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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 4 years ago

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Bloody, Beaten, Bruised or Maximum Effort

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst @amyofaquitaine

This passage contains potentially: scenes of one (or more) characters swearing, blood, self-harm (unintentional) and scenes of a violent nature. whump content and potential tear-jerking moments.

Summary: In this 'chapter' Kirby has her first fight in New Jersey, and stay in New Jersey for a week, leading to some heavy whump content by a certain someone.

Kirby's POV:

Standard match, one on one with a ten minute time limit. Not much for a debut but it's made into a big deal upon learning the opponents were male and female and not the standard male on male.

Jobber VS Newcomer.

Andrew Strong VS Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian.

The bell rings and the fight starts.

"Strong throws the first punch and misses."

"The Ogress capitalises and hits him with a Feeding Frenzy."

"Strong is backed into the turnbuckle but the Ogress continues her attack."

"The referee is forced to separate them and Strong gets The Ogress in a lock-up."

"A swift knee to the stomach and Strong is staggered."

"The Ogress hits Strong with the Organ Grinder and it looks like it's all over."

"She covers Strong and … one … two … three. She's done it! The Ogress has won!"

Walking back to the locker room, I caught a glimpse of Moolah as she sneers at me and I shrug her off, focusing on getting into some clean clothes and going back to the hotel. I change and walk out of the dressing room with my bag slung over my shoulder.

"Good work out there, Kirby."

I recognise the voice and turn to see André, "Thank you, Drey."

"Moolah, doesn't seem to like you girls."

"We're stealing the hag's time in the sun. She always hates people who do that, even if she brings them in. I'll see you soon Drey."

"See you soon, Kirby."

I start walking back to the hotel when I start hearing a voice behind me, gradually getting closer.

"Hey, Miss, I think you dropped this." A distinctly masculine voice called out.

I turned around to see what the person wanted. To my surprise they had picked up my wallet, "Huh, I didn't feel it fall out of my pocket, thank you."

The man handed it to me before introducing himself, "Paul Orndorff. I saw your match earlier, you're fast for a giant, tough too."

"Thank you, Mr Orndorff."

He looked over his shoulder, "Oh, well, I have to go, Piper's waiting for me."

"Uh well, bye Mr Orndorff."

He left without another word and I unzipped my bag slightly to place my wallet inside, zipping it back up and continuing back to the hotel. I spent the night in a cramped hotel room and went to the gym the next morning.

Setting myself up at a heavy bag and practicing as per usual, no interruptions, no one else near by to talk to.

It was as if my mind just drifted away and I went into this mental fog, no gloves on but punching as if I did, breaking through the skin on my knuckles and only stopping after I noticed smears of blood on the heavy bag.

I wiped it down and bandaged my knuckles before moving on to doing push ups, lunges, squats and other exercises that wouldn't leave me covered in blood.

I was alone for the rest of the day, so I ordered some pizza (simple, pepperoni) and relaxed in the hotel, I pulled out a sketch book from my suitcase and began sketching.

I didn't plan on sketching anything too important so I just went with what was on my mind, which happened to be Roddy, Jeez it's like I'm becoming emotionally attached to this idiot.

When I see him next I'll give him the drawing if I have it with me. I close the sketchbook and go back to the gym for around an hour, before coming back to the hotel and getting some rest.

I woke up the next morning (January 9th) and had a day much the same as the last, got up, did my morning routine, went to the gym, came back, ordered Chinese food and started drawing. It was just a shitty little thing, but once again, the Rowdy one came to mind.

What is it with Scottish men and me, is it because I'm a quarter Scottish, is it maybe because I believe in the folk tales and stories of old, of knights on white steeds, saving fair maidens and living happily ever after, while the monsters they kill or maim lie in a pool of their own blood and wish they could've had a different life?

I have no idea, and the idea of my own mind comparing me with those monsters makes me regret ever reading those stories while growing up, rather I should have stuck my head into scientific textbooks instead of tales of heroism and fantastical ghouls, then I would have never become and wrestler or met the amazing people in my life.

I look back down at the paper and decide to let Roddy have two final full page drawings on the other side of the sketches I've already drawn of him, I add in a small note on the page under a picture of Roddy that Sam had found.

The more I looked at the drawings and that lone picture, the more I realised the small details of Roddy's features, the strong jaw with a cleft chin, his hazel eyes? or are they dark blue? either way they intrigue me. And that musculature, Roddy's not slim but not a big man either, he's at that almost perfect weight to body fat ratio. Good lord, listen to me calling … Piper, Roddy, Him, perfect. I think I want to be sick, just to be rid of those thoughts.

