#cause being Red Leader means sacrificing a few things

[baconcolacan]

Tord, I mean red leader are you brave enough to hug Thomas??

Their marriage is actually a secret (Only Matt knows they're married). It's for safety purposes. "Of course I'm brave enough, why would I ever not want to hug my husband? I love him so much. I wish I could do it more."

[themaidenofwords]

On my planet, a missing limb is akin to a death sentence.

My race is born with six primary appendages. Four we walk with. Two we hold things with. This is how it is meant to be. Any deviations from the proper genetic structure are dealt with before birth. Our healers are capable of re-configuring faulty genetics before the egg is laid and the hatching grows deformed. This is how it is meant to be.

There have been cases of tragic accidents post birth. Times where sickness or the untimely collapse of a grimblespire has made the sacrifice of a limb necessary. The part must be sacrificed so that the whole may live on. Some learn to live past the tragedy. Most do not. This is natural. This is how it is meant to be.

The wars changed all of that.

My race was a peaceful one. We were not prepared for the grueling cost of constant destruction and misery. We didn't have enough soldiers to begin with, and then we began to lose the soldiers we did have on the battlefield. Many of those that survived lost a limb or three. It used to be that these survivors would be sent home to try and learn how to live their lives in the face of their missing parts. After all, it is not the end if only part is sacrificed for the whole. There is still a chance.

But those were the old days when we had soldiers to spare. When we could afford to release our wounded. When the battle didn't rely on their mutilated joints.

The first volunteers for prosthetic replacements had haunted eyes. They underwent surgery and awoke with metal grafted into skin and nerves that screamed wrong unnatural get it off. The first volunteers never made it back to the battlefield. The strongest of the group only made it a few weeks before succumbing to the allure of a quick death. Nature never meant for what was lost to be replaced by machines. A living abomination seemed an affront to our society.

The second and third batch of volunteers ended in the same way. They lasted longer than the first group, but in the end they could not face the unnatural hatefulness of themselves. All suicidal methods were removed, and the amputees responded by retreating within their minds to escape themselves.

It wasn't until the fifth batch of volunteers that we faced success. Only two of that group went on to continue the fight on the battlefield, using their new limbs in defense of their home. At our best, only forty percent of prosthetic recipients ever returned to the battlefield.

Metal and flesh were never meant to bind. Nerves were never meant to be replaced with wiring. A sacrificed limb was never meant to return. This is not how it was meant to be.

And yet

We had no choice but to continue. Four out of ten surviving soldiers meant four more defenders of our planet. The cost could not be too high when our families and hatchlings were at stake. So, on we fought, desperately begging for peace.

And then the Federation sent the humans as reinforcements. Humans, who are know for being loyal to a cause and devilish fighters. They could turn our war around.

And so they did.

The humans descended from their ships with their various skin colors painting a multicolored horde of white, tan, brown, and metal. Dozens if not hundreds of soldiers who had cybernetic arms or legs, and some with both. Far past the point that would have driven one of my people mad, the humans stood tall with only grim-- but sane-- determination in their eyes.

Our leader approached the human general-- who himself had an unnervingly red hued prosthetic eye shining out of his face-- and tried to discover their secret. How many soldiers had they sacrificed to have so many damaged ones on the field.

"Damaged? What, are our soldiers not good enough for you?" The general's offense was clear even through the translator.

"That was not my meaning," Our leader said ubiquitously. "My people have been forced to resort to cybernetic additions in order to continue the fight, but most patients do not make it past a full cycle. Nature rebels against the unnatural."

The general's red eyed implant seemed to glow brighter. "Our injured soldiers are not worthless or broken. Whether they choose to use prosthetics or no, their value is not diminished. Yes, the loss of a limb is traumatic, but work with them to recover as much as possible."

Our leader's antennae wavered in confusion. "Is it not better for nature to take its course?"

"What is natural is living. And whatever we can do to help someone live again and live fully we will do it. We choose to grow stronger from our tragedies, not submit."

"I feel that my people has much to learn from yours, General."

"If we can help your soldiers live on, then I would be more than happy to assist you."

The war did not end without more tragedy, but end it did.

The humans introduced my people to their therapists and counselors. They showed us how to move past our tragedies and better accommodate those who were injured.

This is right. This is natural.

To overcome and live.

When a soldier loses a limb, it is a tragedy. Soldiers are needed at peak efficiency, so they must undergoes the unthinkable - grafting metal to flesh. A horrific abomination, the mere process is often enough to shatter what is left of their mind. Then, there are the humans.

[sakiaii]

Armored x Magic girls ‘title forever work in progress’ 3rd era

this era starts with a story in 4th kingdom. this kingdom differs from other in a way that they don't use magic which is around them but absorb it instead with their bodies being like batteries. magic users will often meditate trying to break their limit. story follows a girl that wants to join a special school, despite them also providing basic education they're also like a clan where those that want to stay can dedicate their lives to their interests. the kingdom has 3 problems and i'll go more into that in dedicated post. their king passed away and the youngest heir is stalling the ceremony (btw his older brother was exiled) spoiler he wants to resolve the issues first so that when he accepts the crown it will be a new beginning for the kingdom. he also wants to join the 3 kingdoms alliance but do to issues they don't want to be seen as policing this kingdom so he needs to deal with this if his kingdom is to truly join the alliance. on rare occasion a really powerful army shows up to save the day flying on the sky like dbz characters with many in the kingdom suspecting it's the secret guard of the soon to be king but they're actually from the alliance and their leader is dun dun dun the younger daughter of 1st era eye patch girl.

and that's why this is the 3rd era even tho there was no transition from 2nd but this stories are happening more then 20 years at least (ok just realized somethings are off maybe even more then 50 lol ) in the future from the 1st era's finale.

me saying how this stories are in the future and now i have to talk about next stories which are set in the past xD

a lot of other stories are about 4th kingdom's past

from it's starting days.

to stories where some women, different face keeps showing up and sacrificing herself in the face of tyranny to inspire next generations. could she be Irene. spoiler or maybe 3rd shadow whose a necromancer, maybe.

there was one with time travel but it had nothing to do with shadow. these are kinda unpolished fantasies.

few forgotten stories had monster hunting groups (inspired by mmo i played where the best gear was red and veterans could still be one shotted in raids if tanks skill was on cooldown xD ) and there was another planet where alien ships from 1st era crashed and whatever was on them changed the eco system and cities are now in spheres as outside is too dangerous.. just realized this one also had hunting groups lol and armored 1st era girl shows up here as apparently raven armor device is also among the crashed ships (umm idk this part didn't always sit well with me)(this story actually got recreated few times and in some versions it was earth and raven died in some version through time travel they meet and future Raven had broken system in left arm that makes you wonder what happened)

few things we find out in 3rd era is how Crimson castle actually had an army of red eyed vampires sleeping in their caskets.

also the 2nd kingdom will be more aware of something stirring up, the ancient vampires were awaken because of that and 1st era ruler girl has twin granddaughters one story could be how one of twins was send to earth as means of protecting just one heir as danger lurks and her mother's family all vampires and as well as you the audience would not know that and think she normal with her family being confused and comedically trying to figure out if that's really the case as it is rude to ask "so what are you?" xD

also there's a girl who can see magic. it's an ability of extinct race but some rare people have the gene. in her story a portal with monsters was opened and her friend kicked her out as it was closing and she stayed to hold them off.

and then the bards get a story of their own. but this are modern so they focus more on singing and in their story the kingdom didn't want to cause panic but there was a dangerous horde so bards organised a festival of concerts to distract but also help with gathered magic and as the magic sight girl who was commander of army sent to deal with hoard saw blue magic on the sky she saw it also meet with the red magic from opposite direction and ordered alarm as she flew in that direction much to everyone's confusion and then defeated looks from the bards and their principal as alarm went off then a wave of magic exploded breaking windows and we see principal holding a shield with her room filled with glass and everything tossed around she approaches the window and as she is looking down at people in the city she hears bells, a dragon and drums and sees in the sky multiple arrivals going in that direction and she herself joins them in the sky seeing flying ships, witches, dragon, 3rd kingdom's aircrafts, flying armies. and everyone gathered in front of a sphere there is banging coming from it as someone steps up and says "you did a good job but we're all here now" "you can rest" and the banging stops and sphere vanishes.

and then the finale happens 🥳

PS: 2nd kingdom had so many secrets did you know that in mountain chain there was another castle and a bunch of young dragons. compared to 2 ancient they're like cats next to lions.

[azems-familiar]

Tell me about the corruption arc Bestie

oh bless you are going to get Such a textwall and i do not even care

what i am currently most emotions about is. how Revan's entire outlook shifts so gradually through the war that she doesn't even realize it's changing/changed! like, she gets to this point where she ends up literally not able to completely remember why she went to war in the first place - it was about revenge, wasn't it? wasn't it? hasn't it always been about- saving the galaxy and about destroying the Mandalorians and about winning?

and like! it hasn't! when she first went to war it was out of compassion, it was this determination that she would do the right thing when no one else would, because the galaxy was being BROKEN and no one was stepping up, and what are Jedi if not compassionate, and what are Jedi if they do not stand by the oaths they took when they were knighted? and like- yes, she was determined to win, but she was determined to win so that no one else would suffer the way the Cathar did, so that she could find justice for their deaths, and the line between justice and vengeance can be so blurred at times but there is such a clear difference at the same time and what Revan ended up doing at Malachor- it's the latter, not the former. violence begets violence begets violence and it's a cycle and in committing a genocide against the Mandalorians to make them pay for a genocide of the Cathar it's just perpetuating this cycle, and early Revan would've- seen that, or at least known it wasn't the right way to end this!

but she gets so caught up in her own legend that she loses all of it. like- how to put this into words in a way that isn't just exploring it through prose. she has the mask and it's originally the symbol of her promise, of her commitment, but it becomes this symbol for her and for her victory from the moment she wins her first battle with it, and the Jedi who follow her, who took her name as their cause, they already see her as their leader. and the Republic starts talking about her as a hero and tying this all to the mask, and it just keeps getting worse and worse as she wins more and more because she is being heralded as this savior and she was told from a young age that she was meant to save the galaxy and she'd never thought it was true, not really, but now- well, she starts to doubt. she starts to believe, maybe, that she really is meant to

and like. the sacrifices are such a huge part of this, i don't know if i can completely explain it. Cassus Fett is out here constantly pushing her to see how far she'll go, and the problem is, the strategies work. she uses people as pawns and it's this constant. sacrificing the few to save the many, and it works but it takes its toll on her. it gets her seeking out absolution from Alek and it gets her justifying it to herself as sacrifices are necessary in war because sometimes, sacrifices are necessary for the greater good and war, this war, is for the greater good, so it follows from there, and originally it's a justification but she comes to believe in it because her sacrifices are winning, not just battles but the war, and she's constantly being told by so many people that she is saving the galaxy and it all just- sinks in. and the mask becomes her in all the ways that matter, because she cannot stay human and cope with everything she's done, everything she's killed.

and also! she has to be right at all times. every decision she's made in this war, it has to be the right one, because if it isn't - if she was wrong - she made these choices for her pride and her pride alone, and she can't handle that. she has to be Right and the Mandalorians, especially Fett, have to be Wrong, and she can't see any shades of grey in this (despite Everything she does being this mess of grey) because she can't confront the fact that her own pride is what lets her really lean into this savior thing. she has to be better than the Mandalorians because if she's not-

if she really is the same as they are, then what was all of this for?

and like. she is angry, she is arrogant, she is proud, these are her flaws, her faults, and combined with this desperate need to prove herself that stems from how she was always regarded as too angry and too attached and too dark by a lot of the Jedi growing up, especially a couple certain masters who i will not name but would like to murder, it all just snowballs into this. she has to be the legend because she has to prove herself and also she needs to Win and she needs to be Better and she needs to do all of this and she physically cannot do it as a human. so she makes herself both more than and less than one. and more than this, like! there's this whole thing where. she cannot accept responsibility for her own role in all of this. she cannot lay the lives of everyone she's sacrificed for her victory on her own shoulders, otherwise she will break, because she is twenty-two years old when she goes to war and twenty-five when she gives the order to activate the Mass Shadow Generator and that same compassion that led her to go to war makes it impossible for her handle the Guilt of everything she's done.

so she turns. and she lays it all at Cassus Fett's feet. because he is the one who drives her into these sacrifices and he is the one who pushes her and he is the one who- on and on and on, she turns him into the villain and the scapegoat and like - yeah, the Mandalorians are at least half at fault for all this, but no one is forcing her into this. (except Vitiate, all of this has been Vitiate from the very beginning, and that's why it's all a tragedy because there were no right answers and at the same time Everyone was right and there was never any other way any of this could end - Revan will always go to war and Alek and the Exile will always follow and Malachor V will always burn) she makes Fett into the personification of all her guilt and she turns it all into anger and she declares that she will get revenge on him for everything he's made her do and so she kills her guilt in the dirt on Dxun, stabs Fett through the gut with his own spear and takes the breastplate off his still-living body to turn into her own armor as proof of her victory, and in his final moments he tells her that they are the same and she looks at him and says that is why you have to die because no one, no one can know that in the end, she Is just like them. that when pushed into a war, she fights for the thrill of battle, that she wants the victory more than she wants anything else, that she is no longer a Jedi and she isn't sure what to do with that.

Fett dies, and then Revan turns, with a golden beskar breastplate and a red sash added to her black robes, and she goes to Malachor V and she kills Mandalore and she shatters the Mandalorians into dust for all their crimes (for all her guilt) (for all her rage and bitter determination and the last dying shards of her compassion). a planet dies, the Mandalorians die, and a war is won and the Republic is saved but that isn't enough. it's not enough. she no longer knows how to be at peace, she has turned herself so successfully into the mask and the legend that without the war she does not know how to exist and so she- goes to find a new one, because the galaxy isn't ever going to be saved.

and the worst part of all of this is- there's this moment, this battle. the second battle of Althir. she's been making bigger and bigger sacrifices but she's never directly fired on her own people before, but this battle - it was all a trap, of sorts, and she is losing, and there is this moment in which she has to choose between a strategic retreat to save her fleet and her people, or a victory, or winning even though it means deliberately killing tens of thousands of her own people to do it. and it's sort of this point of no return for her when maybe things could be different - maybe she could turn back, maybe victory doesn't have to be all-important to her - and then they can't, and she can't, and it does. and she gives the order to kill off a third of the ships she has with her for that victory.

and she does not mourn it.

because sacrifices are necessary in war.

and in the end, living up to the legend she's made herself into - being it, completely and utterly - has become the most important thing to her, more important than saving lives.

and this - it's why she falls, in the end. she makes the conscious choice to become Sith (she was very much hovering on the edge of the Dark, but she wasn't completely fallen) after escaping from Vitiate, because the Jedi weren't strong enough to defeat the Mandalorians, and like - it's not the same, but also, yes it is. it all leads here. everything she has ever gone through leads to this moment, standing on Korriban, surrounded by dust as red as the blood that soaked it a millennium ago with the cold wind stretching her cloak out behind her, when she ignites her violet lightsaber and names herself Darth Revan.

(Revan, still, because her name is not a name, it has not been a name in years, her name is a title in the mouths of her Jedi and her soldiers and her enemies, Revan, Revan, save us, Revan, kill us, Revan, lead us to victory.

and she will.)

[ariainstars]

The Mandalorian: Is He “Better Vader”?

This may sound funny, but please hear me out for a moment. 

The further I watch Star Wars’ new live-action tv show, the more I get the impression is that Mando is meant to be a positive version of Darth Vader (the “dark father”). 

Father figures usually don’t have a thankful role in this galaxy - either they are absent like Anakin’s, terrifying like Luke’s, or well-meaning but failing in their primary duty of keeping their child safe, like Ben’s. 

Not a few fans, though a little mockingly, like to call Kylo Ren “better Anakin” since his conflict is more fleshed out and the whole figure inspires more sympathy. My theory: is Mando meant to be “better Vader”? 

It was repeatedly and amply shown that the cause for the never-ending conflicts in the galaxy lie for a large part on the side of the Jedi, whose stuck-up attitude ultimately failed. Their order prohibited personal attachments, and even the wisest among them were not affectionate. This was what drove the all-powerful but passionate Anakin, who desperately wanted to have someone he could love and protect, to his ruin: the moment he finally became a father he also became a ruthless monster. Mando is introduced as a merciless bounty hunter, but as he opens up to the child, he becomes kinder and begins to find friends. He grows even more valiant, but also learns how to be gentle and caring. 

Since the Jedi are almost all extinct, but Force-sensitive children still are born throughout the galaxy, we are left with the question of what is to become of them. Some were brought to Luke’s new temple later, but we can assume that not all were identified. 

Mando’s little protegee is staying and making life experiences with a guy who doesn’t know anything about the Jedi and has no clue of the source of the child’s mysterious powers, but instinctively does the right things: he keeps him safe, instructs him, scolds him when necessary, and offers him friendship and companionship. (The Mandalorian who adopted him probably was a good father figure, too.) The child never sees his “father’s” face, but nevertheless he trusts him explicitly. Mando is the living proof that coolness and fighting qualities are not opposed to being gentle and caring.

Ben Solo’s tragic fate was the result of failed fatherhood: Luke did not know how to be a father because he had no children of his own and had had no role model, while Han did not trust his capacity to protect his son from his own powers.

The Parallels

Both Vader and Mando are soldiers. Though not Force-sensitive, Mando is extremely strong and well-versed in martial arts; he never shows his face; he wears an armor completed by a black cape which does not seem to have much practical use. He usually speaks only in short, clipped sentences and has a wry, sarcastic kind of humor. 

Vader was a follower of the Emperor, factually a slave who had no choice but to obey his master, and wherever he went he wreaked terror. Mando does take jobs from the bounty hunter’s guild, but essentially, he is a free man and often offers his services negotiating on his own terms. Noticeably, he fights against raiders and mercenaries or remnants of the Empire, peace following in his wake.

When he first reaches out for the baby, it looks like the opposite to another famous scene in the saga: here we have the adoptive but good father, while the other was the biological but cruel father.  Luke did not take his father’s hand, while the baby instinctively reached out to the man who had protected him.

Note also the scenic reversal: one figure is standing on the right side, hand with upturned fingers reaching out into a void, the scene is bathed in cold light. The other figure is standing on the left, hand reaching down, illuminated by warm light. 

When we do see his face once, Mando is lying down and helpless like Vader; he is not disfigured though and despite being injured, he is not dying. Shortly after this he finally accepts his task as the child’s father figure, while Vader died a few minutes after his unmasking and could not fulfil his fatherly task any more. Also, in both cases we learned the person’s real name not long before the mask went off: Anakin Skywalker respectively Din Djarin.

Given the saga’s love for cyclical narrative, this would make a lot of sense. Star Wars is telling us once more how important a protective and kind father is for a child, both as a role model and an attachment figure. We do not know yet how baby Yoda will turn out; but it would have made little sense for the storytellers to think up such a figure in the first place if they didn’t want him to go another (possibly better) way than his more famous predecessor. 

Is the galaxy at last healing after the terrible conflicts caused by both Jedi and Sith, and will the good fathers be responsible for a better future, maybe even for the long-awaited Balance in the Force? I hope so.

May the Force be with the Clan of Two. 😉

(On a side note: Vader / Anakin was in his mid-forties when he died. Din Djarin is about the same age.)

After the closure of Season 2, I would like to add a few details that also set Din Djarin apart from Anakin.

 Attachment vs. Affection

Anakin’s greatest weakness was his anxiety to lose the ones he loved. In the end, he sacrificed all of his ideals for the purpose of saving his pregnant wife. Luke also loved his friends and wanted to save them, but in that fateful moment before Palpatine, he realized that he would have had to give up his integrity for the purpose, and that was when he decided to throw away his weapon.

Din suffers deeply when he has to give up “his” child to a literal stranger for an indefinite time. However, he knows that it must be done because he does not have the knowledge to train him. Grogu also, reluctantly, lets go when he sees that his “father” is doing the same. This goes to show, again, that he is much stronger than Anakin.

 Following Rules vs Following One’s Heart

Like Anakin / Vader, Din takes his helmet off the moment he has to say goodbye to his child. The famous sentence “Just once, let me look on you with my own eyes” comes to mind. Vader was a Sith Lord and Anakin had been a Jedi. Both adhered strictly to their code: Anakin was a faithful Jedi until he became a Sith and Vader obeyed to the rules of the Sith until for a brief moment he acted like a Jedi again (and, also, like a father, which was a first). Mando unmasks not only before Grogu but also

-     Luke, who is a total stranger -     Moff Gideon, an enemy -     Bo-Katan, a possible potential enemy since she pursues the Dark Saber -     Fennec, an ally but not a friend -     Cara, a friend who never saw his face.

That he is willing for all of them to witness the moment he lifts his incognito shows that Mando is finally listening only to his heart. The Way of the Mandalore, which was his guideline for his entire adolescence and adult life (i.e. thirty years or more), has become less significant to him than the bond he has with Grogu.

Anakin’s tragedy was that he could not follow his heart but that some rules defined by an outside source always were in control. He wanted to be a husband and father and loyal friend, a mechanic and a pilot, not a Jedi or a Sith.

Ben Solo’s tragedy was the same; though not born a slave, he also had no choice about what to do with himself and his life. It was either being a Jedi or a Sith. But we know that he wanted to be a son and a lover, and a pilot.

The same fate occurred to Luke, many years later: the kind-hearted, affectionate young man from Tatooine, who so easily befriended everyone and always was compassionate and helpful became aloof and detached on being a Jedi, because he thought that was what this task required. But in the end, it was exactly what made him not understand and even fear his nephew, with disastrous results.

Din Djarin chose the way of the heart, he is no longer adhering to ���the Way”: he said himself that now he can’t put his helmet back on. (Alternatively, he could put it on again, but that would mean defying the Way otherwise.) Grogu has witnessed that a man can very well choose family over a code that was taught to him, even if he adhered to it all of his life. Luke is the one who carries him away, but Grogu looks over his shoulder to his “father”. Luke may become his teacher, but Grogu’s role model, his hero, will always be Din; as it was for Ben with his father Han.

 Hints at the Future

Anakin died twice: once on Mustafar, where he also lost his blue light sabre, and on the second Death Star, where he had lost the red one. Din Djarin, at the end of this part of this journey, receives a sabre, although he never wanted it.

With the Dark Saber, a new fate is awaiting Mando. Is his destiny that of being the warrior-king, protective and honorable, that ought to have been Anakin’s place? Maybe. As they say, the best leaders are the reluctant ones. 😊

[goldandbluesmiles]

In Shades

Summary: Damian paints his family.

Ao3:

Part of batfam flufftober2020

Damian had an art assignment. Paint a portrait of one person in your life and use only one colour and explain why you chose that one colour.

It was an interesting assignment and Damian could not choose just one person to paint. So, he painted everyone in his immediate family. He figured he could hand in the best one.

He asked Alfred to sit down first.

For Alfred, he chose the colour grey. Dull and able to blend in, a symbol of dignity and sophistication as much as it was a symbol of loss.

Alfred had taken care of them through their losses and their fears, through their triumphs and their victories. He had stood by them as they had fought each other and had stood by them as they had held each other. Always there always reliable.

Yes, grey it was for Alfred.

"I am honoured, Master Damian," said Alfred once he showed it to him. It was the only thing he said but it still made Damian feel warm.

The second person he sat down with was his father.

For his father, he chose the colour black. It seemed a bit cliche but it fit the man. Black stood for strength and mystery, for formality and elegance, but at the same time stood for aggression and authority, for death and darkness.

This one might not end up with the rest of his assignment for it would be hard to explain to a civilian how all these characteristics could fit the airhead billionaire Brucie Wayne. But Damian could not bring himself to draw his father in false colours. He would just have to hide this one away.

Once he was done with the portrait, he looked at the harsh lines and smiled. Yes, black definitely worked.

His father must have agreed with his observations because one look at the piece and he had laughed.

"Well, you certainly got me, Kiddo. But maybe not take this to school. Though, I would like to hang it in my study instead. Would that be alright with you?"

"Yes, Father," Damian had agreed.

Father had them given him a long and tight hug, softly whispering how proud he was.

It almost made Damian cry. Almost.

Dick sat down for next, a wide smile on his face.

Damian chose to paint his brother in bright greens. Green was the colour of growth, harmony and renewal. His brother had moved non from tragedy after tragedy and always found a way to make his world right again, not only for himself but for others too. The freshness of the colour captured the man's smile in full and made him seem wiser than his years, which in Damian's opinion was exactly what his brother was.

Damian knew this one would be his favourite.

When he showed Dick, he was gushed at his talent but had been confused about the colour choice. Unlike most of their other family, Dick had never had an interest in the visual arts, opting to express himself physically as Cassandra did.

Once he explained, Dick had gotten tears in his eyes. Damian had almost become alarmed but his brother had swooped him up in a hug and held him close, much as his father had.

"Thank you, Damian,"

"You're welcome, Richard," said Damian, though he did not know what the thank you was for.

Cassandra did not sit but chose to stand instead. Damian was quite alright with that.

He painted his sister in shades of purple. Purple was the colour of royals, elegance of a certain kind, and ambition. Violet was the colour of magic and dreams.

Cassandra smiled all the way through painting, holding her pose together. This painting took the longest as Damian knew that it would e important to paint her whole body instead of just painting her face.

Once he was done, Cassandra hugged him before she even saw the painting and then hugged him again after she was it.

"Good," she whispered, "You got me,"

"I'm glad you think so," he whispered back

After Cassandra came Jason. And the only reason he had agreed was that he was stuck on bed rest.

Damian drew him in shades of red, head bent over a book. Red was the colour of anger, danger and sacrifice. It was also the colour of love and passion, the colour of a fire that burned bright and a heart that beat for others. Jason was all that and more. He rose from the ashes like a phoenix and had devoted his life to his family and city. Sacrifice after sacrifice, all in the name of love for people he thought didn't even love him. He was wrong about that of course.

"The angry brother in red, huh?" said Jason once he saw it, voice showing just a fraction of the bitterness he was feeling.

Damina instantly refuted, "No, the passionate brother, and the loving one,"

Jason looked at him in surprise.

Damian continued, "You are too sacrificing for your own good, you are passionate about what you do and you love so much that overflows out in bursts,"

For a few moments, Jason watched him with his mouth open, and then ever so slowly, a smile spread across his face.

"You know," he murmured, "I think red could be your colour too,"

"Really?"

"Really,"

Tim was surprised at being asked, and really that made Damian feel just a little guilty. He was almost an adult now and quite ashamed about how he had acted all those years ago.

For Timothy, Damian chose blues. Blue represented the open sky and ocean, depth and stability. It stood for loyalty, faith, truth and confidence.

Over the years, Damian had watched his brother grow into his abilities and become sure of himself. He was a leader, a detective and a man loyal to his cause and family. Damian was proud to have him in his life, to call him family. Even if he never admitted it out loud.

He explained the meaning of the picture in a few words, the whole interaction being awkward in a nice way, both of them feeling a bit shy about it.

"Thanks, Dames," said Tim

Damian just shrugged in response.

It was enough.

Duke was the last sibling he asked to sit down.

He chose to present Duke in pink. Pink was intuitive, pink was tender, pink was kind. It was a positive colour that inspired warmth and appreciation. All of the things he felt for the second oldest in the family. Duke had a soft way about him that drew people out of their shell. He was a leader but not an authoritative one like Father or even Timothy. Instead, his leadership consisted of inspiring and lifting others.

"Pink? Isn't that a girl's colour,"

"While you are right that pink represents feminity in today's society, it is a more recent development, I chose to focus on other meanings of the colour,"

"Yeah? And those are?" Duke asked disbelievingly, but not unkindly

Once Damian was done explaining, Duke grinned and held out a fist for him to bump. Damian complied.

"Thanks, man," said Duke, bounding out of the room as if someone had filled him with unlimited energy.

Damian watched him go with a shake of his head.

Damian contemplated whether or not he should do anyone else, and in the end, asked Stephanie to sit for him too.

He painted Stephanie orange. The colour represented friendliness and enthusiasm, competitiveness and risk. It stood for raw instinct and free spirit, lead to the person feeling warm and at home. The colour of the autumn.

Stephanie was a friendly spirit and was somehow always present. She pushed forward when knocked down and fought to make her home. Her success came from her enthusiasm and competitiveness and her willingness to risk it all.

Stephanie gave him a grin and a big kiss on the cheek when he explained the colour.

"Ew, Brown! Stop!"

"Uhuh," she cried, "Yuu love meee! Now I knooow!"

"Oh god, you are such a child,"

The last person that sat for him was Barbara Gordon.

Damian chose to paint her in browns. Brown was the colour of reliability and support, of protection and security. It stood for everything genuine, honest and sincere. It was what came to mind when he thought of Barbara. The way she was always there, a voice in everyone's ear. The way she always spoke the truth, light and clear. She was a friend, she was dependable, someone that could be trusted and relied on unconditionally.

Oddly enough, like Alfred and Father, Barbara did not need an explanation for the colour. She merely smiled and nodded.

"You have a great eye," she told him, "I really love this. Thank you, Damian,"

"No, thank you, Barbara,"

xxx

After a long night of patrol, Damian was ready to fall into bed. However, before he could do that, he realized there was an envelope sitting on his pillow. He took it out and smiled.

There was a picture of him petting his animals, most likely taken by Timothy, and it was tinted yellow. Beneath it, were words written out in yellow glitter pen.

Sunshine. Happiness. Fun. Hope. Mind. Perception. Optimism. Creativity. Freshness. positivity.

Underneath was a paragraph written in his father's neat cursive writing, though he could tell the input had probably come from a few different sources.

'Yellow represents the heat of the sun and the loveliness of a smile, it evoked hope for the future and is linked with the optimistic. Yellow showed creativity, freshness and positivity. Damian, you are almost an adult now and have grown into someone who had learned to channel your creative side, look towards the future and smile, even if it is internally. You have a beautiful mind and your artistic perception of the world takes our breath away. Always stay you, Damian,. You are bright and wonderful,'

Wiping the happy tears that were making their way down his cheeks, Damian quickly took out his phone. He pulled up the group chat and wrote a short message, knowing it would get the sentiment across.

'Thank you. I will do my best,'

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya fic snippit

Feel free to do what you want with this. (If you want to put it on your blog or AO3 or something as a related work, I don’t mind).

—- 

This, Juleka thought as she strained at the ropes which bound her tightly inside the bloody pentagram, is really not my day.

