#explodes violently into a ball of flame

[ratcandy]

they're not even recognizable anymore honestly . absolutely asinine how i did that so fast

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[peachdues]

THE SWEET FAR THING — SNIPPET

Knight!Kyojuro x Princess!Reader • Royal AU

A/N: yes, there’s going to be smut, but there’s also going to be angst (because who am I if not the connoisseur of angsty romance?)

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Rengoku exploded, whipping around to face you. The fire in his eyes could have burned you alive, could have reduced the magnificent castle around you to ash. “Do you think it does not tear me apart to know that you are meant for another?”

Rengoku swore violently, his outburst making you flinch.

“That I cannot have you the way I desire — and I do not mean merely taking you to bed,” the knight’s anguish was palpable as he gripped at fistfuls of his hair. “I mean that I cannot claim you as mine for the world to see; I cannot kiss you. I cannot marry you. I cannot love you.”

Once, his admission — his confession — of his true feelings for you would have made your heart soar. That he would’ve wanted you as ardently as you’d longed for him would have soothed the inferno raging with your heart; tamed it to a steady, tender flame that burned for him and him alone.

Now, you only felt cold.

“And yet you’ve still taken liberties with me,” you fixed your gaze upon the stone behind his head, unable to bear witness to the way he visibly deflated. “You have touched me and tasted me with abandon.”

Even the cadence of your voice felt foreign. “Some would even argue you’ve compromised my virtue.”

It did not matter if he’d revealed the depth of his feelings for you; the earnestness of his confession was poisoned by his own actions — by his disregard for you in favor of his own selfish wants.

Rengoku dropped his head in shame. “I know.”

Your accusation had been made in earnest, and yet you recoiled all the same from the ugly stab of his words.

It would’ve hurt less if he’d hit you.

An uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the air until the knight roughly cleared his throat.

“And that is why I am to join the Hashira — why I am to leave the castle by the next full moon.”

Your lungs constricted harshly, your breath eking out of you in a pitiful, strangled wheeze. “Y-you’re —?”

His pained expression was a sure mirror of your own. “I cannot do it, Y/N,” he said roughly, not bothering with the formality of your title. “I cannot sit back and watch as you’re married off to another.”

The skin of his knuckles turned white as the knight balled his fists. “It is tradition that the Guards of both parties attend the consummation — to confirm the marriage is valid.”

Rengoku’s eyes screwed tightly shut, and his head turned stiffly to the side, as though he could avoid facing the ugly truth of it all. He exhaled harshly, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he worked to open his eyes once more.

“You cannot ask me to bear witness to that.”

And yet, he was asking you to endure life as a caged bird without even the hope to dream of flight; of him.

“If you leave, I will have nothing left,” you whispered, eyes wide and unblinking. “I will have no reason to continue on; nothing worth living for.”

Rengoku’s attention snapped to you in alarm. In a flash, he’d closed the distance between you, his hands locking around your shoulders, fingers digging uncomfortably — urgently — into your skin.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice low and full of anger. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t you dare even think it, not even for a moment.”

[lonewolfwriting89]

SLAVE FOR YOU

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Oral.

A/N: Here’s a longer smutty drabble whilst I finish up my Simon Riley one shot for you all xoxo

————

Simon’s trapped, immobile as if he was chained, knowing if he dares to move, the dream will end. This powerful man, so used to command, submitted to let his body be used by you and your burning desire. For this night, he is your slave.

You moved carefully over his body, so close he could feel the heat from your skin, but carefully not touching except for an occasional brushed contact that sent shock waves through him. You kept sliding up until your smooth, silken thighs straddled his head and the perfume of your sex filled his head.

You lowered your hips and Simon’s tongue reached up to gather a taste of the honey from between your soaked folds. You trembled and sighed at his touch. He continued, running his tongue the length of your slit, teasing inside, moving up to delicately circle your swollen clit. You mewled, feeling the euphoria flicker over your skin like flames. He began feasting on you more in earnest, aroused by your desire filled sighs and moans.

His tongue was everywhere but kept coming back to that throbbing little bud, flicking, swirling, sucking on it. The sounds you released sounded like a beautiful symphony. Simon moved one of his large hands up to your core, adding one finger and then two, the wet sounds causing his cock to swell. He slipped them inside to massage your g spot, as his tongue continued to tease your clit. You were gasping for air, shudders wracking your body. He had to use his other hand to hold your trembling body in place, desperate to keep you in place.

Then there is a suspended moment of taut stillness before you sailed over the precipice of your climax, crying out and curling your body over his head. He desperately wanted to grab you, throw you down on the tasselled cushions and thrust his aching cock into you until he exploded, but he knows he mustn't do that. Tonight he is the servant and you the master – taking what you wanted.

What you wanted is not so far away. It is wildly stiff and hard, straining towards you. He is so aroused that he knows it will be the challenge of his life to restrain his own climax until you are done with him. The terrifying lieutenant afraid of failing.

You moved down his body, trailing your fingertips lightly over him, tracing his lips, gently following the line of his jaw, exploring his neck and chest, circling his nipples. Your hand trailed lower, following the line of dark hair down his stomach. Lower. Soft as a desert breeze, your hand settled gently on his straining cock. It jumped violently beneath your hand but he somehow maintained control.

Your hand was like a curious animal, exploring the contours, the smooth skin for its own pleasure – not concerned about what Simon might be feeling, not trying to arouse. The hand takes its time, running the length of his hard shaft, dipping into the shining precum at the tip and spreading it lazily over the soft head, massaging his balls below and reaching further back to explore more of his sensitive skin. You moved up to grasp his shaft, squeezing and releasing pressure without sliding. He grew even harder. Your hunger began to rise again.

Holding Simon’s erection in your hand, oblivious to his precarious state, you moved it between your legs and used it to gently caress and massage your pussy. You rubbed the smooth head up and down your sopping slit, slipping it between the slick lips and pressing it to your clit. You sighed with pleasure and slowly. Very slowly. Began to lower your body, enveloping just the head in your hot, wet heat. You paused there, enjoying the feeling of just the first inches filling your entrance, moving up and down very slightly.

He fought for control. You continued to move up and down, taking a little more inside you on each stroke until there was nowhere left to go. You stopped there, keeping very still, savouring the feeling of being filled. For him, the sensation of being encased in your soft, warm pussy and yet having to remain still maddened him. His head buzzed and it only became more intense as he felt your muscles massage his cock. You moaned and sighed, lost in your own world of erotic pleasure, starting and stopping your movements, changing directions to suit your needs.

You began to move faster, passion building. Nerves swimming with pure electric. Sweat covered your skin like a silky sheen and your hair clung wetly to your face and neck. Still moving and grinding, you leant forward, bringing your breasts to his mouth. Simon greedily sucked them in one at a time, flicking the erect tips with his tongue, pulling on them with firm lips. You groaned loudly and he felt your climax, the waves of contractions gripping him so hard, your hot slick flowing onto him.

He could take no more. With a lion's roar he trapped you in his strong arms and flung you to the cushions below him. His hips ground urgently into you as you continued to spasm around his bursting cock. He had never felt so desperate with need. He wanted to draw it out. He wanted it never to end. But it's too much. He could feel his own climax building to a crest, the tightening, tingling moment of no return. And finally, with a moan torn from the depths of his being, he shot his seed into you, again and again, until there was no more left.

In the sudden quiet aftermath the only sound was your duel breathing. He gazed into your eyes and brushed the damp hair from your face. As your lips met in a lingering, tender kiss, he knew this was just the first of a thousand and one nights.

————

[mountainsabandonedshoes]

fire ghouls...

powerful, easily angered, walking balls of flame. one wrong word to a fire ghoul and you're nothing but a pile of ashy to be taken by the wind

they burn hotter than anyone else, touching an angry fire ghoul is like sticking your hand in lava. they're easily angered and probably the most violent breed of ghoul.

they can touch and manipulate fire, they can trap you and steal the oxygen around you to feed their flames, both suffocating you and burning you alive.

they're usually pretty big ghouls, nowhere near as big as earth ghouls but still a decent size, there's the occasional smaller fire ghoul hut they're more rare they're usually the most dangerous ones.

fire ghouls are like a ticking time bomb, one wrong action away from exploding and destroying everything.

the more self aware fire ghouls, the ones who lean more human tend to be scared of themselves, scared of what they could potentially do to those around them, fearful of the damage they can do to their loved ones.