Right as I run into the small bathroom I hear a commotion in the hallway and someone being thrown or more accurately, hurled into the other side of the bathroom wall. I take a deep breath, re-fix my mask into it's usual position and dart out into the corridor, right as the commotion ends.

The obvious victim of the bout was on the floor face down with a long, not to deep cut down the back of their left leg and was breathing heavily when I reached them.

"Woah, hey, hey buddy." I whispered to them in an effort to calm them.

"Kirby?"

FUCK

…

That Glaswegian accent, fuck, He's not even supposed to be in town, or is he?

"Piper?!" I whisper-yelled, more to myself than to him.

"Hey…" his voice trailed off, I heaved him over my shoulder and went back into my hotel room, tossing him down on the only bed and grabbing his left foot, reaching over to my suitcase and getting my personal first aid kit, nothing too fancy, some bandages, plasters, the bare essentials. I cleaned the cut and bandaged it, taping the bandage in place.

I glanced up from Roddy's leg and saw that he had passed out, "Shit." I muttered to myself, louder than I thought and his eyes flickered open.

"Kirby? Is that you?" His voice weak but still understandable.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, unable to move, I wanted to cry as I realised how badly he had been beaten up, his eyebrow cut, coming close to his eye, his hairline a mix of matted brown hair and blood that was starting to coagulate and then I started to notice more things wrong with Roddy's visage.

His shirt (a Piper classic, yellow with a wild cat graphic) was torn in several places, showing bruises and nicks in his flesh. His kilt, however, was fully intact, including his belt and sporran, though all of it was scuffed with little scratches, but no cuts.

"Kirby? Kirby talk to me, please?" He spoke so carefully and it broke me.

I dropped to my knees, weeping, and Roddy shot to his feet, before dropping down on his left side and leaning on the bed, getting only a couple of steps closer to me.

"Kirby, are you okay?"

"Roddy, look at ya," I took a deep breath in, "How can you be so beat up and worried about me? How is that possible?"

"Kirby? look at ya, you're crying over me? I thought you didn't care about me that much?"

I wiped the tears from my face and got Roddy back on the bed.

"Stay there, Piper."

"Oh, feisty."

"Roddy! Stay on the bed and don't move."

"Yes Ma'am."

I trudged into the bathroom and ran a long cold shower, and I heard him move off the bed before swearing and sitting back on the bed.

"I thought I said, DON'T MOVE Roddy!"

"Alright, alright. … feisty"

After the shower, I dressed in the bathroom after drying myself off and exited the room. I instantly noticed a sleeping Piper.

"I guess I'll sleep on the floor then."

"C'mere." He lazily waved his arm to try and beckon me over.

"No, Roddy, get some rest."

"Come here and get in the bed." He rolled over and picked up the duvet, lackadaisically blowing a joking kiss in my direction.

"Jesus, Roddy, fine."

I climbed into the bed and felt Roddy's arms curl around my waist and his face between my shoulder blades.

"Rod, get off."

"Wha'?"

"Get off of me."

"Why?"

"Aren't you married, get off."

"if I was married, there would be a ring on my finger," He waved his left hand in front of my face, "No ring, no wife."

"Oh. Still, get off."

"Now, would that be 'get off' in the, leave me alone, way or the 'get off' in the, I love you take me now, way." The latter a clear joke but it annoyed me even more.

"Leave me alone, Roddy."

He slid his arms off and rolled to face the other way.

"Small bed, Kirby."

"I wasn't expecting company, Piper."

"Your tattoos are nice."

"Sleep, Piper."

"I'm just saying."

"Roddy, you are injured, sleep."

"I looked through your sketchbook earlier, y'know, when you were in the shower, just flicked through it, and wow, you're a great artist."

"For the love of God, Roddy! would you please just get some sleep."

"Alright!, alright. No need to yell."

"One more word and I'm chucking you out the nearest window."

We both fell silent and managed to get some sleep, it wasn't until sunrise that either one of us awoke. As I stirred from my slumber I was face to face with the Scottish idiot. I yelped and, without realising his legs were intertwined with mine, fell off the bed with him falling on top of me, waking Roddy up in the process.

"Oh, well, morning sweetheart, did I wake ya."

"Rod, get ya damn 'Loch Ness Monster' away from me."