“The hour grows nigh!” shouted the loudest (and smelliest) of the five hooded dorks who were standing around the pentagram, one per point, and intermittently chanting while waving cloying incense around. “Soon a powerful demon shall accept our sacrifice and manifest before us, and in exchange for our undying loyalty and our immortal souls, shall grant us vast power over this world!” He spread his hands. “Rejoice, my coven! Rejoice!”

“Rejoice!” repeated the four idiots, as Juleka termed them, to the lead idiot. “Rejoice!”

Juleka thrashed a little but still couldn’t get out, and she growled to herself. If she somehow got out of this, she told herself, she would learn for her mistakes. For instance, the next time Rose had to cancel their date because something came up, Juleka would not browse around online until she found a meet up for people who ‘believed in the occult’ and ‘wanted to explore the horrors lurking beneath the world’s surface with an open mind,’ and even if she found such a group she certainly wouldn’t go to check it out without telling anyone where she was heading. Or at the very least, if she did go, she’d get better at dodging so that if a bunch of creepy robed guys jumped up from their Dungeons and Dragons spellbooks and  tried to seize her again she’d be able to get away.

But that presupposed she’d be able to escape in the first place, and unfortunately, it seemed like the one things these guys were good at was tying people up. She wondered briefly if she could try to get mad enough that Hawkmoth would akumatize her and give her the power to escape (and throw these idiots into the Seine), but she knew that if Hawkmoth was paying attention he’d likely have already sensed her anger and done that. And besides, even if she did get akumatized, wouldn’t the Miraculous Cure put her right back down here when Ladybug finished beating her up and de-akumatizing her?

“We have already laid the incense and slain the goat!” the first guy went on. “And painted the pentagram in the goat’s blood!” Juleka gagged. “Now-”

“Are you sure your Mom is cool with us killing a goat in her backyard?” another of the robed guys suddenly asked. “I mean, it kind of made a mess.”

The leader shook his head. “When we get our demonic powers, we won’t need to worry about messes or moms. We’ll be able to do whatever we want. We could–we could stay out after curfew! Order two desserts at dinner! Make girls hang out with us!”

Juleka wondered if it was possibly to die of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

“Now, the hour is nigh at last!” the shouty guy yelled. “And as for our sacrificial victim: know that your death is not in vain, for with your blood we shall obtain the power to change the world!” He grabbed a knife from within his robes and Juleka’s eyes widened; despite everything she realized that on some level she hadn’t thought these losers would actually do it. “Have you any last words before your soul is sent to the realm of the demons?”

Juleka debated a dozen different responses, but none seemed right–she wasn’t going to beg and plead with these morons, or even threaten them; there was no point and she wouldn’t satisfy them by looking angry or terrified. So she settled on, “You’re holding that knife wrong.”

“What?” The robed guy seemed to have been knocked out of his spiel. “I–no I’m not! The pointy end–”

“If you’re going to sacrifice someone, you grip it differently,” said Juleka in an annoyed tone. “You’re holding it backwards, like you’re going to stab up at someone. For a sacrifice you aim the knife down at the sacrificial altar. And you use a different knife in the first place, one specifically for rituals.”

The other robed guys stared at the leader as he fumbled with his blade. “This is a ritual blade!” he insisted.

“Ritual blades are made of special materials and don’t have serrated edges like that,” Juleka said. “That's… dude, I think that’s a steak knife.”

Everyone froze. “It is not!” the lead guy yelled at last. “It is magic! Look, this sigil on the hilt we could not decipher–”

“That’s the logo of the cutlery store down the street,” Juleka noted. 

All of the other robed guys looked at each other. “How do you know so much about knives?” one asked Juleka.

Because my Mom has one and every so often she insists on telling me about how she dated a coven leader one time and has her ritual dagger to prove it, Juleka thought. It’s the story that comes after the 'I dated a pirate and here’s the scimitar to prove it’ one and before the 'I dated a magician who I think might have had actual fey lineage and here’s some other sword to prove it’ one. 

Juleka loved her mother dearly, but she had to admit that Anarka was… not entirely moored in reality at times. 

“No! She knows nothing!” the leader raved before Juleka could answer. “And besides, I know the knife is real! I bought it on EBay from a genuine wizard; it said so right in his seller profile!” The leader took a breath. “I mean, come on, do you really think I would have spent eight hundred francs on a ritual dagger that was forged in the fires of Hell itself if there was any chance it was just a steak knife?”

“Based on what I know of you,” said Juleka, “I think you’d spent your life savings on a rock if a guy with a mysterious accent told you it could give you magic powers, but would only work once he took all your money and left town so you couldn’t get a refund.”

“She’s got you there, dude,” said another of the robed guys.

The leader roared something inarticulate. Then he slashed down and cut Juleka’s cheek, just enough to draw a trickle of blood that spilled down and touched the pentagram. And then, to Juleka’s amazement, the circle actually began to glow and hiss. “We’re doing it!” gasped the leader. “See? I was right! This works!”

Juleka felt herself growing warm as the pentagram heated up. The blood suddenly ignited and Juleka cringed away from it, but the only place to hide was the pentagon in its center, and the smoke from the burning goat blood was all drifting there despite the absence of a breeze in the dingy basement. She was forced to roll into the pentagon and hide against one of its edges as the smoke coalesced. “Demon, we summon you!” the leader was yelling. “We bid you speak your name! Have we summoned the mighty Asmodeus? The brilliant Mephistopheles? The great Balphagor? The–”

A crack of thunder sounded and the smoked cleared, revealing the shape of a girl a little shorter than Juleka. The figure had horns, red skin, small wings sticking out of her back, and a tail with a spade on the end, but otherwise looked like a regular girl. In fact, she looked like a very familiar girl to Juleka. She had red hair, a beauty mark on her face, glasses, a red-and-white checkered shirt–

Wait.

“Um, Alya?” Juleka managed. “What’s going on?”

The redhead didn’t seem to notice her as she spread her arms and beamed at the robed guys. “You have summoned the demon Alya Cesaire!” she said. “Are you prepared to trade your immortal souls in exchange for great power?”

“Oh yes!” said the robed leader. “And we even prepared a sacrifice for you, oh mighty demon!” He pointed. “You can rip out her heart whenever you want!”

Alya glanced down, then froze. “Juleka?” she said. “Is that you? What are you doing?”

“Being sacrificed by these idiots, apparently.” Juleka briefly wondered if she was going crazy, but this didn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d hallucinate. Somehow, someway, Alya Cesaire had teleported in and at least appeared to be a demon. Maybe this was some weird akuma, or a new miraculous user with a demon theme for some reason (although Juleka personally felt that if anyone got a 'demon’ miraculous it would be LIla Rossi), but whatever was going on, it was really happening. So she’d just have to find some way to deal with it. “Alya, what’s going on? What are you doing?”

“They summoned me–” Then Alya caught herself. “Wait, no no no, you’re not supposed to know about me! Oh no, Nora is going to slaughter me…”

Everyone stared at Alya as she took a few breaths, suddenly looking less like a demonic tempter and more like an unhappy teenager who was about to get grounded. “How do you know these guys?” Alya asked Juleka at last.

“I don’t! They said they were looking at occult stuff, so I came by and they jumped me when I showed up!” Juleka insisted. “I don’t know them!”

Alya stared at her, and Juleka saw a truly frightening look of anger cross the girl’s face for a brief moment before Alya turned back to the cultists. “Did you seriously just try to sacrifice a random stranger to me?“ 

"…yes?” said the leader. “I mean, we’re not going to sacrifice someone we like–”

“It’s not a sacrifice unless you sacrifice someone you like!” said Alya, sounding both angry and exasperated. “The whole point of this is you’re promising to forswear any earthly attachments in order to devote yourself to demonic causes, you idiot! You can’t just kill some random stranger to do that! If it’s not someone close to you, someone where it’d mean something for you to betray them and give them up, there’s no point!”

“So,” said Juleka, “what you’re saying is, if Luka was going to sacrifice me for some reason, you’d be cool with it.”

Alya looked down at her with a hurt expression. “I mean, not you specifically, but…” She caught herself and quickly coughed before turning back to the cultists.  “I can’t accept this sacrifice,” the demon said more loudly. “I–”

“You have to!” crowed the lead cultist. “We summoned you. It’s a bargain, and you can’t leave until you take the sacrifice and give us the powers we want! And if you don’t do what we want we’ll cast spells on you to hurt you!”

“That isn’t how that works!” Alya rolled her eyes. “The only power you have is the power I give you! You can’t use it against me or I’ll just take it back! Devil below, did you put even five minutes of thought into this?" 

"You have to!” repeated the leader. “Or you can’t leave. Look, we don’t care if you take the girl, but give us our powers already!”

The demon and the cultist leader stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Alya said, “And what powers do you want, exactly?”

“All of them!” said one of the other cultists.

“Yeah, you’re going to need more than one sacrifice for that,” Alya snarked. 

“Then we’ll start with just one.” The cultist leader grinned. “I know. The one we discussed earlier. Make girls like us!”

The other cultists nodded. “Yeah, I need a girlfriend,” said one. “Someone who doesn’t care about dumb illogical stuff like 'showering,’ and who doesn’t mind me playing games with my friends all night.”

“Why just one?” The lead cultist rubbed his hands together. “You, demon. Make us irresistible to girls in general. We’re smart; we deserves harems!” He chuckled. “Oh, and we can have them wrestle to see who gets to spend each night with us!”

Alya exchanged astonished and exasperated glances with Juleka. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “You–”

“I read there was this Chinese emperor who had a harem of a thousand girls,” said another cultist. “So many that when he wanted to go on a date he had a donkey take his carriage around the harem quarters and just dated whichever women was closest when the donkey stopped, so the women put out salt and carrots and stuff to make his donkey stop by them. Give us the power to have that many girls!”

Alya shut her eyes for a long moment. “I might be able to do something,” she said at last. Her tone was a bit off and Juleka noted that this was how Alya sounded when she was lying, but the cultists didn’t seem to realize that. Alya went on to say, “But not with me in here and you out there. Step into the pentagram and I can give you power.”

The leader grinned. One of his subordinates said, “Hey, aren’t we supposed to stay outside that thing?”

“It’s fine. The demon knows who’s boss,” said the leader as he entered. (Juleka managed to roll over so she had a good view of the guy; she figured Alya was about to wreck him and wanted to see it when that happened.) “And maybe she’s charmed by me. After all, I did summon her, and it’s not like I’m a bad catch. I speak fluent Klingon and–”

Alya surged forwards as soon as the guy got into the pentagram, then rammed her hand into the guy’s chest. Juleka gasped but no blood leaked out, and then Juleka realized that Alya had somehow phased her hand into his body without harming his physical self. The guy cried out, and then Alya withdrew her hand holding a greenish-brown ball of light about the size of a billiard ball. “I do need to take a soul before I can leave here,” she said. “Fortunately, yours qualifies." 

"That’s my soul?!” gasped the lead cultist. “Hey, give that back! I–”

“Nope. Mine.” Alya grinned, and Juleka’s eyes widened as she saw that the girl had fangs in this form. She then looked at the captured soul thoughtfully and said, “Of course, one soul is fine, but five are better.”

“Five?” said one of the other cultists while the leader just gaped dumbly at his missing soul. “Well, we’re not going in there, so–”

Alya chuckled. “No problem.” She tapped the captured soul and it seemed to glow a little more brightly. “Break this pentagram,” she ordered–and the leader stiffened before mechanically walking over to the pentagram and scuffing out a section of the bloody lines with his foot.

The cultists yelled and began to run. Alya glanced down at Juleka and said, “Be right back,” before blasting after them. Juleka could only watch as Alya’s wings flared and she leapt, hands curled into claws, on top of the slowest fleeing cultist and ripped out his soul too. Then she threw some kind of fireball–Hellfire?–at the stairs, blasting them out and cutting off the cultists’ escapes from the basements, before she jumped at another. 

The battle was over in less than a minute, at which point Alya–now casually juggling five ball-like souls in one hand–ordered the cultists to 'sit down and shut up’ before hurrying back to Juleka and slashing the ropes with her talon-like fingers. “Are you okay?” Alya asked quickly. “Did they hurt you?”

“Not too bad.” Juleka managed. She stood and stretched before backing up a step and looking at her demonic friend. “So. Um…”

Alya hesitated, and then her head dropped. “Yeah,” she said in a voice that actually sounded sad. “I know. You know about me and now you’re scared and you think I’m awful and–”

“Hold on,” said Juleka quickly. “I’m not afraid of…” The word 'monsters’ seemed rude, so Juleka looked for a better one. “…unusual people,” she said at last. And it was true. She didn’t know exactly what Alya’s deal was, but now that her life wasn’t at stake, she wasn’t feeling nearly as scared anymore. Not scared enough to lose faith in a friend, even one with a demonic appearance, anyways. “I mean, you did save me from these guys–thanks for that–and we’re friends, so–”

“We’re still friends?” Alya asked quickly. “Really?”

“Of course, and–agh!” Juleka flinched as Alya rushed to hug her. The girl smelled like sulfur and brimstone, which Juleka decided really shouldn’t have been that surprising. Despite herself, Juleka felt a small smile coming to her mouth as she hugged Alya back. “Yes. We’re still friends. ”

Alya grinned. “You’re the best, Juleka.”

Juleka nodded, then saw something. “Um, Alya?”

“Yes?”

“I think you just dropped one of your souls.” She pointed at the ball of light–this one a brownish-black–which had just fallen out of Alya’s hands and was rolling away towards what looked like a small hole in the floor. “So-”

“Agh!” Alya immediately sprang for the soul. Juleka wasn’t sure what Alya planned to do with it in the end, but she hoped it was something mean. The guy had tried to murder her, after all. “Bad soul! No running away! I need you to make my quota!" 

Juleka couldn’t help but giggle as Alya gave chase. This might not have started out as her day… but her life had been saved, she’d discovered an amazing secret about her friend, and things were starting to look up.

Chapter 2

Juleka had taken a few minutes to rest on the (gross) couch and munch a pudding pop from the cultists’ fridge while Alya fixed the summoning pentagram. "Just need to drop them off,” she had said cheerily. “Be back in a minute.” And then she’d vanished in a puff of smoke and brimstone along with the souls.

“So,” Juleka had said after a little bit. “Are you guys, uh, okay?”

The cultists gave her blank looks that were… well, 'soulless’ was probably how Juleka would describe it. 

“Meh.” Juleka finished her pudding, then looked in the fridge again and grabbed a soda. “You guys deserve it.”

Alya reappeared with a flourish and another blast of sulfur. “Alright!” she chirped to the guys. “Your souls are now safely stored in my demesne Down Below. I'l be in touch with your orders.” She turned to Juleka and seemed to hesitate for a moment before catching herself. “Want to get out of here?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Juleka rose. At the same time, Alya shimmered and then her body took on the form Juleka was familiar with–no horns, no wings, no tail, and skin that was brown and definitely not red. “Let’s go.”

As they left the house, Juleka glanced back at Alya. Her mind was bursting with questions and she barely knew where to start. “So, uh–”

“You weren’t just saying that before, right?” Alya asked suddenly. “About still being friends with me despite, you know…?”

“Of course I wasn’t just saying it.” Juleka paused. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone that went around hurting innocent people, but the only people I saw you hurt were the guys that tried to kill me. And I know you. I can’t imagine you ever hurting an innocent. As long as you’re only going after really bad people like those guys, I don’t care.”

Alya let out a breath. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and Juleka thought she sounded sincere. “That's… that means a lot.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“More than a few.” Juleka considered, then went for one of the simplest ones. “So when you get someone’s soul, you just order them around? Can you control them directly?”

“Not exactly. It’s not like how Max can program Markov to run certain programs or take specific actions. But when I get someone’s soul I can influence their personality: make them more aggressive, or lazy, or hedonistic, or whatever. We do that to push humans on the paths we want for them. One of the things we can influence is loyalty, so I made those guys loyal to me. There’s limits–I won’t be able to get him to rob a bank or jump off a cliff, because his loyalty won’t be able to override his self-preservation or sanity or whatever–but within reason, now they’ll obey what I say.”

“Hmm.” Juleka paused. “And… just to be clear, you’re an actual demon. Like, this isn’t a really weird akuma or something.”

Alya giggled. “No akuma. No miraculous. Just 100% grade-A demon here. If you have a copy of Dante’s Inferno I can show you the exact circle I was born in.”

“Not necessary,” said Juleka, and the two girls exchanged grins. Then Juleka asked her next question. “So if you’re a demon have you… I don’t know… met the Devil?”

Alya laughed louder. “You’re French; that doesn’t mean you hang out with the Prime Minister,” she said. “I saw the big boss a couple times, including when I got assigned to Paris, but no more than that. Of course, if I do a good job here I could get a promotion.”

“Why are you in Paris specifically?”

“Well…” Alya paused. “Honestly, I got assigned here because I’m junior and the more senior demons filled up the other postings. Not a lot of demons want Paris these days. You can probably guess why.”

Juleka could. “The miraculouses?”

“Right. Historically, some miraculous users were known to go full paladin and strike down tons of demons. So all the demons want jobs in London, or Shanghai, or Abuja, or America–places without miraculous users. I got sent here because they needed someone and I was what was left.” Alya frowned. “But I’m going to do a good job. I’ll impress my superiors and show them all.”

“What exactly is your job?” Juleka thought back. “You mentioned a quota.”

“I just have to bring in so many souls a month,” said Alya. “That’s basically it.”

Juleka nodded. “And I’m guessing you can’t just run around yanking them out of people’s chests whenever you want.”

“Right. I can only 'yank’ the souls of people who make a souls-for-power deal with me, or who are like those cultists and do something evil enough that I can take their soul right away instead of having to wait for them to die–that’s in Dante’s Inferno too, actually, the story about Fra Alberigo–or in a few other circumstances.” Alya waved a hand. “There’s a bunch of rules. So my job is to get people to make a deal or otherwise break one of those rules so I can get their soul.” She smiled. “It’s fun work. Challenging too, since everyone’s different and needs a different strategy to tempt them.”

“What kinds of people do you usually focus on?”

“Well…” Alya’s eyes twinkled. “You know how the news is always wondering why Hawkmoth only akumatizes random people and doesn’t go after professional criminals, people who are already really evil and would work with him willingly?”

Juleka hesitated. “He worked with a criminal one time, when we were in New York.”

“Okay, but just looking at Paris. It’s like he can’t pick criminals. Why do you think that is?”

Juleka got it. “You get to the criminals first. When someone does something so evil it shows they’d probably be willing to work with Hawkmoth, you get their soul and then make them loyal to you and order them not to accept his akumas.”

Alya beamed. “Yep. I get the souls, and Hawkmoth loses a fighter–which means Ladybug is less active and there’s less chance of her discovering me. Win-win.” She paused. “There’s a rumor that a demon was assigned to tempt Hawkmoth and Mayura full-time; get their souls and make them use their miraculousness for Hell instead of whatever their real goals are. But if that’s true, I don’t know who the demon is.”

“Huh. Well, on behalf of Paris–thanks for screwing over Hawkmoth. We appreciate it.”

Alya grinned.

They stopped at the Dupain-Cheng bakery for snacks–Alya bought several pastries, murmuring to Juleka that as a demon she didn’t technically need to eat but she loved the taste of the Dupain-Cheng’s food, while Juleka got some lemon bread and a few Japanese sweets called mochi which she knew Luka liked–and then headed for Alya’s house. Juleka was a little nervous about going into a demon’s lair, but she figured that if there was a giant portal to Hell in the living room or something, Marinette would have noticed during one of her sleepovers at her best friend’s house and mentioned it. “Do you have any cool powers besides the soul thing?” she asked.

“I might,” said Alya in a teasing voice. “Let’s get to my room and I’ll show you.”

Alya let them in and then hurried Juleka into her room. “Is the rest of your family, uh, like you?” Juleka asked as Alya pushed her inside.

“Just Nora. Marelan and Otis couldn’t have kids, and so they made a deal with one of my bosses. In exchange for being able to have Etta and Ella, they’d agree to provide covers for two demons who would be based in Paris. The demon said yes, Marlena and Otis had the twins, and a few years later it was time to make good on their promise, so they took in Nora and I.” Alya shrugged. “It works pretty well. They know they aren’t allowed to interfere in our soul-collecting, but other than that they look after us okay.”

“Is Nora your real sister, or is that part of your cover?” Juleka looked around Alya’s room as Alya shut the door behind them. It certainly didn’t look like the room of a powerful demon who could literally rip out the souls of sinners. But of course Alya didn’t look like such a demon either, at least in her human guise. Looks could be deceiving.

“No, she’s my real sister. And she’s kind of protective of me, which is why it’s probably better if she doesn’t know you know about me.” Alya stretched, then snapped her fingers and dispelled her human glamour. “Ah. Much better.” She stretched again, and Juleka watched in amazement as her wings and tail flared. “Those get so cramped under the glamour.”

Juleka moved a little closer. “Do you mind if I, uh, take a closer look?” Alya gave her a curious look and Juleka blushed. “Sorry, but I find this stuff really cool and–”

“Go right ahead!” Alya beamed and Juleka wondered if she was just happy to have a human friend who thought her true appearance was neat and not scary. Juleka leaned in and marveled at her wings and her waggling tail. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got a pretty awesome body,” said Juleka before she realized how that sounded. Alya burst into laughter, Juleka couldn’t help giggling too. “I meant the wings and stuff! Seriously, I’d love to have wings. Flying sounds awesome.”

Alya hesitated, and Juleka blinked. “What, can’t demons fly?”

“We can, but…” Alya blushed, her already-red skin darkening. “It’s kind of embarrassing…”

Juleka got it. “Demons in general can fly, but you specifically can’t.”

“I’ll be able to!” Alya insisted. “My wings just aren’t done growing yet!” Juleka grinned. “I’m serious!” Alya went on.

“Of course you are,” said Juleka neutrally. Alya didn’t seem too put out by the teasing, and Juleka guessed that maybe she was just relieved Juleka was still willing to joke with her instead of freaking out and worrying that Alya would damn her over some tiny slight. “I’m sure you’ll be able to fly. Someday. Far in the future.”

“If you keep teasing me I won’t show you any of my cool demon powers,” Alya sniffed. “And some are really awesome.”

Juleka sat down on the bed. “I’ll be good,” she said, though she was unable to hide her smile. “I saw you throw a fireball at one of those guys–”

“Yeah, I can summon Hellfire!” Alya snapped her fingers and a bright ball of flame, about the size of one of the souls she’d taken from the cultists, appeared in her talon-like hands. (And now that Juleka looked closer, she saw that Alya’s feet were cloven). “This stuff is great. Burns hotter than human flame, and it’s perfect for barbecues. Seriously, meat grilled over this stuff is awesome.”

“Can you possess people?” Juleka asked. “Like in the movies?”

“Some demons can but I’m not good at it.” Alya summoned more balls of fire and began to idly toss them around. “I’m okay at Whispers, though.”

Juleka blinked. “Whispers?" 

"Have you ever been talking to a friend or family member and then heard a little voice in the back of your head saying something like, 'they don’t really mean it when they say they like you, they’re just pitying you, and as soon as they can find someone better they’ll abandon you?’ Things like that?”

“Uh…” Juleka couldn’t deny it. That had been worse before Marinette had fixed her photo curse problem, but she did sometimes have to fight off the fear that Rose and the others were only hanging out with her to show her charity. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Sometimes–not always, but sometimes–that’s a demon. Here’s how mine sounds.” Alya focused on Juleka, and her eyes grew a little redder. And then–

Juleka heard a voice in the back of her head. “Juleka,” it hissed in that familiar tone of cynical wisdom, the voice of a grizzled elder cutting through nonsense and delivering the hardest of truths. “You are a bad person. You must redeem yourself by buying more cookies at the Dupain-Cheng bakery for Alya–”

The goth snickered at that and threw a pillow at Alya, who cheerily ducked and impaled it on her left horn. Then Juleka mimed holding her hands straight out as if she were a zombie and meandered in the direction of the door like she was really about to do it. Alya burst into laughter as she removed the pillow from her horn. “Hey, stop, I wasn’t serious! And I’ve already got cookies. I go to her bakery every day.”

Before Juleka could respond, the door slammed open. “I heard noises, sis,” said Nora as she strode in. “What’s going–”

Her eyes flicked to Alya, still in her demon form, and then Juleka. Her face twisted into rage. “Human!” she hissed as she surged forwards, and by the time she’d grabbed Juleka by her collar and slammed her against a wall her body had shifted into a greenish lizard-like thing with four arms, bright yellow eyes, and a forked tongue. Her new form reminded Juleka of a yuan-ti from that Dungeons and Dragons game the cultists had been playing when she’d walked in on them. “Alya, what are you doing?!” Nora demanded. “We can’t show ourselves to humans! What if she calls a paladin or an angel!”

Juleka choked and struggled to escape, but Nora’s demon form was apparently even stronger than her human one and she couldn’t move. Then Alya was rushing towards them. “No, it’s cool! Some idiot cultists summoned me and tried to kill her, but I dealt with them. And hey–I got five souls, I’m ahead of quota–”

“Don’t change the subject!” Nora yelled. “And don’t take her word for things either! Do you really believe she just happened to be there when the cultists summoned you? What if she’s a paladin trying to get in close so she can banish you?”

Nora, Juleka recalled, was sometimes overprotective of her sister. This was apparently one of those times. “I’m not a paladin,” she managed in a deadpan voice. “Seriously.”

“So you say now, but I’ll make you tell the real truth.” Nora’s grip tightened and Juleka winced. Alya opened her mouth to object, but Nora cut her off. “Sis, you know I’m looking out for you. We can’t have humans knowing who we are. So let’s just lock her in the basement until I get the truth out of her and she also agrees to give up her soul in exchange for letting her out. Then you make her super loyal to you so she never talks. Or we just go the other way and have Marlena and Otis move across town and change our identities so she can’t sell us out.”

Juleka thrashed more. “I’m not going to tell anyone!” she insisted instead. “Alya’s a friend, I wouldn’t sell her out!”

Nora gave Juleka an astonished stare and Alya smiled a little. “She means it, sis.”

“We can’t trust that. And even if she’s serious now, these are long-term covers. What happens if in five years you guys have a falling out?” Nora shook her head. “It’s not safe. There’re rules against this for a reason.”

“Those rules have exceptions,” Alya pointed out.

“Yeah–for humans that form cults to worship us and make us stronger. Is she planning on being the high priestess of the Cult of Alya Cesaire or something?”

Alya hesitated. “Uh… yes,” she said. “That’s what she wants to be.”

Juleka swiveled her head to stare at Alya in surprise, but then Nora shoved her into the wall again and Juleka got it–if they could bluff Nora into believing this, the chances of Nora trying to rip out her soul or something would go way down. “Totally,” Juleka lied. “That’s why I was with the cult. I was like, 'I want to find a demonic overlord to pledge my loyalty to,’ and they seemed onboard with that, but then they tied me up and tried to use me to summon Alya. Once she saved me, of course, she earned my undying love and devotion.”

Despite the situation, Juleka saw Alya visibly stifling giggles as she turned away. But Nora was less familiar with Juleka and couldn’t pick up on her sarcasm. “Really,” she said. “That’s your story.”

“Uh huh. I even practiced chanting for hours.”

Juleka wondered if that last line was too much, but Nora gave her a long look before dropping her and stalking over to her sister. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound. I could follow you across the English Channel.” Then she grabbed Alya and dragged her out of the room.

Juleka took advantage of Nora’s absence to take a breath and then try to think through her story in more detail. She didn’t know anything about being the high priestess of a demon cult, but she imagined it couldn’t be too hard–some chanting here, some praising the demon there, maybe lighting candles or setting off fireworks on whatever the demonic equivalent of Christmas was. (Although, she somehow doubted Alya actually wanted those things.) And besides, this was just a blufff for Nora. She wouldn’t have to actually go through with it–

The door banged open again as Nora came back in with Alya behind her. “So,” Nora said. “Juleka, right? Why do you want to lead my sister’s cult? What’s in it for you?”

“Uh–”

“Magic?” Nora snapped her fingers and summoned some Hellfire of her own, though her fireball was much larger, about the size of a basketball. “I mean, that’s possible, but I think it’s best we’re all on the same page. Wouldn’t be good if you wanted something she couldn’t give you.”

Juleka opened her mouth, then hesitated. Magic was awesome and she’d love to have the chance to cast spells, but she wasn’t sure if she should say that. Nora still seemed volatile and Juleka figured there were probably 'wrong’ answers to this question which would be very bad for her.

“Or other kinds of power?” Nora went on. “Gold smelted in the fires of Hell? Demons have plenty of that. Or political power? Maybe a boost to your blog? Are you here because you want Alya to get Nadja Chamack’s soul and then induce her to promote you all over Paris?”

Juleka glanced at Alya for just a moment and noticed how nervous the other demon seemed. But then Nora went on. “Or do you want Alya to smite your enemies? Like Hawkmoth, or that Marinette girl who brought you on as a model and then made you so nervous you got re-akumatized into Reflektdoll?” Nora clenched a fist. “Well?”

“Um.” Juleka paused, having no idea what to say. If she got it wrong she was in real trouble, and…

And so why not just tell the truth?

Juleka gulped. “I, uh… I mean, all that stuff sounds cool but it’s not why I’m here. And honestly, I didn’t go to the cult hoping to meet a demon either. I found out about Alya’s whole, uh, demon thing by accident. But she’s a friend, a really good one, and I’m not going to abandon her. And so if being her 'high priestess’ is the only way I can keep my soul and stay her friend without you, I don’t know, changing covers so I never see her again or wiping my mind or something, that’s what I want to do." 

Nora stared at Juleka with a stunned look, and then her tongue darted out. "I don’t taste any deceit,” she murmured. “I…”

“See?” said Alya, looking relieved. “I told you she’s legit. You can relax.”

The bigger demon struggled for a moment before growling and saying, “Fine. Bind her properly, sis. Don’t screw it up. I’ll check on you later–I’ve almost got Roundhouse Ron’s soul, and if I can get him to throw the match tonight it’ll be as good as mine. But when I’m done I’ll be back.” She stalked out.

Alya ran to Juleka’s side and hugged her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know Nora can be rough–”

“It’s okay. Not your fault.” Juleka returned the hug. “So. Apparently I’m your new high priestess.”

Alya’s skin somehow grew even redder as she blushed again. “We don’t, uh, have to go through with that if you don’t want. I’ll make up some story for Nora.”

