himself to a knee does his hair part, and diana flushes at the red tinting his ears.

  "greetings to her imperial majesty, may the gods grant the protector of the siodonnan people a life long and blessed."

she offers him her hand. "rise. and tell me your name."

a beat of silence passes as he stares at her outstretched hand before hesitantly accepting. "claude, your majesty."

  "claude," diana tries, finding it rolls of her tongue deliciously.

he raises an eyebrow as she regards him. "your majesty...?"

diana smiles, her hand moving to touch the various jewellery adorning his fingers. gently, she slides off the gold ring off of his ring finger. "you must have a good reason to be donning an unauthorized magical item in my palace."

he doesn't answer, head lowered.

her hand lets go of his, raising to grip the blonde's jaw. diana tilts up his face, meeting his gaze. the dull grey eyes from before have vanished, replaced by glittering blues.

she inhales sharply. "you're...the obelian pr...the second prince of obelia."

he nods.

diana turns, more puzzled than angry. "why is he in my harem?"

  "... didn't your majesty wish for it?" felix tilts his head in confusion.

  "what? no?"

the knight frowns. "but i was so sure...your majesty said you didn't have an heir because you wanted a concubine as beautiful as me...when we took over the imperial palace, as the army swore their allegiance...your majesty said the prince was the prettiest you’ve ever seen?"

  "i- felix, i was kidding!"

  "...oh."

she turns to the prince then, "and you! you're a prince! how come you just went along with this??"

  "well...it was the most peaceful part of the palace..."

diana gapes at the two men, before finally sighing in defeat. "you're telling me i was scouring the lands for you, while you were right...?" she raises a hand to massage her temple, "...gods grant me patience."

felix cautiously steps forward, "your majesty...i understand this is shocking, but... tonight's escort..."

she glances up at the obelian prince. "allow them all to retire. i've found the perfect escort."

a/n: hmmm this was a bit empty claudiana wise, wasn't it? their development is coming though, i had to give empress!diana an intro :) also !! the situation may seem a bit confusing rn, but next chapter will clear things up! or you can just ask me for clarification <3

💕 felix is dying to find a concubine diana likes bc he really really really wants to be an uncle

💕 in siodonna, emperors/empresses are referred to by their first(diana) + middle name(celeste) and not a last name bc they technically can't belong to a house, they belong to the empire. but the middle name is important bc you have to ask for it (from someone you love and respect usually), you're never just born with one (so you could ask a parent / friend / mentor yada yada and they give you a name they believe fits best)

[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 3: Void

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: Around him was a peculiar material. It looked like constant twisting roots, like lodes knotting into themselves, making an impossible sculptured feat of wood and grain. The distinct scent of nature and wet soil after rain permeated the air.

“Where am I?” he asked into nothing.

-

Or, Aang sees what he couldn't before.

TW: implied/referenced suicide

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

Aang was on the battlefield again. He stood atop a rock pillar in the Wulong Forest. The sky was a clouded cerise, harsh with glaring shadows and a raging streak that made up the tail of Sozin’s Comet. The same apprehension and anger stormed inside him, bubbling to the surface of everything.

And then, there was a pinprick of white light. Just a tiny star, and then it expanded so much that he had to cover his eyes.

His vision cleared. He found himself sitting with his legs crossed, his hands in a meditation pose. Around him was a peculiar material. It looked like constant twisting roots, like lodes knotting into themselves, making an impossible sculptured feat of wood and grain. The distinct scent of nature and wet soil after rain permeated the air.

“Where am I?” he asked into nothing.

There was a rumbling noise, and then an eye-shaped window appeared before him too, separating the bark. It was in the shape of an eye turned to the side. A purplish red barrier that he could see through blocked him from escape. Behind the barrier, he saw strange, oblong patterns and suggestions of shapes. A turquoise sky, unnatural poisonous clouds. Beyond that, a vivid river cutting through the earthen landscape. It had clusters of bobbing, luminescent algae upon the water’s surface that cast an unusual light.

He gasped when his middle started to glow, white-blue designs appearing on his skin and through his clothes. The wooden bead necklace he wore lifted from his neck as if upon an invisible breeze. The fabrics he wore ruffled. A chill raised the hairs on his arms.

“Inside the Tree of Time,” intoned an echoing feminine voice. It felt like it was coming from inside him. Illogical, reverberating.