Rod's cheeks turned pink and he quickly looked down between our bodies before sheepishly standing up and hurrying to the bathroom, I took the chance to change into a graphic tee and some black jeans, not noticing that Piper had left the bathroom door wide open, until I heard his voice.

"Woah, so uh, all of you is bigger than normal?"

I yelped and threw one of my shirts at his face, before realising that I had thrown the shirt I was planning on wearing at him, "Wait, Roddy, I need that shirt."

He laughed before handing me back my shirt, "Uh, thank you … for …saving me last night."

"Were you even supposed to be in town?"

"Well no, but I …" He trailed off

"I can't hear you, Roddy?"

"It's nothing, really."

I continued on with my normal routine, mindful that Roddy was in the same room as me and injured. It wasn't until the phone rang that I had a problem, before I could reach the phone Roddy had already answered it.

"Who is this?"

I could hear a loud, angry voice on the phone and Piper got defensive.

"You think you're a hard man do ya?!"

Damien. That's got to be Damien, which means I am in some real trouble now. Thanks Piper, ya dafty.

"I'll get her to call ya back once you've calmed down."

He slammed the phone back into it's place and breathed out a hefty sigh.

"Kirby, is Damien your boyfriend?" He seemed instantaneously calm

I almost choked on air for a moment, "No! He's my manager, and he's like double my age. He's Vic," I paused for a moment, "He's my dad, as well as the other members of the D.O.D. We're not all his biological daughters though, just Vickie."

"So, he adopted you?"

"I guess you could say that." I avoided looking him in the eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Now!"

"Promise you won't tell anyone first."

"I won't tell a soul, now, why are you so, uptight, about who he is to you."

"First things first, my name isn't Kirby Lucifarian, it's actually Kirby Trevor."

"Oh, so Damien's not you're adoptive father, either?"

"No, my real parents are Heaven and Eric Trevor. Damien's Vickie's dad and only Vickie's dad."

"Are either one of your parents giants? or is it just you?"

"Just me, the closest person to me in height, family-wise was my uncle Rory. He's the reason I have the tattoo on my wrist."

I walked up to Piper and showed him the 'R' tattooed on my right wrist.

"So, he passed away?"

"Yeah. He died, eleven, no no, twelve years ago now, when I was Seventeen, My uncle Vaughn died a couple months later, he's why I have the lighter on my left arm, my uncle Vaughn was best known for being, in the nicest terms, a layabout smoker, and the smoke took him in the end."

"So, you have a lighter to remember a man who died by smoking?"

"Dark, I know, but uncle Vaughn would've laughed at it. Erik laughed at it when I explained it to him."

"Eric, your dad?"

"No, no, Erik, with a 'K', my old tag partner before I joined the D.O.D. I think you would've liked him."

"Really, now why would I like a guy I know nothing about?"

"Well, Erik's Scottish, He's from Edinburgh. He's tall-ish, then again I am a giant, so who am I to say what's tall, he's six-foot-five. He played the bagpipes when he was younger, he quit playing when he was twenty-three, same year we lost the tag titles."

"Rough," He interrupted "Continue, please."

"Uh, well. Erik's strong, very strong, he would compete in the Highland games and well, … I guess back then I thought I'd never leave him, until Damien gave me an offer I couldn't refuse and I left him. I had a whole life with him planned inside my head and I left it all behind, for what, cramped hotel rooms and breakfasts with André."

"You had breakfast with André the giant and you didn't tell me … You, You had a good Scottish man, and you left him, for," He gestured to the room, "all this?"

"Well I jus-"

"No," He held my jaw and looked me straight in the eyes, "You had a life, a man who obviously a close relationship with you, and you gave it up for breakfasts with André and shitty hotel rooms."

"I know I'm stupid."

"But you're not stupid, you saved me, I could have died in that hallway and you brought me in here, you stopped that bastard from killing me. I could kiss you."

"Please don't."

Sorry for cliff-hanger ending, but … END OF BLOODY, BEATEN, BRUISED or MAXIMUM EFFORT.

#Lucifarians #wrestling fic

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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ESSAY: Berserk's Journey of Acceptance Over 30 Years of Fandom

My descent into anime fandom began in the '90s, and just as watching Neon Genesis Evangelion caused my first revelation that cartoons could be art, reading Berserk gave me the same realization about comics. The news of Kentaro Miura’s death, who passed on May 6, has been emotionally complicated for me, as it's the first time a celebrity's death has hit truly close to home. In addition to being the lynchpin for several important personal revelations, Berserk is one of the longest-lasting works I’ve followed and that I must suddenly bid farewell to after existing alongside it for two-thirds of my life.