[lovebillyhargrove]

An au where Billy's camaro has a mind of its own and is taking revenge on certain residents of Hawkins after Billy's death ("Christine" vibes)

Part 1 Neil / Part 2 Brenner / Part 3 / Part 4

Dr. Brenner has seen it all now. Has been to the upside down and back. Has survived it. If he was powerful before, guess how mighty he is now. With all that valuable knowledge, all that unique experience that he possesses.

One day he will rule the world.

That evening Brenner left the laboratory at 9.30 and got into his car.

"Home." - he briskly instructed the driver and made himself comfortable in the backseat. Things have not been going the way he had planned them. With multiple deaths, including some prominent people of Hawkins, the lab had been closed. This fool Owens was too soft and had no idea what potential was at their disposal.

But now when Brenner is back, everything needs to get back on track again. He's pulled some strings, used his connections, described the possibilities to those in higher power, and voilà, got the lab reopened again. This time, though, they won't concentrate on kids with psychic powers. This time .. ooh, it will be tremendous.

He will rule the world.

The upside down spat Dr. Brenner out on the 4th of July. Something huge was happening that day, he remembered how the whole upside down world was shaking violently, vines restless and slithering, thunderclaps exploding in the sinister sky. Portals, big and small, opened and closed, one after another, and the whole dimension was unsettled. A portal opened up right in front of him, in the ground and Brenner jumped at the opportunity. Jumped through. He found himself in the forest not far from that mall that was built while he was trapped in the other dimension. Something was going on there, helicopters scissoring the night air and ambulances flashing red and blue all around.

The things Brenner had seen in the upside down, the creatures he had come across.. Unlimited opportunities. They could create an army of demodogs. Multiple armies. Demobats could be their air force. Demogorgons were not so numerous, but they could breed them, and with such formidable forces they would be unstoppable.

They literally could rule the whole goddamn world. Russians would cower before them. Anyone and everyone would fall on their knees before them.

"Sir, there is something ahead of us."

The biggest issue seemed to be control. They needed someone in both worlds, someone who had access to the hive mind but also belonged here, someone who

"SIR??"

"Yes?" - Brenner answered with reluctance. He hated to be distracted from his contemplations.

"There's something ahead of us. It's.. a car but it looks like it's.. on fire?"

"What do you mean?" - Brenner leaned forward. There was indeed an object that looked like a car, engulfed in flames, and it was moving towards them. Fast.

Brenner understood immediately that it did not promise anything good

"Turn the car around, quick!! Drive back! BACK!" He hollered

The driver switched gears but the ball of fire gained unbelievable speed and

One

Two

BANG

The sound was deafening. Head-on collision, aimed to kill.

After the dreadful sound of metal grinding on metal, it suddenly became very quiet.

Brenner was still alive.

His vision blurred. He saw the driver's lifeless body in the front seat, blood all over the windshield. Everything was so quiet all around, except the crackling sounds .. and the smell .. the awful disgusting smell of burning paint. He had to get out.

Brenner tried to open the door with a shaking hand, gasping for air, and luckily, it budged. He forced himself to crawl out of the burning vehicle on the asphalt.

The mysterious car that had caused the crash was slowly retreating and rumbling gutturally.

Menacingly.

Brenner had just got a spark of hope that maybe this was the end of it and whoever was driving that hell on wheels had got what they wanted, when the car's engine suddenly roared and it went from 5 to 50.

The remnants of Brenner's body were scraped off the road later.

So much for world domination.

[pixeldistractions]

The line for the Ferris wheel was not long. They could have each had their own private gondolas, had they wanted to. But Benny and Sophia didn't seem bothered when Charlie climbed in after them, Ingrid following behind. He wasn't scared of being alone with her, but maybe he should be. "If you guys rock this gondola, I'm gonna cry," Sophia said.

"We won't," Charlie said. "And if she does, I'll sit on her."

Ingrid grinned, full of mischief. "Is that a promise?"

Sophia climbed into the gondola with a furrow between her eyebrows, but nobody rocked it. They began to go around.

"If I was scared," Ingrid said to Charlie, "would you hold my hand?"

"You don't seem like the kind of girl who needs hand-holding," Charlie said.

"You like girls like that though, don't you?"

Natty, Charlie thought. He knew Ingrid meant it too. Well, Natty didn’t need his hand-holding anymore either, apparently. Or maybe she was only trying to prove something to herself, too. Maybe everybody was always trying to prove something. I don’t know what I’m doing, she wrote to him. He couldn’t get that part out of his head. Maybe she still did need his hand-holding—it just looked a little different now that they were older. He felt like he should have done something differently, but he didn’t know what that was.

Charlie didn't answer Ingrid. "I thought you said Ian was coming."

"He is," Ingrid said. "Later, maybe. Or maybe not. I don't care what my brother's doing. Tell me something, Charlie. I'm dying to figure you out. What's in that quiet head of yours?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just tell me something."

"The square root of two is one-point-four-one."

"Ha, tell me something else."

"The shortest distance between any two points is a straight line."

"You are an epic smart-ass."

Charlie shrugged. "At least I'm epic?"

"Okay, how about this." He leaned in closer. "If you mix potassium and water you get a bright, sparkling purple flame. But then, after about six seconds, it explodes. And I'm not talking about just a little pop. I'm talking, it'll blow your goddamn hand off."

Ingrid looked mystified, intrigued, a little bit irritated, and totally turned on. "That sounds hot."

Her smile promised so much, and Charlie wanted to kiss Ingrid like he wanted that motorcycle he kept not buying—he wanted it because it was fun to think about, because it promised adventure and surprise, because it was probably a little bit bad for him, too. But people didn’t need everything they wanted all the time. And maybe, in the end, that made Charlie tame after all.

Sophia’s hair fluttered in the high, cool drafts off the lake, and Ingrid scooted close enough that her leg touched Charlie's leg the whole length down from hip to knee to ankle. Across the gondola, Benny watched them both with a worried suspicion on his face, and Charlie knew Benny’s loyalties were with Natty. Benny was Natty's friend first, even if she wasn’t here right now. What did he think was happening here?

Nothing is happening here, Charlie told himself. Nothing. Dammit, Natty, I don't want to be doing this.

Tonight was one of those defining nights in a lifetime. So many dimensions, perfect mirror images of each other up to this point, and then they split, violently and clean, into several very different futures. Charlie didn’t want to make any choices. He wanted down off this Ferris wheel. He wanted to go home and watch MacGyver and eat pizza and wait for everything to sort itself out. He just wanted to wait a little bit longer, but life wasn’t interested in waiting any longer.

After the ride let them out, Charlie went back to the skee ball booth with his last few quarters. He played for that sad purple unicorn like he had something to prove, because he did have something to prove.

— from “in between days, part 5”

(flashback to July 2085, 3 years ago story time)

Next ->

[theonlyblackcanary]

Hell of an Evolution: Black Out Days

@atiny-angel @swifteforeverandalways @the-iridescent-phoenix @wolfromate @thiamsxbitch @axelwolf8109 @greek-freak101 @wendysbrassknuckles @thebejeweledwatercat @epickiya722 @hawk-has-alot-of-gay-ships

Chapter warnings: Experimentation mention

Stiles decided that he hated school, with or without his fellow mutants with him. It didn't help that they had a good couple years ahead of him here.

Lydia was popular, Kira was in the lacrosse team with Jackson and Liam, Theo apparently spent more time in detention than actual classes, Scott was nice but kind of an idiot, Danny was liked by everybody, Erica hated everybody and Vernon Boyd was a gentle giant.

Sure enough, Talia Hale had sent in paperwork saying that Stiles had some type of skin condition and hated people touching him without his consent, so he was in the clear and able to skip gym and swim lessons.

So that was cool at least.

"What's up?" Theo plopped down next to Stiles at lunch, putting his legs on the table. Stiles looked unimpressed. "I hate this" "We all do" Theo took Stiles' warm soda and blew in it, cooling it instantly.

"That's so cool, pun intended"

"Yeah, Liam's my opposite, he can control fire but he can't create it, we were destined to be together"

"No we're not" Liam and the rest of the mutants sat down. Theo stared at him for a moment before slamming his hands over his chest and falling down

"Theo!" Scott yelled exasperated. "You wound me Dunbar" Theo dropped ice on his hair and brushed it off. Liam giggled a bit. "Do I have something in my hair?"