He blinked, clutching at his sleeves, searching for the source of the light. “Who are you? Who’s talking?” he asked in a panic.

“Raava,” said the voice, continuing unperturbed. “I am part of you, Aang. I am the spirit of light…the spirit of the Avatar.”

Immediately, it was as if all the pieces had fallen into place. There was a calmness about him that settled on his shoulders, his chest. He knew, without a doubt, that this Raava was telling the truth, that the voice was someone he could trust. It was as if he had reconnected with a long-lost friend.

“You are here because you have bended another’s energy…and that energy has corrupted you.”

Aang reeled backward, banging onto the hollow trunk of the tree. “What? But—”

“Let time show you,” Raava interrupted, and he could almost imagine a figure gesturing to the tree that surrounded him, a faceless spirit guiding him on this journey he did not want to take.

Images fizzled into existence around him, floating visions that surfaces upon the bark. They were blurred along the borders and had a quality to them that made them appear almost ethereal. The first he saw was of someone familiar.

It was Gyatso running away from his old room in the Southern Air Temple, the scroll Aang had left behind when he ran away clutched in his hand. His eyebrows were drawn together, features set into one of dread.

“Aang has gone!” he shouted into the empty halls. “We need to send out a search party immediately! Who knows what will happen in this typhoon!”

Another moving image popped near it, this time a courtyard full of elder monks, murmuring to each other, pointing at the deep red sky. He could not tell what time of day it was, for there were stars that peeked out from behind the Patola Mountains, and a glimmer of sunrays limning the edges of the valleys at the same time.

Another image, and it was fire. Screams, children he had known yelling through crumbling rubble. Dote, his friend, struggling to pull out his broken leg from beneath a fallen pillar. Blood cascaded from a cut on his forehead. Behind him, a great fireball scorched a group of lemurs into a crisp, and their corpses were left to fall with a resounding thud onto the blackened tile of what used to be Aang’s home.

“We have to get out of here!” bellowed a young adult monk with hardly a beard patch on his chin. He had a limp. An arrow had pierced his thigh and rivulets of red dribbled down his leg. “Gather the children! Quickly!”

Aang saw the tiles on the roofs come crashing to the ground, the silhouette of a couple clutching onto each other’s hands as they plunged together to their death in the crags below, a bison calf yowling for its mother who lay in a lifeless burning heap.

Aang’s heart hammered in his chest, hard and fast. Sweat pooled behind his neck when he realized what he was seeing.

“Scenes from your past,” said Raava, not unkindly. “Events that you missed, that you could not live through, because you could not save your people.”

Everything seemed to collide in on itself when he recognized Gyatso again in another image, this time in a falling apart structure surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers. The elderly man spun in a circle, an arc, lifting his arms and pushing them outward. The soldiers stiffened, scratched at their throats, and fell to their knees breathless. Some coughed, others struggled, a few of them writhed until they did not anymore.

Then, without warning, Gyatso fell as well with a look of listlessness in his gray eyes. He slumped onto the wall, and he stared at the ceiling, succumbing to his own suffocation tactic.

When Aang saw this, he grasped for his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He did not want to see any of it. None of it at all. The regret was already too great.

He wanted…

He wanted…

He did not know what he wanted, nor what he could want.

But then, like hopelessness itself, there came a foggy vision at last. A forgotten memory.

A man, elderly and ragged, collapsed against a boulder in a new image that took over the previous one. His armor was falling apart as he stared into the tempestuous sky above him. A pang resounded in Aang’s spirit, as if the man was calling out to him.

“I'm sorry, Raava,” the man rasped out, sagging ever further downward, “I failed to bring peace. Even with Vaatu locked away, darkness still surrounds humanity.”

Raava hummed from inside Aang in agreement. “You see Aang, your spirit must be unbendable to bend another’s energy,” she explained while Aang’s vision became more distorted with guilt. “The problem is there is no one with an unbendable spirit…not even the Avatar’s. You are human, and therefore there is a darkness, no matter how small, that resides inside you. There can be no light without darkness, and no darkness without light. Even if you were to eliminate one, the other would appear again no matter how long it takes.”

Aang did know, and he understood it. He wished that he did not.

He remembered the slight moment of hesitation, the cry for help he imagined Gyatso would exclaim as his and Ozai’s energies melded for that short, tumultuous moment. He remembered how he wanted more from Ozai than his bending. Just for that second before he righted himself.