Berserk is a monolith not only for anime and manga, but also fantasy literature, video games, you name it. It might be one of the single most influential works of the ‘80s — on a level similar to Blade Runner — to a degree where it’s difficult to imagine what the world might look like without it, and the generations of creators the series inspired.

Although not the first, Guts is the prototypical large sword anime boy: Final Fantasy VII's Cloud Strife, Siegfried/Nightmare from Soulcalibur, and Black Clover's Asta are all links in the same chain, with other series like Dark Souls and Claymore taking clear inspiration from Berserk. But even deeper than that, the three-character dynamic between Guts, Griffith, and Casca, the monster designs, the grotesque violence, Miura’s image of hell — all of them can be spotted in countless pieces of media across the globe.

Despite this, it just doesn’t seem like people talk about it very much. For over 20 years, Berserk has stood among the critical pantheon for both anime and manga, but it doesn’t spur conversations in the same way as Neon Genesis Evangelion, Akira, or Dragon Ball Z still do today. Its graphic depictions certainly represent a barrier to entry much higher than even the aforementioned company.

Seeing the internet exude sympathy and fond reminiscing about Berserk was immensely validating and has been my single most therapeutic experience online. Moreso, it reminded me that the fans have always been there. And even looking into it, Berserk is the single best-selling property in the 35-year history of Dark Horse. My feeling is that Berserk just has something about it that reaches deep into you and gets stuck there.

I recall introducing one of my housemates to Berserk a few years ago — a person with all the intelligence and personal drive to both work on cancer research at Stanford while pursuing his own MD and maintaining a level of physical fitness that was frankly unreasonable for the hours that he kept. He was NOT in any way analytical about the media he consumed, but watching him sitting on the floor turning all his considerable willpower and intellect toward delivering an off-the-cuff treatise on how Berserk had so deeply touched him was a sight in itself to behold. His thoughts on the series' portrayal of sex as fundamentally violent leading up to Guts and Casca’s first moment of intimacy in the Golden Age movies was one of the most beautiful sentiments I’d ever heard in reaction to a piece of fiction.

I don’t think I’d ever heard him provide anything but a surface-level take on a piece of media before or since. He was a pretty forthright guy, but the way he just cut into himself and let his feelings pour out onto the floor left me awestruck. The process of reading Berserk can strike emotional chords within you that are tough to untangle. I’ve been writing analysis and experiential pieces related to anime and manga for almost ten years — and interacting with Berserk’s world for almost 30 years — and writing may just be yet another attempt for me to pull my own twisted-up feelings about it apart.

Berserk is one of the most deeply personal works I’ve ever read, both for myself and in my perception of Miura's works. The series' transformation in the past 30 years artistically and thematically is so singular it's difficult to find another work that comes close. The author of Hajime no Ippo, who was among the first to see Berserk as Miura presented him with some early drafts working as his assistant, claimed that the design for Guts and Puck had come from a mess of ideas Miura had been working on since his early school days.

写真は三浦建太郎君が寄稿してくれた鷹村です。今かなり感傷的になっています。思い出話をさせて下さい。僕が初めての週刊連載でスタッフが一人もいなくて困っていたら手伝いにきてくれました。彼が18で僕が19です。某大学の芸術学部の学生で講義明けにスケッチブックを片手に来てくれました。 pic.twitter.com/hT1JCWBTKu

— 森川ジョージ (@WANPOWANWAN) May 20, 2021

Miura claimed two of his big influences were Go Nagai’s Violence Jack and Tetsuo Hara and Buronson’s Fist of the North Star. Miura wears these influences on his sleeve, discovering the early concepts that had percolated in his mind just felt right. The beginning of Berserk, despite its amazing visual power, feels like it sprang from a very juvenile concept: Guts is a hypermasculine lone traveler breaking his body against nightmarish creatures in his single-minded pursuit of revenge, rigidly independent and distrustful of others due to his dark past.

Uncompromising, rugged, independent, a really big sword ... Guts is a romantic ideal of masculinity on a quest to personally serve justice against the one who wronged him. Almost nefarious in the manner in which his character checked these boxes, especially when it came to his grim stoicism, unblinkingly facing his struggle against literal cosmic forces. Never doubting himself, never trusting others, never weeping for what he had lost.