But then Alya might get in trouble, Juleka thought. And she’d might never see her friend again if Alya were forced to change covers. “What would it entail?” Juleka asked.

Alya blinked. “Uh… well, there’s a magic spell I’d cast and we’d exchange blood. You’d become bound to me. I’d be able to lend you magic power, and when you 'worshipped’ me I’d get stronger. You’d be responsible for worshipping me on a regular basis, eventually bringing other people into the cult, and helping me to enact my will–that is, capture souls.”

“Any risks?” Juleka asked. “Would I lose my soul?”

“No. I mean, technically I’d be supposed to constantly tempt you into giving it up–that’s the usual reason most demons do things like this, most other demons don’t like humans and only loan them a little power to ensnare people who are too clever to just lose their souls the usual ways–but I wouldn’t do that. Um, if you ran into a paladin or angel they might notice that I’d marked you and want to smite you. It’s not likely unless you’re actively using demonic magic, but it’s a risk, so I get if you don’t want to do it. Like I said, I’ll lie to Nora–”

“I’ll do it,” said Juleka at once.

Alya stared. “Really?”

“Sure. It doesn’t sound too bad, as long as I get to keep my soul. And… and you’re a friend. I don’t want Nora to take you away. And this is sort of my fault anyways for getting captured by those morons. If this is the way to stop you leaving, let’s do it.”

Alya was still for a moment before a genuine grin burst onto her face. “Alright,” she said. “Here we go.”

She got a ritual knife–a real one this time–from her desk and then had Juleka sit cross-legged across from her on her bed while she summoned a ball of Hellfire between them. She murmured several words in what sounded like Latin, then motioned for Juleka to put her hand in the fire. Juleka cautiously did so, but whatever spell Alya had muttered prevented it from burning her. Alya used her knife to cut into her palm, forming a trickle of sizzling blood, before doing the same to Juleka’s hand and then clasping it in the flames.

Juleka gasped. Suddenly she felt as if power were surging into her, power that clutched at her mind and screamed at her to use it to do whatever she wanted, smashing up her enemies and building palaces of molten gold for herself and–

She caught the thoughts and forcibly pushed them away. Then Alya dropped her hand and when Juleka looked at her palm there was a strange sigil instead of a scar. “There!” said Alya. “You’re my high priestess now. It’s official.” She beamed. “I can’t wait to tell Asmodeus. He told me when I started taking soul-catching lessons that I’d never be good enough to start a cult. And here I am, one of the first in my class!”

“Great,” managed Juleka as she uneasily got up. Power was still surging through her and she felt heady. “Woah. That’s a rush. Um, do I need to worry about accidentally setting off fireballs or anything?”

“I haven’t given you any magic yet, just the potential to cast it once I do,” said Alya. “So no.”

“Okay.” Juleka took a breath. “And this worship thing. What does that involve?”

Alya hesitated. “You know, worship,” she said at last. “Spending time being devoted to me. Making me happy. I’ll do the same for you of course–we’re friends–but when you do it to me, I’ll grow stronger and then be able to give you more magic.”

“But specifically,” Juleka pushed. “How do I be 'devoted to you?’ That’s pretty broad.”

 "I don’t know,“ Alya admitted. "I’ve never, uh, actually had a cult before. I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to make one.” She glanced away. “Just… whatever’s traditional, I guess.”

“Ah.” Juleka tilted her head, then smiled wryly. “Well, based on Hollywood movies–which I’m going to assume are totally accurate–I think the tradition here is for me to take you into a drafty catacomb, light some smelly incense, chant in Latin neither of us understand, and talk a lot about how someday the rivers will run red with the blood of your enemies.”

Alya blanched. “Please don’t.”

Juleka’s smile grew. “I could also dress up in stupid clothes and wander around yelling prophecies that the dread lord Alya will slay all who do not bow before her. I could form a 'Satanist’ metal band and yell that everyone who didn’t buy my merchandise with your face on it would burn. I could–”

Alya burst into laughter and threw a pillow at her. “As your new demon queen I hereby order you to not do anything so ridiculous I’d get laughed out of Hell.”

“Or,” said Juleka, still beaming, “Seeing as how you told Nora you’re caught up on your soul quota and don’t have anything to do for awhile, I could rent us a couple movies about exorcists and demons. Then we could watch them together, eat popcorn, do each other’s hair, and laugh about everything the films get wrong. Would that count as being 'devoted to you’ and 'making you happy?’”

“I…” Alya smiled. “I think it would. And seeing as how literally no other cultist I’ve ever heard of would have come up with that–seriously, most of those guys love Latin chants, except they don’t know Latin so they just recite random phrases and usually wind up chanting that their togas got caught in their chariots or something–I think it’s safe to say you are officially a much better high priestess than all those other guys.”

She gave Juleka a hug, which the goth returned. And then she flopped down on her bed while Juleka got the movie set up. And as Juleka did so, she saw a contented look on Alya’s face and grinned.

It was nice to be someone’s friend. Especially a very unusual someone, such as a certain Alya Cesaire.

Chapter 3

Life as the high priestess of the Cult of Alya Cesaire, thought Juleka, was pretty similar to her life before taking on that role. She still went to school, did her homework, played music with Kitty Section, dated Rose, and helped Marinette’s various doomed attempts to win the heart of one Adrien Agreste. But now she was hanging out more with Alya too, and those hang-outs could be… interesting.

This was the case when, a few weeks after becoming high priestess, Juleka noticed that Alya was looking sluggish in school. She caught up with the girl at recess and asked, “What’s wrong? Can you, uh, get sick?”

“Not with human diseases, but there’s some demon ones that are a real bitch.” Alya wrinkled her nose, then sneezed into a tissue with an annoyed grunt. “Ugh.”

“Why don’t you go home?” Juleka asked. “I mean, your 'parents’ are just supposed to be looking after you for your bosses, right? They can’t actually ground you?" 

"They actually can. To 'maintain the cover,’” Alya smiled ruefully. “Wouldn’t look very realistic if I was just going around doing anything I wanted and they ignored it. I mean, I know Chloe’s dad does, but that’s because he’s a total idiot–it still doesn’t look right. But that’s not why I’m staying here.” She gestured at her bookbag, which Juleka saw had a thick notebook sticking out of it. “Today’s the study review session in Mendeleiev’s class, remember? And the test is next week. I can’t miss that.”

Juleka raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah!” Alya sneezed again. “I mean, this is a long-term cover. I won’t be able to tempt people if I fail out of school and wind up living in an alley behind Marinette’s family’s bakery!”

Juleka gave Alya a long look.

“…and I like this stuff,” Alya admitted. “We don’t really have 'schools’ like this in Hell, just lessons on specific things like tempting people. It's… interesting being in this kind of place.” She gestured at the school around them. “I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Hmm.” Juleka tilted her head, then came to her decision. “Okay. As your high priestess, I’m making an executive decision and sending you home.”

Alya blinked. “I… I don’t think that’s how–”

“I’m supposed to look after you,” said Juleka. “So I’m ordering you to go home. I’ll take detailed notes at the study session and run them over to you once school’s out.”

Now Alya looked stunned. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course–ack!” Juleka winced as Alya wrapped her in a tight hug. She was confused for a moment–taking notes for others was pretty common, after all–before remembering that Alya was new up here. She wondered if maybe demons didn’t have 'friends’ in Hell, and that was why Alya kept being surprised and overwhelmed whenever Juleka behaved decently towards her. (And now that Juleka thought about it, she could recall Marinette having said similar things about how happy Alya seemed to get over the slightest kindnesses.) “No problem.”

“Thanks.” Alya broke the hug and began to run off. “I’ll be at home then. See you later!”

###

Juleka took copious notes, paying even more attention than she would have if she were only focusing on her own learning, and after school she headed out for Alya’s house. Before she got there, though, she was stopped by Rose. “Juleka!” chirped the short blonde, giving her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. “Are you doing anything?I got tickets to the new fashion show down on the Champs Elysses and I was wondering if you wanted to go?”

“Wish I could,” said Juleka, taking a moment to hug her girlfriend and lose herself in the girl’s sweet perfume and sweeter personality. “But I’ve got a thing with Alya; she’s sick and I’m bringing her notes to study for next week’s test. Maybe tomorrow?”

“She is?” Rose gasped. “That’s awful. But it’s really nice of you to go help her study. You’re amazing, Juleka.” She gave Juleka another hug. “Tomorrow is fine. See you then!”

Rose ran off and Juleka headed over to the Cesaire house to see her friend. When she knocked on the door, though, it was Nora who opened it. “You,” she grunted. “Right, Alya told me. Come in.”

Juleka let the older demon usher her inside and then tried to go to Alya’s room, but Nora blocked her. “Wait,” Nora said. “My little sis is sick. You’re her high priestess. So here.” She thrust an ancient-looking book into Juleka’s arms, and when Juleka opened it to see tiny, spidery writing, the book let out what sounded like a pained moan. “Use this.”

“…how?” Juleka asked.

Nora glared at her, then flipped the book to a certain chapter. “A spell for healing sick demons,” she said. “Now that you’re her high priestess, only you can cast it on her. So do it. Or else I’ll eat your soul.” She stuck out her tongue, and it briefly flashed back to being forked and scaly before Nora restored her own glamour. “Got it?”

Juleka glanced down at the ingredients for the spell and almost gagged. The first three were goat’s blood, the heart of a lamb whose wool was pure-white, and the frayed end of a hangman’s noose; the rest were similarly baroque. “Got it,” she managed. “Make Alya feel better, check.”

“Good.” Nora finally let Juleka go. “And remember, Juleka: her welfare is your responsibility. If you screw up and my sister gets hurt, or banished, or something worse, I’m taking it out on you.” She clenched a fist and a ball of fire appeared above it. “Just so we understand each other. Now: get out of my way.” She stormed off, presumably–Juleka guessed–to go capture another soul from someone she knew as a boxer. Juleka watched her go and took a breath, then headed into Alya’s room.

“Hey!” Alya was lying on her bed in her demonic form, which now looked a bit blotchy and mottled. The base of Alya’s wings in particular were covered with some kind of splotchy growth, and as Juleka watched Alya tried to scratch them but couldn’t quite reach. “You okay? I mentioned you were coming over and Nora freaked out.”

“I’m fine,” said Juleka as she set down her bag. “Nora just told me to make you feel better. Apparently I’m supposed to… let me see…” She looked at the book. “Sprinkle you with goat’s blood, then puree the prepared heart of a lamb and have you drink it…” She flashed a wry smile. “Do you like your lamb heart prepared any particular way, o mighty demon?”

Alya groaned theatrically. “Agh! Nora’s cures for things are worse than the diseases. Please don’t do any of the goat’s blood or lamb’s heart stuff.” The two laughed. Then Alya reached at her back again but still couldn’t reach the splotches at the bases of her wings. “Stupid demon-rot…”

Juleka paused, then went over to the bed. “Here. Let me get that.” She sat down and began to gently scratch the splotches.

“You don’t need to… oh. Oh, yeah, right there.” Alya let out a sigh of contentment as Juleka massaged the inflamed and splotchy patches of skin on her back. “Oh, you’re awesome.”

Juleka smiled slightly as she continued to work on Alya’s back, as well as a couple of blotchy spots near the base of her horns too. The demon made contented noises, almost purrs, and her tail began to thump on the bed and against Juleka’s legs. “That better?” Juleka asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. You’re the best high priestess ever,” sighed Alya. “Way better than that stupid toady Asmodeus got that he never shuts up about.”

Juleka massaged Alya for about fifteen minutes until Alya declared she was feeling a lot better and needed to get to studying. Then they got the books out and began going over Juleka’s notes, with Juleka still giving Alya an occasional scratch or massage on one of her sore spots. 

“Best high priestess ever,” Alya repeated quietly, and Juleka couldn’t help but grin.

###

The next day, Juleka got a text from Alya that she was feeling much better. “I’m practicing with Kitty Section before the fashion show,” Juleka wrote back. “You can come by if you want.”

But by the time Alya had gotten there, practice had been canceled and Juleka was consoling a sobbing Rose. “It’s awful!” Rose was saying. “I can’t believe it happened again!”

“What’s wrong?” said Alya, now wrapped in her human guise, as she climbed onto the Liberty.

“That XY jerk stole our music again.” Juleka growled something inarticulate and hugged Rose more tightly. “And Bob Roth threatened to sue us for slander if we protest.”

“You should tell people anyways,” said Alya at once. “We’ll show him.”

Juleka shook her head. “The last time this happened, Luka got akumatized when he found out. We can’t risk that happening again.” She looked down. “We’ll figure something out, Rose. We can write another song.”

“Maybe…”

Alya hesitated, and then a faint smile crossed her face while Rose’s head was buried in Juleka’s arms. Juleka saw the smile and gave Alya a querying look, but Alya just waved it off. “Well, let me know if you want to go public; I’ll talk about it on the Ladyblog if you do,” she said. “Anyways, I just came by to say I couldn’t hang around for practice after all. Maybe next time. Later!” And she hurried off.

Juleka didn’t think too much about it until an hour later when, as she sat in her cabin with Rose on her lap while they ate ice cream and tried to think of a new song, Luka came in. “Hey, you guys hear? Something’s going down at Bob Roth’s studios.”

The two girls looked at each other and then Juleka opened up her laptop to see a news report. “Fire at a major studio!” Nadja Chamack was saying while Roth’s building burned behind her. “Preliminary reports are that a fire somehow ignited in the server room and destroyed most of the master recordings, including a new piece of music scheduled to debut later today. The fire then spread through the building–oh, Mr. Roth!” Bob Roth and XY had just burst out of the building as firemen ran into it. “Do you have any–”

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” XY was screaming. “THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!”

“Monsters!” Roth gasped. “A monster set everything on fire! Aaah!” And the two ran away.

Chamack blinked, then shrugged. “So to recap: a fire at a record studio appears to have driven famous pop musician XY and his manager Bob Roth into temporary states of insanity, as well as destroyed their new release. We’ll keep you informed. Now back to the station.”

“Hey,” said Rose as Nadja’s feed cut off. “If their recording was destroyed–that means they don’t have our music anymore! We can still release it and Roth can’t claim it was his first!”

Juleka smiled to herself. She had a pretty good idea of which 'monster’ had started that fire. “Yeah,” she said. “We can.”

Later, when Juleka was biking home, she happened to come across Alya and braked to stop near her. “Thanks,” she said.

Alya put on an innocent expression. “Who, me?” she said sweetly. “But I would never burn down a record studio! I’m very innocent and gentle.”

Juleka laughed at that, and after a moment Alya followed suit. “Hey, just like you look after me, I’m supposed to look after you,” Alya said. “I’d lose all my cred if I let someone mess with my high priestess. You guys practicing tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I’ll be there. Unless Roth tries again.” Alya winked, and Juleka grinned at her once more before biking off.

###

Two days later, Juleka helped Alya capture a soul for the first time.

“Our target is Aurore Beaureal, the wannabe weather girl,” Alya said. Juleka was with her in her bedroom, and Alya was in her natural demon form. Juleka smiled as she Alya’s tail lashing around eagerly while Alya spread out a map over her bed. “She’s a prime target for soul-capturing.”

“She is?” Juleka asked. “Why?”

“Because she wanted to be the weather girl but Mireille bribed the guy running the contest to pick her instead,” Alya said. “All I have to do is tell her and she’ll be so angry she’ll make a deal with me to get revenge–and then I’ll get her soul.”

Juleka shook her head. “Wait, back up. Mireille bribed Cataldi?”

“Of course she did. What, did you think a half million people really voted in a competition for a local news show to pick a weather reporter?” Alya shook her head. “One of my demon powers is… I guess you could call it a 'sin’ sense. I can tell when people are doing corrupt or evil things, and when I saw Mireille that day she was practically glowing red to my eyes. So I knew she’d done something really bad, and after that I made a few guesses as to what it might be, then snuck into Alec Cataldi’s room and recorded him telling one of his goons how he was going on a shopping spree because Mireille had bribed him with so much money.”

It took a moment for Juleka to consider that fully. She didn’t know much about Mireille, although she had indeed found it odd that the weather girl had won the competition by so many votes. “Shouldn’t we be going after Mireille then?”

“I tried.” Alya frowned. “But her soul is… guarded, somehow. I can’t touch it. That usually means she’s pledged herself to another demon. Well, either that or an angel, but if she were with the angels she would have had to admit to what she did to Aurore and she hasn’t done that. So she has a different demon patron, probably the demon that’s preparing to go after Hawkmoth, and I don’t want to mess with that. We’ll take Aurore instead.”

“Why now?” Juleka asked.

“Because Mireille’s contract with the studio is almost up. If she wants to renew it she’ll need to win the next competition, which means she’ll be cheating Aurore out of it again.” Alya rubbed her hands together. “I just need to tell Aurore what’s going on and she’ll be putty in my hands.”

“Oh.” Juleka hesitated. “I’m, um, not really comfortable taking someone’s soul just because they’re mad about being cheated in a competition. I mean, those cultists were one thing because they tried to kill me, but…”

Alya waved a hand. “I’ll get her to agree to some really awful revenge on Mireille. Something damnation-worthy. I’ll make it work.”

Juleka wasn’t fully convinced, and she thought she heard something catching in Alya’s voice. The demon didn’t seem entirely comfortable with this either, and Juleka wondered if Alya was doing this more because she her superiors demanded damnation for even 'minor’ sins like Aurore’s anger, as opposed to Alya being truly convinced Aurore deserved it. “Are you sure?” Juleka asked gently.

“Sure I’m sure! Now come on!” Alya snapped her fingers to summon her glamour. “Aurore posted on her blog that she’ll be visiting the studio today to submit paperwork, and there’s all kinds of back hallways in that place. We’ll just catch her in one of them and get it done.”

She hurried out, and Juleka followed, though with clear unease on her face.

###

Juleka raised an eyebrow as Alya put on a hooded robe after sneaking them into the back hallways of the television studio. “In case she says no, I need to keep my cover,” Alya explained. “Besides, this makes me look more credible.”

“It really doesn’t,” Juleka said.

Alya stuck out her tongue. “Well, maybe not to you, but trust me–when you try to get someone to sell your soul, you can’t do it in jeans and a T-shirt. You need to look the part. Here.” She shoved a robe at Juleka. “I brought you one too.”

Juleka glanced at it, then pointedly dropped it. “What am I supposed to be doing here, anyways?”

“Right now, watch and learn. Eventually I might have you help me with temptations, but for the moment, I just want you to see how awesome I am.” Alya chuckled from beneath her hooded robe. “And–wait, those are her footsteps. Hide!” She pushed Juleka behind a stack of crates and then moved into a shadowy part of the hallway.

Soon enough a disgruntled-looking Aurore came up. “Why won’t they take my papers?” she growled as she glanced over an office map. “Last time was bad enough, but this time it’s like they don’t want me here!”

“They don’t,” intoned Alya in a low voice.

Aurore jumped and then swiveled to point her parasol in the general direction of Alya’s shadows. “Who was that?” she demanded. “I’m–I have an umbrella and I know how to use it!”

Juleka had to work to stifle her giggle.

Alya slipped out of the shadows, and as Juleka watched, Alya’s robe shuddered in an almost inhuman way. Juleka made a note to ask her how she did that. Then Alya spoke again, “I think you know they don’t want you here. Mireille bribed the host last year, and she did it again this year. Your application to compete won’t even be accepted. They’ll have Mireille run against a fake candidate who already agreed to take a dive, and thus she’ll win for sure.” Alya shook her head. “Such a shame.”

Aurore flushed. “Why should I believe you? You’re just a creepy person in a scary robe!”

“Am I?” Alya held up a phone, her hand briefly shifting into its natural state–red, with talon-like fingers–before blinking back to its human form again. Aurore boggled but didn’t flee–Juleka figured Aurore was trying to tell herself she was just seeing things–and then Alya hit a playback button on the phone. 

“…going to be eating steaks and sushi for a month!” Alec’s voice said. “That Caquet girl paid me so much I can really take it easy for a while!” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll finally get that sports jacket… nah, I’ll wait until Caquet wants to win something else and comes knocking again. Say what you like about her, she’s loaded!”

Aurore flushed a bright crimson. “I knew it. I knew that jerk cheated!” Her fist clenched, and she dropped the papers she’d been carrying. “I worked harder, I was better, I deserved to win! Just because she has money–agh!” She slammed her fist into the wall.

“It’s so unfair,” Alya agreed. “But I could help you get revenge.” She lowered her hood just enough to reveal her horns and red skin. Aurore gasped, but Alya said, “What? In a world with miraculouses and akumas, are you so surprised there are other powers out there?” She waited for Aurore to jerkily shake her head. “So, Aurore. Would you like my help?”

“And what do you want in exchange?” managed Aurore. 

“I think you know.” Alya moved closer to Aurore. “Your soul. But in exchange… revenge on Mireille, perhaps Alec too, the job as weather girl, and so much more.” She spread her hands. “Well?”

Aurore hesitated, and Juleka could tell she was really tempted. But then she shook her head. “No,” she said twice, first hesitantly, then more strongly. “I don’t–just forget it. No way. I’m not the kind of person who would do something like that.”

She turned, but Alya quickly moved around her to face her again. “Not so fast,” she said in a charming tone. “You don’t want to give up your soul; I get it. We can work something else out. In fact… I might be able to lend you a little magic help to get your revenge, just so you can see what I"m offering. No other charge.”

Juleka frowned, but then remembered that Alya had told her there were at least two ways for her to take a soul: either to get someone to explicitly make a deal with her in which they gave it to her, or to convince someone to do something evil enough that Alya could just take the soul without a deal. The first tactic had failed, so now Alya would be trying to get Aurore to agree to some really bad sin and thus allow Alya to get the soul that way.

“Magic?” repeated Aurore.

“Sure.” Alya leaned close. “For instance, if I gave you a certain power you could…” and her speech trailed off as she whispered something, presumably advice on how to use magic to do something really evil, into Aurore’s ear.

But rather than agree, Aurore stiffened and then shoved Alya back. “What? No way. I’d never do that, not even for revenge. I told you, I’m not that kind of person.” She scowled. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“But–” Alya began.

“Why am I even talking to you? Get out of here before I call Ladybug.” Aurore backed away. “And–”

Then Alya’s phone went off.

Aurore and Alya both stared down at Alya’s pocket, and Juleka winced–Alya had a distinctive ringtone, a theme song from one of those shows following investigative reporters, and everyone knew it because her phone sometimes went off when she was filming Ladyblog stuff. “Uh,” said Alya. “Hang on–”

“Alya?” asked Aurore. “Is that you?”

“No!” Alya insisted as she reached for her phone, but Aurore was faster and swept out her umbrella to fully knock down the demon’s hood. That revealed her head, which–though red and with horns–was still noticeably that of Alya Cesaire. “Alya?” breathed Aurore. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not Alya!” yelped the reporter. “You can’t prove–”

Aurore turned, said, “Stay away from me!” and began to run for the exit.

As soon as she had turned a corner Alya slammed her head against a wall. “Stupid stupid stupid!” she hissed. “I completely botched that!”

“Yeah,” Juleka noted. “You did.”

Alya shot her a mock glare, but it quickly dissolved into fear. “If she tells people I’ll have to move and change identities, assuming I don’t get recalled to Hell and punished, and without her soul I can’t influence her to–”

“Wait.” Juleka thought quickly. “I might be able to set her up so you can take her soul. But then you have to do me a favor.”

Alya blinked. “Sure, anything, but how can you–”

“No time.” Juleka grabbed the office map Aurore had dropped. “Just follow me at a distance. And 'watch and learn.’” She shot a faint smile at Alya, then took off at a run.

Aurore had a head start but no longer had a map, which meant Juleka was able to catch up to the lost girl before Aurore could find her way back into the inhabited parts of the station. She reached the blond’s position just before Aurore would have passed through an exit door, then grabbed a random object���a little ball that someone, probably Manon Chamack, had left lying around–and gently tossed it at Aurore’s head before ducking into an open office.

“Huh?” gasped Aurore as the ball bounced off her. She spun around. “What was that?”

“You are Rain Delay,” called Juleka in her lowest, most imposing voice, “And this is Hawkmoth. I–”

“Oh, come on!” complained Aurore. “What, are all the bad guys trying to tempt me today?”

Juleka smiled. Aurore had been akumatized, but seeing as how it was hard to remember what happened once Hawkmoth touched someone, that didn’t mean she knew what it was supposed to feel like. For all Aurore knew it was a simple 'butterfly bumps into you and turns you evil’ thing. Meaning she’d have no way of knowing Juleka was faking. “Tempt you?” she said. “Oh, no no no. I’m helping you get revenge. No need to thank me, just get me the jewelry, yadda yadda.”

“I’m not–”

“Yes you are,” said Juleka. “You already want to. Your anger is growing. Nobody can resist me.”

Aurore hesitated, and Juleka smiled; she’d figured Aurore correctly. Aurore hadn’t refused Alya’s offers because she was opposed to taking revenge; rather, she just didn’t want to feel like she was the kind of bad person who would agree to a demonic bargain in order to get said revenge. But everyone knew that nobody could resist Hawkmoth, which meant that it wasn’t anyone’s fault for getting akumatized. So all she had to do was convince Aurore that Hawkmoth was making her do something bad, and Aurore–now believing that anything evil she did wasn’t really her fault but just was Hawkmoth’s influence–would go along with it. 

And Aurore finally said, “…yes,” in a tight, angry voice as a cruel smile crawled across her face. “Give me power and I’ll destroy Mireille. I’ll bury her in a storm, I’ll drown her, and Alec, and–”

And then Alya slipped out of the shadows behind Aurore and easily pulled her soul out of her chest.

Aurore flinched and shuddered, then turned–and gaped at Alya holding a ball of blueish-gold light about the size of a billiard ball. “What–”

“Your soul,” said Alya by way of explanation. “Mine now.” She glanced in Juleka’s direction. “Well done, high priestess. Your help was useful.”

“Help?” said Juleka in a joking tone. She came out of the shadows–Alya had Aurore’s soul, so she could ensure Aurore didn’t tell anyone about her identity–and frowned. “Is that what we’re calling 'doing the whole thing?’”

Aurore reached for her soul, but her hand passed through it without making contact. “Give that back!” she insisted.

“Nope. Mine now.” Alya beamed. “I’ll be taking this Down Below and–”

“You can’t!” insisted Aurore. “That wasn’t fair! I’m sorry!”

Alya hesitated and Juleka saw real conflict on her face. The goth coughed. “Hey, Alya, remember that favor you said you’d owe me if I got you her soul?”

“Yeah?”

Aurore turned. “Wait, Juleka Couffaine, right?” she asked. “Why are you helping her do this?!”

“She’s my high priestess,” said Alya.

“She what?!” Aurore sputtered. “You can’t have a high priestess! You’re a demon! You–”

“Aurore,” said Juleka at once. “Hold on a minute. I need to say something to Alya.”

The blond scowled at her but stopped talking, and Juleka turned back to Alya. “My favor is: don’t take her soul down to Hell.”

Alya blinked. “But that’s the only reason I got it. To make my quota.”

“We can look for someone else to fill your quota, a real bad guy. I’ll help you. But don’t take hers down there.” Juleka paused. “She doesn’t deserve it, Alya. You know that.”

“Well… I mean, my bosses–”

“Your bosses want you to take every soul that just barely steps over the line,” Juleka guessed. “Because they’re jerks. But I don’t think you want to do that. Getting rid of really bad people so they can’t hurt others, or work with Hawkmoth, or do things like that is one thing. Aurore’s not like that." 

The two locked gazes for a moment before Alya said, "…maybe… I mean…”

“No maybe about it,” said Juleka. “You know damning her isn’t the right thing to do. Besdies, I’m your high priestess and we made a deal: I’d get you her soul so she couldn’t tell the world that Alya Cesaire is actually a demon temptress running around Paris, and in exchange you’d do something for me. Well, what I want you to do is not damn her.”

Aurore blinked. “Um–”

“But–but then what do I do with her soul?” Alya asked. “I can’t give it back or she’ll be able to talk to people about me!”

“Can’t you just keep it around?” Juleka asked. “In, I don’t know, a desk drawer or something?”

“Hey!” Aurore said. “I–”

“–were going to willingly ally with Hawkmoth,” said Juleka in a deadpan tone. “If you’d been successful you would have stolen the miraculouses and possibly helped Hawkmoth conquer the world. You’re getting off easy, Aurore.”

Aurore blushed a bright red, but then bowed her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just–I worked so hard on the weather competition, and learning that Mireille cheated… but alright, I know I should have tried harder to resist 'Hawkmoth.’ Still, I don’t want Alya to mess with my soul!”

Juleka turned back to Alya. “As long as you don’t try to rewrite her personality, will you having her soul effect her?”

“No. I mean, there might be a few odd issues now and then, but nothing big. I do need to make her loyal so she doesn’t tell–”

Juleka swiveled again. “Aurore, if you tell anyone about Alya or me, she’ll have to move and change identities, and then you won’t be able to get your soul back from her because you won’t be able to find her. So you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

The blond quickly shook her head. 

“Great.” Juleka smiled at both of them. “Then there’s no need for Alya to 'mess with’ Aurore’s soul, about loyalty or anything else. Alya can just hang on to it until… I don’t know… Aurore demonstrates she’s not the type of person to work with Hawkmoth anymore, no matter how mad she gets.” She nodded. I’m glad we worked this out.“

Alya and Aurore both seemed like they wanted to argue, but neither could come up with anything. And that was that.

###

"This is weird,” Aurore said.

They had returned to Alya’s house and Alya had put Aurore’s soul on her dresser, where it lit up the immediate area with a gentle blue and yellow light. Aurore had tried to take it back, or at least poke it, but her hand just passed through it; Alya had explained that only those whom she allowed to touch it could do so now that it was hers. “This is so weird,” Aurore said. “I mean, I’m happy I’m not getting damned, but…”

“Alya will take good care of your soul,” Juleka promised. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll polish it every week, maybe take it for walks on Fridays.” Alya playfully stuck out her tongue. “And hey, if you want to check in on it maybe you can come over now and then.” When Nora is away, Juleka thought. “We could have you over for girl’s night. Ooh, you could even join my cult.”

Alya brightened. “Yeah! We need more members.”

“…cult?” asked Aurore. “What, like chanting?”

“It’s mostly watching anime, eating ice cream, and telling dumb jokes,” said Juleka. Alya tossed a pillow at her, and she easily dodged it. “But if you really want to chant I can pencil that in somewhere.”