"You're ridiculous"

"So what's with our babysitter? He's kind of a dick" Stiles muttered. Scott spat out his water violently, Danny gave him a look and Jackson winced.

"What?" "He was gonna have to know sooner or later" Lydia said. Danny sighed. "Talia is Derek's mom and that's about all he knows, he was kidnapped when he was a teenager and experimented on"

"Shit" "Yeah, they coated his entire skeleton in this really rare metal, adamantium, the trauma caused his memories to snap or he was brainwashed? We don't know"

"He's my cousin too" Jackson muttered.

"So he trains us to control our powers so we don't get caught like he did"

"What're his powers?" "He's got wolf shit, super hearing, super smell, wolf eyes when he's angry, metal claws" Theo said.

"Guys shut up, we've broken two rules that we have so we can go to this school in the first place. No discussing Derek because he's still legally missing and no discussing powers" Lydia hissed. Everyone made various noises of complaints and stopped

-------

"Get in and shut up I'm not in the mood" Derek muttered. "Aww you missed us" Erica teased. "Sit down and shut up"

Stiles held back a laugh. "Reminder that we're doing a quick power test when we get home" Derek said. Jackson turned off his watch and the lizard boy Stiles met returned.

Danny smiled fondly at his friend.

------

"Just do whatever I don't really care" Derek led the teens to the backyard and sat down, cracking his knuckles.

Erica shifted into a cat and ran around a bit, Boyd lifted whatever he could with zero visible effort. Jackson crawled up the mansion walls. "That's so cool" Stiles grinned.

Lydia meditated, lefting herself in the air. "Lydia's a telepath" Her roommate Kira told him. "So him your tricks" Scott grinned like a dope.

Kira clenched her fist, a katana of purple energy formed around her wrist and glowed. "I'm a telepath too and can create psy weapons" She shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

Scott took off his glasses and closed his eyes. "Someone turn me around to the trees?" Lydia did so without even opening her eyes or moving

Scott opened his eyes, a brust of red energy exploded from his eyes and sliced a tree in half. He clenched his eyes shut and put his glasses back on. "Concussive blasts" Kira explained to a dumbstruck Stiles.

Danny whistled, a glass of water shattering nearby. Liam turned on his lighter, a ball of flame moving to his other hand. He extinguished it, looking embarrassed.

Theo coated his hand in ice and grinned. "You're turn new kid" "I don't know" Stiles hugged himself. "Who here has a high pain tolerance?"

Theo raised his hand. Stiles winced and took off a glove. "Why is he shaking?" Jackson asked. "Shh!"

Stiles touched Theo's hand with a finger, the other teen immediately groaned in pain and collapsed.

Derek sat up, suddenly interested. Stiles let out a breath of cold air from his lungs and shivered. "I run cold, should've said that" Theo shook his head, coming back to.

"You can mimic powers" Lydia set herself down and looked scared. "Temporality" Stiles shrugged.

"It still makes you dangerous" Derek said. "You'll be lucky if we even let you see your father again" Stiles clenched his jaw.

"You can't tell me what to do!" "Oh I can, because you're a walking death sentence!" "Says the guy who got his bones coated with metal!"

Danny threw his hands in the air. "Who told him?!" Derek glared. Nobody answered. He growled, eyes turning blue. "You don't know anything about me kid, stay away from me"

Stiles smacked himself on the head. Great now he pissed off the bus driver

[liannyeong]

Polar opposites

Summary: Even amidst all the anger, he would never break the one he loves.

Word count: 1446

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): Angst, minor violence

A/N: It's been a long time ~ I was clearing out my drafts when I stumbled upon this. This was written in 2018, and reading it again made me go "Oh? This doesn't seem like a bad writeup?" Heh.

Jaebum thought that their love would overcome all obstacles, just like in romance movies and novels where the couple would fight and then, make up afterwards. He thought they would live happily ever after as long as they are together. That their love could stand the test of time. That their love was such a strong force that anything was possible. But this was reality, not those made-up published fantasies of a romanticist's mind.

They were cosmic stars clashing which perfectly described their first encounter. They collided as she rushed for class while he skipped it. Papers scattered everywhere and profanities escaped his lips. She scrambled for her papers while he for his cigarettes. As soon as he collected his things, his fists were clenched and ready to land a punch on his victim's face, but she had already disappeared into the corridor. And that was the first time someone ever managed to escape the wrath of the famous delinquent, Im Jaebum.

He spent his days searching for the rude girl. In Jaebum's defense, she did not utter a word of apology for bumping into him and almost getting him in trouble. When he finally got her, she had been extremely clueless about him and that bumping incident. She blinked up at him with innocent and clueless eyes that Jaebum could not even argue anymore. Nevertheless, Jaebum found her as a new target, bullied her to no end. However, she never cared about his antics and ignored his existence. She never feared him as all the other students did. But that one time when Jaebum went too far and shoved her down the corridor, she had this flame in her eyes when she met his. For the first time, Jaebum felt scared for his own life. Nothing happened though, but she started to retaliate. She got on his nerves, but funnily enough, she always managed to get away with it. 

Amidst all the animosity, there was a change of heart. It wasn't a gradual evolution of emotion. Rather, it was something that was sparked on a snap. Jaebum had wandered into the field to taunt her. But a baseball was flying towards him unbeknownst to him.

"Look out!" he had heard someone cried out before there was a whoosh sound right in front of him.

As if time stood still, he could see clearly how each strand of her hair fluttered in the wind, how her hand was outstretched right in front of his face, how the ball slammed onto her glove.

It was stupid, Jaebum thought, to feel his heart skip a beat at such incident. But it happened and Jaebum thought she caught his heart along with the ball.

Afterwards, Jaebum became a blushing fool whenever he saw her. He still disturbed her, but no longer as extreme as before. He didn't know how or when he actually mustered courage to confess but the next thing he knew, they were a couple.

Nevertheless, couple or not, they were still two very different individuals. He still preferred streetwear -- leather jackets and dyed hair -- while she preferred smart casual. She was the epitome of a successful woman: smartly dressed, with an aura of confidence. He was violent and aggressive while she was calm and collective. He was fire while she was water. His foul temper always ruined the surroundings but never her. He ruined, she fixed. He was destructive, she was constructive. He explodes, she implodes.

Because of their contrasting personalities, their love was like hot coal. It was scalding to be held, but it spread warmth to the hearts.

Nobody understood why they were together in the first place. Their closest friends always had to deal with them barging into their place with tear-stained faces or fury. None of them understood how they manage to get married and settled down together despite the endless arguments. They were not the happiest couple. They never were. Never had anyone see them smile to each other. No one understood their love.

Except them.

"We'll be fine. We'll always be," her words rang in his ears. He scoffed. Who was she to say that? Indeed, he loved her so much. But she was not him. She could not understand the pain inside. He curled himself up on his bed, letting himself be consumed by sadness and guilt. He screwed up big this time. He had it all, but his pride just had to ruin it. Tears dripped onto the bed sheets that her scent still lingered on.

His endearment for her was too overwhelming. A month had past since the incident occurred and he missed her so bad. Jaebum hoped, every second, that she would show up on the doorstep of the apartment (he no longer called it home) with her bags. But time past by and she did not come. He laughed at the wee hours of every night. He thought to himself. He deserved it. He was a jerk who ruined everything and was a screwed up person himself. He got himself drunk with the little remnants of her in the house, in his mind. He played their memories over and over - her sloppy kisses in the morning and night, her sweet voice that was his favourite song, her soft touches on his skin. Every single little detail of her was etched deeply into his memory and onto his skin.

Every night, he roamed around the streets alone. As he drowned himself in the memories, he always ended up in the neighbourhood of his in-laws. He stood at the pavement, staring at the 9th floor of the building, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman he loved. He stood for god knows how long, not tearing his eyes away from the windows. But she never looked out of the window.

It became a habit for him to come around everyday. He was too much of a coward to knock on the door. He was too afraid to face her. He knew he was in the wrong, but he never knew why he was not brave enough to face her. He wanted her back so bad, but his body just would not move a step closer to her. She was there: she was within reach, but he just could not take the step. He missed how her silky hair would easily let his fingers card through. He missed how his hands were so much bigger than her face. He missed how perfectly fitted she was in his embrace.