Miura said he sketched out most of the backstory when the manga began publication, so I have to assume the larger strokes of the Golden Arc were pretty well figured out from the outset, but I’m less sure if he had fully realized where he wanted to take the story to where we are now. After the introductory mini-arcs of demon-slaying, Berserk encounters Griffith and the story draws us back to a massive flashback arc. We see the same Guts living as a lone mercenary who Griffith persuades to join the Band of the Hawk to help realize his ambitions of rising above the circumstances of his birth to join the nobility.

We discover the horrific abuses of Guts’ adoptive father and eventually learn that Guts, Griffith, and Casca are all victims of sexual violence. The story develops into a sprawling semi-historical epic featuring politics and war, but the real narrative is in the growing companionship between Guts and the members of the band. Directionless and traumatized by his childhood, Guts slowly finds a purpose helping Griffith realize his dream and the courage to allow others to grow close to him.

Miura mentioned that many Band of the Hawk members were based on his early friend groups. Although he was always sparse with details about his personal life, he has spoken about how many of them referred to themselves as aspiring manga authors and how he felt an intense sense of competition, admitting that among them he may have been the only one seriously working toward that goal, desperately keeping ahead in his perceived race against them. It’s intriguing thinking about how much of this angst may have made it to the pages, as it's almost impossible not to imagine Miura put quite a bit of himself in Guts.

Perhaps this is why it feels so real and makes The Eclipse — the quintessential anime betrayal at the hands of Griffith — all the more heartbreaking. The raw violence and macabre imagery certainly helped. While Miura owed Hellraiser’s Cenobites much in the designs of the God Hand, his macabre portrayal of the Band of the Hawk’s eradication within the literal bowels of hell, the massive hand, the black sun, the Skull Knight, and even Miura’s page compositions have been endlessly referenced, copied, and outright plagiarized since.

The events were tragic in any context and I have heard many deeply personal experiences others drew from The Eclipse sympathizing with Guts, Casca, or even Griffith’s spiral driven by his perceived rejection by Guts. Mine were most closely aligned with the tragedy of Guts having overcome such painful circumstances to not only reject his own self enforced solitude, but to fearlessly express his affection for his loved ones.

The Golden Age was a methodical destruction of Guts’ self-destructive methods of preservation ruined in a single selfish act by his most trusted friend, leaving him once again alone and afraid of growing close to those around him. It ripped the romance of Guts’ mission and eventually took the story down a course I never expected. Berserk wasn’t a story of revenge but one of recovery.

Guess that’s enough beating around the bush, as I should talk about how this shift affected me personally. When I was young, when I began reading Berserk I found Guts’ unflagging stoicism to be really cool, not just aesthetically but in how I understood guys were supposed to be. I was slow to make friends during school and my rapidly gentrifying neighborhood had my friends' parents moving away faster than I could find new ones. At some point I think I became too afraid of putting myself out there anymore, risking rejection when even acceptance was so fleeting. It began to feel easier just to resign myself to solitude and pretend my circumstances were beyond my own power to correct.

Unfortunately, I became the stereotypical kid who ate alone during lunch break. Under the invisible expectations demanding I not display weakness, my loneliness was compounded by shame for feeling loneliness. My only recourse was to reveal none of those feelings and pretend the whole thing didn't bother me at all. Needless to say my attempts to cope probably fooled no one and only made things even worse, but I really didn’t know of any better way to handle my situation. I felt bad, I felt even worse about feeling bad and had been provided with zero tools to cope, much less even admit that I had a problem at all.

The arcs following the Golden Age completely changed my perspective. Guts had tragically, yet understandably, cut himself off from others to save himself from experiencing that trauma again and, in effect, denied himself any opportunity to allow himself to be happy again. As he began to meet other characters that attached themselves to him, between Rickert and Erica spending months waiting worried for his return, and even the slimmest hope to rescuing Casca began to seed itself into the story, I could only see Guts as a fool pursuing a grim and hopeless task rather than appreciating everything that he had managed to hold onto.

The same attributes that made Guts so compelling in the opening chapters were revealed as his true enemy. Griffith had committed an unforgivable act but Guts’ journey for revenge was one of self-inflicted pain and fear. The romanticism was gone.