He had thought of Katara. She was the one how had taught him how to hope again, and maybe he could think of her again.

When he looked up again, the tree had shown him another moving picture, another moment he had never witnessed himself.

It showed himself sleeping in a room made of planks of wood that swayed gently from side-to-side. He was laying on a pile of white furs, his upper torso wrapped with bandages, and a pair of tattered yellow pants.

Katara hovered over him. She had bags under her eyes. Her braid that rested along her spine was messy. Her hands were encased in glowing water, and she moved them along his arms and legs, pressing them onto his chest.

When she finished, she looked worn. The water snaked back into the pouch. There were shadows that darkened her face. “Please, Aang,” she begged in a low murmur. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do without you.”

The scene of the two of them shifted, melted, and then he observed her again but in a different light.

Aang saw Katara’s face highlighted and illuminated with a deep orange and blue as the two colors clashed against each other from across a vast ocean. A wall of light pushed up against another stalwart wall. They were two opposites fighting to maintain the balance he could not keep.

She stood alert in the Fire Nation palace’s courtyard where they had reunited, looking out over the horizon.

“Aang,” she whispered, “Don’t give up. I believe in you.” Then, even lower as she clutched her hands to her heart, she added, “I love you.”

Katara screamed for him afterward when the colors brightened and grew all the more intense. Her hands balled into fists, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

[technospotatoes]

C!SAM - Redeemable Qualities Analysis (Dream SMP)

Hallo! I’m back with another brain rot post for ya’ll instead of doing my schoolwork :] 

Recently, I’ve been doing some thinking and theorizing with some friends on discord following Quackity’s huge lore stream (if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you watch it). I woke up this morning with a head full of many thoughts about C!Awesamdude and where his story could take us. Seeing as how there is going to be lots of change in the future with the server, there must be changes in these characters as well-- evil to good, good to evil, and the like. With these changes comes my thought: “can these characters be redeemed?” Here are my thoughts on how this applies to C!Sam.

Please let me know your thoughts and theories, I’d love to discuss with you! As always, strap in, it’s gonna be a long one :]

I hope you enjoy!

Author’s note: I want to start this off by saying that all of the contents being discussed are fictional, and are from the Dream SMP universe. I do not support the actions of these characters, but merely have interest in analyzing them through a lens of psychology and for entertainment purposes. Content of this post will contain spoilers up to 3/25/21 of the DSMP lore. I will also talk about ATLA a little bit ;)

Content warning: mentions of torture, manipulation, death, possible psychological trauma

(pls be safe ily)

What makes a redeemable character? 

  Redeemable characters are some of the most pleasing and favored characters in modern media. Their stories are rich with emotion, and they can even evoke some form of catharsis within the most skeptic consumers. Redeemable characters are memorable and inspiring, and without one, a story can feel empty. Before we apply this character trope to the Dream SMP and C!Sam, we need to answer a basic question in order to fully understand the complexity of redeemable characters and how they are so universally significant. 

What is a redeemable character?

  Simply put, a redeeming character or characteristic counteracts or corrects something negative. From a storytelling standpoint, a redeemable character is someone who has roots in good qualities, turns bad, and has the ability to revert their wrong choices to become a better person. 

Examples of redeemed characters in popular media include: 

Zuko - Avatar the Last Airbender

Boromir - Lord of the Rings

Kylo Ren - Star Wars

Severus Snape - Harry Potter 

  Zuko, for example, starts his story off as the villain. He tirelessly hunts down the protagonist, and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal to please his father. However, as the show progresses, we learn that Zuko wasn’t always bad. He was only driven to his path of villainy because of his fear of failure, of his father (the firelord and true antagonist of the show), and of a greater punishment than what he had already received. With the help of his uncle, Zuko learned to push through and accept his past, while also making amends with his wrongs and coming to the realization of who the true enemy was; ultimately choosing peace and unity over destruction and fear.    Zuko’s story is so appealing because it was drawn out. It was raw, it was real, and it was a genuine telling of how damaged people can heal, change, and come to accept themselves. Because he went through the process of redemption, he was not only able to be loved by those around him, but also by his audience-- And I believe that this can be the same case with any redeemable character. 

So how does this relate to C!Sam? How could he possibly be redeemable if he is not evil?