Aurore actually laughed a little at that. “No, that’s okay.” She paused. “Um, does the whole stealing-my-soul thing being… allowed to happen, I guess… mean I’m a really bad person?”

“It means you did a really bad thing,” said Alya. “I wouldn’t be able to take your soul otherwise.”

“But,” Juleka went on, “It doesn’t mean you’re irrevocably bad. That’s just for people who actually do get sent Down Below. You can get better. We’ll help.” She smiled gently. “And also have some fun. For instance: the meeting of the Cult of Alya Cesaire is this Saturday at noon. We’re going to be 'worshipping’ Alya by watching Lord of the Rings–which she somehow hasn’t seen–”

“They don’t have human movies in Hell!” protested Alya. “At least none of the good ones!”

Aurore and Juleka both laughed at that, and then Juleka went on. “We will also be snacking on stuff from the Dupain-Cheng bakery and talking about what to get Principal Damocles for his birthday. And maybe we can fit in some, I don’t know, moral instruction or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Aurore nodded. “I… I guess I’ll see you two then.” And she left.

Alya left out a breath and sagged down on her bed. “Ugh. That was a trainwreck,” she muttered. “I need to get better at tempting.”

“Fortunately, you have your expert high priestess to help,” joked Juleka.

Alya smiled at that. Then she said, “And… thanks. For coming up with the idea of what to do with Aurore. I think–I think you were right. Damning her would have been the wrong move.”

“Of course I"m right.” Juleka sat next to Alya, who leaned on her shoulder. “Happy to help.”

“Yeah… but I still need to get another soul by the end of the week.” Alya pursed her lips. “I–”

Juleka’s phone beeped with an alert. She looked down at it. “Hey, some nutjobs are trying to rob a bank,” she said. “And they’ve taken hostages that they’re threatening to shoot. If you hurry I’ll bet you can get their before Ladybug, steal a few souls from the robbers, and make your quota that way.”

Alya brightened. “Yeah, that’s perfect!” She jumped to her cloven feet. “Thanks again, Juleka! You’re great.”

“I know,” said Juleka as Alya ran out. Then she chuckled and lay back in the bed. Becoming a counselor and spiritual advisor to a demon–and, apparently, at least one newly-soulless girl who needed a little anger management–wasn’t really where she’d seen herself going when the year had begun.

But that didn’t make it not fun.

Chapter 4

It was about one month after Juleka had learned Alya’s secret when things began getting hectic again.

“You know what I think?” Rose asked as she lay on Juleka’s lap, staring at the sky while they finished their lunches. “I think we should do something special tomorrow. We should go to Andre’s ice cream cart, get our favorite flavors, and then ride in one of those boats that goes up and down the Seine.”

“Sounds fun,” said Juleka. She gently stroked Rose’s hair, and the girl grinned and wriggled deeper into Juleka’s lap. “Is tomorrow a special occasion?”

“The most special of all!” said Rose. “Tomorrow is our six-and-a-half month anniversary!" 

Juleka chuckled. "Ah. How could I forget. The most important day in any loving relationship–”

“Don’t make fun of love,” said Rose. “It’s amazing. Like, I love you, so when I look at you my heart starts racing and I feel like the most fortunate girl in the world.” Juleka blushed at that. “And I’m sure you feel the same way, 'cause you’re also in love!”

“Sounds about right,” said Juleka. “Although, at the moment, I’d kind of love to get back to class before Mendeleiev gives us detention…”

Rose checked her watch and made a soft 'eep’ sound. “You’re right!” she said as she scrambled upright. “But let’s cuddle more later. It’s fun.” She grinned at Juleka before rushing back to the school, with Juleka following at a slightly more sedate pace.

Juleka had gotten inside and was heading towards the classroom when she saw Alya approaching. “I think Marinette’s in that room there,” Nino was calling to her from around a corner. “I heard her say Lila wanted to talk to her about something.”

“Thanks!” Alya called back. Then she looked at Juleka. “Hey. Got any plans for this afternoon?”

“Cuddling with Rose,” said Juleka. “And after that… I dunno. We can do something or–”

A yelping noise sounded from the closed room. Jueka and Alya glanced at each other, then quickly looked through a crack in the door. Juleka’s eyes widened as she saw Lila pulling her hand away from Marinette; the hand looked bruised and Marinette was giving LIla an astonished look. “That’s all you’ve got? Poking me in the chest? Whatever. I’m done with you." 

Marinette stalked towards the other door. As soon as she left, Lila’s scowl deepened, and then–

Then her body flashed and took on an appearance similar to that of Alya’s.

They weren’t exactly the same. Lila’s horns, wings, and tail were all larger than Alya’s, and her skin was a deeper red. She also had some tattoos which writhed a little on her body. But they were clearly the same species, and Juleka couldn’t stop herself from gasping. 

"No!” hissed Alya as she covered Juleka’s mouth.

But it was too late. Lila glanced at the door, then waved one claw-like hand at it and whispered something in Latin, and then Juleka felt herself being dragged through the door by an unseen force. Alya was dragged in besides her, and the two were thrown to the ground in front of LIla.

“So,” said Lila. “I guess you two will be my next acquisitions.” She waved a hand and the door shut behind them. “Don’t worry, though. I’m not too hard of a taskmaster. Your souls will be safe and–”

“Hang on!” said Alya as she forced herself to her feet. Her body shimmered and then she was in her natural demonic form too. Juleka scrambled up afterwards. “Our souls aren’t up for grabs. I’m gathering souls for the bosses, same as you. And, uh, Juleka’s the high priestess of my cult.”

Lila blinked and then stared at Juleka. “You. The high priestess. That’s insane. She can’t possibly do the job.”

“I get that a lot,” Juleka drawled. “But it turns out I’m really good at chanting.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Har har. If your demon shows up at midnight half-dead from fighting a paladin, can you rush out and sacrifice a vestal virgin to restore her strength?”

“No,” said Juleka, “but I can watch anime with her on the weekends. It makes her happy, and it comes up a lot more than the vestal virgin thing.”

Lila boggled, and then Alya stepped between them. “But seriously, I had no idea,” she told Lila. “I mean, you’re always doing charity work with these famous celebrities from all over the world and…” She trailed off for a moment. “…and now that I know who you are, I can see those stories are totally ridiculous and you’ve probably been using demonic magic to make everyone believe them.”

“Exactly. And even if Dupain-Cheng is still too 'pure’ right now for it to work on her, everyone else believes me. It’s the perfect cover.” Lila beamed. “And I’ll get Marinette eventually.”

“Hang on,” said Alya quickly. “That’s–that’s not a good idea. I mean, you just tried to get Marinette’s soul and you failed, right? That girl is damn-near incorruptible. No way would she ever do anything bad enough to be vulnerable to one of us. You’re better off looking elsewhere.”

Juleka gave Alya a querying look. The girl sounded nervous. Evidently Lila picked up at it too, because she leaned back on her cloven hooves, then grinned. “Oh, I get it! You’re actually friends with that little pink rodent!”

Alya scowled. “Marinette is… nice,” she said at last. “We’re allowed to have friends.”

“No, we’re allowed to fake being friends so we can get their souls.” Lila snorted. “As if humans were worthy of friendship. Bunch of self-righteous morons who’ve never really been tested and think they’re better than us. Put any of them with a decent tempter for thirty seconds and they’d sell their souls, their lovers, and their children to satisfy some sick desire. I might be here for Hawkmoth and Mayura, but along the way I’ll get Marinette, Alya. I’ll get anyone I want.”

“Marinette,” said Alya in a slow voice, “Is off limits. So are all my friends in class. Come on, Lila, Paris has millions of people. You can go after any of them.”

“Sure. I could. But I think I’ll go after Marinette and her friends instead.” Lila grinned. “Marinette annoys me. She acts like she’s virtuous, and she’s so… smugly casual about it. Like she doesn’t even have to try at it. Like anyone could be that nice if they wanted.” She shuddered. “Filthy human. And I don’t think she’ll be hard to get at all, Alya. See, first I’ll get the souls of her friends and make them act incredibly cruel to her. Then, when she’s hurt and broken, I’ll corrupt her and take her soul too. Hmm, maybe when I finish here and get back down to Hell I can have her as a personal thrall to trim my hooves and everything.”

Alya opened her mouth, but then Lila began talking again. “Besides, I have my own career to look out for, don’t I? Right now I know of two demons in Paris: you and me. If anything big happens, we’ll share credit, and half-credit’s just not enough for me. But if one of those demons should, say, lose her cover–because all of her friends start telling people she’s a demon, working to expose her, maybe even going crazy and drawing attention to her–she’ll have to leave. Then I’ll be alone, and when I capture Hawkmoth’s and Mayura’s souls–not to mention Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s, of course–I’ll be promoted for sure. I might even become an archfiend and have a whole legion of lesser demons under my command." 

Juleka stared at Lila as the demon grinned. "Sorry, Alya,” Lila went on. “But that’s how the game is played. If you don’t like the thought of me stealing all your 'friends” souls in front of you and using them to force you out in disgrace, you can leave now, quietly, with your dignity and reputation intact. I’ll be sure to keep you apprised on how my work in corrupting Marinette is going.“ She chuckled, then walked past Alya towards the door. "See you around, partner,” she called, then summoned her human guise around herself and left.

When the other demon was gone, Juleka shut the door and turned to Alya, who was starting to panic. “No no no!” Alya hissed. “This can’t be happening! This isn’t fair! I don’t want Lila to touch them!”

“Can you call your bosses?” Juleka asked.

Alya snorted. “They’ll tell me if I"m not strong enough to fight off Lila I deserve to lose everything to her. Damn it! We have to do something, but her magic felt really strong. I don’t know if I can fight it.”

“I could worship you more,” offered Juleka. 

“One or two worshippers won’t be enough, and even if you post an ad on Craigslist or something and get more recruits we don’t’ have time. Lila will already started corrupting the class more aggressively.” Alya clutched her head. “This is awful.”

Juleka thought for a few moments. “But we do have time, at least a little. Lila just tried to get Marinette’s soul and couldn’t, and in fact, her hand looked pretty messed up from the attempt. Do you know what that means?”

“That something’s blocking her, I’d guess.” Alya shrugged. “Marinette might have angelic backing; she’s pure enough it wouldn’t surprise me… although if she did they would probably have warned her about me by now. Or maybe some other semi-divine force is protecting her, though I have no idea what.”

“Still,” said Juleka. “We just saw she can’t get Marinette’s soul.”

Alya shook her head. “She can’t directly, not yet, but her plan’s a good one. Marinette loves her friends. If Lila gets their souls and warps them so the class is horrible to Marinette, then Marinette could break and become vulnerable.”

“Hmm.” Juleka thought back, and then an idea hit her. “You said you couldn’t get Mireille’s soul because someone already had it.”

“Right.”

“So why don’t we try to get the class’s souls before Lila does? If you have them locked up then Lila can’t loot them.” Juleka tensed as she spoke. She had no idea how she’d go about getting Rose’s soul in particular without it seeming like a betrayal. But if that was the only way to keep her girlfriend safe from Lila, Juleka would do it. 

Alya blinked. “That… that just might work!” she beamed. “Juleka, you’re brilliant!” And she hugged the goth.

“Thanks,” managed Juleka. “I–”

“There’s no time to lose,” said Alya. “We’ll start today. Operation: protect the class from Lila by stealing all their souls first is a go!”

Chapter 5

“Let’s deal with Alix first.”

Juleka leaned against the wall and looked at Alya, who was putting together a corkboard with photos of their classmates. Alya drew a red circle around Alix and then put a ’#1’ next to it. “She’ll be one of the easiest,” Alya went on. “She’s so hot-headed. All we have to do is challenge her to a dare and get her to bet her soul on it, then win!”

“Winning might be tough,” Juleka noted. “Alix is pretty competitive.”

“Fortunately, being a demon, I’m allowed to cheat.” Alya winked. “And that’s what you’re for. You’ll help me rig things so that I can’t help but win. Then her soul will be mine!” She grinned and summoned a small ball of Hellfire, which she began to toss up and down in one hand. “And then I–”

The Hellfire slammed into the ceiling light and blew it out, shrouding both of them in darkness–except for the light emanating from Aurore’s soul, which was quietly glowing on a shelf. Alya shrugged, then picked up the soul and began using it as a flashlight to see the corkboard. Juleka snorted. “I don’t think you’re supposed to use souls like that.”

Alya waved this off. “Now let’s see… ah. I’ve got the perfect way we can trap Alix in a bet she can’t win.”

###

“A race around the city?” Alix’s eyes gleamed. “That sounds awesome! The news station really asked you to help them plan it?”

“They know I go around the city to film Ladybug, so I guess I was the natural choice.” Juleka smiled slightly as Alya tossed her hair back, then gestured at the map she had set down on the cafe table where she had asked Alix to meet her. “I just need to get from checkpoint to checkpoint and then report back if there were any problems with the route–you know, road under construction, 'no pedestrian’ signs, zombie outbreak, things like that. I won’t even need to tell them how long it took, since the checkpoints are set up so that they’ll register when peoples’ phones get near them; that’s how they’ll make sure nobody tries to cheat by skipping a checkpoint, and that’s how they’ll record my time. So it seems really easy, right? But I was thinking, it’d be really boring to do it by myself, so… why not make it a race?” She gestured to her bike. “Me  versus you? You can use your skates, of course.”

Alix cracked her knuckles. “Sounds like a blast. But if we’re racing, we should have stakes. Winner gets the losers’ wheels?”

“Can’t do that.” Alya shook her head. “Mom will kill me if I lose my bike.”

“Hmph,” said Alix. “Well, we have to bet something, and it should be high stakes. None of this 'winner gets a cookie from Marinette’s bakery’ stuff. Something worth racing around the city for.”

“I agree, but what?” Alya glanced at Juleka. “Any ideas?”

The goth chuckled to herself, then said her lines. “I’m sure you guys’ll probably just bet ten bucks or something,” she said in a dry, slightly smug voice that she’d rehearsed with Alya. “I mean, I’ve seen weirder bets, but mostly just from some pagans I met online.”

“What kinds of bets do they make?” Alix asked.

“Well, I saw one group where they gambled blood,” lied Juleka. “Winner got a pint of blood from the loser.”

Alix wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“What? It’s high stakes betting, right?” Juleka smiled slightly. “And that wasn’t even the weirdest one. I saw one bet where the winner got the loser’s soul.”

Alix actually laughed. “Goth much, Juleka? Souls don’t exist.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem betting it,” said Alya. “That sounds fun! Winner gets the loser’s soul… and two hundred bucks.”

Alix snorted. “Soul shmoul, but I could use the money. Deal. Count of three?”

“Sure!” Alya beamed. “One, two… three!”

Alix took off at a blast, immediately turning a corner and rushing towards the first checkpoint on Alya’s map–the Eiffel Tower. Alya waited until she was out of sight, then darted into the alley behind the cafe with Juleka. “Perfect!” said Alya as she sketched out a pentagram in chalk on the ground. “Let’s go!”

“And this will still count?” Juleka asked. 

“Of course it will. Alix made the deal: whoever gets to all the checkpoints first and then returns here wins the loser’s soul. Sure, it might not be fair for me to use my demon powers to teleport, but I didn’t explicitly say I was going to use my bike to get around–I just implied it–and besides, like I said, demons get to cheat.” Alya grinned. “It’s part of our style. Now come on; Alix is fast and we’ve got to get going.”

Juleka followed her into the pentagram. “Why am I being teleported too, again?”

“Because if anything goes wrong I’ll need your help to fix things,” Alya said. “And besides, part of being my high priestess is accompanying me on my adventures and giving me support.”

Juleka blinked. “Okay. Rah rah rah, Alya is great, rah rah.”

Alya giggled. “I meant magical support, in case I need it.” She took Juleka’s hand. “Let’s go!”

And then they vanished in a flash of brimstone and sulfur.

###

For a moment, Juleka thought she had the impressions of fire–massive flames higher and hotter than had ever existed on Earth–but they didn’t seem to touch her. And a moment later she was back on the ground, having arrived with Alya in the pentagram they had secretly sketched beforehand in a small janitor’s closet next to the Eiffel Tower.

They then disappeared and reappeared several times in quick succession, all over the city, hitting each checkpoint in succession. Finally they reached the last one, landing in a dingy basement under Montparnasse Tower, and Alya grinned. “Now just to get back to the cafe and wait for her!”

But when she tried to teleport, nothing happened, and Alya frowned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “This always worked when I practiced it!”

“Maybe somebody disturbed the pentagram in the alley,” Juleka offered. “So we can’t use it to get back.”

“Agh!” Alya groaned. “Then–then we’ll have to get back the old-fashioned way. But we should still be way ahead of Alix, so–OW!”

Juleka blinked as Alya held up a small ball of Hellfire to illuminate the area, and they both winced as they saw that Alya had stepped into what looked like an animal trap. “Guess they have rats or something down here,” said Juleka as she helped Alya to pry it off.

“Stupid rats,” grunted Alya. “Ow, that really hurts…”

They got the trap off, but when Alya put her foot down she yelped and had to lift it again. “Will you be okay?” Juleka said at once. “Are you–”

“I’m fine. Demons heal fast… but not fast enough to win the race on foot.” Alya grit her teeth and leaned on Juleka. “We have to get as close to the cafe as we can before Alix catches us.’

"Then what?” Juleka asked. “You need to beat Alix, so is there any way I can slow her down while you go ahead?”

Alya nodded. “Yeah. I can… I can lend you some powers. Technically I’m supposed to demand you give me blood and swear more loyalty and so on, but whatever. I’m desperate. Here.”

She grabbed Juleka’s hand, the one that she’d cut to get Juleka into her cult, and chanted a few words in Latin. Juleka gasped as another surge of power flowed into her, this one deeper and more powerful than the first. Her hair stood on end for just a moment and she stumbled away from Alya as the surge faded. “What was that?”

“Just a couple basic powers,” Alya said. “Standard high priestess starter pack: Hellfire summoning, and a few passive spells related to magical strength, toughness, and so on. It should be pretty instinctive.”

Juleka blinked, then focused on her hand–and to her amazement, a surge of energy ran through her and a little flame appeared at her fingertips. “Woah!” she gasped. “That is so cool!”

“Yeah, yeah, demons are awesome, I get it,” said Alya. “Can we focus on the race right now?”

“Right, right. Here.” Juleka got Alya’s arm around her shoulder and began helping her limp back towards the cafe.

###

They almost made it back by the time Alya said, “Okay, Alix just hit Montparnasse. She’ll catch up to us in a couple minutes.”

“How can you–”

“I can sense when people I know go near my pentagrams.” Alya winced. “The cafe’s not that far. You just need to stall her for a couple minutes. But nothing too flashy in public, okay? If someone videotapes you summoning balls of Hellfire–”

Juleka nodded. “I know, I know. You’ll be very upset that they’ll have scooped you before you could get it on the Ladyblog.”

Alya snorted. “And, you know, you could be seen and then hunted down by angels and paladins. But other than that, yes, the blog is the most important thing.”

They got to a corner and Juleka let Alya limp on ahead towards the cafe. Then Juleka ducked into another alley and kept watch, soon seeing Alix furiously skating down the sidewalk. She thought for a moment about what she could do with her powers. Something very subtle, she thought, would probably be best. Something subtle and sneaky and…

Then she shrugged. She had Hellfire now. What was the point of that if she couldn’t have a little fun with it? 

So she focused, summoned up a big ball of Hellfire, and then–from the safety of the alley, where nobody was watching–lobbed it at a fire hydrant in Alix’s path.

The fireball blasted the hydrant to pieces, and jets of water began shooting in all directions. Alix yelped as a water blast hit her and destabilized her. She almost fell, but Juleka darted out from the alley and caught her. Before she wouldn’t have been able to do so, but Alya had given her just a taste of demonic strength and she was easily able to arrest Alix’s fall. “Careful!” she said as she helped Alix slow and then stop. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” said Alix. “Stupid hydrant just exploded!” She quickly shook herself off. “But no worries. I’ll still beat Alya back.”

Juleka stepped out of Alix’s way, but just as the skater began to take off again Juleka fired a very tiny bit of Hellfire down at her skates and melted one of the wheels. Alix tried to roll and almost tripped. “Oh, come on, what now?” she growled as she looked down.

“Looks like a piece of the hydrant may have smashed the wheel,” Juleka offered.

Alix kicked off her skates and shoved then into Juleka’s arms. “Hold these,” she said. “Don’t lose them.” And then she took off at a run.

Juleka frowned, not knowing how to further slow Alix, and began running after her. The girl was fast and even Juleka’s demonic-enhanced energy wasn’t enough to enable the goth to overtake her friend. But she was able to keep pace, just barely, and she chased after Alix as they rounded the final corner–

Just in time to see Alya stagger into the cafe and then turn. “I win!” Alya called as Alix groaned. “Hah!”

“Hmph.” Alix slowly approached Alya. “Only because a fire hydrant blew up.”

Alya glanced at Juleka, who smiled slightly. Alya returned the look with a grin of her own. “Guess you owe me.”

“Yeah, I’ll grab the money from my room and drop it off at your place. Oh yeah, and my 'soul.’” Alix chuckled. “Love to see you collect that, Cesaire.”

###

“You JERKS!”

Alya, now back in her room and in her demonic form, beamed triumphantly as she held Alix’s soul up in the air. Alix jumped for it, but she was so short she couldn’t even reach Alya’s hand. “I thought you said you wanted to see me collect it.”

“I wasn’t being literal!” Alix jumped again. If Alya’s demonic form phased her, she didn’t show it. “Juleka! Make her give it back! It's… it’s my soul!”

“Sorry.” Juleka shrugged. “I"m her high priestess. I’m on her side.” She paused. “Wow, Alix, your soul is really pink and red.”

Alya nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute." 

"My soul is not cute!” Alix wailed. “It’s rough and tough! Like me!”

“No, it’s cute.” Alya poked it, and Alix suddenly stepped back and giggled. Alya blinked. “Wait, are you ticklish?”

“Uh–no! No way!” Alix insisted.

Alya and Juleka exchanged knowing glances, and then Alya began to tickle Alix’s soul, causing the redhead to collapse in hysterical laughter. “Stop!” Alix begged as she laughed wildly. “Stop please!”

“Only if you promise to stop yelling,” Alya said primly. And after a little more tickling, Alix had to give in.

Alya set Alix’s soul next to Aurore’s, and Alix tried to grab it but found she couldn’t touch it. “Seriously, what the Hell?” she demanded. “Look, Alya being a demon from Hell, fine, whatever, but taking my soul–”

“Another demon’s in town,” said Juleka. “Lila Rossi. She’s really good at collecting souls, and she’s coming after the class. We’re trying to get everyone’s souls first so she can’t actually send your souls to Hell.”

Alix hesitated. “Couldn’t you just warn us so we wouldn’t fall for her tricks?”

“Lila could get your soul even if you knew she was coming–I looked up her record after we learned about her, and she’s a validictorian-level tempter,” Alya said. “But don’t worry. As long as your soul’s safe with me, she can’t grab it!” She beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“I… agh.” Alix threw her head back. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Juleka smiled. “You could join the cult. Hang out with other people who’s soul got yeeted out of their bodies by Paris’s best demon.” Alya grinned. “See some really cool powers.” And she summoned a bit of Hellfire, causing Alix’s eyes to widen. “And watch some really, really ridiculous anime.”

“That's… that doesn’t sound like much of a cult,” Alix noted.

“Maybe for a lame demon who just wants to hear people talk about how great she is,” said Alya, “but my cult is very big on having everyone eat snacks and watch fun tv shows.” She paused. “Look, I–I get this is a big deal for you. I wasn’t planning on going after the souls of anyone at Francois Dupont, honest. But there was no other way to keep you safe from Lila. And if you’re in the cult, you can check in on your soul whenever we meet… we can watch out for each other, make sure Lila doesn’t attack…”

Alix slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m in. But I want your word that once Lila is gone you’re giving my soul back.”

“Sure,” said Alya. “I don’t need it for my quota anyways.”

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment before Alix said, “And can my soul at least get a blanket or something? It’s chilly in here.”

“It doesn’t need a blanket. It’s a soul; it can’t catch cold,” protested Alya.

“So? It’s still nippy!”

Juleka grinned and settled back as the two continued to argue. She’d helped protect someone today, she thought. She’d made it so Lila could not damn Alix. She’d done good. Nothing could ruin her mood.

###

Ten minutes after leaving Alya’s, she took a shortcut through an alley to get back to the Liberty, and then she almost bumped right into Lila Rossi.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Lila without preamble. “And it annoys me. I’ll give you one chance. Forswear Alya and take my side. I’ll give you more power and wealth, and–”

Juleka snorted. “Not a chance.”

“Fine.” Lila whistled, and something growled at Juleka from within the shadows. “Then you’ll get eaten by my pet Hellhound. See you never, Juleka.” She vanished in a puff of smoke as a gigantic wolf-like dog, drooling saliva that burned into the alley floor and breathing smoke and flame from its nostrils, approached.

Juleka gulped. Then she threw a blast of Hellfire at it, but it had no effect. Then it leapt at her and she cringed back–

Only for a blur to swoop in and knock it aside. 

Juleka stared as a short girl with blond hair, wings full of white feathers, and an actual halo raised a sword. “Begone, beast!” she roared in a very familiar voice. “And bother not the innocent, lest you taste divine wrath!”

“Uh,” said Juleka. “Um.”

Then the angel–whom Juleka knew very well as Rose Lavillant–turned back. “Juleka!” she said in a slightly nervous voice. “I, um… I have some things to tell you!”

Chapter 6

“Uh,” said Juleka. “Um.”

Her heart was beating very fast, and she quickly clenched her hand–the one that Alya had marked–into a tight fist so Rose couldn’t see her palm. “You’re an, um.”

“Angel,” said Rose. “And–hey! I said stop!” She pointed her sword at the Hellhound, which was still slavering. “The power of–”

The Hellhound leapt at Rose, who sighed, then quickly swung her sword up and decapitated the beast.

Juleka boggled as Rose wiped her sword clean on the alley wall. The Hellhound’s body shuddered, then both its head and the rest of it burst into flames and crumbled to ash. “As I was saying,” Rose said. “I’m an angel. I’ve been sent here to look out for the souls of Paris.”

“…a guardian angel is dating me?” Juleka asked.

And then Rose blushed. “Well, angels are allowed to love!” she said a little too quickly. “We’re not like the other guys. And–and you’re very lovable! I can see souls, and your soul is as bright and lovely as the sun!”

Despite everything, Juleka blushed. “Um.”

“You are! You’re kind, and loyal, and… oh!” Rose swiveled on her foot. “More Hellhounds!” Juleka turned to see four more darting in from the shadows deeper in the alley. “Stay back!”

Juleka cringed against the wall as Rose rushed forwards and dueled the Hellhounds, slashing and thrusting to keep them away. However, the sheer weight of numbers began forcing her back. “Begone!” Rose yelled again, but the Hellhounds didn’t listen. “Uh… begone, I said!”

“I don’t think they’re listening,” said Juleka.

Rose gave her a tiny frowned, then blinked. “Oh, I know! I can make you my paladin. Then I can give you powers to help!”

————

I LOVE IT YES ITS AWESOME

I’d love to see more but no stress, this was just so enjoyable

[diana-3]

Crow’s Nest.

Diana sighed as she climbed the last few stairs to Devrim’s perch. The Gentlemen Sniper pulled his rifle back inside the windowsill and turned, having earlier waved to Diana he smiled at her approach. “Ah,” His warm tone brought a smile to her face, “Di, hello dear, how are you?”

“I’m alright I guess..s’been a while...huh?” There was guilt layering her tone, like a child who was admitting to a wrong--ready for a scolding.  

“Works kept you busy,” Devrim settled against the wall and his smile held, but his eyes turned downward and with it the mood lowered. “Seems as if the whole world is trying to burn around us.” He nodded to the radio on the shabby table with the teaset near by. “I’ve been keeping up on the radio chatter, you’ve been busy out toward the Tangled Shore lately?”

“Oh yeah,” Dianna removed her helmet and went to settle on the floor next to Devrim who glanced out the window. “There’s this new baddie, Xivu Arath? A hive celebrant...whatever that means...trying to corrupt Fal---Eliskni and Cabal into being Hive mind slaves. Causing a lot of trouble on the Shore and in the Dreaming City. Been working with Spider’s crew to get it cleaned up but its been weeks now.”

“A month yesterday,” Joel corrected as he appeared by Diana’s side. “I overheard Glint and Crow talking about it as we were walking away yesterday.”

“A month…” Diana repeated with weight behind her long sigh that followed. “Has it been that long already?”

“Between the constant crucible matches and vanguard operations to charge the lure, not to mention the individual hunts themselves, I’m not surprised we hadn’t realized.” Even Joel sounded exhausted, flying low until he settled in Diana’s hands as she crossed her legs and closed her eyes. “It’s been...hectic to say the least.”

“When was the last time you had any time off?” Devrim asked, raising a dark brow as he removed himself from the window completely now. Hanging his rifle on carefully placed hooks in the collapsing church to avoid accidental misfires. “You both look absolutely ragged.”

Diana hummed in thought. Her head slowly lulling from side to side before she spoke. “The Festival of the Lost?”

“Can’t really count that as time off when we were fixing the infinite forest…” Joel reminded her and she nodded.

“Soooo, before then?”

“My word,” Devrim’s shocked outburst made the tired guardian and her ghost both open their eyes and look at him. He was standing with his teapot in hand, “You’re going to need something a bit more strong than tea then to unwind.”

“You know what I want?” Diana chuckled softly, the fatigue showing through her defeated tone. “A nap. A nice, warm nap.”

“You’re more than welcome to come back to the farm,” Devrim offered, putting down his teapot and reaching for clean cups and saucers. “You could rant about anything bothering you until you can rest, or you’re free to do so after over a nice hot cup of tea.”

Diana smiled, watching the older man go through his motions to prepare his staple drink. The care he put into making it and the glance he gave her when he felt her stare. “Thanks,” She smiled back, “But,” She tapped Joel’s shell and woke the little Ghost from his quiet rest, his eye blinking open and his shell twitching in a stretch. “I think seeing Mythrax would just wind me back up again...remind me of everything going on on Europa.”

“Ah,” Devrim’s smile fell as he watched Joel take a lazy flight, hovering just above Diana’s shoulder as she climbed to her feet wearily. “Do you have somewhere else to stay then? I have no bed or blanket here, but I can offer great conversation and drink, a little light on snacks I’m afraid.”