Farnese’s inclusion in the Conviction arc was a revelation. Among the many brilliant aspects of her character, I identified with her simply for how she acted as a stand-in for myself as the reader: Plagued by self-doubt and fear, desperate to maintain her own stoic and uncompromising image, and resentful of her place in the world. She sees Guts’ fearlessness in the face of cosmic horror and believes she might be able to learn his confidence.

But in following Guts, Farnese instead finds a teacher in Casca. In taking care of her, Farnese develops a connection and is able to experience genuine sympathy that develops into a sense of responsibility. Caring for Casca allows Farnese to develop the courage she was lacking not out of reckless self-abandon but compassion.

I can’t exactly credit Berserk with turning my life around, but I feel that it genuinely helped crystallize within me a sense of growing doubts about my maladjusted high school days. My growing awareness of Guts' undeniable role in his own suffering forced me to admit my own role in mine and created a determination to take action to fix it rather than pretending enough stoicism might actually result in some sort of solution.

I visited the Berserk subreddit from time to time and always enjoyed the group's penchant for referring to all the members of the board as “fellow strugglers,” owing both to Skull Knight’s label for Guts and their own tongue-in-cheek humor at waiting through extended hiatuses. Only in retrospect did it feel truly fitting to me. Trying to avoid the pitfalls of Guts’ path is a constant struggle. Today I’m blessed with many good friends but still feel primal pangs of fear holding me back nearly every time I meet someone, the idea of telling others how much they mean to me or even sharing my thoughts and feelings about something I care about deeply as if each action will expose me to attack.

It’s taken time to pull myself away from the behaviors that were so deeply ingrained and it’s a journey where I’m not sure the work will ever be truly done, but witnessing Guts’ own slow progress has been a constant source of reassurance. My sense of admiration for Miura’s epic tale of a man allowing himself to let go after suffering such devastating circumstances brought my own humble problems and their way out into focus.

Over the years I, and many others, have been forced to come to terms with the fact that Berserk would likely never finish. The pattern of long, unexplained hiatuses and the solemn recognition that any of them could be the last is a familiar one. The double-edged sword of manga largely being works created by a single individual is that there is rarely anyone in a position to pick up the torch when the creator calls it quits. Takehiko Inoue’s Vagabond, Ai Yazawa’s Nana, and likely Yoshihiro Togashi’s Hunter X Hunter all frozen in indefinite hiatus, the publishers respectfully holding the door open should the creators ever decide to return, leaving it in a liminal space with no sense of conclusion for the fans except what we can make for ourselves.

The reason for Miura’s hiatuses was unclear. Fans liked to joke that he would take long breaks to play The Idolmaster, but Miura was also infamous for taking “breaks” spent minutely illustrating panels to his exacting artistic standard, creating a tumultuous release schedule during the wars featuring thousands of tiny soldiers all dressed in period-appropriate armor. If his health was becoming an issue, it’s uncommon that news would be shared with fans for most authors, much less one as private as Miura.

Even without delays, the story Miura was building just seemed to be getting too big. The scale continued to grow, his narrative ambition swelling even faster after 20 years of publication, the depth and breadth of his universe constantly expanding. The fan-dubbed “Millennium Falcon Arc” was massive, changing the landscape of Berserk from a low fantasy plagued by roaming demons to a high fantasy where godlike beings of sanity-defying size battled for control of the world. How could Guts even meet Griffith again? What might Casca want to do when her sanity returned? What are the origins of the Skull Knight? And would he do battle with the God Hand? There was too much left to happen and Miura’s art only grew more and more elaborate. It would take decades to resolve all this.

But it didn’t need to. I imagine we’ll never get a precise picture of the final years of Miura’s life leading up to his tragic passing. In the final chapters he released, it felt as if he had directed the story to some conclusion. The unfinished Fantasia arc finds Guts and his newfound band finding a way to finally restore Casca’s sanity and — although there is still unmistakably a boundary separating them — both seem resolute in finding a way to mend their shared wounds together.

One of the final chapters features Guts drinking around the campfire with the two other men of his group, Serpico and Roderick, as he entrusts the recovery of Casca to Schierke and Farnese. It's a scene that, in the original Band of the Hawk, would have found Guts brooding as his fellows engage in bluster. The tone of this conversation, however, is completely different. The three commiserate over how much has changed and the strength each has found in the companionship of the others. After everything that has happened, Guts declares that he is grateful.