  C!Sam has become increasingly interesting to me in the DSMP lore, and he has shown how complex his character is-- in contrast to many first impressions that people have of him. Based upon his actions from the past, and his willingness to remain neutral in times of conflict, we can conclude that he sustains both “neutral good” and “lawful neutral/good” qualities. This means that Sam is a reliable character, driven by his own personal values, and is devoted to helping others (when he sees fit). Evidence of these qualities emerge…

When he sided with Pogtopia during the Manberg War to maintain good relations with Tommy and Tubbo. 

When he saved Hannah from the Egg

Created Sam Nook to assist Tommy in building his hotel

Built Pandora’s Vault for Dream

Showed concern for Ranboo after one of his denied prison visits

  Sam’s moral code is deeply rooted with good intentions; he keeps an eye out for his friends, maintains his relationships, assists in builds/projects, and also serves as a “stable adult figure” for some of the younger members of the server. In contrast to his logical outward appearance, C!Sam lets his emotions drive his decision making-- which can lead to many severe consequences depending on how he acts. However, recently Sam’s actions indicate that he is experiencing a flip in morals. 

Below are incidents that have led to C!Sam’s recent change in moral code. 

Incident 1: Trapped with the Egg

  Many weeks ago, during the height of character involvement with the Egg lore, C!Sam was lured into a trap by BBH and Antfrost. He spent about a day trapped in close contact with the Egg, and after he was saved by Puffy and Tommy, he was clearly changed. It is likely that the Egg is behind these sudden changes in character motivation for Sam… similarly to how it corrupted BBH, Ant, and Punz. Whether this is the case with Sam is unclear. 

Incident 2: Tommy’s death

  C!Sam and C!Tommy’s relationship within the DSMP lore is one of my favorite things to talk about. After his victory over the disk war and finally landing his nemesis in prison, Tommy was left empty, without much to do. He decided to take upon a new project to incite a new era of peace, and was able to enlist the help of Sam with building his hotel. Throughout this process (and under the watchful eye of Sam Nook), Tommy and Sam were able to develop a bond with each other through their work, along with their interactions at the Prison. 

  Sam has made it clear that he intends to defend Tommy no matter what-- but after his untimely death at the hands of C!Dream, Sam was deeply wounded. He felt as if he failed his promise to keep Tommy safe, and he made it clear that the blame for the “security issue” and C!Tommy’s death should be placed fully on him. No matter how selfless and responsible this makes his character appear, this event will only serve as the basis for severe consequences in moral change in the future. 

Incident 3: Confrontation with Quackity

  Following the large emotional impact of Tommy’s death, C!Sam is very vulnerable, because he is still within the stages of grief. C!Quackity came to Sam for a partnership, to take advantage of Sam while he was low to gain the upper hand. It’s no question that Q’s character is a talented manipulator, we can see that clearly in his interaction with Sam. Q restates again and again that Sam failed, further cementing Sam’s existing guilt and desire for revenge for his failure. Sam gives in to the manipulation, and somewhat reluctantly allows Quackity to torture Dream to get information and to get payback for what he did to Tommy... which completely goes against what his responsibility of Warden entails. 

  As Warden, C!Sam is supposed to uphold the law and rules of visitation, but because of his leniency with Quackity (in breaking the rules) and because he is still emotionally raw, he no longer defends good from evil, but is now biased against it. C!Sam probably wants Dream dead, but as Warden, his opinion shouldn’t matter. Because Sam fully blames himself for failing Tommy, he's lost the "lawful good" in his character, meaning Warden Sam (as a set of morals) truly doesn't exist anymore.

Incident 4: Ponk’s mistake

  To recap a stream briefly, Ponk did a prank on Sam a couple days ago, and stole a few of the expired keycards to Pandora’s Vault. Rightfully, Sam was very angry, and not only took back the keycards, but also imprisoned Ponk. However, where this interaction should have ended, C!Sam only took it to the extreme. (TW!!!!) Out of anger and frustration, C!Sam tortured Ponk for his wrongdoing by setting him on fire, and amputating his arm (END TW!!!). 

  This only proves my point from Incident 3. Warden Sam is fading, only bits and pieces of his morally neutral character remain within him for basic tasks. His encounter with Quackity had a huge impact on his psyche, not only is he allowing the torture of the prison occupants, but he is doing it himself as well. C!Sam is now starting to believe that pain and torture are the only solutions for punishment, which is the complete opposite of what he believed before Dream was imprisoned. 