“Actually…” Diana rubbed her head before her face and sighed, “I think there’s somewhere I want to...revisit. It’s not the Tower, but right now I’d rather avoid the tower if possible too…”

“Just seems like there's nowhere for us to go to get a rest away from everyone.” Joel admitted, his eye downcast as his shell shook side from side. “There's always someone looking for the next report, the next ship out, the next bounty to be taken…” He glanced at Diana who was lost in thought, her cyan eyes following the floorboard toward the window. When she slowly walked away to peer out Devrim’s window, Joel flew near Devrim and whispered. “She’s had a lot thrust onto her shoulders lately Devrim, I don’t know...I don’t know how to help her right now…”

“Is she alright?” Devrim asked, pretending to busy himself with cleaning his table as he waited for the water to boil.

“Physically she’s fine, she’s just so mentally worn out...A lot of old emotional wounds opened up…” Joel twitched in the air, flying a few degrees lower, “You’ve heard about Io, Mercury and Titan?”

“I had.” Devrim nodded, his face stern with thought. “She had friends on those planets didn’t she?”

“Yes, Asher Mir for one,” Joel shook his shell, “She’s still holding out hope that he’s in the Pyramidian, holding out. But no one’s heard from him...or Sloane and Vance...Then...we heard about Sagria…”

“Sagria?” Devrim whispered back, glancing over his shoulder to Diana, who was watching something out the window. “A guardian?”

“

A Ghost,” Joel corrected, “She was Osiris’ ghost...she sacrificed herself to save Osris from Xivu Arath’s influence...he’s Ghostless now...without the light...he’s taken refuge in the tower and asks Diana about how she and Crow--”

“Crow?” Devrim asked, raising a dark brow as he picked up the teapot and began pouring the tea into two cups. “Is that a guardian?”

“S-something like that…” Joel hesitated a tad too long and it drew a long and measured look from the marksman. “He’s a new guardian but...it’s part of the old emotional wounds opening up...that’s all I can say…”

“Mmhmm..” Devrim kept his stare on the little ghost who twitched and flew a few inches away.

“The less you know, the better.” Joel sighed.

“Wouldn’t happen to wear red pants...would this...Crow?” Devrim asked softly, glancing back at Diana who was still preoccupied with scanning the distance.

“You’ve seen him?!” Joel flew close to Devrim’s face, making the older man chuckle and straighten his back a bit.

“I’ve seen someone bustling around in the distance,” Devrim nodded with his head toward the direction of the dam, “He’s never come close though, and always seems to keep a hood up or a helmet on..I’ve never seen his face. Causing our girl some trouble is he?”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Joel said, “He’s new to everything and Di….she doesn’t know how to handle her feelings. He really reminds her of someone she’d rather forget, but at the same time she’s grown closer to him, and is having trouble letting go of that….resemblance.”

“Sounds messy,” Devrim picked up the cup and took a small sip to taste before nodding. “She needs a good rest, and time to herself away from everyone to let herself work through things. Is there a Hunter hideout where she might be able to take cover?”

“None that wouldn’t turn her over to Zavala to keep themselves from being called to the tower..” Joel had a hint of irritation in his voice, “We tried a few of the old spots, but some people have a sore spot for Di. Shaw hasn’t exactly warmed up to her and he’s made a name for himself in the cosmodrome. People think, that she thinks she’s too important, that she abandoned them in their greatest hour of need…And with the Hunters still without a leader...”

“Did they forget the part where the entire universe was at stake?” Devrim asked too loudly, drawing Diana’s tired attention finally from the window.

“Who knew the Cosmodrome was separate from our universe.” She had no mirth to her voice now, she seemed to shake slightly from side to side as she pushed away from the window and walked over to take the cup offered to her gingerly from Devrim. “Thanks…”

“I’m sorry that you’re dealing with so much,” Devrim put a gentle hand on Diana’s shoulder and squeezed it. A flicker in her eyes caught him off guard, was she going to cry? “I hope that the vanguard has at least given you some hefty time off to recoup after running you so ragged?”

“Hawthorne helped,” Joel said with a hint of pride, “When Diana was ready to just drop off the tower to get away from Zavala and Shaw, she spoke up and advocated for Diana to have a relief mission.”

“Tore into them did she?” Devrim chuckled warmly, “Ah, I can hear her now.”

“It was quite a sight,” Joel laughed, his shell squinting as he bobbed up, like a smile. “She wasn’t about to let Zavala just walk all over Diana.”

“M’ just too tired to fight anymore.” Diana admitted as she took a drink from the cup, taking a moment to shiver at the bitterness. “I wanna sleep for a week in a hole in the ground…” She paused…”Or...in a wall…” Her eyes widened slowly before she downed the rest of the cup, filled only half of the way before handing the cup back to Devrim. “If anyone asks,”

“I haven’t heard from you in months.” Devrim winked at her as he took her cup and replaced it on the table. “No idea where you could be. Haven't’ seen you in the EDZ in quite some time.” He turned and lifted his own teacup to her in salute, “I really should contact you via radio to come spend some time with this old man.” He could hear Diana and Joel speaking softly as he turned and sipped at his tea, trying not to listen to the quiet planning. He couldn’t help but hear.

“Are you sure you want to go there?” Joel was asking, concern filling his voice.

“Where else can we go right now? Unless you really wanna watch me dig a hole and bury ourselves.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this...but we could go to the Derlict?” Joel offered in a hushed tone, “Drifter would hide you for a while.”

“He’d also bug me to death for answers, or to get me into Gambit again…” Diana sighed heavily. Devrim kept himself turned around, studying the hand written notes from Marc laying on his desk, hidden out of direct sight behind the radio he used to listen to chatter, or talk to Suraya who was living in the Tower now. “No, I think it’ll be the one place no one, except one person would think to look…”

“Do you think he would?” Joel asked softly.

“No, his leash is too short right now. He might wonder to himself, maybe to Glint, but he won’t actually come looking. Which will give us all the time we need to rest.” Diana sounded sure of herself and her mind was made up. Wherever they were going, it was going to be a secret between them.

“It won’t be very comfortable,” Joel complained slightly.

“We can find a few ways to make it work.” Diana said a little more loudly, the time for private conversation over with. Devrim was refilling his cup, still pretending to be lost in his own little world when he felt two taps on his shoulder. He put down his cup and turned to receive the gentle hug Diana offered without thinking. “I’ll come by again soon Devrim, thank you for letting us rest and clear our head.”

“I don’t need to tell you that you are always welcome,” Devrim told her as he squeezed her, returning the hug. “But I will anyway, just so I’m sure you know. You can always come up here to hide out, and I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.” He felt her start to pull away and he kept his hold until she leaned more heavily against him, allowing him to share her weight. “You be careful out there, hm?”

“Yes sir,” Diana’s chest vibrated with her voice, chuckling into his ear as she squeezed him back. “I’ll make sure to stop by for the dawning.” When Devrim pulled away she nodded, “I’ll remember the Shortbread cookies you love so much.”

“It pairs so well with my favorite festive tea,” Devrim sighed at the thought of such a comfort item. “It is getting around that time...isn’t it?”

“A few more weeks…” Diana nodded, “Hopefully I’ll get to feeling better before then. I’d like to go to the tower to see everyone…”

“Then you best get to it,” Devrim winked at her and grabbed a small bag from under his table, protected by a sheet that had hidden it from sight. “Here, take this, a self care package if you will.”

“Tea?” Diana laughed as she took the bag without looking at it.

“And a few biscuits and hot cocoa, some tripemines to set up a perimeter, clean water etcetera.” Devrim smiled as he poured a second cup for himself. “Little things that will help make the roughing it less...rough.”

“Thanks Devrim but shouldn’t you need this?” She asked, holding the bag up.

“Not for a while, I’m going on vacation too..of a sort. It’s Marc’s Rezzing day soon. We decided to go to Suraya in the city and spend time together. I’ll have all the comfort I need. And I can replenish my supplies.” Devrim watched as Diana nodded and looked toward the stairs. “Go on now, I won’t keep you any longer.” He turned his back and pretended to busy himself with the radio dial until a heavy baritone voice came over the waves.

“Thanks again…” Diana gave a small salute before disappearing over the ledge, not bothering with the stairs.

“It’s like they’re allergic to safety,” Devrim mused to himself, chuckling as he watched her go.

//

“Are you sure about this?” Joel asked as Diana picked her way over the rubble, careful to make sure that Devrim’s care package wouldn’t rip.

“Like I said, I’m out of ideas, unless you know of somewhere else we can go…’S not like we can go chill with Asher anymore…” She paused down the dimly lit corridor and sighed. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Joel touched his feckle to her cheek and accepted the loving caress she gave him that pinned him to her cheek gently. “I do too.”

“So this is the one place I can think of that...they won’t know to look and if they did think to look, I don’t think he’d tell.” Diana finished softly. She was outside the  little alcove now and started to go inside but hesitated.

“What's wrong?” Joel asked, blinking his yellow cat eye and watching how she hesitated. It wasn’t like her.

“I should ask permission…” She said firmly. “This is the one place that’s his and his alone...if I were just to barge in here and use it without asking? I’d be taking that away from him, I’d be just as bad as Spider. We’re not that close...in reality. He might think...I’m overstepping boundaries if I don’t ask…” The heavy silence in the air didn’t last long before she asked, “Can you patch me into a secure line to him?”

“Just a moment.” Joel busied himself with twitching, extending his shell and rotating back and forth until the sound of static washed away and a familiar voice asked.

“Who is this?”

“Glint, it’s us. It’s secure right?” Joel asked, replacing his shell to its rightful shape. Diana noticed one of his cat ears was coming untapped and tried to push it back down in place, only to knock it off and make her gasp in both shock and sadness.

“Of course!” Glint’s voice perked up, “It’s the Guardian and her Ghost!”

“You can call me Joel,” Ghost reminded him, “And Di.”

“New news on Xivu Arath or some wrathborn? A new cryptolith?” Crow’s voice came over the coms and Joel watched Diana pause in her fussing over his shell.

“No,” Diana admitted after a moment of silence. “I’ve...I’ve been given some...a reprieve…” She said slowly, remembering once what Glint had said over coms after a hunt. “But I…” She paused again and the lights inside her mouth dimmed with a sigh. “Could I...Would it bother you if I...used your...nest, for a while?”

“It’s most certainly not a nest.” Crow said a little too quickly. Diana could practically hear the flush to his blue-grey face. “But...why? I thought you would have a place in the tower in the last city?”

“I do, but not everyone understands the need for...alone time.” Diana admitted.

“About your report, could you do this run for me, we should go out tonight, could you sit in on this mission debriefing, we need someone on coms for this vanguard operation, could you help me adjust my sights,” Joel started listening off all the things that had been asked of them when they had returned to the tower the last time. “It’s like it never ends. We used to go hide out on Io when things got like this…”

“I see.” Crow interjected before silence could fall and swallow them up. “You...need a place to breathe for a while. Of course, feel free. I’m...honored that I could help you this way...Guar--”

“Di.” Diana reminded.

“Di…” Crow’s voice was soft, like he was afraid of breaking her name should he say it with too much force. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess, I haven’t been out there in a while and Glint’s a terrible maid.”

“It’s not my fault you keep everything you find that has a little shine to it.” Glint said playfully, hinting at his name.

“It’s not exactly comfortable either, but it works...in a pinch.” Crow continued, ignoring Glint’s jest. “Use it as long as you like.”

“Thanks,” Diana smiled and looked inside the alcove at the small collection of crow’s things. “I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Crow chuckled softly, “You could have used it and I never would have known. It’s not as if I’m in and out of there a lot these days.”

“Boundaries and Respect are important.” Diana told him firmly. “Guardians and good people a like do not trample over either…” She put a hand to her head and realized how much like Quin she sounded. She shook her metal head and continued. “Want me to get you some time off?” Diana asked as she stepped through the crack that served as the door. “You deserve it as much as I do.”

“Spider wouldn’t allow--”

“Spider won’t know the difference if I tell him I need you in the EDZ to track down Hive movement. Maybe they’re trying to set up a cryptolith here? Savathun did find that piece of the Traveler where we found the new Hawkmoon.”

“Not to mention we could give you a run through on being a Lightbearer. Guardian school if you will. More tips and tricks to make you more effective for Spider.” Joel added, his shell contracting in the way that made Diana say it looked like a smile.

“Time away from Spider,” Diana said in a singsong voice, “Nice hot fires under the stars, good drinks. Stories swapped.” She flopped down on the sleeping bag Crow had left on the concrete slab and regretted it, there was still a bit of debris under it and it hurt. “R and R is just as important to Guardians as it is to non-lightbearers.” She added with a grunt.

“That’s true...I just don’t think Spider would allow it.” Crow sounded defeated, tired and annoyed.

“Well, I am not going back to work for a bit….you think about it and when you want me to, I’ll talk to Spider.” Diana stood and rolled the sleeping bag up, watching how the dust and concrete of the collapsing ceiling was leaving a layer of dust on everything.

“Spider called him.” Glint said in a hushed tone, “I think some time off and not so alone would be good for him. He’s been obsessing over these Cryptoliths. He’s so sad to see the Eliskni that was good to him turn into...wrathborn…”

“He needs time away just as much as we do,” Joel sighed.

“It would be good for him, all he does is talk about work, and when he asks about Guardian things, he feels like such a stranger to it all. I think a fellow Guardian talking to him would make it feel more real, for now its just...stories of something he thinks he doesn’t deserve..” During the pause, Joel and Diana gave a look to one another. Sadness. Fatigue. Guilt. “I’ve been called by Spider, cutting the link. You two have a good rest.”

“Glint--” Joel started to speak but then hesitated. “The line’s dead.” He rotated to see Diana removing rubble from the concrete slab and cleaning it off with her hand. “This place really is a mess...huh?”

“He’s tried to make it his own…” Diana said softly. “It reminds me...of that cave in the Cosmodrome we had when we first started out...Remember?”

“Heh.” Joel floated closer and bobbed before rolling his shell over. “You kept Hive bones until you heard about Dredgen Yor, then you dumped them all over the cliffside and wanted nothing more to do with them.”

“Got rid of the dice I whittled too.” She nodded and replaced the sleeping bag, stretching it out to find it wouldn’t fit, the slab was too short. She glanced around the tiny alcove, at all of Crow’s belongings. A sleeping bag that had holes in it. A pristine Dawning bowl. His death shroud. A hive knight sword from when he save Osiris. A table and chair. A tool chest as tall as her and tools to fill it with. 8 things. He only owned 8 things. Yet the room told so much about him.

He was a repairer. Using things left over and forgotten to serve a new purpose. “It’s almost...poetic...or.” She laughed, “Ironic, whichever you wanna look at it...I guess…”

“What is?” Joel had floated off on his own, inspecting the crack in the wall that filtered in some sunlight from a room beyond the rubble.

“He takes things that are broken or forgotten. Things people don’t think twice about because to them it's used up and gives it new life...new purpose…” She picked up the bowl and placed it on the sleeping bag. “Like a guardian...we were just empty shells until you guys came along.” She smiled at Joel who twitched in silent thought. “You found me, an empty shell. Having used up all my life and been lost to time and the elements and you gave me a purpose. You brought new life into me and told me what I could do to help those around me.” She picked up his death shroud and frowned. “Uldren was a cold hearted bastard of a person.” Her grip tightened on the cloth before she sighed heavily.

“He paid his price. Blood for blood. Eye for an Eye. The debt for Cayde was settled. I know his tapes said he’d be…” She started folding the shroud gently. “Crow was a shell that was tossed away. People were trying to forget...or avoid remembering for the time. Including myself...And Glint gave him new life and purpose. He’s a guardian now. He’s not who he was before. And now he takes things Spider tries to throw away or has forgotten about and makes them into new things.” When the shroud was folded into the shape of a flag, she placed it into the bowl and busied herself cleaning off the slab where it had been placed haphazardly. “He’s just like a Ghost that way. A repairman. An artist..” She recalled the art form he had mentioned before when she saw his nest the first time. “He mentioned an artform with precious metals...do you know what it's called?”

“I hadn’t when he first mentioned it, but I talked to Zavala’s ghost and he knew what it was called, apparently it's called Kintsugi, or kintsukuroi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.  It treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.” He paused for a moment and flew a little lower, “Oh, I see what you mean.”

Diana straightened up the room in silence for a while. Dusting everything with her hands as best she could and being as gentle as possible. It didn’t take her long to clean up the room, tossing out the debris into the hall. She looked around and realized it wasn’t cleaning she wanted to do.

“I wanna do something nice for him.” She said out loud, throwing out a fist sized piece of concrete into the hall. “And I don’t mean dusting.” Joel was flying around the room and scanning the area, inspecting the walls and ceiling.

“He doesn’t have a lot does he?” he asked as he came down to her height. “We could get a few things for him.”

“Yeah..spruce the place up a bit...he deserves better than this but…” She glanced at the shroud sticking up from the bowl where she had placed it. “Baby steps.”

“What do you think he would like?” Joel asked.

“Anything is better than this…” she glanced at the mop bucket in the corner, and cringed. “We could get him a sturdy cot to sleep on. A better sleeping bag…” She looked back to his area and tilted her head, “Another table, a chair...we could clear these slabs out.” She kicked at the one he had been using for a bed. “Hang that sword up.” She pointed to the sword as it was propped up against the wall, waiting to topple over. “And a heater…”

“A heater?” Joel asked, spinning back to watch her as she nodded.

“It’ll be snowing soon. If he’s gonna get time off and come stay, then he’s gonna need heat...and some food that won’t spoil…” Her faceplates shifted to show irritation. “The boy doesn’t even have the basic necessities to live on his own. He won’t be under Spider’s four thumbs forever.”

“You think he’s going to let Crow go eventually?” Joel didn’t sound convinced, but when Diana settled her cyan eyes on him, he knew that look. He’d seen it before the battle against Crota...Oryx...Gaul and the darkness. It was what he called her ‘try me’ look.

“Oh he will. And we’re getting that bomb outta Glint too.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Glint doesn’t deserve that treatment, and neither does Crow. The boys are literally as pure as new fallen snow, and Crow’s as green as Venus.”

“I remember when Leland used to say the same about you,” Joel offered softly, flying close to her chest, his sign he wanted to be held in her hands. She obliged him, cradling him gently and stroking his feckle lovingly.

“I’m not gonna comment on that,” she chuckled and planted a kiss on her Ghost’s shell. Going to sit on the sleeping bag. “I guess this means we’re going back to the city after all.”

“What are we gonna tell people who ask what we’re doing?” Joel twitched his shell so he was looking up at Di from her hands she stared longingly at the Dawning bowl.

“That we’re helping out a kinderguardian. They’re new and scared to come to the city. Or that I’m literally burying myself in a hole and making a fuck off bunker so people will leave me alone for once.” She stopped and blinked, “By the light, I sound like Osris now.”

“I like the second one better,” Joel laughed, “It sounds more like you than Osiris.”

Both of them laughed, their voices bouncing off the three and a half walls until it sounded like it would drown all their sorrows. They hadn’t laughed like that in a while. It made Diana sad to realize this. She tried not to look at it, but it was like a living thing staring at her. The death shroud. One of the triangle corners was peeking up from the bowl and taunting her until she stared at it.

“I’m not...weird am I?” She asked Joel, still staring at the white cloth.

“Is that a question you want me to answer honestly, or be serious?” Joel asked with mirth still in his voice.

“No, I mean…” Diana’s tone made Joel twitch in her hands, bringing her attention to him. “I know I didn’t remember anything, not a thing when you brought me back. But you said I’d been dead a long time...I’ve never…” She trailed off and looked toward the floor. “I’ve never run into anyone who recognized me before. But Uldren...he…” She sighed. “He killed dad...I know I said Crow was different and he IS but…” she made a clicking noise. “Sometimes when it gets quiet, and I see him, I can still SEE Uldren there. Does that make me a bad person?” She looked to Joel sadly. “Am I a horrible person because I sometimes still see him inside someone who's new? If Crow didn’t have the same meatsuit...if he’d been changed into an Exo like me when he was first brought back...I woulda never known….I wouldn’t be...questioning myself like this.” She looked to the shroud again. “He’d just be a new guardian. A fellow exo. A nice guy...But I find myself wanting to reach out to him. Be...more than kind to him. To be someone for him and then that moment happens when I don’t see Crow, I see…and then I feel like I’m betraying Dad’s memory by being chummy with the meatsuit that killed my leader...”

“I could tell,” Joel admitted softly, speaking in barely a whisper, as if afraid the truth would cause the ground to swallow them up. “When you two are having a good talk and it gets quiet, I see the way you look at him. It’s kindness and then fear, mixed with guilt.” He twitched again and the eye blinked. The other ear was starting to come loose and Diana peeled it off with a gentle hand. “You’re trying so hard to not hold him accountable for a crime you know Crow didn’t commit. But it’s still the same face. It’s still the same hand.” he blinked again, “It’s a situation I don’t think any other guardian has ever had to face like this before.” Only a heartbeat passed before he added. “I don’t think it makes you a bad person, I think you’re struggling with a situation that no one else has ever had to be in before and you’re doing a lot better than others who have seen his face.” He flew up from her hands and hovered a little ways from her face.

“You loved Cayde like a father, and he was taken from you by someone you didn’t particularly care for when you knew him. Now that person is no more, but their body is still up walking around with someone new inside...sorta. It’s like that pottery thing, he has his scars. His past is part of him, but he has a new life and a new outlook.” he tilted his shell toward the ground. “Uldren hated Guardians, he tried to make our life hell when we had to deal with the awoken. But,” he titled his shell upward and squinched himself into a smile, “I’ve seen Crow absolutely light up when you walk in a room. He’s excited to see you, to work with you. If that’s not proof he’s totally different then I dunno what would be.”

When she didn’t respond he bonked her on the forehead with his feckle and made her blink at him in bewilderment. “Others have outright killed Crow when they saw his face. You didn’t.”

“I tried…” She put a hand on the spot where he hit her. “If Quin hadn’t stopped me...I would have put a bullet in him.”

“Are you glad she stopped you?” Joel asked firmly.

“Yes?” she sounded unsure, when Joel tightened his shell around him she felt like he was glaring at her so she repeated with conviction. “....Yes. I am.”

“Would you put a bullet in him now?” Joel’s voice was hard, he was trying to test her resolve. He already knew he answer, he just needed her to know it.

“No, absolutely not, I’d...” She paused and remembered her fight with Hunter-1, they still hadn’t spoken since they introduced Crow to him. When he tried to murder Crow, even after learning he was a guardian and Uldren no more. Quin had ushered Crow to safety while Diana wrestled with the fellow Exo. He hadn’t looked at her the same since. On Wrathborn hunts he wouldn’t watch her back anymore, and he would ignore her when she spoke to him. “I’d fight those who would try...”

“Then you’re already leaps and bounds ahead of others.” Joel told her with a flip. “And the fact you want to give him what he needs to survive on his own, until he can be accepted as Crow and not as Uldren, shows you have compassion for him.” He tilted his shell halfway, like he was being coy. “And do not think for one millisecond I haven’t seen you smile at him with that same look you used to give Drifter either missy.”

“I. Give. No. Looks.” Diana’s voice was low, gravely, she was willing to die on this hill.

“And I wasn’t born in the Light.” Joel gave a small hummpf sound before flying out of the crack, forcing Diana to follow along behind him if she wanted to argue.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Lilium

Summary: Although a witch, you weren’t the one to really summon demons, but your friends had insisted that you could use an extra pair of helping hands to help you with your run-down hut. After fixing the mess of a first attempt fail, you were expecting to summon a lower gremlin. What or who you didn’t expect, was to summon the demon king of hell, keeper of souls, in searching for something that only you could do perfectly.

In explanation of the fic: Each powerful demon has his/her own hell, and in each hell has layers, like onions. So although reader didn’t summon Lucifer, she summoned a pretty powerful Japanese demon who’s element of hell follows close to that of Greek mythology because Rita liked the Persephone vibes. As for the soul thing, those are the souls who just...wind up at his place.  

Title name: Lilies are a flower that represent not only unity, love, and devotion, but also the flowers are most often associated with funerals, they symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. Persephone held lilies in her hands/arms as she was take away by Hades, the flowers turning white as they fell to the ground. Ancient(?) Romans would stuff pillows full of the flowers, the fragrance perfect for love-making ;)  

Notes: @youtubequeens, or Rita, requested the beautiful idea of Tai-chan being a demon king in need of something that only the reader can do, and we brainstormed together on the setting and the plot, so the credit goes to her, go ahead and check her on Tumblr <3

Warnings not in order: Cursing, hand cutting for rituals (so blood), being void of a soul (cause, demons), summoning demons, minions, souls of the damned, smut, deals with the devil, having your soul taken and turning into a demon, and hellish stuff.  

Tag: @youtubequeens

   “I mean, look at this place, Sister! It’s a dump! C’mon, pleeeease!” Your friend begged. She, along a few others belonged to a nearby coven. Although good friends, they delved into the darker aspects of witchcraft, such as demon summoning, as you stuck to herbal remedies, readings, and a little bit of scrying. Although not against the art, you weren’t well acquainted, and a little nervous.

“You don’t even need a contract! Just bind whatever poor little goblin or gremlin to you, and...you know, have it help you collect your herbs! I know, binding seems a little much, and it’s difficult to get out of one, but they can’t hurt you when bound to you.” Another friend piped up, trying further to convince you. Your gaze fell onto the chalked-up pentagram within your home, surrounded by salt and melting red candles, looking innocently out of place, almost.

“Alright, fine.” You huffed, causing squeals of victorious joy from the gaggle of girls. It wouldn’t hurt, you thought. You lived in the outskirts of the village, within a rugged hut that you called a “store”. Although it was a popular little town, you weren’t doing to well. Your place was falling apart, herbs were harder to find, and although tolerated, your witchy status had alerted and unnerved everyone, except your little coven of friends, who had hidden themselves away deeper into the forest.

Your life sucked, and with your pet familiar, the two of you kept to yourselves as you brewed supper more than potions and remedies, your Sisters popping in from time to time, checking up on you.

Your little orange rabbit snuggled into your lap as you repeated the words in Latin, trying to spark hellfire into the pentagram. No such luck.

“Aw! Is it not working? I’m suuuure my aunt gave me the right spell!” Your main friend huffed into a pout, the two other girls following her example of disappointment.

“Perhaps another time? It’s getting late, girls.” You admitted. Truthfully, you didn’t want to have to deal with more pressure, and your familiar was getting unnerved by the whole thing.

“You’re right. It was fun hanging out with you, Sis! Wish we could do this more, but you know, coven stuff.” The sweet friend smiled softly as she hugged you tightly.

“We’ll be busy, you know, coven stuff. Auntie wants us to clean out the nasty pots, restock the potions, and go on a wild, exciting adventure of grabbing rare herbs, so we don’t know when that’s going to take. Ugh, I’m not leaving, yet, and I miss you, already!” The leader of the girls whined, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle.

      “Stay safe, okay? We’ll visit to check up on you. Give Lottie some extra treats for us!” The third one grinned, petting the rabbit. With further words, they left, leaving you warm, yet saddened and alone.  

 Many times, the fellow women of the coven had offered a place for you, so that you wouldn’t be so alone, and you appreciated that, but you knew that the coven wasn’t one for you. Although not evil, you didn’t want to join for a multitude of reasons. They had strict rules and regulations, following their leader without question as they sacrificed time and energy for reasons that the girls, although close, didn’t tell you what for.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was rather sketchy. Your eyes laid upon the pentagram as the thought crossed your mind. You weren’t fully against summoning things from the underworld, it was an aged old practice that was held with reverence from generation to generation. You held Charlotte close to you, the rabbit sniffing at the air, scenting out scents that your human nose could not deter.

“I smell nothing out of the ordinary. The salt is too strong.” Her voice echoed in your head, and you nodded your thanks. You were curious, you admitted. You didn’t really have much things to do, other than clean your stew pot, tend to the moon water, and pluck the petals off of the dried out roses.

“Something has to give, in order for you to receive.” You said aloud, the wheels turning in your head. A certain flower could help, you thought suddenly, looking at the container of dried out white lilies. You opened the jar spreading out the white funeral flowers among the edges of the Celtic symbol. The scent was almost too pure for such a deed, you couldn’t help but think.  

Carving a fool-proof plan to mind, you placed Charlotte down, and grabbed a small blade used for cutting fruits from your kitchen. The little rabbit opted to say nothing, trusting you as her witch to do what you think was best.  

You winced as you sliced a small cut into your palm, letting the little blood droplets to drip onto each flower, avoiding the salt as best as you could. Picking up a slip of paper in which had the summoning spell, you began reading the Latin out loud as you channeled your energy at the edge of the pentagram, instead of in between it.

Your breath hitched as bright orange hellfire sparked, not going past the salt as it crackled at the precious crystals and parts of the flowers. You continued speaking the verses, watching in awe as the odd underworldly flames refused to consume, instead it burned brighter at each verse.

As you finished the last sentence with a final quip, you jumped in surprise as the flames reached almost as high as the ceiling, whirling dangerously as it let out smoke and sparks, fizzling as a tall figure behind the flames seemed to crawl from the little circle, you couldn’t see who or what it was, but you were coughing as the unnatural smoke outweighed the dying fire, floating heavily away as you looked up to see your first summon.

You were choked up, not knowing what to say as your eyes beheld the sight when the smoke finally cleared from the deadened flames.  

 A demon, and not just anything in the ordinary of what you knew about them. He was tall, as tall as the men in your village, and almost resembled a human. His pointed ears were adorned with little ringlets of gold, matching the glittering bracelets and bands that were worn upon his ankles, horns, wrists, arms, and a swishing pointed tail. His attire was something you’d never really seen within your village, but you knew what it was due to your books.

He wore dark orange attire that almost resembled a Doric chiton, except the one he wore, hardly left anything to the imagination, but you weren’t focused on that, right now. What you were focused on, was the demon’s scowl of frustration and annoyance, aimed at you as his tail swished and thumped angrily at the ground, reminding you of an angry cat.  

“This fuckin’ circle’s too small! And the hell do you want? I’m a very busy man, ya know!” He growled out, taking in your smaller frame with displeasure. You were surprised by his accent, it was gruff, yes, but it was new, something that you’ve never heard, before.

“I was trying to summon something else.” You stammered, and he faltered in an angry shock, before narrowing his eyes at you.  

“Tch! Who do you think you are, summonin’ a king of hell, tellin’ me that you were tryin’ to summon somethin’ else?” He bared his teeth, and you could see little tusks peeking out from underneath his bottom lip. You gave him your name as you found yourself blurting out who knows what.