The suicidal dedication to his quest for vengeance and dispassionate pragmatism that defined Guts in the earliest chapters is gone. Although they first appeared to be a source of strength as the Black Swordsman, he has learned that they rose from the fear of losing his friends again, from letting others close enough to harm him, and from having no other purpose without others. Whether or not Guts and Griffith were to ever meet again, Guts has rediscovered the strength to no longer carry his burdens alone.

All that has happened is all there will ever be. We too must be grateful.

Peter Fobian is an Associate Manager of Social Video at Crunchyroll, writer for Anime Academy and Anime in America, and an editor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

By: Peter Fobian

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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nomoregoldfish · 5 years ago

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Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle.

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there.

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun.

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light.

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán.

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it.

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back.

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something.

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it.

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words.

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury.

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate.

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment.

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat.

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in.

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle.

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do.

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent.

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end?

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word."

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...."

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still.

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season.

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up.

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years?

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.

#narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #this is getting ridiculous

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kittinoir · 4 years ago

Text

Echoes of You Ch. 11

Read on Ao3

Marinette sighed and tapped her pen against the half-filled page of diary. She was halfway through recording her day, but she kept getting distracted. Of course, Adrien had that effect - but not in the usual way.

He’d missed yet another half day of school that afternoon and, for once, he hadn’t been at fencing club when she’d gone with Nino and Alya to drop off his homework. Her friend’s hadn’t seemed to find it weird, but she’d never known Adrien to not keep to the schedule she’d somehow accidentally memorized.

Nino had ended up taking the homework with him, saying they’d worked out a system for sneaking the missed work past his dad, and worse, his dad’s nosy assistant, Nathalie. It made sense, she guessed. Gabriel Agreste was known for his strict and solitary life-style.

But still, she couldn’t help but worry.

Frowning, Marinette flipped her diary closed and put it back in its’ nifty lock box. She remembered making the box to thwart Chloe, but she thought she remembered making it with a friend. When she’d asked Alya about, though, she’d said no. Still, the box came in handy. She could only imagine what Chloe would do if she got her hands on it. Chloe was somehow the only person not in her circle of friends who knew about her monstrous crush on Adrien, but she’d decided it was beneath her notice. However, Marinette imagined the copious paragraphs in her diary describing that very crush would not be.

She left the diary on her desk for the dress form in the corner. It had the muslin mock up pinned to it with the sketch pinned to the wall behind it but the drawing was still woefully lacking details. Maybe choosing Chat Noir for inspiration had been a mistake. She paused in front of the sketch, tracing the now-familiar shapes with her eyes, but inspiration wouldn’t strike. She couldn’t stop thinking about…

Adrien.

“Maybe I’ll just drop by,” Marinette said out our, grabbing her purse. “Just for a second. With some pastries. Real casually. Friends can drop by, right?”

It was like missing a step, she thought briefly, as she paused by the trap door and found she felt like she was waiting for a response from an empty room. She frowned, but stopped again as she again caught sight of her purse.

“Why…do I keep bringing this with me?” she wondered, unslinging it. “It’s empty.”

But it had felt natural, she realized, to grab it as she’d left. It did match her clothes, she guessed. Still, better to leave it at home.

“Hi, mom!” Only two customers were browsing the bakery this close to the dinner hour. Marinette was careful to circumvent them, ducking behind the counter as the bell over the shop door chimed and snagging a box on her way by.

Sabine shot her daughter a grin as she snagged a few pastries and layered them in the box. Marinette swallowed a smile as she included some passionfruit macarons and their world-famous croissants.

“Uh, excuse me?” Marinette jumped, whacking her head on the shelf and nearly dumping the pastries onto the floor. “Can I get some service here?”

Marinette straightened and squinted over the counter. “Chloe Bourgeois?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but the move lacked the usual attitude, like her heart wasn’t really in it. “I need a dozen macarons and a dozen chocolate chip cookies.”

Marinette frowned, confused, but reached for a box. Rule Number One in the bakery was always help the customer - even if they were a pain in the butt from your class who had bullied you for literal years.

Still, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel bad for Chloe. The girl had hurt her, yes, and she’d made terrible choices, but now she was suffering terrible consequences. If Chloe had been her normal over-bearing, bratty self, Marinette might have been able to ignore it, but she just…took it all so stoically. The cold stares. The snide comments. It was no less than Chloe had done to any of them, but…

It all came back to Adrien.

Marinette had never known him to turn his back on anyone. Not even Chloe, not even when she deserved it - until now.

Which was probably why Marinette did what she did next.

“How’re you doing?”