Then he saw her.

He could easily identify her even if she was drowned in the crowd, even in the darkest of the night. She wore the hoodie he recognized so well: her favourite (and his too), a present from him. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of the hoodie and she strolled down the streets, her back facing him. She was all alone, and very easily he could have approached her. But he did not. He followed as she entered the convenience store. She smiled at the cashier as she paid and he died a little inside. He yearned for that blinding smile to be directed at him again. He yearned to see the skin around her eyes to crinkle and her lids to be turned to crescents upclose again. He yearned for her so much. But he could do nothing, only to love her from afar.

The famous Im Jaebum, who never fled from a fight, was in fact, a coward.

So Jaebum came home, all drunken in his own misery and agony. What started as soft sobs escalated into fury. He threw a fit. He smashed the vases, the glass furnitures. He broke all the photos they smiled happily in. He punched holes into the walls. His skin tore and his blood dripped onto the hardwood floor. His head hung low and he rested his palm against the wall for balance, before he leaned his back against the wall. He let himself slid down in agony as he cried. He did not know what was more painful: his torn skin and dripped blood or her absence. Perhaps it was both.

Or perhaps it was the wrath he incurred himself for being destructive.

Everybody knew how bad his temper was. Him throwing a fit would mean the destruction of the world. He would break everything and anything he saw.

Even amidst all the anger, he would never break the one he loves.

The only one who braved the flames of fury was the one he vowed he would never hurt.

But he broke it.

So she left and he knew he deserved it.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

A Phantom Adopted

Murder Misery

A devil and a priest go on the hunt, while a late fee collector and his cousins withdraw from attempting to teach a 15-year-old baby. discussions are had, plans are made.

Ao3

One would expect that a soul-sucking shadow demon would be somewhat difficult for people not particularly well versed in tracking others down to find - even more so considering that Leico’s attempt to scry her failed him.  Still, it turned out that feeding on misery in order to sustain one’s looks made one unpopular, and so finding Penelope Spectra was no challenge.  The irritating part was merely that she had someone with her.

A green blob with red eyes, claws, and a fanged mouth arched a brow that wasn’t there a moment ago at them, looking wholly unimpressed.  A corpse-pale woman wearing a cropped black shirt and black pants covered in green flame accents turned around to look at them both, purple lips pulling back to reveal a smile full of fangs.

“My my, it appears someone went about seeking us out, Penelope.  We don’t get many clients who want us, do we?”

“No, we don’t.  I assure you, gentlemen, that I’ll be perfectly able to help you through whatever it is that you’ve got going on in those little heads of yours.”

Leico reached under his cloak, pulling from behind him a silver mace that hummed with power.  Duncan pulled out his pistol, disabling the safety he’d installed after one too many close calls with drunken family.

“You can help me by sitting still and letting us purge you from existence.”

“You can help me by giving me a moving target.”

Five cracks rang through the air as bullets, engraved with infernal sigils, flew and dug into the pair of ghosts with lightning speed and deadly precision.  Duncan grinned at the pair, 3 holes blasted into Spectra and 2 splatters of goo flung from Bertrand’s gelatinous form.

The grin fell and a yelp escaped him as the blob took on the form of a large cat of some kind, and claws sliced into his tail as Duncan tried to dodge out of the way.  Wonderful to learn that one of his opponents could change form like that, very nice.

“What violent little men you are!  You are men, aren’t you, not a pair of monsters trying to make themselves-AH!”

Bertrand was forced back rather quickly when Leico’s hand, wreathed in blinding grey light, slapped the shapeshifter in the center of his body and over half of it was burned away by the light.  The warbling screech Bertrand made as he retreated was music to Duncan’s ears, and he fist bumped Leico while Bertrand turned into a small bird.  

A crackling bolt of violet light flew toward them and the brothers jumped away, putting some space between themselves.  Grey-violet-green light swirled into a ball in his hand, a veritable maelstrom of color, and scoffed at Spectra.

“May your soul face proper judgment at the hands of the Queen.”

“The only Queen I answer to is myself, you pest!”

Spectra rose into the sky, as much as it was the sky, and raised a wall of ectoplasm.  The bolt of holy light pierced it like a rocket through glass, and with a flare of incandescence and a hellish wail, Penelope Spectra was nothing more than a wispy ball of shadow floating aimlessly through the void.

Bertrand flew after the core, hoping to fly his oil stain of a mistress away from the battle.

CRACK

Metal coated in literal hellfire slammed through Bertrand’s wing, and he lost hold of his falcon form.

CRACK

Pain became his world and Bertrand was reduced to naught but his core, the ectoplasm around him too thick with holy and infernal magic from their attackers to pull into himself, to build a new body.  That was fine, he would be fine, they’d assume this was the worst that could be done and walk away.  Humans didn’t know how the soul worked, after all.

CRACK

Another bullet sailed through Penelope Spectra’s core, and even stripped down to a core himself, Bertrand could feel her screams, fire and shadows exploding into nothing.  He shuddered with a violent sorrow that threatened to rip him apart.

CRACK

Rather than joining his precious Penelope, Bertrand was faced with a far more horrific reality.  Without his core, he was unbound from the ectoplasm that made up the liminal realm, and without it there was nothing.  No sight, no sound, no touch or smell or taste.  The countless senses that being a ghost afforded them, gone.  He simply was.

True destruction would have been a mercy, but demons and priests were not known for mercy when dealing out retribution.

Duncan sighed, checking over his pistol before holstering it.  Taking a deep breath, he let fire rise from within, sealing up the miniscule cuts that Bertrand had managed to land on him, and shook out his limbs.

“That was disappointing.  I expected a fight not 12 seconds of executing a couple of weaklings.”

“They preyed on children, Duncan, what did you expect?   I’m honestly just surprised they managed to nick you.”

“Yeah yeah, rub it in.  I just didn’t know that there’d be a shapeshifter, or I’d’ve backed up a bit more.   Whatever.   Think there’s a bounty we can collect on?”

“What currency would ghosts in a multicultural melting pot of an afterlife even use?  Energy?”

“True, it’d probably be a barter system or IOUs.  Whatever, let’s get back home, shall we?  Truly a riveting tale on how long this took to get to.”

Leico snorted and put away his mace, gesturing at the air in front of them.   The ectoplasm swirled up and out into a shimmering grey-violet disc, resolving into a gateway onto the deck of the Rose Phoenix.  Sharp winds and arctic cold flew out of the Gate and Leico shivered, wrapping an arm around Duncan for warmth.

“Well, if Toby and Valdan got wrapped up with the kid, Dave is dealing with learning the medicinal technology.   Hopefully this doesn’t turn into a fight.  I can feel that place sucking in my heat from here.”

The pair walked onto their spelljammer, leaving Spectra and her assistant to think about what they’d done for however long it took for souls to connect with ectoplasm.  Or however long it took until a lich found them, either or.

#

Jazz rushed over to check on Danny, and after several minutes of making sure there were no bruises, bumps, or cuts, she had to admit to that overprotective sister within that he was fine.  She turned to glare at Cole, who drifted lazily down beside her to give Danny his own cursory once over.  She took a deep breath, and spoke in a near hiss.

“What just happened?”

Cole held up his hands in surrender and shrugged, which did little to soothe Jazz’s building irritation.

“I dunno, probably used up a lot of energy learning a new power and tossing it out at me.  I’m not the best at all this spirituality stuff-“

“You’re literally half air spirit but alright, cous.”

“-I do know how to keep people from pulling on my magic to fill up their own drained supply.  Your brother needs to eat more.”

“Most likely needs more food filled with ectoplasm, it’s incredibly energy rich.  Maybe he should spend some time in the Ghost Zone?  Who knows.”

“As I asked, do you know where Elle is?  I personally haven’t tried my hand at scrying her but I’m rather certain that she’d feel it if we did that and I’d rather not creep her out when we go find her to offer her help.”

“I can try to look for her, I guess, but I’m pretty sure that Elle is laying low to avoid grabbing Vlad’s attention.”

“Who exactly is this Elle person, Tucker?”

“Oh yeah, we never did end up telling you about her.  Save any and all yelling until the end of the explanation or I’m going to stop telling you, got it?”