In short...

  C!Sam is losing his grip on moral and mental stability because of his emotional insecurity due to his psychological trauma. Because of this, I believe that it is entirely possible for Sam’s character to explore the route of evil and unlawful values-- which furthers the possibility for a redemption arc. Even currently, Sam is eligible for redemption as well.

  If C!Sam is willing to acknowledge his wrongs from today and improve himself upon them, he will likely become a more memorable, lovable, and even more human character than we’ve seen in the SMP before. 

SIDENOTE!

IRL Sam recently posted in his discord talking about his character. Here are a few key things to keep in mind as the story goes forward: 

“There is a LOT of things in the plan for me as a character and a very big change is coming about for me as the story moves along.”

I believe this change could be a villain arc, or a turn towards evil that incites the possibility for redemption. 

“My character is playing a role that I think is VITAL for the server and a role that I like to think was a good one for me to pick up and accept.”

You can read the reddit post I referenced for this here (ty to my friend on discord for providing me with the link <3)

TYSM FOR READING!! <3 <3 <3

[mirdaniaa]

heaven holds a place for those who pray

Rated T

When traveling together, Aelswith and Uhtred are forced to take shelter from the rain. Unfortunately, the inn only has one room.

written for @tlkfanficfest bingo

read it on ao3 if you wish

Aelswith draws her cloak tighter around her as the rain goes from a light mist to a torrential downpour.

“Uhtred!” she calls to the horse ahead of her. “We have to find shelter!”

“We would not have had to find shelter if we had ridden faster!” he gripes.

She huffs at the impertinence of the man, but then, she doesn’t know what she expected from Uhtred. He was ever thus, doing things his own way in his own time. It has been a constant source of irritation to Aelswith over the years.

But she has to remind herself that Uhtred doesn’t answer to her anymore; not the way he used to. He used to answer to her husband. But Alfred is dead now, God rest his soul, and her son rules in his place. Uhtred would never have agreed to escort her to Ceaster if Edward had not ordered it. So she must be patient with him, even if she finds him impertinent.

“We will catch cold if we stay out in this!” she calls ahead.

He’s quiet for so long that she thinks he must be ignoring her.

“Uhtred, please!”

“Peace!” he says, irritated. “I’m thinking.”

She purses her lips. She doesn’t think his tone is at all appropriate, but she tries to remind herself that he wants to get out of the rain just as much as she does.

Finally, he says, “There is a village up ahead. It’s some ways off the main road, but there will be an inn.”

“If you think it a good idea, I will trust you,” she says generously.

He grunts and urges his horse forward.

Impertinent man, she humphs to herself. Of all the men Edward had to send with her, it had to be this one.

.

By the time they reach the inn, Aelswith is soaked to the bone, and shivering so hard her teeth are chattering. She climbs down weakly from her horse, following Uhtred into the inn.

Instantly, she wrinkles her nose. The smell of cheap ale is strong here, and there are women sitting on the laps of their...patrons.

“This is a house of ill repute,” she whispers.

“Is it not good enough for you, Lady?” Uhtred asks with a dark humor. “I am sorry to hear that. Do you know of any other inns on the road to Ceaster?”

She purses her lips.

Giving her that irritating smirk, he turns to the innkeep. “Good evening. My mother and I are in need of rooms for the night.”

She purses her lips even tighter at that, but the innkeep doesn’t even spare her a glance; he wipes a meaty hand over a sweaty brow, sighing. “We’ve only got one room left for the night, and there’s only one bed.”

Uhtred glances back at her, his gaze questioning.

She nods, eager to get to this bed. The sooner she can lie down, the better.

Uhtred turns back to the innkeep. “We will take it.”

.

As soon as the innkeep has shown them to the room and had his daughters bring them bread, cheese, hot water, and fresh linens, Uhtred hands him some silver and then bids him goodnight, closing the door behind the innkeep and his daughters before he sits down to remove his boots.

Aelswith grips her cloak, trying not to look as alarmed as she feels. “Uhtred,” she ventures, “what are you doing?”

He gives her a confused look. “I’m taking off my boots. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She swallows. “It looks...as though you are preparing to spend the night in this room.”

His expression changes to one of disbelief. “Where else would I spend the night, Lady?”

Such a question startles her. “Why, in the stables, of course.”

“The stables?” he gapes. “I am not a horse!”