“I need a um...helper. I needed somebody to look after my hut while I collected herbs...make sure that the villagers don’t torch down my shop.” The excuse slipped out as you stood your ground. It was partially true. His stance relaxed a bit at your words.

“A magic user, huh?” He asked slowly, behavior sharply and swiftly contrasting from his angry tone, as he rested his chin onto his hand in processing the thought. Then his eyes moved onto yours. He unnerved you.

“What about it?” You asked, and he indulged you.  

“Normally, mortals such yerself can summon us with ease, only because ya need a contract. You, lil’ witch, were trying to find a binding partner, which uses magic. I may have use for you, yet.” His attitude shifted, and you couldn’t help but relax a little at the honeyed tone. What was with this demon?

“What are you talking about?” You bit out. He let out a victorious grin.

“Yer magic was so strong, it summoned me. A king of hell, a keeper of souls, n’ lord of demons. Bindin’ magic can only get ya so far, it’s pretty much unheard of a mortal summoning somethin’ greater than an ogre, or an oni.” Rolled off of his tongue, eyes now glinting with something that you couldn’t pinpoint. You were surprised. A king of hell? It did explain his jewelry and finery, you silently pinpointed. Despite the shock, you still needed to ask more questions while he was in the mood to be generous with his answers.  

“So...you’re needing me to summon demons up for you from the surface?” You offered, and he looked at you with surprise.

“No….I need you to give up your soul, and live with me in hell.” He grinned at the tight atmosphere that he was causing, you froze.

“Tell me, why would I ever want to do that? What do you even want?” You grounded out the last bit, still confused, and getting weary. Your summon had taken a toll on your body, and now you were feeling the lull of sleep due to sapped magic.  

“I have two main underlings who are like sons to me, but the three of us can only do so much in carin’ for the undead. Ya see, hell’s a very powerful place, in which it can supply a witch’s magic with ease. Ya know where I’m getting’ at?” He drawled out, and you nodded a little.

“I think somebody of yer stature could really hold the forte down. All you have to do, is just be there, n’ yer magic can calm down n’ soothe the restless dead, making this job a lot easier. Since yer magic is powerful, it’ll be extra helpful n’ dosing the souls an’ lesser devils, down. You give me what I need, an’ I can give you what you need.” He purred at the end.

The thought of being useful did appeal to you, it’s what you ever wanted. Yes, it was a terrible decision and you’ll probably end up being burned, anyway, but you remembered that a bound demon or devil cannot hurt you, no matter how powerful they were. If they hurt you, they hurt themselves.

“I’m not going to give up my soul to burn forever, to live with a demon that I’m not bound to.” You countered, and his eye twitched

“First of all, Sweetheart, my realm is in layers. Where you, I, an’ my boys live, is an environment that resembles your realm, but better. Secondly, you will be bound to me, but not as a servant or master, but as an equal. Somethin’ akin to…” He let the sentence hang as he smiled smugly at you, brows furrowed with cockiness, leering at you from his height.

“Akin to?” You egged him, and he let the rest rolled off of his tongue without hesitation.  

“My queen.”

Your brain screeched to a halt.

He laughed at your stunned expression.

“What? Ya expected me to make ya my lil’ minion? No, no, Honey, somebody with yer power, and the sheer gall to stare into my face while arguin’ with me, has already earned my respect. Yeah, you’ll have to turn into a demon, but you’ll be immortal, n’ you can visit yer friends n’ family as long as you like, if you’re powerful as me. Which, you will be.” He threw in his own bait, trying to lure you in.

Understandably, you were stunned. You just summoned a devil. Who wanted you to rule hell with him.  And to become an immortal mistress of the night who can help rule over the undead while living forever with him in his realm.

It was tempting, yes, but you were not one who really chased power. You told him, and his eyebrows furrowed, as if thinking further ways to lure you in, and to be honest? You found that you didn’t mind being swayed by a literal handsome devil.  

“Well, think about it this way, Princess, I don’t know you well, but you live in a run-down hut, the peasants fear you to the point of possible violence, and you’ve turned your attention to demon summoning. We’re both desperate for somethin’.” He looked at you thoughtfully, tail swishing as you processed it. Hell.

“What about my familiar?” You were caving in, and his gazing expression broke out into a victorious grin as his eyes slide to your rabbit.

“Sure, the lil thing can come, too. Familiars exist in hell, too, but not the cute lil’ rabbit ones. Might be a nice change to have one. Wipe away the salt, n’ we can get started.” He acted as if he had already won, and to be honest, he did.  

It was too good of an opportunity to really pass up, and you didn’t really have anybody, and good decisions in your tired state were lacking. You wiped away the salt, and he sighed with relief as he stepped out.

“Man, that tiny circle was exhaustin’ to be in. Now, let’s take you home.” He tucked a fray hair behind your ear. Smiling a devil’s smile, he held you against him, and you tried to keep your cheeks from flushing as he began a mantra of a spell in his native tongue, leaving you awed that it wasn’t the usual Latin. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as a wave of exhaustion and tiredness wafted over you, and your eyes slid shut, darkness over-taking you, but not before hearing a dark chuckle.  

…………..

Warm. You were so warm. You opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a bare chest. Your eyes widened as now you were fully conscious, furiously wondering on what the hell was going on.

“So, yer finally awake.” He hummed, and you jolted slightly, looking up at his face with pure surprise, he smiled at you as he held you close to his chest. It didn’t take you long to realize that this was his bedroom, and your mind whirled, vaguely remembering prior events. Sitting up, he whined at the loss of contact, but you paid no mind.

The room was lit up by the flickering familiar orange flames emitting from the white candles slowly melting on top of his dresser, creating a safe, sleepy, and an almost romantic atmosphere. The bed was huge, and took up a good portion of his room, but there was still enough space for some furniture such as the dresser, and a large cage. You sighed with relief, seeing the familiarity of Charlotte within, the little rabbit’s eyes now glowed with luminescence, as if she were something else. It would make sense, your familiar was no longer a normal familiar, since she was in hell, with you.    

You looked down, feeling warmed metal against your skin, and that’s when you’ve noticed your new attire. It was a chiton, like his, although a little looser, and you wore the same amount of matching golden jewelry. Your ears stung a little at the newer piercings, but you didn’t pay that much mind as you couldn’t help but think that he went out of his way to undress you and doll you up to match him. You gave him a dirty look, and he grinned in retaliation, enjoying the flushed and guffawed expression that marred your face.

“If ya’re gonna be the part, might as well look like it. I didn’t undress you fully or touch you too inappropriately, if that makes ya feel better.” He shrugged. Although you admit that he sort of have a point, still!

“What happened to me?” You opted to say instead, and he sat up along with you, you jumping slightly as his tail curled around your waist, acting as a small comfort.  

“You’re a demon. I took yer soul, and bound it to me. Wish ya could’ve seen it, ‘s so pretty an’ pure, an’ it fizzled nicely within me. Was the only way for ya to come down here, sorry.” He hummed, rubbing his cheek against yours in seemingly affection, eyes glittering as he let you process the words and his bizarre behavior.  

Demon. Were you dead? You had no heartbeat, did you? You let your hand rest against your pulse point, surprised by the soft fluttering. You looked at him with question.

“Demon, not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, an’ yeah, you’ll look forever like a human, since ya weren’t born like us. I took yer soul, and gave you one of the multiple that belongs to me. ‘S how we tie our lives together fer eternity, as if exchangin’ rings. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“I have so many questions.” You murmured, instead. He smiled.  

“We have an eternity together, I’ll answer all of ‘em. For now, c’mon. Lemme show ya what yer magic is doing right now at this moment.” He stood up from the bed, offering you his hand, pulling you up to him as you accepted it. He opened the drapes to his balcony’s windowed doors, revealing an ashen gray sunlight that paled in comparison to the candles. Letting you take Charlotte out of her cage, he opened the doors as the two of you stepped outside.

You looked on in awe.

The balcony to your new home, an ashen gray-stoned castle, had a short amount of steps that led into a gigantic garden. You stared in amazement and joy at the flowering plants and trees that grew in your former realm. There were so many plants, you couldn’t name all of them, but you didn’t mind as you looked on in the neatly organized forage of a garden, enjoying the array of greens and different colors of flowering foliage. Your familiar squirmed, wanting to enjoy the plants and be free, and so you let her, knowing that she’ll be smart enough to stay within eyesight.    

“Beautiful, ain’t it? It didn’t look like this ‘fore you were here. Sure, some plants such as pomegranates n’ ferns grew, but since it’s such a deadened place, nothin’ really grew. I tried for centuries, n’ no such luck. It’s so beautiful ‘cause of yer magic.” His voice broke out of your thoughts, and you listened carefully as a hint of sorrow passed over his features.

“Pomegranates…?” Your mind raced to the odd familiarity of the setting. Greek clothing, the underworld, and now pomegranates? He leaned down and smirked at you, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Heh, because, ya know…” He grinned, enjoying the way you stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t say that I don’t have a sense of humor.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself relax, thinking of ways to steer the conversation into another turn.

“You really like this place, don’t you...um?” You wanted to curse yourself. You went through a psychological loop in becoming a queenly wife to a stranger, no less a king of demons, and you didn’t even know his name. How forgetful were you?

Ignoring your inner dread, he grinned as he held your hand within his, rubbing his thumb over your palm.

“Taishiro. Yeah, I rarely visit earth ‘cause all the shit I have to do, n’ so this is my favorite place to relax. Thanks to you, it’s blossoming quite well.” He admitted, pecking your cheek, tail flicking with delight at the prospect of your face pink with the affection. Oh, you were so cute, he crooned.

“What about the dead, Taishiro?” You wondered as you tried out, the foreign language rolling off of your tongue. He looked at you with interest, liking the way his name melded to your own dialect.  

“I’ll take ya on a little tour, how about that? Show ya what’s happenin’ and yer new home. N’ later, we can relax in our garden, take a lil’ break to enjoy our Honeymoon.” He purred, and you felt butterflies flutter nicely within your stomach and chest as you nodded.

“Yer familiar can stay outside. It never rains here, an’ she’s not really...alive, anymore. She’ll be fine.” He looked at the little rabbit that was chewing on a blade of grass, absentmindedly paying attention as you agreed, knowing that she’ll be safe.  

Without further ado, he took you back inside of the castle, beginning the day.

……...            

       It was obvious that you were still in shock, and that this wasn’t a dream. He opted to say nothing about your state, as he introduced you to the castle, and the many rooms within. Of course the first thing he had offered to show you, was the dining room, stating that you were probably hungry, and a nice breakfast had been made for you. You blushed furiously, not acquainted with such treatment, and he grinned, pinching your cheek and you huffed at him.

“C’mon, Sweetcheeks, the staff’s all here, n’ they’ve been waitin’ to see what’s been in my bedroom fer about two days.” The sentence had surprised you.

“Two days?” You looked at him owlishly, and he shrugged.

“Turnin’ a human into somethin’ else, takes a toll on the receiver. I’m surprised that it was that short, to be honest.”  

 You walked along side him as the interior looked unique and odd, nothing of it that you’ve seen before. Colors of orange, gold, and red melded into a comfortable, royal setting as the hallways twisted. Each one sported different types of framed pictures and paintings of animals, spirits, and demons of which were new to your eyes.

 Taishiro smiled at your awed and innocent wondering as he began talking, introducing you further into his world, entrancing and entrapping you into the Greek and Japanese themes that he so loved, and you couldn’t help but feel fitted in comfortably within your new home as the two of you continued on-wards towards the dining room, your stomach feeling empty.  

You talked along with him, trying to learn and get used to the idea that yes, this was your husband. Your demon husband who was oddly being affectionate with you, despite his earlier, snappish attitude. Although, you were not minding it, preferring the brushing of hands, eyes meeting yours, and little touches, rather than the first thoughts of possibly burning in hell for eternity. He intrigued you, leaving you to wonder on how were you this lucky and yet foolish. All too soon, however, he had guided you into his favorite place that was second to the garden.  

 The room was beautiful and spacious, with multiple dining ware, vases of freshly cut flowers, and cloths laid neatly upon the long table. The staff were well dressed in their own lesser version of Ionic chitons, small bands of gold littered their collars and wrists, but nothing too extravagant like you and your husband’s. He sat you down, the smell of bacon, eggs, and biscuits wafted deliciously to you from the silver plate sitting in front of you. You could feel your mouth all but water as your stomach grumbled with an awakening realization. Taishiro sat next to you, chuckling at your eagerness.  

“I know that yer not human, anymore, but we demons can live on an’ indulge on such human foods. Thank our chefs fer goin’ out onto the earthen realm, n’ huntin’ down the stuff.”

“Thank you.” Came out, and who you guessed were the chefs, bowed with gratitude. You tried not to shovel the food greedily into your mouth, paying mind to try to eat with grace. You blanched, feeling a bit of the egg yolk dribble down your chin, and you jumped as Taishiro didn’t miss a beat in taking the opportunity to swipe it from your face with his forefinger, eyeing you with a dark look mixed in with a cocky smirk as he began suckling on said finger, rolling his tongue around it, and pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop.

You felt as if your face, chest, and ears were burning as he then groaned.  

“Delicious.”

You weren’t burning in hell with actual fire, so you guessed he had to come up with other ways, you guessed.  

The two of you finished in silence, him grinning with knowing want at your expressions, liking the way how easy and fun it was to just tease you. After saying your formal thanks to the staff, the two of you continued onward.

 Most of the rooms, other than the main bedroom, that he had led you, were guest rooms, and the others were sleeping headquarters for the staff and his underling sons. Speaking of which, it did not take you too long to be introduced to them. Cue in bright laughter, oddly mixed in with a rather gloomy aurora caught your attention, and lo and behold, down the hall is where they stood.

“Oooh! Is this her, Tai-chan?!” Noticing your presences, a red-haired young man turned his attention towards you. He nor the other young man were dressed as glamorous as the two of you, but they were unique. The red haired boy, along with the black haired one, both had pointed ears, but that’s where the line was drawn. Red had scaled, burgundy wings, furled neatly behind his back as his reptilian tail wagged slowly, he sported a sharp-toothed grin and radiated sunlight.

The gloomy man had a crystal ball within his clawed hands, cape and hood cloaking his figure as he stared at you.

“Who else would it be?” He muttered slowly, sarcasm lost on the other.

“Eijirou’s the dragon, an’ Tamaki’s the sorcerer. Boys, this is yer Queen.” Taishiro made a short introduction.  

“Nice to meet you!” As well as “Hello.” Greeted you, and you mimicked their greetings, surprised by the welcome. You replied your own greetings, feeling a bit nervous.

“Tamaki, would ya show ‘er the souls? I’d like for her to know what’s on the lower layer.”

“Sure.” Without further question, the scryer demon began murmuring his own spell as you stared into the crystal ball, watching with amazement at the sheer focus that was being put into it as it began to reveal answers to your questioning mind.

“See what yer magic’s been doin? Told ya, Nightingale, yer magic’s one of a kind, an’ yer not focusing on it, right now, but see what it’s doin’?” Taishiro gestured towards the mass of ghostly shadows within the ball. They seemed still, as if time had stopped them.

“Rather than deafening screams, wailing, and clattering of chains, we have this. They’re calm, awaiting to be reincarnated. It’s the most quiet that we’ve heard in centuries. None of us has yet the need to intervene and waste our time.” Tamaki opted to explain for you, a small hint of a smile graced his features, while Eijirou smiled warmly.

“It eases their suffering, too! Your magic to them is like a lullaby! You can’t hear it, but others can! It’s why Tai-chan’s been so calm-

“Anyway! Let’s go to the garden, yer not too tired, right? We can continue this later.” Taishiro interrupted swiftly, ruffling each boy’s heads as he gripped your hand rather gently, tugging you along back towards the familiarity of the garden, as you swore you heard two chuckles behind you.

……..

         “There is a teeny, tiny detail that I need to explain.” Taishiro dragged you further into the depths of the green foliage, slowly but surely darkening out the sunlight as you couldn’t help but shiver a little due to the anticipation. Where was he leading you? You guessed that he could see in the dark, but you couldn’t, feeling yourself stumble a little.  

“Taishiro, I can’t see.” You offered, and you heard a chuckled huff.

“Guess I gotta carry you, hm?” The sentence was your only warning. You let out a shrill yelp, feeling him lift you up with little to no effort into his arms. You liked the way how he gripped you, and seeped into his warmth as he continued walking to who knows where, and oddly enough, you trusted him.

“In order to fully complete the bond,” He startled you, as he finally broke the silence in what had seemed minutes. Setting you down, he snapped his fingers. Orange floating, flickering lights that resembled candles appeared right after, dimly illuminating the area around them. Your eyes adjusted, taking in the scenery that the lights were willing to show. It was a spacious area of smoothed down grass, white lilies and red roses crowned around it, giving it a magical, romantic feeling.

“you need to finally receive part of my power. Sure there’s multiple ways of sharing a mate’s essence, I just thought that this would be more fun.” He gave you a wink, and you felt your heartbeat quicken with a little nervousness. Yet, you found yourself not really surprised. He was your husband, after all. The thoughts of you becoming a demon, him being your mate, and that you ruled souls along with your new family, had been whirling around your head silently. It was only natural to continue, right?

“Only if you take the lead.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning down to finally mesh his lips upon yours in a secured kiss, tail swishing wildly as if joyed. Although a little snappy, he was also sweet and devilish in a teasing, fun way. You guessed that he was probably stressed from working and worrying too hard, thus you didn’t really hold it against him.

“Alright.” He led you to the clearing, laying down as he pulled you down on top, you basically straddling him, heat creeping up to your neck and ears as his clothed hardness poked at your equally clothed entrance. Not bothering to take any clothes off, he rocked his hips, groaning with guttural want as you let out a whimper, feeling the silk cloth of your clothing stimulate your clit as he rutted lazily up against it. His eyes focused up at you as he held your waist tightly, helping you rock your hips in sync with his as his tail rubbed itself against your sensitive, itching to feel you.  

“Can ya smell yer own arousal? Mixin’ in nicely with our flowers? Ya can cum anytime ya want too, okay?” He brought you down to kiss your clavicle and neck, your hands gripped his hair as your fingers threaded though the soft tresses and horns, keening as his own teeth latched onto the juncture of your throat as he suckled, minding his bottom tusks as he bit harshly, kissing the bruising skin with tenderness. You choked out a whimper as your hips bucked a little more roughly at his actions, causing him to groan.  

You could feel yourself clench with want as his precum and your wetness soaked through your undergarments, creating a slicking friction as the wet squelching noises echo through the dimly lit darkness. You looked down at him through lidded eyes, eyebrows furrowing as you bit your bottom lip, noticing that he mimicked your expression, if it wasn’t for the gritting teeth, You liked this side of him, too, you thought through your itching need to cum.  

He could tell that you were getting desperate, hell, he was, too. Yet, he wanted you to come before he did. Taking both hands away from your waist, he placed one underneath your ridden up clothing, and another cupped one of your bouncing breasts, thumb rubbing roughly over a nipple. Taking pleasure in the way that you were staring down at him, swallowing thickly, he let his hand slip into your soiled undergarments, making sure that every time your hips bucked forwards, you could feel his fingers brush against your clit.  

“T-Taishiro~!” You gasped, and he moaned, slipping two fingers in as he continued bucking, envying the digits as they stretched your tight and wet heat. Your juices were now dribbling down, creating more of a mess as his now four fingers pumped in and out of you, crooking them and stretching your walls with a gentle fervor as his dick slid between the folds of your labia, continuing to rub against your clothed clit. He ate up your desperate expression, knowing that he was no better as the both of you were about to cum. He picked up his pace as your face was buried in his shoulder, panting loudly and letting out breaths of need.  

“Y-ya know, I haven’t done this in centuries. ‘M gunna fuck you so good. Would ya like that?” He nipped at your ear, and you whined wantonly as you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, gripping them like a lifeline and he hissed as you came, cum soaking and dripping everywhere as you stilled, fingers grasped in his hair tightly, and damn if he loved that feeling. He stilled, awaiting for you to recover as you panted, lying against his chest as tears and a little bit of drool temporarily stained your flushed face. He kissed you softly, removing his soaked fingers from your fluttering heat, lust boiling within him as he imagined his cock in there.

“How do ya want this? Missionary and doggy are pretty good positions for first timers, either way, I’m going to claim you, Sweetheart.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes, as if contemplating on what you want.

“What do you want?” You asked instead, and the question caught him off guard, but he grinned.

“You.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then have me.” You felt a blush at your own statement, but you really wanted to continue.

“Ya sure?”

“Anyway you can, Taishiro. I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me.” At this, his expression softened as he then kissed you with such a tenderness.

“I won’t, but my instincts are screamin’ at me to take ya right here on the ground.”

“Then do so. We have an eternity together, right?” You pondered, and he frowned a little.

“For your-

“I trust you.” You interrupted, looking at him dead in the eyes, as if challenging him. He couldn’t help but smile at your spitfire attitude.

“As my Queen commands.” He kissed your cheek.

It was the only warning you really had, but your blood was on fire with heat and want, and truthfully, if he wanted to hurt you, he had every opportunity to after you wiped away the salt from the pentagram.

Shedding off the both your clothing, the both of you stared unabashed at each other, a red flush tinted his face, and you were blushing furiously. You weren’t really acquainted with seeing an angry-looking cock, veins visible as a drool of precum leaked onto the ground, but here it was, twitching slightly at your intense gaze. The golden glints caught your eye, and your eyes widened with surprise.

“Y-you have piercings-!” You guffawed as he laughed.

“Oh! You’re so cute! Easy to reach’n stimulate, Babe.” He winked and you swallowed thickly as he then decided that enough time was spent staring, and now he wanted to touch you, more.  

 He placed both garbs neatly on the ground as he gently maneuvered you onto them, your stomach and breasts were cushioned as you gripped the clothing, knees on the cool grass as you basically laid out bare for him.  

 You jolted as you felt his hot, fat tongue lick a long stripe along your leaking sex and clit, his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them gently as he decided to make a meal out of you, first. You could only lay there, whining and panting, trying to move your hips in his tight grasp as he licked you with fervor, taking extra time to suckle at your clit, chuckling as he also sopped up the extra slick running down your thighs, kissing them gently and you moaned.

“Taishiro!” You whined at him, silently pleading for him to get to the main event.

“Oh? Ya wanna be fully tainted by the devil?” He purred, and you nodded. You knew that he had to take care of his need, too, and he didn’t admit it, but he was getting a little impatient.  

“Easy there, Hon. If anythin’ bothers you, say somethin’, and we’ll stop, m’kay?” He finished, getting an affirmative from you, as he then grabbed his dick, leading it to your sopping entrance, and pushing a little bit in. He was amazed on how the muscles to your opening were loose, letting the head of his dick catch the rim, slipping a little inside.

He froze when you froze at the sudden prodding, opting instead to move his hips rather gently, not going further as you got use to the feeling of what’s already inside you. He decided that rubbing your clit was a good idea, and was rewarded as he felt you loosen up a bit, knees spreading out further as you bit your lip, feeling the gentle rubbing of calloused fingers.

“C-continue.” You murmured, feeling the other piercings now slide past the muscle. It was a delicious feeling of being stretched and stimulated, feeling yourself loosen as you took more of him in.

“Almost in, Sweetheart.” He murmured gently, his other hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. Finally, he moved the last couple of inches inside of your burning heat as he refused to move, letting the both of you take in the feeling of being joined together.

“Ya alright?” He grunted, silently pleading for you to give your affirmative for him to move. He was relieved when you nodded, amazed at himself for gently rocking his hips as you were basically sucking him in. You were in a daze, feeling every inch, vein, and piercing churn your inside walls as your breasts rubbed against the silken clothing, clit still being stimulated as he took care of you.

“Y-you can mo-ve fa-faster, T-Taishiro.” It sounded more needy than you liked to admit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down, resting his chin against your shoulder as he basically enveloped you from above, one hand rubbing your clit, and the other holding himself from fully crushing you as he let his hips buck with more fervor, both of you seeing each other’s needy expressions.

“Takin’ me in-oh! So well, Darlin’. Ya’re s-suckin’ me in so-damn! Nicely. Don’t know ya that well, but ‘m so fond an’ proud of ya.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, contrast to his hips positioning themselves in a new angle in a snapping motion. Your head spun with stars as you felt the piercing on his tip, hit something inside you, letting out a “do that again!”. He would chuckle, if that statement didn’t turn him on so much.

“Y-you’re doing such a g-good job, too! Ah! Like y-you a lo-ot!” You admitted, trying your best to return such actions of affections. He rested his cheek against your cheek, taking his free hand to interlace his fingers with yours as he felt you tighten when he rolled his hips, aiming for the spot that kept making you clench.  

“’C’mon, cum fer me, Baby. Lemme feel ya milk a century’s worth dry.” He growled into your ear, eager at the prospect as much as you were as you suddenly stiffened, your walls tightening around him desperately as you let out a whine, chasing the fleeting feeling as you reached down and gripped his fingers onto your clit.

“T-Taishiro! O-overstim-ula-t-ed!” You cried out, tears pooling around your eyes in frustration as your body kept clenching around him and the electricity of your high was going haywire, consuming you into a mess.

“J-just a lil! More!” He tore his hand away, sitting up as he gripped one hand on your waist tightly, and the other pressed down on your back, snapping his hips, churning your sensitive walls with an animalisitc frenzy. You could only whine, laying there and taking it as your mind was in a blank state as you felt him get bigger, suddenly. To your relief, he gave one final thrust.  

A hot warmth coated your raw insides, mixing in with your own cum as you felt him still. You whined softly as you felt full. Moments passed as the two of you huffed and panted, letting the cool air chill the two of your sweaty bodies down. He pulled out of you gingerly, you whimpered at the loss as you felt cum and slick leak out. He paid no mind, plopping down to the side of you, and pulling you back onto his stomach as the two of you took each other in, cooling down from intense highs.

He cupped your face, and began trailing soft kisses wherever he could reach, and you couldn’t help but rasp out giggles, the fog clearing from your head as you descended back towards your normal mental state of closure.  

“Beautiful. Mmm, ya took me so well, an’ ya looked so pretty n’ debauched. Don’t care, I’m gunna say it, Princess. I love ya.” He admitted so softly, hands smoothing down your back as you felt your heart softened as you gazed down at him.

“I love you, too. I know for sure that I will love you more when time passes.” You kissed him tenderly, letting your own growing affections seep into the kiss, and he let out an odd guttural of purring, enjoying the fulfilling feeling of a partner doting on him. The lights flickered, as if trying to lull you to sleep, but you weren’t sleepy, yet.

“I want to talk. What’s your favorite color? Why do you purr? How did you meet your sons? I want to know every bit about you.” You murmured into his chest, peeking at him through lashes, enjoying the surprised and pleased look that you were receiving. You didn’t care about the time, letting him ramble at each question you had, enjoying the way his heartbeat quickened as his breathing chest fell up and down, him talking excitedly as he threw in his own questions, pleased to know about you, more.

“Ah~! I don’t think ya can’t get any cuter~.” He rubbed his nose against yours in affection, and you were surprised to hear the familiar purr echo through his chest.

“What about your purring?”  

“Yeah, happens now an’ then when I’m truly happy.”

“That’s wholesome and cute.” You admitted truthfully, liking the way his eyes danced with light at your confession.

“I wanna go again.” He said suddenly, and you flushed, realizing that he was stirring to life, again. You didn’t mind. You told him, and he smiled, kissing you.

“We’ll take it a lil’ more slow, this time. Face to face. Preferably ya kissin’ me, more.” He smiled, pinching your cheek playfully. You kissed him in false retaliation.

“Yer still a lil’ wet, so ya wouldn’t mind if I just-?” He asked, and you nodded, feeling his member catch onto the rim of your used entrance, the both of you moaning as he slid in easier, this time. You were wet and loosened, and instead of focusing on chasing your highs, the two of you paid attention to each other.

 Not many words were said as you did what you pleased, kissing, touching, and enjoying his softened expression at your inquisitive hands as he held onto you, returning your affectionate gestures as the atmosphere resonated with the flickering candles: soft and romantic as the two of your hips met in a slow, sensual pace, not racing against time as you felt him continue to purr, much to your satisfaction.  

You were still satisfied from earlier, but he still managed to make you cum again, this time it wasn’t as intense, but it didn’t matter, for your head cleared a little more quicker, getting to enjoy his desperate look as he quickened his pace. He looked debauched and desperate, eyebrows furrowed downward, pools of wetness gathering at his eyes as he bit his lip, only to open his mouth and call out your name as once again, he came inside of you.              

   “Damn, I think that I can forever make love to ya.” He panted out, sweaty chest rising and falling as one of your hands soothed circles around his waist, the other bringing his own to your lips as you kissed the back tenderly.

“I feel the same.” You admitted truthfully, and he let out another set of purrs.

……….

“Oh my goooooood! Oh my god! Sister! Where have you beeeeeen?! It’s been like, a year since we’ve last seen you!” Your friend hugged you tightly, relieved tears threatened to spill. Taishiro and you had decided to take a visit on the earthen realm to collect the rest of your things, if the villagers hadn’t destroyed your hut, that is. Luckily, your place was left untouched, and you came across the wondering group of girls, fretting over you, your state of dress, and looking at Taishiro with concern.

“Sis, did you finally summon a hireling? He doesn’t look like a gremlin?” One asked. You had to keep in your laughter as your husband’s eye twitched with annoyance.  

“Um, I used a different method on the summoning spell. This is my husband, Taishiro.”

“Whaaaaa-?”

“King of hell, keeper of souls, blah blah. Look, me an’ my Queen are going to go, now. Yer all annoyin’.” He griped, snapping his fingers as the portal to your home had opened, not giving your friends time to wave their goodbyes as he dragged you home, and oddly enough, you didn’t mind.

……..

          Your eyes glinted in the moonlight as the juice from the pomegranate seeds stained your lips red as you eyed the stunned man. Centuries had passed, and you and your husband had lost track of time, not aging as your magic grew in power, melding perfectly with his. Your adopted sons had moved on, finding their own mates, bringing them to your realm to visit regularly, and your love for Taishiro grew immeasurably.

  Unfortunately, since he was an ancient demon, he had to reincarnate once every one thousand years, letting his soul reset into a body although resembled his own, his memories were long gone, leading you onto a twenty-nine year old man-hunt for your reincarnated lover.