Jazz took a deep, measured breath, and nodded to Sam.

“Ok, before you start telling that tale, I’ve gotta say I’d find her better if I had the Fenton Finder­­­TM since that could track down her ectosignature.  Buuut, I’d need Vlad’s record of that ectosignature in order to look for it in particular.”

“We should also probably get Danny into an energy rich environment so he can recover faster.  How do you kids feel about seeing our ship?”

“No.  We’ve just met you, it’ll take more than one meeting to establish the trust needed to get us to a secondary location, especially with Danny passed out.  I’m taking Danny home now, we’ll contact you when we’re ready to meet you again.”

“Well, that’s a fair enough point I guess.  After we sneak into Vlad’s place to get some more data, I’ll get back to you on finding Elle if we do before you.  Regardless, you should probably tell us before you go to get her, so we can talk with her as a group - familiar faces and all that.”

“Well now, if it’s breaking into some rich guy’s house to steal information, I can help you out with that.  Kinda my specialty and all that.”

“You don’t have a specialty; you just do everything.”

“Thank you, yes.  So, you guys head back to your place, we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do on our end, and we can meet back… well, how about here?”

“Oh sure, we can turn the observatory into a real homebase.”

Tucker paused as he considered that, tilting his head.

“Actually, yeah, why don’t we do that?”

“Tucker, schemes later, getting Danny in the car now.  Thank you, Toby, Valdan, Cole, for helping us out.  We’ll keep in touch, see what you can teach the kids.  For now, have a good day.”

Tempting as it was to ask just how old Jazz was to be calling the others kids, Valdan knew when to cut his losses.  So he nodded and shook Jazz’s free hand, while Cole picked Danny up and carried him over to Jazz’s… car.

“I don’t like the vibes this thing gives off.  You got here in this?”

“Well if you’re connected to the weather like you claimed then I imagine you wouldn’t be all that pleased near a car.  I’ve tried to convince my parents to make an engine that’s eco friendly and isn’t running on ectoplasm, since that’d just animate the car itself.  They’re not much into making things that aren’t related to ectoplasm.  I might just make a new engine myself, actually, that’s probably a lost cause.”

“Welp, you’ve lost me so I’m gonna go now before you start rambling about machine parts the way Duncan and David do.  Bye.”

A cloud of shimmering vapor and ice swirled into Cole’s hand and flew out to an empty spot a few feet away.  Lightning flew from his hand to the cloud and it compressed into a flat circle of sky blue and toxic green, which swept out to the edges.  On the other side was the deck of a ship, surrounded by a howling blizzard and blinding white snow and ice.  Laughing at the sight, Cole grabbed his husband and cousin before jumping through the portal, which sealed shut behind him.

“Alright, a lot of things happened just now.  Let’s talk about that on the way home.  But first, Tucker, you’re going to tell me about this Elle person.  We’ve got plenty of drive to go before we even get to Sam’s house, so don’t try to say ‘it’s a long story’.”

Tucker sighed and settled down in shotgun, sticking tongue out at Sam when she glared from the backseat.

“Ok, so it all starts with Vlad.”

#

The Rose Pheonix was currently in the shape of a submarine, and David wondered about that.  He did not, after all, instruct it to change into any particular kind of vessel when they approached the massive iceberg that bordered the seemingly infinite Far Frozen realm, having no plans to go into it on the ship – he’d modified his and Apogo’s armor to be perfectly suited for the cold after all.  He would have to check the engines and see how the ectoplasm around them was affecting the mythallars.

Returning his attention to his family, however, David looked them all over and sighed.

“Duncan, didn’t we agree not to have weapons at the table?  Put your guns away before Valdan and Leico see them.  You don’t need em to regale us with how amazing your battle with Spectra and Bertrand was.”

Duncan rolled his eyes but got up anyway, stalking out of the room with a shout over his shoulder.

“It was barely a fight anyway!  Next targets need to be tougher.”

“Next time we need you to kill someone, I’m sure they’ll be a better opponent.  For now, we should focus on finding this Elle kid and getting her the help she needs.  Thankfully, the Far Frozen have agreed to lend us their medical technology and offered their services in actually checking out Elle’s stability issues and all that after we mentioned that she’s the clone of Danny.”

“Apparently they had this prophecy about him beating the big bad King of Ghosts single-handedly, and he did, so they find him worthy of worship or whatever.  Makes me wonder what kind of tyrant that king had to be for that kind of love for a kid ya don’t know.”

“Welp, that’s a whole other thing to look into but let’s keep our priorities straight, shall we?  First we need to find and help Elle, then we track down this Vlad character and see how best to eliminate him from the equation.  After that, I kinda wanna stay here for a bit, their world feels like it’s in need of help to maintain a balance with nature.”

“Before we can take out Vlad we need to find out if he’ll come back as a regular old ghost or if there’s a way to properly purge him, because there’s no reason he can’t shapeshift to look like his living self and resuming business as usual.  He’s a threat to everyone we’ve gone and gotten attached to here, and there’s no guarantee that he isn’t a major threat to Elle too since he made her.”

“Find and help Elle, research and kill Vlad, guarantee he stays properly dead for long enough that the kids don’t have to deal with him until they’re adults, and then we can split up jobs between helping the material world with whatever imbalance it’s having with nature and technology.  That sound good?”

There were agreements all around the table, and the twins walked in setting down food along the table.

“Glad you guys decided on a plan, cause it’s time to eat now.”  

“We’ll start actually working on things after, got it?” A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ rang out in a rainbow of tones and the Lumanos sat down to eat.

#

This here is for @floralflowerpower, @ebonyheartnet, and @five-rivers ! I hope you enjoyed! Have a lovely December and feel free to toss out conflicts I can shovel onto Danny's plate if you think I've been a touch too nice to him.

[badschmitt24071994]

Enja - samurai shodown

At the base of the Asama mountains, lied a small village. The flames continued burn everything. It was only a matter of time before everything was burned down. By the time the Kazama ninja had arrived, the flames had already covered the entire village. And from within the flames, echoes could be heard roaring to the heavens. "The time to test our spell to seal demons have come. Do not let your guard down!" The ninja's listen to the orders of the leaders of the group. Each ninja carefully searches through the burning village. Not a single survivor could be found. Every villager was burned to death and were already turning into ashes. "Guooooooooohhhhhh!!!"

  The ninja's could only think that they had been caught off guard. They had ignored keeping their guard from the skies. A ball of flames roared through the sky. The ninja's were covered in flames, and a human figure came down from the sky. The earth rumbled as it landed. The houses in that area crumbled from the shockwave. "This is the demon that scorched the earth. Do not fear it! We will show our power to it!" The Kazama ninja's, without fear, started the spell of sealing demons. Butthe demon, whose name was Enja, quickly shakes the air violently.

  "What power! But we must stop this demon! We cannot allow it to reach the Hinowa country! In the name of the Kazama clan!" But that was where it ended. Enja glowed brightly. The next instant, everyone was covered in flames. Every ninja died without even realizing it. It was like a small volcano exploded. Enja looks to the sky and flies off. Enja plans to reunite with his old friend Suija and steal the spell of Jinma-Itai from Kuraki-sumeragi.

Enja is not the same person as Kazuki. Enja is a demon who took over a random ninja of the Kazama clan. Eventually, he is sealed in Kazuki's weapon. He is said to be Kazuki's father.

[captainkurosolaire]

Budokai 3: In Cinder, Sinners.

(C.F) Calm Before Storm -  ♫Anger Cage♫

As the First Layer of Hell Trials confronted them of a Hell of Fire; A dark pit to burn who wrongly judged their peers, tricked their customers, and those who gave and received douceurs. This foul pit outlined and kept them locked into the scorching heat the sun directly would inflict on their flesh, burning into their added anguish they so deserved. Silence came, the visage of the piss off giant gave away to a violent grin showing his control was intact and with a shake of his skull, mask-off. A burst of energy and induced rage like a freight train coming at high speeds he barraged through to attempt to use his entire muscular forearm and bicep to behead the Seeker if connected. Quick footing was necessary, barely a reaction his entire instincts were under the flame of warning messages. A promise of danger was lunging. He narrowly stepped back on his feet but the limited room and space of the pit was already a factor. Throwing his hat as an extra diversion to give a swat away with that other arm being busy. His skin melting and sweat already pulling against them in just the smallest movements and motions. His leg was still fractured and his movement was only done because of his numbness from a pill before it took additional weight and effort to move his limbs like they were normal and this was all an added risk of a worse injury. Hundred percent wasn’t his choice. The Miqo’te ducked the initial smash and hopped away.