“No,” she agrees, but not without some reluctance. “But it would be...improper, for us to share a room.”

He points at the door. “I told the innkeep I was your son. He will grow suspicious if I sleep in the stables.”

She purses her lips again, because that is true, and they cannot afford to bring suspicion down on them. “Well...I suppose. But you must sleep on the floor.”

“Believe me, Lady, I have no wish to lie beside you,” he says with disgust.

She flushes. “Well. It is settled, then.”

“Yes, it is,” he grits out, pulling off his boots.

Aelswith hesitates before she takes off her cloak, sitting on the bed to remove her own wet shoes. She moves carefully and noiselessly, considerate of her companion.

Uhtred shows no such consideration. He takes off his boots and hurls them against the wall, grunting as he does so. He splays his legs as though the room were his to command, unbuckling his swordbelt and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter even louder than the one created by his boots.

Aelswith clenches her teeth, unused to so much noise being made so near to her. Over the years, she got used to people trying to please her, always showing concern for her welfare. From lowly servants to noble lords, she has been the subject of much waiting upon throughout her life.

Uhtred shows her no such respect; indeed, he shows her less deference than he probably would one of those fallen women out in the hall.

Huffing at the thought, she removes as many of her layers as propriety allows before reaching for a blanket.

“Lady, you cannot stay in those wet clothes; you will catch cold,” Uhtred says with something like concern.

Aelswith feels her hackles rise. “I cannot undress in the same room as a man who is not my family.”

“And I will not deliver a corpse to Edward in place of his mother,” Uhtred grunts. “I will turn around, Lady.”

She hesitates, but he is already turning his back to her.

Does she dare undress when Uhtred is mere feet away from her? If he turned around, if someone walked in, if he even told anyone else, she would never be able to live with the shame.

But he’s right; if she stays in these wet clothes all night, she will catch cold, and the last thing she needs on this godforsaken journey with Uhtred is to fall ill.

So she removes her clothes with more alacrity than she’s ever shown before, ignoring the wet slapping sound they make against the floor as she reaches for two blankets and wraps them tightly around her. She moves quickly, breathlessly, fearful that Uhtred will turn around at any moment and look at her, but he does not; to his credit, he does not so much as move until she tells him he may. Even when he turns around, he barely spares her a glance, more intent on the bread and cheese that the innkeep left than anything.

Oddly, she is almost offended. She knows she is not a young woman, or a particularly alluring one, but she’s still a woman. A mostly naked woman, at that. And he’s…

Well.

Uhtred.

Seized by some mad impulse, she sits with him at the table, her bare arm slipping out from the blankets to reach for the food. “Is it good?” she asks lightly.

Uhtred does not so much as glance at her bare arm; he has eyes only for his plate. “It is acceptable.”

“Ah.” Tired, confused, and inexplicably wounded, she makes no more attempts at conversation, and they eat in perfect, painful silence.

.

Aelswith has only just drifted off to sleep when she’s roughly woken by Uhtred shouting.

“What is it?!” she asks, sitting up and clutching the blankets to her chest.

“The rain!” he complains, getting up. “It’s seeping through the floor!”

“Oh, dear,” she says, at a loss.

Uhtred lets out a string of swears that redden her cheeks, heaping the wet blankets on the chair by the fire. She watches him uncertainly, clutching the blankets.

At last, he sighs. “I will have to sleep on the bed.”

Instinctively, her fingers dig into the blankets. “No.”

But he’s already sitting at the foot of the bed. “I have to, Lady. There is nowhere else for me to sleep.”

Her heart is pounding in her chest. He cannot. She cannot. They cannot. “For us to share a room was already improper, but for us to share a bed...I cannot allow it, Uhtred.”

“I will sleep at the foot of the bed,” he says irritably.

“Uhtred, I really must protest—”

“Why?” he demands. “You would rather I sleep in cold water and fall ill?!”

“No…of course not…” she protests weakly. “But…think how this will look, Uhtred.”

“Why does it matter how it looks if it keeps us both alive?” And then, to her horror, he plants his hands on the bed, leaning forward over her legs. “What is it you are really afraid of, Lady?”

“Uhtred!” she exclaims, raising the blankets higher and pressing herself back against the wall.

She loathes the look he’s giving her now, smirking as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking. And then she flushes, because why is she thinking that?