“I may have a use for you, yet.” You let the words soothe over the young magic user, his eyes widened in something akin to recognition, although confused.

“Alright, Dumplin, What’dya need?” His accent was the same, except it belonged to a young man, this time, and not a demon.

“I’m Queen of hell, lady of the lost souls, and I’m in need of a king.”

 “So familiar…” He gripped his head, eyeing you with confusion, yet there was a hint of your husband’s glint within those eyes.

“It’s because you know me. Very well.” You hummed at his confused expression.

“Alright, I’m curious. Lead me.” He gave in.

You smiled. It wouldn’t take long for the two of you to be reunited, after all.

………..

End! Give Thanks and Credit to Rita, or youtubequeens on tumblr for the idea and us brainstorming! I tried to fix any plot holes, I fell in love with the setting and mythology and other things, so I’m pretty proud of this fic :3

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

~

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

~

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[sweetiepie08]

RebelZ (Chapter 9)

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

“Care to tell us what the fuck that was?” the Dib shouted as they ran down the hall.

“A coup, obviously,” Zim shot back. “Just not one where you seize power at the end. So, half a coup.”

“So then who seizes power now?”

“The Tallest Red and Purple still have it,”

Dib nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. “You mean you didn’t kill them?”

“It’s nearly impossible to poison an Irken,” Tak explained. “The PAK filters out most toxins. You can incapacitate them, though, for a short period of time.”

“So you basically just quit your job in spectacular fashion,” Dib said indignantly.

Tak almost couldn’t believe it. Zim must be sincere in his betrayal. He poisoned the Tallest and declared to the entire upper crust of the Irken military that it was intentional. There was no coming back from that. Every other disaster he caused could reasonably be argued as a mistake. But there could be no doubt here. Zim truly had turned on the empire.

Yet, something still didn’t sit quite right with her. If he had gone rebel, if he had truly turned traitor, then his life clock would have gone off like hers did. One would reasonably assume the impotence for this betrayal was her discovery of the Control Brains parasite, but she was with him ever since she told him that news and she never saw his life clock go off. But that could only mean something else prompted him at an earlier date. So the question was, what made Zim finally snap?

They came to a split in the hallway. Tak started going right while Zim went left.

“Uh, the Voot is this way,” Tak called.

“I’m not going to the Voot,” Zim yelled back. “I’m going to the control room.”

Dib and Tak cast each other a glance, then followed him. They found him crouched behind a door at the end of the hall and joined him in his hiding spot. Dib took a peak inside. There, dozens of Irkens worked at their stations. They seemed unaware that, for now, their leaders were incapacitated.

Zim tapped his PAK and a metal ball flew into his hands. He pulled a pin, tossed it in, and smashed the control panel, shutting the door. They heard coughing from the other side and, after a few minutes, opened the door to find the Irkens unconscious on the floor.

“So, what are we doing in here again?” Dib asked, as they stepped into the room.

Zim grabbed one of the Irkens who still slouched in their chair and threw them to the floor. “Wiping Urth off the navigation map.” He sat down and the monitor and started messing with the buttons. “If I’m going to continue to use it as my home base, I can’t have them finding it.”

“Not so fast,” Tak slapped his fingers away from the buttons. “Before this goes any further, I need answers. If you’re truly on our side, there’s only one way your life clock didn’t go off.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“You had a rebellious thought!” Tak declared. “When?”

“Three Urth years ago.”

“Three years?” Dib shouted, stepping up to them. “But I’ve been watching you. Why were you still trying to conquer Earth if you kinda-quit three years ago?”

“I wasn’t.”

“But I saw you building machines!” Dib argued.

“They weren’t for me!” Zim shot back.

Tak began to ask “But how-” before Zim cut her off.

“Silence!” he shouted. “Silence your questions! I need to concentrate.”

Zim continued typing on the buttons until a picture of the Earth appeared on the screen. The stats were scarce, save for the coordinates and the note, ‘that place where Zim is.’ The little blue ball of dirt and water had gone unnoticed by the empire, noteworthy only as a banishment site. To them, it was merely a place to keep Zim contained, far away from anything important. But after the stunt they pulled today, it would be a target.

Another few clicks of a button and the Urth was gone, leaving only a blank file in its wake. All Irken military ships automatically synced with the Massive. If it was gone from this data base, it was essentially invisible to all Irkens. If they wanted to find Urth again, they’d have to scour the universe for it. But why stop at Urth?

“Let’s dump it all,” Tak said.

“What?”

“Erase the database,” she said. “It’ll be a crippling blow to the empire.”

“Do we really have time to erase everything?” Dib asked. The human made a good point.

“Jut the maps then,” she suggested. “They would have to rebuild their navigation systems from scratch and it would send the fleet into disarray.”

“Zim is no radical!” Zim snapped. “I’m only doing this to cover my own ass.”

“Not a raical?” Dib scoffed. “You just poisoned your own leaders.”

“That was personal,” Zim argued. “This is political.”

“And what about those weapons you’re building?!” Dib shot back. “If they’re not for Irk, then who are they for?”

“Zim’s business deals are none of your… um… business!”

“Shut up!” Tak commanded, taking a seat at another monitor. “We don’t have time for this! Let’s get these maps erased and get out of here.”

“If you even make it that far,” a chorus of voices answered.

Dib looked around. “Who said that?”

“We did, human.”

Every Irken in the room rose to their feet. Tak prepared herself for a fight. Her eyes darted as she watched them all, poised to deploy the weapons in her PAK. But none made a move to attack. They all stood there, stalk still, with a dead look in their eyes.

Dib gaped at the sight. “H-how are you…”

“Silence Urth Creature!” the possessed Irkens shouted in unison, turning their cold eyes toward Dib. “Do not interrupt us again!” Dib shut his mouth and the Irkens calmed. “Congratulations defectives” they said, now addressing Zim and Tak. “It’s been centuries since we had to resort to total override, but mark our words, you will pay for this waste of food.”

“What do you care for waste?” Tak spat back at them. “You throw Irken lives away every day in your conquest.”

“A calculated cost to bring me more to feed from in the long term,” the Irkens explained with their eerily monotone voices. “You should know about calculated risks. Don’t forget, we see everything you do.”

“When have I ever sacrificed good soldiers?”

Every possessed Irken in the room wore the same mocking smirk. “All through your training days. Don’t you remember? We saw everything you did, every little cheat to get ahead.”

The Irkens tapped buttons on their control boards and soon, every monitor showed various scenes from Tak’s training years. “Electrodes hidden in your boots to cripple race opponents. Stealing test answers and planting them in a rival’s locker after copying them for yourself. You got top scores on your exams and excelled at your drills, but is it really victory if you have to sabotage your competitions? Oh sure, you studied and trained, but it never felt like enough, did it? Never thought you could win a fair fight. Had to tear someone else down first. Maybe, if it weren’t for all your cheating, we’d have let you make up your Elite ranking test. After all, we allowed everyone else who was inconvenienced by the blackout to take it.” Their smirks grew as they twisted the knife further. “Just not you.”

Tak ground her teeth together as she watched the images play out on the screen. There was no denying them. The monitors played footage from her own memory bank. They showed her and everyone else who she really was. She work so hard. She clawed her way to the top and did everything she could to stay there. But it was all a lie. And now they knew it. What was worse, Zim knew it. That little pain in the ass managed to make it to elite the first time, even while being a walking disaster, and he never had to deliberately cheat. The idea of him lording that over her was enough to make her blood boil.

“Perhaps you can prove everyone wrong, though,” the Irken voices went on. “Take the honest route for once in your life. Tell Zim what you learned on your little trip to Refirencee. Tell him what you suspect.”

“Fool!” Zim scoffed. “Zim already accessed Tak’s memories. I know everything she knows about the Control Brain parasite.”

“Yes, you saw the same books. But did you reach the same conclusions?”

“Guys! Don’t you see what it’s doing?” The Dib burst in. “It’s distracting you. It’s keeping you here until your leaders recover. Let’s erase those maps and get out of here!”

“Silence!” Zim snapped at Dib, then turned back to the dead-eyed Irkens. “Tell Zim what you know, creepy hive-mind…thing!”

“Have you ever wondered why you’re such a failure? Why you destroy everything you touch? Why, no matter what you do, everything always blows up in your face? It’s because you have no choice in the matter. It’s what you were made for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we push for something big, we require extra sustenance. We take this sustenance in what some have called a blood toll. On our first planet, we made many mistakes, one was asking our hosts directly for sacrifices. We know better now.”

“Ans what does this have to do with me?” Zim growled impatiently.

“Since the beginning of our reign, one PAK has been passed down through generations, carrying a suppressed impulse for destruction. We need only to activate it and we have our blood toll. Clearly our PAK has become quite damaged over the years. It no longer works quite right. You’re so defective, you couldn’t even declare your name right.”

The screen flashed the name Zim across it. It then reversed the letters and spread them out to reveal an acronym. ZIM became MIZ. And MIZ became Massacre Initiator Z.

“You were supposed to live as a low-ranking drone until we activated your destructive impulse and die in the disaster. You, however, defied us at every turn. We kept you alive out of sheer curiosity. We wanted to see how your life would play out. It’s been entertaining, however, you’ve become too great a burden to bare.”

Zim stood motionless, staring straight ahead. They waited for the typical Zim outburst of “lies!” or declaring his greatness, but nothing came. His eyes looked as dead as the possessed Irkens around them. He said nothing, did nothing. As much as Tak couldn’t stand Zim’s obnoxious voice or erratic behavior, watching him be so still was chilling.

Tak’s antenna perks at the sound of footsteps trooping down the hall. The Dib’s head darted for the door. “Guy! Come on! We’re out of time!”

Tak smacked Zim’s lifeless body away from the control panel. “Do you think you can stop us by getting into our heads?”

“Oh simple Tak,” the Irkens sighed. “We've lived in your heads since you were fitted with your packs.”

Tak sneered at them. “I cut you off for me and I won't rest until every Irken is free of you.”

“Please, you worked your whole life to get our attention. You finally have it. Do you want to throw that away? Perhaps we can find a place with someone of your drive and ingenuity.”

“Liars!” Did they think she was stupid? She knew as well as it that treason of this scale would never go unpunished. Even if they tried to appease her with a higher rank or a cushy job, it’d only be a matter of time before they got rid of her. But even the fact that it was trying to negotiate meant something. She was a threat to it, and she would stay a threat until the day she died.

“We you know you, Tak. You’re a plotter. You won't do anything rash.”

They don’t know me half as well as they think. “Want a bet?” She started hitting buttons on the control board. An alert came up on the screen and the voice blared from the speakers. “All maps queued for deletion. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

She hit one more button and the screen went black. “Deletion successful.”

“Take that you parasite bitch.”

“Come on,” Dib begged, pulling on her arm. The footsteps were noticeably louder. “We have to go now!”

Tak took off running and Dib pulled on the frozen Zim until his legs moved. They burst into the hall and immediately came across a group of Irkan soldiers. “There they are!” one of the soldiers cried.

Tak led the way as they ran toward the ship’s hanger. The soldiers fired at them. A laser cannon popped out of Tak’s pack and returned fire, but it was difficult for her to aim while leading the dash to the Voot. She wished one of her companions had could back her up with a pistol but Zim was still barely conscious and Dib was preoccupied with keeping his legs moving. The sound of little metallic feet running beside them gave her an idea.

“Zim, tell me your SIR unit to go into defensive mode.

There was no response. Zim was as helpful as a sack of empty ginzor cans.

“Hey Zim’s robot,” Dib said to the little SIR unit.

Gir looked up at him curiously. “Hmm?”

“Don't you have any weapons or something?”

“Huh?”

“You know, something that makes pretty lights and goes ‘pew, pew’?”

“Oh that. I got that.” A giant laser cannon popped out of his head and he fired wildly into the soldiers behind them, forcing the Irkens to scatter for cover

Finally, they made it to the hangar and all jumped in the Voot. Zim slid zombie-like into the pilot seat.

“Come on,” Dib said, shaking Zim’s shoulder. “Get us out of here!”

“Zim!” Tak snapped. “If you don't fly this ship, I will!”

That seemed to work. Zim shook off whatever stupor he was in and his usual look of single-minded determination returned to his eyes. “No one pilots Zim’s ship but Zim!” He took hold of the controls and the ship roared to life. In a flash, they took off into the stars.

[writing-frenzy]

I Wouldn’t Risk It (SVSSS Fic)

Summery: In which one annoyed Shang Huan does not know why he puts up with a certain Demonic Cultivator- “I owe you.” ah, that’s right.

Warning: some Violence and blood, and cursing. All good things to be found in svsss canon~

(In which @hamelin-born is a terrible, wonderful enabler, thus this is how it came about.)

EDIT: Part of Wager verse, first Part HERE

----

“Welcome to- oh wait it’s you.” Shang Huan started to greet some incoming customers, only to give the pair that came in a flat look instead.

“Greetings Uncle Shang!” Cao Mei, an actually adorable raven haired girl, her purple eyes so dark one could almost think they were black if it weren’t for certain lighting here and there. Puberty was obviously treating her well, seeing she must have been 19 at least, was developing some curves, her baby fat also finally melted off. But despite this, Shang Huan was unmoved, as for one, he wasn’t a fucking pedo, and two, he could easily see that same matching intelligence and calculation she inherited from her grandfather’s own dark purple eyes.

As expected of Wife #45; not only a knock out beauty in the making, but even had more IQ points then most, along with a more developed character and backstory then a lot of his later wife plots.

Though, he could admit he was taken off guard with her story then most; the cause of that being one certain person-

“I see the place hasn’t burnt down yet; congratulations for that.” was huffed by said anomaly, making Shang Huan focus his deadpan face on the other.

“Thanks, my kitchen staff is always trying though.” and no sooner were the words spoken, then what sounded like multiple firecrackers going off in said kitchen... He could even swear he saw what looked like a blue firework of a bird fly out from there, before one of his handy golems ate it as it passed...

Closing his eyes, Shang Huan counted to three, before opening them once more; he would never be able to count as high as he really wanted, but time was rarely on his side, so three it was. Hazel eyes once more opening, Shang Huan was able to look at a source of many headaches, one Dark Poison Sect Leader, Cao Xiaowen, a true doting grandfather who still looked like he was only in his late 20s, his blood red hair peppered with black from all the resentful energy surrounding him, and greys from stress of life actually catching up with him.

And a character that was never in Proud Immortal Demon Way, but yet again from one of his other stories; a Demonic Sect Leader that had just been a random background character, just to flesh out that world a bit more. He had only named because while he could get away without naming the Sect the guy made, it wouldn’t make sense to have Cao Xiaowen be nameless, seeing as he had bullshited a whole bunch of techniques this infamous and well known demonic cultivator was supposed to have made...

Making a face at that smiling face before him, Shang Huan felt some regrets; just some more to add to his pile stashed in his closet and under his floorboards, but what can one do? Especially with a story that seems to make sure he can never forget any of them, always seeming to push willing to push cheery, willful mistakes into his face.

i.e. the Demonic Sect Leader before him.

But then again, to see these two characters, Cao Xiaowen and Cao Mei connect here, in this living world of PIDW and other mash ups, was honestly rather amazing, just with Demonic Cultivation and the same last names... It was as fascinating as it was paranoia inducing. Cao Mei had been just another revenge wife plot, the young woman wanting vengeance against her Mother for killing her loved family members along with trying to kill her... as well as to save her young baby brother, who their Mother was trying to mold into her perfect image of Sect Leader. The girl had only been able to survive for as long as she did because one of her dying relatives had sacrificed themselves, turning themselves into her Spirit Familiar and protecting her...

.... And as for Cao Xiaowen, when he had mentioned how he went down in his end in his own story verse, Airplane had only said that it was due to betrayal and sacrifice, that being the only ending he gave the character...

(How many other fucking throwaway lines does he have to worry about ohmygodwhyisthishislife-)  

“...So, why do you choose now to darken my doorway?” Shang Huan asked, the unspoken ‘I-know-you-hate-this-place-much-less-willing-to-bring-your-beloved-granddaughter-with-you.’ not said, but easily heard.

“... You would be glad to know, but I must now introduce you to Sect Leader of the Dark Poison Sect, Cao Meihui.” Cao Xiaowen introduced as he motioned to the young girl. Shang Huan stared for but a moment before closing his eyes once more, even as whispers broke out all around them in his place, from the gambling tables to even the bar and restaurant.

This time he allowed himself to count to 10, as a treat.

“Follow me this way, Elder Cao, Sect Leader Cao.” and with a simple hand motion, a few of his workers already getting things done, the Ruby Room already to entertain his ‘guests’. It didn’t take to long after all, with his standards and staff precision, but he needed to make sure there was nothing to spy on in this conversation.

Because oh, does he have a lot to say right now.

Once the door was closed and all the silences spells and talismans in place, Shang Huan rounded on the now sitting pair, letting his hands slam on the service table before him.

“Can you not?!” Shang Huan seethed, even as Cao Xiaowen grinned, his heir now leader beside him shifting ever so slightly beside him, smartly making some space between them.

“Why, Shang Huan, what ever do you mean?”

“You politic in my place again and I will make sure to show the world just how much I can beat you into the ground.” was practically growled, Cao Xiaowen smartly raising his hands in surrender as he did. “Why the hell did you even need to do that, didn’t you already get the stalker bitch killed and dispersed last year? I distinctly remember being there for the mad ramblings.” 

-Urgh- he never wanted that much TMI into someone’s deluded sexual fantasies, especially rounding around this who-me? Demonic Cultivator! Body stealing and marrying the guy’s son just to get a possible chance at him, and then killing him and half his family when she still couldn’t get what she wanted to spite him?

Shang Huan doesn’t move, but that still doesn’t mean he’s not fighting a shiver of repulsion at the thought. Seeing the way Cao Xiaowen grimaced at the reminder, Shang Huan was actually starting to feel in a better mood. 

“While she and most of her supporters are now gone, traces of those who still hold sympathies for her and her ideals still remain.” the man scowled, even as he took out a small sachet, handing the small plain back over as he did.

Hmmm, spicy roasted melon seeds; say what you will about the man, he did know his bribes at least.

“They’re also trying to push my little didi to be the next Sect Leader, even though he never wanted it in the first place!” Cao Meihui scowled in turn, taking out a beautiful, yet still deadly battle fan to fan herself. “Really, he has suffered enough under that woman’s ‘care’, he should be able to choose however he wishes to live in life!”

Shang Huan doesn’t even wince at those words, even as he thinks on the poor fate of canon fodder Cao Yun, a young boy desperate to leave his harsh home circumstances, even joining a certain Righteous Sect set to be doomed and destroyed, loosing his home once again and setting him in turn on a doomed quest to stop Luo Binghe...

Well, considering the boy had left home at 15, and had only just turned that this year, maybe that path could be prevented; there were still plenty of other Sects still up and running when his protagonist came into power, maybe he could join one of those?

Still though, maybe he should give the kid a transportation talisman for his birthday; you can never have too many of those after all.

“That still does not explain why you had to announce Young Mei right in front of my store.”

“Please, it’s the perfect place too; not many completely neutral places around anymore, what with Hua Hua Palace trying to police everyone and dragging the other Righteous Sects into it... Speaking of which, they haven’t bothered you after last time, have they?” Cao Xiaowen asks, with what looks like could be actual concern in his eyes.... Ha-

“I’m pretty sure they won’t forget my warding anytime soon; not to mention the rest of the towns folk’s farewells.” Shang Huan replies dryly, remembering just how all those golden pricks were beautifully thrown from his store, some of his staff even joining in on the beatdown the protection brought forth. If he remembers right, it soon became a whole town wide event to run them all out. 

And when you have a whole town seemingly a melting pot filled with Spiritual beings, humans, and demons, they definitely are going to have their wounds to lick.

“But again, my place is, as you said Neutral; so why are you bringing in politics here? Announcements of a new Sect Leader should be only at official events or places that one is already allied with after all.” The Owner of the Gilded Plane asks lightly, those hazel eyes taking on a deadly touch, like molten liquid gold is taking over bronze, a sunset of colors being the last of the sky you will ever see, easily to see it all reflected in the blade at his side.

(Ah, how terrifying, seeing the threat of Fortune’s Favored all out to bare, Dujin Xue at his side, the spirit weapon willing and bloodthirsty to take out any threat to its master.)

For a moment, all is silent, before finally, the red haired cultivator takes from his sleeves, a few boxes simple in their decorations and yet obviously of the finest Jade.

“I almost forgot; I have with me some of the finest of Blight and Poison Talismans with me, not to mention my newest creations; a Pipa made with Blood Drain White Wood and using heart strings of an abyssal creature, painted with curse residue.” Cao Xiaowen motions to an opened box with said black and purple instrument with white accents, truly a work of art and power, even unbound as it is, no master to really work those deadly strings just yet.

Another box is soon opened as well, revealing a twin pair of daggers, their blades white with a beautiful red handle for a hilt. “Not to mention these Ancient Necromancer’s Bone Daggers, recently uncovered in an old tomb, plenty of resentful energy and dark desires just waiting to be unveiled in any upcoming battle, madness in but a cut to be delivered...” the former Sect Leader says, a bit of sweat coming from his brow, those dark eyes uneasy even as he hides behind his bluster and charm. His granddaughter, Cao Meihui watches intently, her own dark eyes worried even as she is awed by her beloved grandfather’s work, and the man who can make him so nervous. 

The one Fortune’s Favored watches and listens, and waits, even as he is showcased all the wares most people would die to get their hands on, each item worth more then most lives to some.

“... I will give you a warning and you will be Marked for it; there will be no next time if you try and pull this stunt again, you hear me Xiaowen?” Shang Huan allows, eyes turning back into that warm and soft hazel, even as he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he does. Well, at least he now has more good things in store for his gambling patrons, who will no doubt go crazy for these goods.

(Never noticing how the familial pair relax, a breath of relief taken for their own that this gambit actually worked, even if they are now Marked by all the staff.

Best behavior is a must for now at least.) 

-----+----- 

~15 Years ago~

Cao Xiaowen, once just regular Cao Xiao, was a man most would never dare cross; as a Demonic Cultivator, you wouldn’t even be able to escape through death. He had cultivated carefully along his chosen path, having no talent for what was Righteous roads, so turned down to darker paths and alleys to get what he wanted. He had been smart about it, and equally talented for Demonic Cultivation, becoming a Bounty Hunter to be able to hide just what practices he used.

Not only did it get him much needed gold, but the resentful energy and blood of the wicked were quiet useful on his path. Unlike other Demonic Cultivators that sought to take in the energies as fast as possible to form their Obsidian Cores, killing innocents, and eventually needing Cauldrons in the end to balance themselves and to go farther in their Cultivation, Cao Xiaowen went for a more steadfast pace.

He first started with crafting items of Resentful energy, talismans and amulets to get a better feel for the delicacies of the energy he chose to work with. With time and effort, along with plenty of meditation and blood on his hands, he found a cultivation path that suited him rather well, untraditional as it was for the usual brutal force most Demonic Cultivators usually went. His path was like a slow acting poison, letting the wicked energies ever so carefully, ever so gently gather into his meridians, building up a steady foundation before he ever focused on building his Core.

And the results for it were astounding; when compared to traditional Demonic Cultivators, not only could Cao Xiaowen hold his own with those stages above his own, he could beat even those whose Cultivation that was said to be an entire level above him. Not to mention just how devastating his spells and attacks were against those of the Righteous Sects.

It was no surprise that when he founded his own Sect, he had plenty of disciples to chose and pick from...But he wasn’t stupid.

He knew he had plenty of enemies all around him, some just jealous of his power, others hateful of just how he got it, being a Demonic Cultivator was a sin for some even if he only went after criminals. That he was a rather attractive even as his red hair was peppered black and grey, and even a few tigers acting like pigs to be fatten all came for him in the end. He knows people were waiting in the shadows, eager to take him down and steal everything he worked for, salivating over his abilities and life work...

Though despite it all, he never expected the betrayal to come so close to home.

“P-papa.” was stuttered out by his honestly rather adorable Granddaughter, the young four year old sobbing as she reached for him; his daughter in law smiling all the while even as she held one of his crafted knives to the little girl’s throat. He had to give it to her, not many women could still look so devastatingly beautiful, covered as they were in their husband’s blood. He never expected the raven haired woman to be so ruthless, honestly sure the woman loved his son.

Looks like he still has errors in his judgement, even at his age; taken off guard on what he though would be a simple material gathering mission, only to be crippled and threatened by a woman he thought he could trust even as she slit his beloved child’s throat before his eyes.

“You really shouldn’t have refused me all those years ago; this all could have been avoided if you had just agreed to be mine... oh well, too late for regrets.” The woman mourns softly, making Cao Xiaowen feel his brow crinkle, dark eyes confused.

But trying to parse the words of the mad woman was not something he had time for, seeing as his lovely little granddaughter was suddenly in his arms, the both of them finding themselves being pushed off a cliff, and into the Broken Jaw Ravine.

Using what remained of his spiritual energy in his blighted Obsidian Core, Cao Xiaowen was fully prepared to become his dear granddaughter’s Familiar Spirit to protect her...

When in the end, it turned out unnecessary; they ended up landing in a Spirit Capture Net. And judging by the pure color and Qi he could feel running through it, a high quality one at that. Feeling how it blocked him from using any of his spiritual energy and Qi, he looked to his darling dear grandchild, the (forcibly) retired Sect Leader couldn’t help but feel so relieved to see her shaken, but well at least in body.

And then he heard the cursing.

“What in the fuck you soggy old vulture of a corpse! Curses on your fucking clothing to never be nice and pristine, to always stub your toe on the corner, to be miserable even when you have your favorite food! Do you know how long it took to make that net?! Could you have fallen somewhere else? No, of course the skies would decide to shit on me with some young man in my beautifully crafted net! Probably jumped off for the heck of it knowing how fucking dumb most Demonic Cultivators are! ARRRHGGGG YOU DAMN WALNUT!” was practically ranted below them, a young brunet man yelling up at him, who couldn’t be more then in his 20′s. (Though rather impressively at the Peak of Core Formation from what he could sense.)

As it was, two pairs of dark eyes could only give the ranting rouge a wide eyed stare, even when, in the end, the young man let them down, hazel eyes narrowed in on them. He raised one brow at his child that was with him, but easily narrowed them back onto Cao Xiaowen’s own.

Ah, he could probably sense his power (use his weakness).

“So, this is how it is going to go down. I’ll help heal you and your kid, won’t even leave her in debt... tho your ass is mine; I say jump, you better do it and ask if this is high enough. You will owe me till the end of your day and then some, and in return I will benevolently help you out. You agree or should I leave you and the kid here for any unpleasant fates?” was the rather grumpy, if smartly given offer, Cao Xiaowen finding he can’t help but respect it, even as crudely as it was put. Looking down to his innocent little Cao Mei, the grandfather could only nod at the offer, no other recourse that could ensure his little gem a better chance at life.

And thus marked the first meeting between the terrible and powerful Dark Poison Sect Leader Cao Xiaowen, and the Rogue Cultivator Shang Huan, who would one day have a title even greater then his own.

Amazing really, how some things start (and others end).

-----

:D Here we are, another story from this verse; it was really fun! (even if I actually had to create a damn timeline to make sure everything was straight TTxTT)

Anyways, here is an ally of Airplane! Their relationship can be described as.

Shang Huan: Why do I put up with you again?

Cao Xiaowen: Because I have the best gifts bitch. *Inwardly sweaty*

But Also-

Cao Xiaowen: So... Demonic Cultivating involves a lot of... Dual Cultivating huh... And are those innocents being brutally murdered over there?

Rando: Yeah, ain’t it great? :D

Cao Xiaowen: ... *proceeds to make a cultivation path that involves as little Dual Cultivation as needed while also being one of the nicest ironically* Ah, that is better, better get more wicked blood~

These two were really fun to write together, and with PIDW, I can make as many ocs as I want~ So much to do, so much to play with~

Oh yeah, Shang Hua’s blade, Dujin Xue means Gilded Blood :3

Cao I picked for being a common last name, while Xiaowen means red skies. Mei means red gem, but for Meihui I liked the meaning of monstrous/demonic beauty~ As you can see, I had fun~ 

[ladywhaiyvern]

Musings of An Otaku #9- On Thomas Oliver....

Being a fan of Power Rangers since the beginning back in 1993 and watching it religiously till Power Rangers: Wild Force. Then having an on-again and off-again to pretty much now. I pretty much watched a few episodes (out of every incarnation) of the Disney-era, got bored or disgusted by the looks of how they approached it and stopped watching. Had hopes when Saban purchased the rights back from the mouse but found myself once again, doing the same thing. Watch a few episodes out of the current series, get bored or disgusted by once again how they approached the series and stopped. Saban passes the torch to Hasbro and I have not picked up watching a single episode at all. Even going back and watching all the Disney seasons to see if my opinions have changed and tried not to compare them so-much to the original source material. However, this is not what this muse is about. It’s a season by season breakdown. Or an American comparison to the original Sentai. No. 

There’s one Ranger in particular that every single person seems to be fascinated with. Someone that everyone seems to worship the ground that he walks on. He’s somehow the most powerful Ranger that has ever walked upon planet Earth. Everything seems to revolve around him. And it’s not just the fanbase. Lately, it seems like Hasbro can’t get off of Tommy’s dick either. Every piece of nostalgia has to be Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. There are a Shit ton of other Rangers out there that deserve the same treatment. He is not an omniscient God 

Now, okay….before I go any further, I am not in any way shape or form dissing Jason David Frank. I love the guy! No, no, no, this is about the character that he portrayed. Unlike some people, I see both JDF and Tommy as two different individuals. Two different people. Like both could reside besides each other in the real world. 

 This is just about Tommy. And NOT the Tommy from the Boom Studios comic series. Cause...oh my god...yes, he is one powerful son of a bitch. No. No. This is just about the television series, Tommy! No alternate universes being thrown in. 

Let’s step back in time for a minute. When Tommy was first introduced into the series and became the evil Green Ranger- I enjoyed the character. I loved the struggle he faced between being good or being evil. Yes, while under Rita’s spell he was pretty powerful but one has to wonder if he wasn’t her power that was enhancing his power and abilities. Any Ranger with the help of an evil witches power can become a pretty strong opponent. 