But like trying to stay alive against a charging and stampeding bull. Against a beast who wanted to tackle and gore that crude talking cat and smash him into pieces. Another tackle blitz came forth with his whole body and shoulder being used. The Seeker countered with a tuck and baseball slide between the legs of his violent pursuer. To brace himself with the upcoming momentum to get behind his opponent and close in on the physical space. His callus hand cupped and softly scooped and cradled the sands of soil with a handful picked up. Giving enough time for his death machine to reach out and grab that feline vermin by his choker and raise him up in a hoisted show of power. “You’re dead!” Exclaimed with satisfaction of the bruiser. The rogue deployed his dirty trick of sand into the eyes and mouth when it opened up of the assailant and kicked and struggled to remove himself from the powerful grasp with a viscous flurry of kicks. Making a choke and he staggered slightly. A low blow connected to a vital spot on the giant that dropped his prize and accidentally slipped and unhatched the magnetic clasping collar. The Seeker barely had time to retrieve his breath. Falling back and burying his hands into the soils for the desperate first weapon of destruction that were scattered in burial all throughout this environment fit for sinners to be maimed. Retrieving a mysterious small pouch that pricked his fingers just squeezing. Never much room to breathe the only solace was the figure who was nearly two times his stature, providing him a shade from the sun’s viscous heat. A brutal penalty ball kick landed suddenly, kicking him directly in the gut and sending him barreling over in a tumble. Even though his opponent was shaking the effects and coughing out the last of the sand thrown, he was rampantly thrashing his feet around. Knocking the air and some blood from his lungs from the force. Giving away his position even further.

Sinbad’s eyes still irritated and blurry with the grains of soil but had a solid image he reached to grab his opponent by a clump of his long grown locks. Then another projectile was embedded and thrown suddenly with the pouch of thick, deep thumb tacks exploding out and coming out and puncturing his arm. Causing him to grunt in frustration and agony. The Seeker used this opportunity to suddenly shift from his seemingly cowardice defense to a sudden onslaught of offense. Kicking repeatedly his opponent in the shins to drop the towering figure down a knee. He flipped and rolled back with the added advantage of his tail. Then suddenly standing he now rushed to leap off that one elevated leg of the giant with a parkour to deliver a most momentum striking kick to break that iron jaw down his assailant's throat. But miscalculated and judged, his opponent was playing possum against just like previously with his irritation being quelled. He was more than a brainless hulking powerhouse. Blocking the foot prematurely, and using his arm that was oozing tiniest of blood that dried up from the sheer heat to tuck underneath the pirate’s thigh and lift him with a monstrous amount of strength up with a one armed over his shoulder in a devastating power-bomb. With this mount Seeker let out a fist of fury on the face directly to the Highlander but it was just endured. With the sheer toughness and his impacted damage arm he had to use not giving enough oomph. His nefarious Highlander opponent was going to fold him and drop haphazardly on the back of his skull and neck and put a quick paralyze to this chapter. Constraining him despite the desperate attempts to break out of the grip. The Seeker had one more last gnarly trick to evade, unleashing a spit of revealed thumb tacks that he had puncture his own mouth but some were carefully held to his tongue to dislodge at the Highlander’s unprotected face that caused him to launch and toss the Seeker off him. His body gave a whip lashing against the ground and fell on his least dominant hand and wrist with a majority of his body’s weight, smashing the previous wounded one from a fracture to being completely broken to hand that not even appendages could hide anymore and ate away the numbing agents. As he bellowed in a howlish curse. Sinbad got his attention being gifted these violent piercings, his eyelid even held open to brow ridge, from one of them. Fortunately it didn’t nick or get any vital spots. A bell rang in chime to signal the next ascension to hellacious layers to be added. As the smoldering scent of burned flesh and already peeling blisters that were opening up from their skins weren’t enough. Five trials remained left of them in this already deathly gauntlet.

[pokemedia-text-dump]

Escape from Armstrong

[Video ID: A video taken in Area Zero atop a Miraidon. Juliana is sitting in the front, holding the handlebars. Another Miraidon prowls in the distance.

"Alright. We all know the plan, right?" Cera says from behind the camera.

"Right. You two face backwards in case Armstrong tries anything, and try and use your Pokemon to attack him. Literally anything will do: we just need to get him off our tail." Juliana says.

She hands a Master Ball to Cera.

"And if you can't hold him off, I'll try and use Smallfry." Are both of you ready?" she says, looking back at the camera and Teko. He nods.

"...Alright...Let's hope this works. 3...2...1..." she counts off.

The camera turns around, showing Teko sitting behind an Iron Bundle that's been hastily duct taped to the back of the Miraidon's seat. It's charging up ice energy in its tail, preparing to blast away.

"GO!!" Juliana yells, pulling up on the Miraidon's handlebars. Its wheels screech on the ground, the Iron Bundle starts blasting ice energy out of its tail, and all of them rocket off at incredible speed.

As the camera zooms by the patrolling Miraidon, it notices and roars angrily at them, getting smaller in the distance.

"Nyaaahahaha! See you never, sucker! Teko cackles, flipping the Miraidon the middle finger."

Teko starts playing "Distasteful Anchovi" from his Rotom Phone as the Miraidon gives chase.

The Miraidon charges up an orb of yellow energy in its mouth as it drives.

"Incoming! To your right!" Cera says from behind the camera,

"Got it!" Juliana says.

The Miraidon then changes course right before firing the beam, attempting to lead its targets.

"WHOA!! Left, left, LEFT!!" Cera screams.

The camera swerves to the left, narrowly avoiding the massive beam of energy.

Teko pulls out a Poke Ball and releases a Violet Core Minior from it. He shakes the Minior lightly, and it starts glowing with energy.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" he yells, doing a poor imitation of the voice line from Geometry Dash.

He then tosses the Minior into the Miraidon's face, and it explodes violently upon contact, before being recalled. A few moments later, however, the Miraidon dashes out of the flames, battered, but still angry.

"Aw, COME ON! What does it take to put this asshole down, huh?!" Teko says in disbelief.

"The aim isn't to put it down! Just hold it back so I can drive!" Juliana says.

"Obviously, you're not doing it right, idiot. Let me handle it." Cera says, releasing a shiny Armarouge from behind the camera. It hops into Teko's lap, putting its pauldrons together.

"Samus, use Dragon Pulse!" Cera says from behind the camera.

The Armarouge, using the Iron Bundle as a stand, charges up an orb of multicolored energy in its pauldrons, then fires it at the Miraidon. The Miraidon gets knocked into the air by the Dragon Pulse. After regaining its balance, it grins menacingly, curls up, and starts spinning.

"...what is it doing?" Cera asks.

The Miraidon, crackling with energy, hurtles towards the camera like a meteor in a Homing Attack-like motion.

Juliana looks back: her eyes bug out at the Miraidon hurtling towards them.

Right before impact, her Miraidon springs up high, narrowly avoiding a giant burst of electrical energy.

"Nyahahaha! You couldn't hit the broad side of a Wailord, nerd!" Teko laughs, pointing at the Miraidon.

"This isn't working...Cera! Take Smallfry's Poke Ball and put it in your Armarouge's pauldrons." Juliana says.

Cera hastily hands the Master Ball to Teko, who gives it to the Armarouge. The sound of a Poke Ball opening can be heard, and the Armarouge is suddenly holding Chi-Yu.

"Whoa....THAT'S Smallfry?!" Teko says, his jaw dropping.

"Smallfry, use Dark Pulse!" Juliana says from behind the camera.

Several purple rings of energy condense around Chi-Yu's eyes before it blasts a massive dark purple shockwave at the Miraidon.

The Miraidon roars angrily and pulls a sudden burst of speed after regaining its footing.

Suddenly, the ice energy coming from the Iron Bundle's tail sputters to a halt. The Miraidon they're riding on slows down a bit.

"...Wait, WHAT?! No...No no no no..." Cera stammers from behind the camera.

The Miraidon closes in as the camera begins to veer closer to the edge of the path upwards.