“I think you are afraid of how much you want me,” Uhtred declares. “I think you are afraid that I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

“You are vile!” she cries. “Vile, and heathen, and—”

He moves up the bed, leaning in so close she can feel his breath against her face, can see the glint in his eyes as he grins at her.  “And you’ve always wanted to know what being with a heathen feels like, haven’t you?”

“No,” she hisses.

“It’s a sin to lie, Lady,” he murmurs, leaning in as though to kiss her.

She slaps him.

They stare at each other for a moment, wide eyed with surprise.

And then Aelswith does something that surprises her even more.

She kisses him.

It’s clumsy and far too eager, but Uhtred responds by tearing the blankets from her, pushing her back onto the bed and pinning her wrists on either side of her head.

“Uhtred,” she whispers.

And then she does not have the breath to say anything else.

.

Neither of them utter a word in the morning, but Aelswith cannot help but notice that Uhtred keeps throwing her self-satisfied smirks.

She holds her head high, maintaining a cool facade, but when she climbs into her saddle and lets out an involuntary, “Oof,” Uhtred roars with laughter.

“Do shut up,” she snaps, digging her heels into the horse’s sides.

It is going to be a long journey to Ceaster.

[starlightshoals]

The Weeknd - After Hours [Album Review]

1 - Alone Again: Swimming in a deep red sea of yearning and heartache, this song is the perfect way to kick off the album. It plays like a mood, a feeling; it’s a confirmation that in the time since My Dear Melancholy, whatever hope was found, whatever lessons were learned, they’ve been lost in that ocean of new mistakes. The second half intensifies and darkens and leads the listener down the dark corridor the rest of the album will follow. Favorite Lyric: “Take off my disguise, I’m living someone else’s life, suppressing who I was inside...” 9/10, Excellent

2 - Too Late: So yeah, the production in this album is god-tier, and this track goes hard in that vein. I love the distortion on Abel’s voice in the chorus, the tempo, the vibe. There are so many segments and details that could fly over your head the first time -- this song is fucking layered. The more you listen, the more it slaps. Like every other track on the album, it’s about mistakes made that push the person you love away, but it’s not some whiny self-pity party, it’s a grim acknowledgment of how you feel and how it’s all your fault. Favorite Lyric: “When the darkness comes, you’re my light.” 10/10, Outstanding

3 - Hardest to Love: There’s a fragility to this track that’s rare in Abel’s music, and I admire that so much. It’s about admitting how difficult you’ve been and wondering why the person you love still wants you after all you’ve done. It strikes at that struggle inside where you want them to let you go because it’s best for them, but the reality of that makes you miserable and you don’t want them to forget you. I could say this about almost any track on the album, but I fucking love the 80s-style production here. Such glorious music for the soul. Favorite Lyric: “I can’t believe you want me, after all the heartbreaks, after all I’ve done, no I can’t believe you trust me, after all the rough days, you still call me up...” 9/10, Excellent

4 - Scared to Live: I gotta be honest, this song doesn’t do it for me like it does for most people. I still like it, and I love the lyrics, but stylistically it’s just a little too sappy for my tastes. I feel like this style (minus the fantastic production) is something I could hear a lot of other places, and that’s something I can’t say about most of Abel’s music. The lyrics, though! They send a lovely message of accepting your partner’s choice to leave you, gently telling them it’s okay to go on in life without you. It’s a truly gracious and grown-up thing to express. Favorite Lyric: “And if I held you back, at least I held you close” or maybe “You always miss the chance to fall for someone else, ‘cause your heart only knows me.” 8.5/10, Great

5 - Snowchild: Ooh yeah, here we go. In this song Abel reflects on his journey through the past decade. It’s a lowkey, moody, heart-in-your-throat track. It’s like walking through an empty city late at night, hands in your pockets, with an ache in your chest. It’s like leaving everything you had behind because it doesn’t matter anymore. You just want out. You just want something new. I can relate. Favorite Lyric: “She never need a man, she what a man need, so I keep falling for her daily...” 10/10, Outstanding

6 - Escape from LA: Maintaining the mood from Snowchild, this is a deep dark dive to the mind. It’s about being dead inside. It’s about being in love with someone you still have but will never have, you know what I mean? They’re in your life, but they’re not yours. And you have everything you could possibly ask for, but it’s still not enough. You’ve done everything you could possibly think of, but it doesn’t fill you up. You’re still running empty. It’s cold and it’s lonely and all that’s left is the voice inside, telling you it’s time to go. But you stay because you’re waiting. So you can be there if they come back. Favorite Lyric: “We’ll figure out our shit and find a way; when you say that you need space, I give you space.” 9.5/10, Amazing