The entire evil Green Ranger saga ends and Tommy joins the side of good (obviously…). Tommy didn’t single handedly defeat Rita in the end because she was banished to the depths of space in another dumpster by Lord Zedd. Moving into season two, obviously we have Lord Zedd taking over and the entire Green Candle saga starting. When he loses the Green Ranger power, it’s understandable. Things do not last forever. Power can’t last forever. Sad to see him leave the Ranger team but I wasn’t devastated. Yes, it was a complete shocker to see the White Ranger power being created. Awesome, new Ranger, new Power. HOWEVER, I knew Tommy wasn’t up and done completely being a Ranger. I had a slight feeling he was going to come back for that. His story as the Green Ranger may have been finished, but this new chapter was just starting. 

What I did not like though, was when the Power Transfer took place and he just pushed his way into the leader position. He did not even give Rocky a chance. In Ranger-lore the Red Ranger is typically the leader (no matter what character type they possess). Yeah, Rocky may seem a little aloof (and he’s completely different from Jason), but he still should have been given a chance to prove himself in the position. Was it alright for Tommy to just push him aside without allowing that chance? Why was everyone else so chill with this decision? It was kinda a dick move there, Thomas. 

Zeo comes trotting along and almost all the storylines are still focused around Tommy. Granted, yes..he’s finally the Red Ranger. In my eyes, he finally has the mantle to be leader of the group. But still, why was he singled out. I thought the Rangers implored teamwork. I thought to fight evil, they had to fight together- all of them- together. Not this, “Oh! If we just attack Tommy- the others do not matter.” Poor Adam and Rocky were just kinda pushed towards the back burner in this season. And I won’t even get into the strange relationship that seemed to be going on between them. It’s not like Tommy single handedly beat Rita and Zedd. They hightailed it out of dodge when the Machine Empire showed up on their doorstep. Not like he single handedly defeated the Machine Empire either. Shit, the Zeo Rangers did not even destroy the Machine Empire. Zedd and Rita came back to give them their just deserts. 

Shifting into Turbo, we see Thomas once again being given the mantle of Red Ranger. Shocker. By now the Rangers are getting ready to graduate (except you, Justin…). This is obviously foreshadowing things to come and another power transfer. Also noted here is where Tommy mentions that when he graduates, he mentions something about becoming a racecar driver or something to that line. If that is the case, then why the hell did years later he show up with a fucking PHD in Paleontology. I would still LOVE to see the look on Billy’s face for that one! He was the science nerd. IMHO, he should have been the one in that role. But nooooo...his character had to be sent off to an all water planet to never be heard from again. In my eye’s the character of Tommy will never be related in any way shape or form to Science. I honestly saw him opening up a dojo of his own (whether it be on the other side of Angel Grove or some other town). When I think of “Tommy” my mind connects that to martial arts and fitness. In a way, he could have been a mentor to a young team of Rangers (a team that revolved around martial arts and not Dinosaurs). 

But seriously, I digress. Where within the television tropes did he become this all power being that all of fandom and marketdom has to worship?!  Many other Rangers have shown time and again that they have faced similar situations (that he had gone through) and prevailed. What makes him so special? I mean seriously, cut me some slack! ANDROS FUCKING SACRIFICED ZORDON’S LIFE TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!! He did not want to swing that Drill Saber and end Zordon's life, but he still did. He may not have been the best leader. He was kind of a pissy asshole (but I loved him anyways and still do). But this isn’t about Andros. Why is all the attention drawn to this one single character though? Not everyone can relate to Tommy, so why is so much emphasis in Ranger history based around him? 

Tommy Oliver is an overrated individual and as the series went on, I became more and more distant away from him. As a character, I only enjoy him in the very early Green Ranger days. I tolerate him from then on. As a leader, yes, I liked Jason. I liked Rocky for his goofy side and he should have been given a chance to prove himself as a leader. In the alternate universe of the comic book series- I absolutely love Tommy. Lord Drakkon, Shattered Grid, pure evil, pure insanity, pure mayhem. Yes! Jason David Frank- is an amazing person, a great actor, he did a good job portraying a character that I love to hate.   

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 25- Checkmate

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Captured by Dolios, it’s up to TFC to decide who lives, who dies, and who gets to walk away from the game Dolios plays with them. 

Chapter idea credit to @whumpster-dumpster

_____________________________________________

“How about a game of chess, guildmaster?” Dolios waves the hermits into the antechamber of the prison. The death dungeons Galena warned them of. TFC is pushed forward, standing before and alone from his friends. He stumbles and turns, head spinning from the sleep he was awoken from as he  looks at them all. Helmets cover the faces of the guards standing behind each hermit, but he can clearly see the knives at their throats. Every single one, a hair’s breadth from death. Some are stoic, like Doc. Unafraid and unblinking to the cold blade. Others are nearly collapsing to their knees- if doing so didn’t mean being cut by the knife. 

TFC turns back, a fierce growl rising from his throat “What is this about?” 

“I’m trying to be civil, can’t you see?” Dolios sweeps his purple robes to the side, revealing a table and two chairs. Atop the table, crystal and obsidian chess pieces glitter in the torchlight. “I’m letting you decide your team's fate. You see, each piece is a member of your illegal guild. On both sides. Each one that’s captured is eventual doom. Play my game, and decide the fate of your beloved friends. Who is more important, who will live? Who is sacrificed for the good of the cause?” 

“What kind of sick game-!” Grian claws his way out of his captor’s grip, biting down on the gloved hand before the masked man regains control over the spitfire. 

“And what happens when I win?” TFC puts a hand on his waist and raises a silvery eyebrow. 

“You won’t, but just to ease your fears, when you win your friends will get to live. It won’t be a nice time living, but they’ll be alive.” Dolios chuckles. “If you lose, those who are captured are killed and become another husk to add to my army. The rest may leave, in fact. But trust me- I won’t leave anyone alive. I play to dominate.” 

“What if I just don’t play?” TFC looks at the chess pieces. He picks up a knight, turning it over. Scrawled on the bottom of the crystal white horse, he can see Wels’s name. One piece, but one real life in this game of strategy. He has to be smarter than Dolios. 

“Then we can just make this fast and kill them all right now. I’m giving you the chance to free some, or all! Of your friends.” Dolios pulls out a chair and motions to it, brushing the cushioned velvet flat. “Sit, guildmaster. Let’s play a game. Show me your true worth as a champion guild.” 

Reluctantly, he does. He has no choice. This is the only way he can ensure some sort of life for his friends. But at the expense of others. As soon as he pulls his chair in, a blast of air and magic reverberates from the chess board. He winces, his hair blowing back and gripping the chair for support. When TFC reopens his eyes, the prison chamber has changed. 

Dolios and him are floating above the ground. Just beneath them, a massive chess board has appeared. The guards are gone, and on each checkered color stands a hermit. Only a few pieces are actual stone. Grian opens his wings, attempting to fly free from his place as bishop. But as soon as he takes off from the ground, his eyes widen and pain laces across his face. He crashes to the stone, black lightning shooting up his skin. Iskall and others step forward, before hesitating. They’re chess pieces now. Pawns. They can only move when the player moves them. Dolios looks down, chuckling. “He’s quite the wild child. Completely different from the last angel I quarreled with.” 

“Why are you doing this?” TFC hisses. “This isn’t fair!” 

“Since when did things ever become fair, guildmaster? You’re already playing with their lives by challenging me. Now you can see how your own mistakes led you here.” Dolios intertwines his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. He leans his chin on his hands, a coy smile making his brown beard scratch at his skin. “I’ll let you make the first move, TFC.” 

The guildmaster looks across his chess board, as well as below him. It’s not just his pieces that are hermits, that are his friends. Dolios has some as well. Standing deathly still, waiting for the first move to be taken. TFC closes his eyes, thinking. He needs to be smart, to be a better strategist than the magistrate of Lairyon. This isn’t just a game. This is beyond what happens at the table before him. He needs to think of the repercussions each move will make. He has to make the least bloody moves as possible. Save as many of his friend’s lives as possible. 

“You promise no harm will come to my friends that survive?” TFC’s eyes open, realizing what he has to do. Without hesitation, TFC picks up a pawn, directly in front of Grian. It’s Mumbo. 

“I promise, on my word as the magistrate of Lairyon. May the ancient ones strike me down themselves.” TFC sets the pawn two spaces forward. Below him, he hears Mumbo’s yelp, followed by a cry of pain and feet scrabbling forward. When the crystal mage looks up, Dolios is grinning. “So the game begins.” 

He shoves his own pawn forward, moving exactly as TFC wants him to. The one directly in front of the king- of Dolios himself. TFC looks down, seeing Ren shuffle forward. He’s missing a sandal, only one flopping against the cold marble chess board beneath him. Two moves in front of him and to the left is Mumbo, shaking in his boots. 

TFC moves a second pawn- Scar. “You have my friends marked wrong. None of them are pawns. They’re all stronger than you could ever hope to be.” Wels is exposed, Scar standing beside Mumbo. 

“Tell that to this- checkmate.” TFC straightens his back, staring directly at Dolios as the magistrate shoves his queen diagonally. It’s not linked to any hermit, so a stone statue moves into the corner of the board. Turning and facing the white king. Capturing TFC. “You stupid mining moron! You lost in two moves!” Dolios cheers, his chair knocking backwards as he pumps his fist to the air and stands. “I didn’t even lose a single damned piece!” 

“Neither did I.” TFC whispers. “Now let my friends go.” 

Dolios stills, freezing mid celebration. His head turns, looking to TFC. He can see the magistrate slowly piece it all together, and the moment he realizes what’s happened. Elation breaks away in seething anger. A rage so bright and hot TFC swears he can feel it from his chair. “You tricked me!” 

“No, I played your game.” TFC’s voice is calm, collected. “You just happened to win. What was it you said before… you play to dominate? And dominate you did. Shouldn’t a good leader find a way to win without bloodshed?” 

Dolios waves his hand, a black magic circle appearing. A reverberating sonic wave shoves TFC out of his chair, throwing chess pieces all around him. Floating above his friends, he can hear them gasp. Only able to watch. Unable to move, to help their guildmaster. Their friend. Doc reaches out, but the black veins quickly reach back towards him. Towards his heart. TFC winces, sitting up. “You swore on your seat to let them go if I lost! If you go back on your word, everyone will know!” 

“Oh, I don’t plan on going back on my words.” Dolios snaps his fingers, and the hermits warp back to reality. The chamber is it’s old dull hall, torches and stone bricks. Hermits collapse together, checking one another for wounds sustained while apart. Grasping to stay together, to piece what happened between their last memory and now. Most only remember the capitol hall, then being woken up by the masked guards in individual cells.

 Dolios approaches TFC, setting his grey leather boot on the older man’s chest. Pressing his gilded heels harsh against his ribs. “But you still lost, you were captured. And all the pain your friends avoided? I’m going to do it tenfold to you!” 

A black ball of lightning grows as Dolios snarls, hand winding back and aiming directly for TFC. His eyes are wild, unhinged and untethered to reality. TFC raises his hand, a weak attempt to stop the growing dark magic before him. 

“Oh no you don’t!” X’s voice is sure, loud and reverberating off the stone walls. Unhindered by his mask. A snap follows soon after, and the dark lightning is dragged into nothingness. Into the void as X’s black hole grows. It threatened to eat up Dolios then and there, had he not taken an alarmed step back. 

“How? You shouldn’t be able to do that! You’re weak! My sleep spell should’ve...” Dolios turns, staring down the other hermits. Not noticing that Cub was hidden behind the others, or that TFC was no longer at his feet. 

“Nah, I’d say we’re pretty strong. Especially together.” X shrugs, and lets his black hole explode in a miniature big bang. 

With Dolios distracted, the crew makes their escape. Wels casts a shield and speed buffs, one hand raised to protect the retreat. Etho disappears down the hall, bouncing through shadows and silently taking out the guards ahead. At the top of the stairs, Mumbo hacks his way into the redstone powered door. Focusing all of his strength into forcing it open. Stress releases a sheet of ice before them, Jevin wraps everyone together into a bundle of bodies, and Impulse takes up a position next to Wels and his shield. Bracing against his friends, he casts his magic. Short spurts of explosions erupt from his hands, jetting the guild down the hall. 

Etho appears above the group from an arching shadow, grabbing Doc’s hand and joining them as they careen through the halls of the capitol building. Zipping past guards and wizards before anyone can even realize what they’ve seen, like a roller coaster ride. They don’t stop until they’ve burst out the back doors. Stress still doesn’t stop making a highway of ice, not until they’re well beyond the city limits, skating out into the open marshes that surround Milliara. 

Only then does the crew stop, breathing heavily and taking a moment to realize what just happened. And once they come to the same conclusion- they drown TFC in hugs. 

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

“Sir… they escaped. Again.” Apatia runs up, his breath heavy as his chest rises and falls. “They’re well beyond the walls. Should we send the Arcane guard after them?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone to question why we’re chasing after our champions. Erase all memories to anyone that saw their escape.” Dolios growls, rubbing his hand. Feeling the void still against his skin, trying to tear it apart. 

“But what about the illegal guild? They know-” 

Dolios turns away from the guildmaster, forcing the redstone door closed. Hiding the dungeons beneath the capitol building. “They are not our main concern. Let them squirm, let them think they’ve won. I have more important things to deal with. I have more power to gain.” 

Dolios looks down as something rattles against the floor. He stoops low, picking up the black pawn. It’s chipped, the onyx stone heavy in his hand. The Order of Hermits have captured this pawn, but he’s just setting the stage. Playing the whole field. “Check.”

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Red Dead Cupid: Friends in Arms

Hello @katerix I’m your Red Dead cupid! I chose your request for Landon Ricketts x f!Reader being best friends, passing time\chilling together, when not busy maintaining an order around. I hope you like it! @rdr-secret-cupid​

I also chose a bit of a different writing POV, just trying something a little different. 

I lean back in my chair, the heat washing over me. It isn’t really much of a bother anymore, I’m long used to the unforgiving sun. It’s a requirement when you live down in Mexico. I take one last drag from my cigarette and then throw it down, pressing it out with my boot. On my left is the small table with my shot glass of whiskey, the chair on the other side empty but expectant for its usual occupant. 

After a moment of watching a hawk lazily circle on the air currents, the chair creaks. I look over and see my most trusted companion and lifelong friend. Landon Ricketts. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and yes it is the famed Landon Ricketts, the fastest draw in the West and famed gunslinger. 

He sighs heavily and drinks his shot of whiskey, grimacing at the burn. He looks worn out, but he always looks that way. After all, he hasn’t had a quiet life until recently, if you can really call his life now quiet. I do though, but that may be because I was with him a decent amount of the time he was living wild in the deserts of America. 

“Them Gutierrez boys giving you trouble again?” I ask as he leans back, pulling out a cigarette. 

“When aren’t they?” he says in his gruff voice. 

“I’m surprised you’ve been as patient with them as you have been,” I comment. 

“I’m tired of those days, y/n. And I’ve told you, I wanna give that nonsense up, try for something different. But, guess even in a different country, I can’t escape my past.” 

I sigh, knowing what he means. As a teenager, Landon found me as a wild orphan, threatening anyone and challenging absolutely everyone to a gunfight. It was a dark time for me. I’d lost my family and through the anger that rose from my grief, I tried taking it out on everyone around me. Landon came through town, and how could I not challenge him? The most famous gunslinger. 

I still remember the way he looked at me when I threatened him. He just laughed and turned his back to me, so I shot him. Or tried to. I was a real bad shot and my bullet whizzed right past him. But he turned back to me. Guess I made some kind of impression on him, because after that, he took me in. Taught me how to shoot and fight. 

We ran together for a few years after that, became just as close as two gunslingers could. It wasn’t unusual for people back then to confuse him as my father, which sometimes we played along with if we were robbing someone. But the truth was it bothered me. Landon was never a father figure to me, but he was my friend. He was the only person who recognized my anger in my youth as a plea for help. I trusted him more than anyone. 

In my late twenties, I ended up drifting off from Landon. Not on purpose, but he was always on the move. He had to be with his notoriety. At one point, I didn’t see him for so long I just sort of made my own way and fell into a gang of outlaws. Having a dirty history myself, I fit right in. The leader, Dutch, was a good man at first, but he ended up going crazy when the gang fell apart through a series of tragedies. By that point though, I’d already fallen in love and married his right hand man Arthur Morgan. 

I loved Arthur, more than anything. He was one of the few members in that gang who knew my past with Landon, but he kept my secret. I didn’t tell anyone about Landon because I didn’t always appreciate his fame. Whenever anyone found out I ran with him, they’d bombard me with questions about him. It was always about him. Arthur understood, and he didn’t talk or ask about him much.

But then, Arthur died in 1899 of tuberculosis. His death crushed me. Dutch was so far gone in his madness that I just ended up leaving. Besides, the gang was finished by that point anyways, sometimes I’m amazed I didn’t end up getting killed in the process. I was so lost though when Arthur passed, I don’t remember much from after that period. I buried him and then I remember I stayed near his grave for a long time. 

A couple of months passed after Arthur’s passing. I was still lost in my grief, living near his grave. One day, Landon showed up in the cabin I was living in. He said nothing but he threw down a newspaper at my feet. The top article was about my gang that fell apart. 

“How did you know?” I asked. 

“Because I know you,” Landon said. “I may not have been around much, but I know you. You think I didn’t know about your marriage to Arthur? When I read about him, I knew I needed to find you. I’m very sorry for your loss, y/n.” 

Landon was the first person to comfort you about Arthur. I didn’t want to live like this anymore, in my solitude and kept company by nothing aside from my grief. Although I was still shattered, I considered going with Landon, but I told him I didn’t want to live the wild life of an outlaw anymore. 

“I’ve done that already,” I said, “I don’t wanna do it anymore. It leads to nothing but pain.” 

Landon agreed and said he wanted to do the same. He was also tired of the life, of any man who had even a sliver of confidence challenging him to a duel. He wanted to help people, to make some peace out of the violence he’d sewn. 

So after that, I went with him down southwest. At first, we tried settling in places like Armadillo and Tumbleweed. But Landon’s fame followed him and he couldn’t escape the life he was trying to leave behind. That was when I decided that maybe it would be better to go down to Mexico. After all, everywhere I went reminded me of my husband. I just wanted to escape the memories, not because I regretted my marriage, but because I just wanted relief from my pain. 

Landon agreed to the idea of Mexico, so a few years ago we settled down in the town of Chuparosa. It was a fairly wild town, overrun with gangs and troublemakers. It took some time, but we got it tamed. It was Landon’s idea to sort of make ourselves the equivalent of sheriffs, as the town lacked any real form of law. I half-heartedly agreed, even though being a peacekeeper was the opposite of what I used to do and the kind of person I used to run from. 

But even down here, Landon was chased by his past. Sometimes a vigilante would come, having heard of Landon’s presence and would try to take him on. Luckily those types of men were few and far between.  Every once in a while, one of the gangs we’d chased out would come back and try to cause trouble. But we were more than a match for them. The Gutierrez brothers were the last to not get the hint, until today. 

Landon puts out his cigarette. Just as I’m about to say something, a young woman comes running up to him. I recognize her of course, Luisa Fortuna. A fiery member, and an enthusiastic member of the rebellion going on in Mexico. She’s breathing excitedly. 

“Ricketts! The Guiterrez brothers. They’re back!” 

Landon sighs and leans forward. He checks his pistol before reholstering it. “How long before I end up having to shoot these fools?” he says and stands up. I follow him, telling myself I can help if things get out of hand. Truth is though I just want to see these idiots get what they're owed. They’ve been a problem for too long and getting far too confident.

Just as we’re rounding the corner to the main street, I hear a familiar voice, taunting someone. That voice… it brings the dull pain I’ve sat on for ten years. I jog past Landon and find on the main street one of the Gutierrez brothers facing someone I haven’t seen since my gang fell apart. He’s grown older and he looks far more serious than I’ve ever seen him, but there’s no denying who he is: John Marston. 

As Landon joins your side, John and the Gutierrez brother suddenly draw their weapons and shoot. John’s bullet finds its mark, but the other Gutierrez brothers pull out their guns to avenge their fallen brother. However they’re no match for John. Not that I’m surprised. He learned from some of the best gunslingers. I think the only person who had a better education in shooting is myself thanks to Landon. 

When the last brother falls, Landon saunters forward as John holsters his gun. “I must admit, I’m impressed. Not many men would take on all the Gutierrez brothers and even fewer who could have taken them all down.” 

“Who are you?” John asks, his eyes mean. It’s a bit strange, he always had a light in his eyes. Then again, I haven’t seen him since Arthur died after he sacrificed himself to the Pinkertons to save me and John. I guess it’s really no surprise that he’s changed too since then. 

“Landon Ricketts. This is my town, I been trying to keep these boys under control, obviously not well. But now I’m curious. A fella like you who can take all of them down without hardly blinking an eye, I gotta ask. What you doin’ all the way down here?” 

“I’m lookin’ for… some old friends of mine. One of ‘em came running down here and I think he’s met up with the other.” 

This strikes me. He must be looking for me, but how did he hear I was down here? I walk out of the shadows of the building and look hard at him. John’s eyes widen. 

“Y/n? What you doin’ down here?” 

“Thought you said you was lookin’ for some old friends. I assumed you meant me.” 

He shuffles his feet a bit. “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t even know you were down here.” 

Landon turns to me. “You know this man?” 

I nod. “Yes. He was my husband’s brother. I thought you were dead, John.” 

Over the next few hours, the three of us sit at the saloon and talk. I tell John about my relationship to Landon and why I came down here with him after that whole mess with the gang. John then discloses his past, how he tried to come clean of his outlaw days. He and Abigail ran a ranch outside of Blackwater, but then the Pinkertons, in their determination to get Dutch, took his family hostage in order to get John to hunt down his former gang members. 

When John tells me this, I feel a plummet in my stomach. I lean forward and look at him, daring him. “So these Pinkertons want you to kill your old gang members. That mean you’re gonna kill me?” 

John looks at you, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know, y/n. I’m not sure the Pinkertons even know you’re down here. I assumed you died shortly after Arthur…”

Landon looks between the two of us but doesn’t interrupt. He knows I need to settle this myself. Landon has never been a man to fight my battles for me. It’s proven a frustration in the past, but at this moment, it’s appreciated. 

“Then John, I don’t know how much I can be of help to you. I ain’t giving those bastards a reason to kill me. If they’re going after Javier and Bill just for their associations with Dutch, they’ll definitely want me dead too. I was married to Dutch’s right hand man, after all.” 

Landon turns to me. “I think you’re making a mistake, y/n.” 

I turn to refute him, but he cuts me off. “You’ve been wasting away with me these past ten years. I haven’t wanted to say it, but whatever happened with that gang broke you. I don’t know what this Arthur Morgan was like, but I’m guessing he didn’t give his life up for you and his brother to see you live like this.” 

“He also hated revenge. Always said it was a fool’s game. I’m not killing Bill and Javier.” 

“You don’t have to,” John says. “I’ll do the killing, but it would sure be helpful if I had you by my side.”

I sigh. Landon’s right, Arthur wouldn’t want me to let John go alone. Not after everything he gave up for us both to live. However I’m sure that the end of this journey will end in one way: my death. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad though. After all, Landon’s right. I’ve been wasting away in liquor and grief down here. I stopped living a long time ago. 

I throw back my shot of tequila. “Alright, John. I’ll help you find Javier and Bill.”

I glance over at Landon and see he’s smiling. Now that I think about it, he’s never wanted this life for me. He used to say I had a fire that could not be doused. He must have known that this life, sitting in this hot, boring town and watching my life go on without me was never for me. That’s why he never searched for me while I was with the gang. I was doing what made me happy.

As I think about it, I realize now how much I’ve missed that life. Running wild and free. No it was never easy, but it was me. Living in this town as a sheriff is not what I want to do. I’m not cut out for it. I realize that John is giving me an opportunity to do what I’m meant to do. Sure, it won’t bring back the glory days from the gang, but it’s the next best thing. And if I die doing it, it’d be better than dying here, old and wishing I could have done things differently. 

Finally resolved, I stand up. “Okay, John. Let’s go find these bastards and get your family back.”

[motheatenscarf]

WHO WANT SOME AASHI LORE?

So I’m not 100% sure on this because my DM is a cagey motherfucker who reveals none of their cards (which I love them for but FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF), however, I’m pretty sure Aashi has inherited some sort of necromantic powers and/or curse from her father who VERY LIKELY possessed the Eye of Vecna when she was conceived.

So at the beginning of the campaign, I told Kings, my DM, that the point of Aashi is that she’s a terrible elf who aside from the pointed ears and foresty green eyes is as human as the gruff mercenary mother who raised her. She never knew her father, so Kings had free reign of if/how he would wind up being important. For a long time I actually thought she was gonna wind up being half-Drow since we had 2 Drow in our party (there was an insane theory for a hot minute that our Cleric was potentially her father). The other thing that made her a terrible elf was that she didn’t use a longbow but rather a crossbow, since it fit the bounty hunter aesthetic better, and I justified it by saying she only had one eye and couldn’t aim for shit anymore.

I couldn’t come up with a good story for how she lost the eye, though, so I just connected it to her driving motivation. 

She started out the campaign hunting down a bounty on the wizard who burned down the slums where her family ran their tavern from. The city was corrupt as all hell and no one in power would lift a finger to help the victims get back on their feet, so her uncles along with countless others were forced to go to The Pact, a very evil criminal syndicate. They wound up deep in debt and unable to dig themselves out, so to buy them time, Aashi promised to track down a high paying bounty for The Pact if they’d keep their sharks off her uncles’ backs until she returned. They wanted something of hers as collateral to ensure she came back, though, and despite offering plenty of valuable things, the only thing they accepted was one of her eyes.

I chose this to illustrate just how much Aashi was willing to sacrifice for her family, but after we returned with the bounty on Aashi’s wizard nemesis to pay off the debt, Kings had the tricky motherfuckers give her a magical fake one that she could still see out of and was disguised to look like her real one. The “eye” they returned to her was an aberrant insectoid from hell that did a shitton of psychic damage when MONTHS LATER a series of headaches caused Vas and our wizard friend to discern what it was. 

So that was horrible, and Aashi was down an eye again. She persevered, however, and even had our wizard friend find a way to transfer the enchantment into a new fake eye so her enemies wouldn’t know she was onto them and so she could buy her uncles time to escape their clutches.

At the time we all figured they only kept Aashi’s eye to keep scrying on her, but would later find out some things that made that less certain. In the meanwhile, though Aashi wanted revenge, but that required fetching her mom from where her mercenary band was hired to stop an insurgent rebellion. While we were there, we discovered that the mysterious rebel leader was none other than Aashi’s father, both of them being played against each other’s forces by a manipulative green dragon we wound up uniting them against and killing.

And Aashi’s dad, who we thankfully did not have to kill, turned out to be a sketchy necromancer wizard, because Kings loves that irony shit, and he also only had one eye, the false one being a black void with a GLOWING GREEN LIGHT coming out of it, as his most unique identifying feature which Aashi’s mother told her about and inspired her to offer sacrificing up her eye to The Pact. He also only had one real hand, the other being a mummified replacement he attached with necromancy to replace a lost one. And then, when he mentioned that it was ironic that Aashi would wind up becoming a Hunter, he mentions that he too is a hunter of sorts, and asks if Aashi has ever heard of VECNA. 

🙃

And Aashi, with an Intelligence of 12, is like, “Who dat?” and gets a lore dump on her about how he’s been tasked by his people to go out into the world and be the hands and eyes of the liches who rule his people to look for signs of Vecna’s schemes and put a stop to them.

And all of that is concerning in and of itself, but we’ve grown to trust Kasoreth, Aashi’s dad, against probably our better judgement, and we part on friendly terms with him and promise to be in touch after we’ve removed The Pact from power.

The Pact, however, had fallen on hard times in Aashi’s home town and were forced to pack up and leave after they were caught in the wrath of some roaming paladins. We had to move onto our Barbarian’s story pretty quickly after since it was nothing but dead ends all around and his stuff was time sensitive, but we did discover that a.) The Pact knew we’d be coming after them, despite Aashi’s caution, and b.) they had packed up everything but one artifact which only Aashi caught a glimpse of before their headquarters exploded with us inside them, and it proved that they were connected to an insane conspiracy connecting the drow, memory erasing aberrations that removed people from existence, and quite likely the primordial source of darkness in the world. Which only proved that the Pact were even WORSE than we thought.

So, the facts as they are;

Fact One: The Pact would only accept Aashi’s eye as collateral when it came time to making a deal with them to buy her uncles’ a stay of execution. 

Fact Two: Kasoreth has a mysterious glowing green lich eye and hand and a connection to Vecna. That alone is like, three red flags.

Fact Three: Kasoreth’s good eye is brown, as are, according to him, the eyes of what few family members he knows of, and the same can be said of Aashi’s mother and her side of the family. Aashi’s eyes are green. She always just figured it was an elf thing. It still might be. But it’s a weird coincidence. 

Fact Four: Aashi has a special homebrew feat granted by our DM called (Un)Dead-Eye where she crits on a 19 when fighting Undead. I just thought it was because Undead were one of her favored enemies. It still might be. But it’s a WEIRD coincidence and the phrasing of it alarms me.

Fact Five: Kasoreth FOR SURE has the Finger of Death spell, we’ve seen him use it. He is a necromancer and might just know it in his own right. But he has a mummified hand and a connection to Vecna. It might be a coincidence! ARE YOU NOTICING A PATTERN, THOUGH?

Fact Six: The Pact, who are WAY WORSE than we thought they were, are not just accruing power and wealth for the sake of having power and wealth, but appear to be in service of some ancient evil, wittingly or not, and are orchestrating the means to some nefarious end. And they wanted Aashi’s eye. Specifically her eye. It mighT. Be A COINCIDANCE. HOWEVER....

All of these on their own can be easily dismissed and might be red herrings, but I am very concerned about what is going on with that missing eye of hers that was stolen and what might come of it in the hands of The Pact, who CLEARLY wanted it for some reason, and I don’t think it was just to keep an eye on a two-bit bounty hunter who didn’t pose any real threat to them at the time. 

And every time I ask my DM about it they just send me this gif;

and I send them this one,

and that’s as much as I’ve been able to get out of them on the matter.

But I DID figure out that Kasoreth was Aashi’s father, and I did figure out that the dragon was the one behind the conspiracy in Lasondrand where we met him, and I’m good at figuring out Kings’ narrative beats so far, and I’m like 99% sure I’m right, and I’m AFRAID of what that means for my girl.

Also, after our cleric cast Regeneration to regrow her eye so she could be free of the cursed fake, his player came up with the phrase, “Infinite Eye Economy” which is The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Heard, but also makes me wonder... if that’s maybe going to factor in somehow.... oh god...