"Guys, there's a bunch of wild Pokemon in our way...We're gonna have to try and glide around them." Juliana says.

"Are you INSANE?! We can't just glide over a big hole like tha-" Cera says.

"Hold on tight...This is gonna get rough!" Juliana yells, pulling her hat onto her head.

Her Miraidon jumps up high, then glides far out above the Great Crater: the attacking Miraidon, growing ever closer, follows them.

As Cera screams, Teko belts out a triumphant "FUCK YOUUUUUUUU!" putting his index finger and thumb on his forehead in an "L" shape.

Just as the Miraidon rears up close, raising its claw to attack, it gets blasted in the face with a chunk of ice, and the Iron Bundle's tail roars to life again, sending Juliana's Miraidon into flight instead of a glide.

The Miraidon goes flying, but attempts to recover with the help of its thrusters.

Teko releases a Meteor form Minior above its head, which drops on the Miraidon's head like a falling anvil. Its shell cracks open and falls off upon impact, revealing a Red Core Minior.

The Miraidon, dazed from the impact, begins to plummet into the Great Crater below, getting bashed around by the pieces of the Minior's shell. After falling for a long while, a small crash can be heard from the very bottom. Teko recalls the Minior, floating in midair, as they land on the entrance of Area Zero's pathway.

The three Trainers pull up to the edge, the Iron Bundle's tail stopping, to see what happened. An enraged roar then echoes up from the depths. Teko holds up two middle fingers to the crater and blows a triumphant raspberry.

"We're...We're alive..." Cera says in disbelief.

"...WOOOOOOO!!! Nyahahaha! That! Was! AWESOME! You should have told me you had Arcdamn Chi-Yu, man! I wanna do that again!!" Teko cackles, hugging Cera.

"...Huh. I can't believe we actually pulled it off. Not bad." Juliana says, impressed, as she pats Cera on the back.

The three of them turn towards the platform leading back up the surface.

...Well then. Let's get out of here, hm?" Juliana says as the video cuts out.]

[demoths]

Pinedevil

Final part

He turned back toward camp and walked as quickly as he could without falling over roots and rocks. Before he’d made it to the edge of the trees, another scream came from up and to his left, even closer. The shrill cry sounded like it was coming down from the sky itself, a meteoric shower of excruciating noise. The scream became louder as it stretched on, a long, piercing screech that nullified other senses. He tried looking up and around, certain the sound had come from somewhere above his head, but saw nothing. He couldn’t hear anything else, only the scream. It left his ears aching, and when a second scream joined in, even closer now, the horrific harmony made his head feel like it would explode. He stopped moving, his hands clamped tightly over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut against the noise.

The screaming went on and on, and he imagined he could feel the sound waves physically tearing into his skull. The weight of the noise seemed to bear him to the ground like a tangible force, pressing him violently onto his knees. His right kneecap smashed painfully into a rock or root, and he opened his eyes in the momentary blast of clarity. He gazed around him, dazed, confused, and saw a ghastly pale figure in the trees directly above him, perched like a naked, tailless monkey. It looked like a small human, no more than a child. Its head was round as a ball, and it seemed to split in half as it emitted another screeching blast. Row upon row of tiny, razor teeth glinted in the moonlight, a kaleidoscope of horrific blades. The air around the mouth seemed to ripple like asphalt in August, as though the scream was shredding the very atmosphere itself. He tried to get to his feet, abject terror overriding the pain in his head. As he pushed himself off the ground, something heavy dropped onto his back, forcing him back to the ground. His shoulder hit hard rock, but he barely felt the jarring impact as his skin was torn in a dozen places, raked into ribbons by clawed fingers and toes. Another tearing pain arced across his entire skull, and finally he added his own scream to the cacophony that had driven the rational world from existence. 

The young woman waved her hand when the taller man offered her the joint. She was already higher than she would have liked, and had no intention of floating further from sobriety. He shrugged, and took another rip. Without warning, another horrific scream echoed across the land. This one came not from up shore or across the lake, but from directly behind them, in the woods behind camp. She whipped around, nearly losing her footing in the sudden turn. She saw the younger boy staring into the woods, his knife in one hand, a four foot long branch in the other. The end of the branch ended in a rounded, flaming point. The tall man swore, turning as well. He stepped forward, joint smoking from the corner of one lip. He reached under his shirt and brought forth a handgun. Another scream joined the second one, creating a noise unlike anything they had ever heard. The boy dropped his flaming stick, and clamped his hands to the sides of his head. His knife was still in hand, and he managed to avoid stabbing himself as he covered his ears. The tall man stumbled as though he’d been physically struck, then fell to one knee, his gun falling to the stone beside him. The screaming was a higher pitch than it had been previously, seemingly just on the edge of audibility. The awful screech seemed to grow layers, as if multiple voices were joining in the cry. The two adults were clutching their ears and trying their best to maintain sanity, but the boy seemed to be recovering. His hands came away from his ears, and dark blood coated them and trickled down the sides of his neck. He looked around, confused, and saw the adults huddled together in what could only be described as pure torment. Tears streaked down both of their faces, and the tall man seemed to be screaming as well, though the boy couldn't hear it. He reached down and grabbed his flaming stick, then ran to them. 

As he drew near them, they seemed to relax some. The boy could sense no change, his ears were ringing painfully but the fear in him was stronger. The two older individuals were looking around in confusion, and the tall man scooped his gun from the rocks and pulled the slide back, racking a bullet. He mouthed something to the boy, waited. The boy looked at him, confused, unable to read his lips. The short woman mouthed something, and when the tall man looked down at her and responded in similar silence, the boy began to think that maybe they weren’t simply mouthing after all. He touched his ears again, felt the sticky blood, and terrifying realization struck. He tried to speak, and although he could feel the vibrations in his throat, the painful tone in his ears didn’t change at all. The adults reacted as though they’d heard, and the boy knew beyond a doubt that he was deaf. 

The short woman crouched with the boy, looking at his face and mouthing other words. Hot tears were streaming down his face, half horror at losing his hearing, half terror for what had taken the ability. The tall man had retrieved a flashlight. He held the light in his left hand, aiming it into the trees, his hand holding the weapon braced on the wrist holding the light. He looked like he was shouting into the trees, and the boy assumed he was shouting for the younger man. He continued shouting, and the boy assumed there was no response, as he began to appear more and more agitated. The woman was saying something, but the boy had no idea what it might be. She realized her words were having no effect, and she pointed down the the lake, to where their two canoes were perched on the beach. Then she pointed into the middle of the lake and pushed the boy toward the small boats, and he understood. She wanted him to get in a canoe and get away from land. He shook his head, asked about the young man. She nodded her head and said something the boy assumed were words of comfort, then pushed him again. The boy reluctantly went to the canoes.

Once the boy was safely in the boat with paddle in hand, the short woman pushed the vessel off the stone shore, watched him paddle away. She turned back to the taller man who was standing by the fire, yelling into the darkness. She began to make her way toward him, holding the boy’s flaming brand. 

She was almost to the man when the world exploded into burning, white-hot noise. 

This assault was unlike the previous screams. The noise came from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and she was helpless against the assault. The tall man was no longer tall as he rocked back and forth on his knees, flashlight and gun forgotten. She tried to get away, stumbled in utter confusion toward the lake. She looked back at the tall man, at the beam of light shining up into the trees. A pale form streaked across the circle of light, the shape reminiscent of an ape swinging across trees. Another form, more concealed by the uneven flickering of firelight, darted toward the tall man, flattened him. She looked back toward the shore, already disoriented, and in a strange instant of cognition in panic, she reflected how incredibly confusing a loud noise can be, how it can shut down more senses than hearing, and she thinks of all the times she’s turned down her music to focus on visual stimuli. She begins laughing as she staggers toward the edge of the stone cliff overlooking the lake, howling with silent laughter as loud as life, screaming with hysterical amusement as she plummets over the edge of the twenty foot drop, cackling with utter abandon as she falls, and falls, and falls.