7 - Heartless: I thought it was so funny when this song came out last year and everyone took it literally. This song isn’t about being some badass heartless jerk with no feelings, it’s about pretending to be that to cope with how broken you really are inside. It’s about embracing hedonism to hide the pain. The bridge really drives that home, where Abel sings about being lost and depressed and wondering why the fuck the person you’ve hurt and betrayed still cares enough to come back in your life. Despite all the boasting and bragging and the fast pace and tempo, this song is really the most miserable one on the album. Favorite Lyric: “I thought I lost you this time, you just came back in my life; you never gave up on me, I’ll never know what you see...” 9/10, Excellent 

8 - Faith: God, I love this song. There’s something transcendent about it. It takes you to the sky and leaves you standing in a storm. The pace it takes, the production around it, the lightning-quick smooth transitions from piece to piece, it knows exactly what it’s doing and it revels in it. It also has the unenviable task of connecting the tracks before it and after it, and dear lord does it ever. There aren’t many songs these days that truly tell a story, but this one does. Beginning to end, it takes you on a journey. Favorite Lyric: “Well, I feel everything, when I’m coming down is the most I feel alone...” 10/10, Outstanding

9 - Blinding Lights: I love this song to death, too. The synths, the words, the faint touch of hope. It’s uplifting in a way nothing else on the album is -- it’s about driving fast as you can in the middle of the night just to get to the person you love, praying you’ll get there in time. Ever since it came out last year, it’s helped me through a lot. When I’m sad, it helps me up. When I’m happy, it makes me smile. It might be the most perfect pop song Abel’s ever made. Favorite Lyric: “When I’m like this, you’re the one I trust.” 10/10, Outstanding

10 - In Your Eyes: This one knocked me flat. I wasn’t expecting another retro pop banger on the album, but uh, here it is. This one means a lot to me personally. It reflects a lot of feelings I’ve had over the years. There’s an acceptance in it, a sense of letting go and moving on while still being real about what stays, what matters. And it has a sax solo. Yeah. Favorite Lyric: “In your eyes you lie, but I don’t let it define you.” 10/10, Outstanding

11 - Save Your Tears: There’s something so...peaceful about this song. It reminds me of my dad and some of the 80s music he played when I was a kid. It has that nostalgic feel to it, you know? It’s different for Abel and I like it. At first I wasn’t sure what to think of it, but the more I listen the more I like it. Favorite Lyric: “You could’ve asked me why I broke your heart, you could’ve told me that you fell apart, but you walked past me like I wasn’t there, and just pretended like you didn’t care.” 9/10, Excellent

12 - Repeat After Me (Interlude): The vibe, the mood, the feel. This song goes deep and stays there. Like Alone Again, it’s like dipping into dark water and swimming a while, floating on a memory. Looking at old photos you probably should’ve deleted. Reading old messages from someone you should’ve blocked. It hurts, but it heals. Favorite Lyric: “You don’t love him if you’re thinking of me, you’re just fucking, it means nothing to me.” 9.5/10, Amazing

13 - After Hours: This one took us all by surprise, didn’t it? A six-minute track with a beat switch and enough atmosphere to make your jaw hit the floor. When it dropped it tipped everyone off that this album was going to be special. The song itself is so fluid, so smooth, displaying everything Abel’s learned since he began. It’s a masterpiece that perfectly sums up every theme on the album and then some. Favorite Lyric: All of it, but especially the chorus and the bridge. 10/10, Outstanding

14 - Until I Bleed Out: If Snowchild is like walking an empty city at night, this song is like stumbling out an alley as dawn hits the streets, blood running down your side. Bathed in that red light, begging to be let go. It’s the fitting book-end to where this album started, closing the chapter with nowhere left to go. It doesn’t leave with easy answers, it doesn’t tell you everything is fine. But it acknowledges a change. Favorite Lyric: “Well I don’t wanna touch the sky no more, I just wanna feel the ground when I’m coming down...And I don’t even wanna get high no more, I just want it out of my life...” 9/10, Excellent

Final Rating for the Album: 9.5/10, Amazing