[sandyhookhistory]

Good evening, everyone. Today - December 4th - is a special day in the hearts of all "Red Legs" (Artillerymen) around the world. This is the Feast Day of the Patron Saint of Artillery, Saint Barbara. In the 7th Century AD, she was tortured and murdered by her pagan father for her unflinching Christian faith. Shortly after he executed her by beheading, her father was struck dead by a bolt of lightning and consumed by fire. So, where do the cannons come in, you ask? Let's roll back the history pages to the earliest days of cannons - they were as dangerous to shoot WITH them as they were to be shot at BY them. Early metallurgy in cannons was primitive at best, and often prone to failure - and the guns could burst and explode! Given her homicidal father's violent and crispy demise, early cannoneers looked to Saint Barbara for protection from the fire and flames of an exploding cannon. She has also since become the Patron Saint of Firefighters, Miners, Armorers/Gunsmiths, Engineers, and all those who work with fire or explosives. Not only does she protect from accidents with gunpowder, she also protects from thunder and lightning, and all those in danger of sudden death. Her visage (image) is almost always shown with a cannon, and with the castle she was imprisoned in. To this day, she remains as associated with the Artillery as powder and shot. As I type this, US Army and Marine Corps Artillery units, as well as those of other nations, are engaging in, or preparing for formal dinners and dress balls (if not held today, on as close a date as possible). These "Saint Barbara's Day Balls" are extremely formal, black tie affairs, and each unit has their own traditions that they follow. Each unit also has their own recipe for the extremely lethal - yet very tasty - Artillery Punch. It is most certain that such events were held here at Ft Hancock, as well as other Coast Artillery posts - especially given the massive sizes of the Coast Artillery guns. This also applies to the US Army Ordnance troops here at the Proving Ground from 1874-1919 And now you know... the rest of the story! A Happy and Peaceful Saint Barbara's Day to you all! (at Fort Hancock, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/Clw2vRNAjLB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[violet-the-bandit]

Violet stood for a second, watching in awe as she flung herself into the crowd. His eyes matched and followed her movements. He became slack jawed as he marveled at her grace, her finesse, her brutal recklessness with the giant hammer she wielded. Her violent prowess and trained movements indented themselves into his core memory, as every single action she took was copied down. There was only two things on his mind. One was that he NEEDED a hammer like hers, if there was ever another out there, and the other was…well… more verbalized. “There is no other explanation, the Valkyrie’s appearance, a divine intervention indeed. Holy graces upon me, gifted by the very fates! Nay, perhaps even the Beast himself! CHARGE INTO BATTLE! BLOOD SHALL SPILL!” He sprinted forward, a look of violent conviction spreading across his helmeted face.

“rraaaAAAGHH!” He screamed and leaped through the air, the ground cracking beneath him as he soared up and over the wave of marines. Careful to avoid quickly and radioactively ending the divine Valkyrie who was totally there by mystical intervention, he fired his fuel rod cannon at the tail end of the brainless goons. Balls of plasma bounced all over the place, imploding with such a bright glow it would’ve made a Geiger counter blush.... that is, blush with an annoying clattering noise signifying imminent doom. He landed back on the ground with a loud THUNK, as the sea of soldiers was parted into a burnt, bacon-smelling crisp.

“Such few rods left… NO MATTER! I will make the most of my explosive caba-capa—Cabapiltees!” He said, his words sputtering out as he struggled to pronounce capabilities. What? I mean it’s not like he graduated top of his class, he’s a sim soldier after all. Firing the first round into front end, he used his more damaging, long range powers to draw attention to himself, unintentionally giving Alaska the Valkyrie the advantage she needed to charge forward. “YES!! YES!!! HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT! LET ME FEEL YOUR STRENGTH!!” He shouted, cackling as he marched ever closer towards the crowd enemies.

“DO NOT RUN! DO NOT HIDE! Stand and FACE ME DOWN!” He cried out, blasting another rod into the crowd as it exploded a few into a fine, green mist. Violet had no other thing on his mind now, just the destruction of the marines, their captain, and the entire base itself. Flashes of the strange blue man that sent him out on this holy crusade in the first place flew through his mind, as a deep and powerful force of determination bubbled in his chest, rising up like a flaming geyser from hell. He remembered the holy mantra spoken to him that fateful day, as his voice boomed out, “I AM VIOLET! AND I HATE BABIES!”

violet-the-bandit: Violet had finished pummeling through what seemed to be the last of them, his brow furrowed underneath his Mk. V Helmet as he sighed, happy with his work, yet disappointed at the lack of effort from the now dead adversaries surrounding him. That is, until he hears the loud slam of something behind him, startled as he jumped with an “AH!” and turning around to face the silhouette behind him. “A WHITE WOMAN?! No, a woman IN white? A Valkyrie, here to aid me in my fight?” He cocked his head curiously, eyeing this strange lady up and down. He wasn’t stupid enough to confuse her as another soldier (surprisingly) as she didn’t have the same armor, and was also standing behind a group of soldiers she had smashed with her hammer. But then, who was she? Unfortunately, that question lasted in his head for about… yep, five seconds, as his attention immediately snapped to her hammer. It whirred with a pulse that caught his ear just as much as the strange bladed side caught his eyes. It looked deadly, dangerous, but most of all, it looked fun. “Woah… a hammer. A very pretty hammer…” he said, his pupils dilating like that of a cat discovering catnip for the first time in their life, before snapping back to reality, as the intercom began to blare loudly, a robotic voice booming with one repeating message of: ‘INTRUDERS IN THE SECTION B-2 BRIDGE . ALL UNSC MARINES REPORT TO SECTION B-2 BRIDGE IN COMBAT POSITIONS’ “Uh-ohh…” Violet looked around, raising his fuel rod cannon up onto his shoulder, as the sounds of footsteps seem to march in from all directions. The sheer violent energy of the incoming soldiers stomping their way to them was so palpable, so strong it was as if Violet could reach out and touch their determination, their rage, their vigor. “They want us dead. Really dead. I WOULD HAVE IT NO OTHER WAY!!! AHAHHA!!” Violet cackles out, his cannon vibrating to life as its safety is switched off. His head leans over to Agent Alaska, a grin rising to his face as he calls out to her, “Mysterious Valkyrie, draped in white! You asked before if I needed assistance. I have my answer… it heads this way.” As the soldiers get closer, red dots appearing on the motion detector in his helmet’s UI, he tenses up, preparing himself for one hell of a brawl. “LET US BATTLE!”

Alaska watched as the soldier had been startled by her, she stifled a chuckle, as much as she wanted to, now wasn't the time to do so and she knew it. "Apologies for scaring you." She'd respond to the man, being up close allowed her to get a better look and man, was he big, hell he could probably even rival Maine in size, or at the very least was close to the size of Maine. But she shouldn't focus on that, there were more important things at hand. "Woman in white is the better term, because I am not a white woman in the slightest. Also, name's Alaska, i'd say pleasure to meet you but, well, standing around and talking will only get us killed." They seemed a little bit weird, at the very least to her, a Valkyrie? Well, she wasn't going to question it very much, after all they in her mind she assumed that they'd never see each other again after this was over, an assumption she very often made when meeting new people. Though something she did wonder however was if this soldier was competent, after all, to her they HAD to be if they were so easily able to take out so many of the soldiers here. Unless this person was a complete idiot, which would confuse her more honestly. "Its a gravity hammer, a covenant weapon I got years ago. Pretty damn strong, though using it will probably destroy your legs if you are not prepared." Alaska could absolutely count the times where she hadn't expected the hammer to launch her into the air and hurt herself because of it, however for the most part that had stopped once she actually got used to it. Alaska would say more however the intercom interrupted her as she looked up, oh shit. "Looks like we are about to have company." Alaska got herself ready to fight, she was already in position so she didn't need to move one but, she did however take out a grenade. As the footsteps got closer she pulled out the pin of the grenade and hit it towards the cause of the noise with her hammer, but she could only do it in one direction. The grenade blowing up a few of the soldiers, not many, only like one or two but Alaska didn't really care, after all the other soldiers would be dead soon enough. "No shit they want us dead, cover me, I am going in closer." She didn't even stay close to Violet after she spoke, rushing into soldiers ahead and swinging at them with her hammer, also using it to launch herself into the air, landing into the crowd and blowing up some of them in a circle about her. Alaska didn't even hesitate to swing it in a circle afterwards, sending them back as they approached. This action was extremely risky, yes, she was at risk of getting shot and had already been so while she was in the air, her armor imbedded with bullet holes and bleeding a little bit but she figured she could at least try and clear out a good bit of them before having to play it safe.