Chloe’s head snapped around to stare at her one-time rival. “Ex-cuse me?”

Marinette fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I asked how you’re doing. Have you been…ok?” It was stupid. She knew that even as she asked, but how else did one ask how a classmate was coping with being totally frozen out?

“I’m great, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snapped, snatching the box out of Marinette’s hands. “Thanks for asking.”

The other girl stormed over to the cash register and Marinette scowled, grabbing her own box of pastries. A waste of time to even ask. She ducked out the back door to avoid any more scathing comments and made for the metro that would deliver her neatly across the street from the Agreste mansion. She must have thought of a dozen things to say by the time she arrived, but as usual, as soon as those massive iron gates came into view, every single one evaporated.

Except the usual flush of giddiness was tainted by…anxiety? No, stronger. Foreboding.

As Marinette stood across the street, taking in the manse, a flood of confusion and fear swept over her, a storm like she hadn’t experienced in weeks. Part of her wanted to sprint right back down those stairs and back home. She was back on the edge of that precipice.

‘CHAT NOIR!’ The girl’s scream echoed across the Pont Neuf. A flash of gold, a boy in black was knocked back again and again. She could do little but watch as she desperately tried to free herself. The boy stumbled again, his back against the shallow wall. She saw the monsters’ horrible grin, all those teeth, as it struck again. The boys’ baton snapped in two, and he fell.

The girl screamed again, frantic desperation lending her strength to finally free herself. She didn’t bother trying to follow him; she dove into the frigid black waters closest to her and swam. Her lungs were close to bursting when she finally found him, but her relief was short lived as green light suddenly illuminated the water, revealing a familiar face. Shock made her gasp, and as silver bubbles raced for the surface, they were both abruptly drowning.

The images, ragged and disjointed as they were, slipped through Marinette’s fingers before she could even fully recognize them.

“I…” She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear with one shaky hand. “What was…” A half-faded dream? More like a nightmare. She glanced at the house again, but whatever it was had passed; only faint, fragile anticipation remained.

Rallying her resolve, Marinette stepped forward onto the sidewalk - and promptly into someone as they made for the metro. She managed to snag the hand-rail and keep herself from pitching completely down the stairs, but the box of pastries was not so fortunate. Croissants and macarons spilled across the sidewalk and down into the metro station.

“Oh my god!” Heat spilled across Marinette’s face, but it was hardly the first time she’d run into someone - or dropped a box full of baked good. “I am so sorry. And so clumsy. Sorry.”

“You said that already,” the boy said, brushing off his ornate jacket. At least, she thought it was a boy; a Venetian mask covered his face and a hood obscured his hair. “Watch where you’re going.”

The blush only got stronger, but Marinette scowled as she stooped for her ruined box. It wasn’t like she’d run into the guy on purpose. He didn’t have to be rude about it. “I’m sorry,” she said one more time, if only because she didn’t know what else to say. “Is your jacket…”

“Fine,” the boy snapped, brushing the last bits of dirt only he could see from the material. He froze. “I know you.”

“Um…I don’t think so,” Marinette said, glancing up from her inspection. “I mean…I think I’d know if we were friends.” Besides, her friends knew how clumsy she was. They never would have given her a hard time about it.

“I didn’t say we were friends,” the boy said. He leaned in, the purple and gold lacquer on the mask glinting from the shadow of his hood in the late-afternoon sun. “You’re the one who’s in love with Adrien.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide, and she was fairly sure her blush had blown all the way up to her hairline. No one but her girls - and quite possibly Nino - knew that secret. No one.

“I don’t - I’m not - I don’t have a crunch - I mean, a crush,” Marinette spluttered, frantically re-arranging her pastry box. “Certainly not on Adrien. We’re just…we’re just very good friends.” The words were bitter even as she fibbed; she couldn’t say them without remembering the times Adrien had used that exact same phrase. The difference was he meant it.

“Mhmm.” The mask tilted. “Is that why you’re outside the Agreste mansion with a box of gourmet pastries?”

Marinette straightened with as much dignity as she could muster. “Who are you anyway?”

But the question would have to wait as a tell-tale rumble rippled across the cobble-stones. Cries rose in the air as the people in the street stumbled and clung to anything around them. Marinette elected to drop the box for a second time and cling to the railing rather than risk tumbling into the annoying stranger a second time. He, on the other hand, seemed to navigate the tremor with relative ease, cursing up a storm as he anticipated each roll of the street.

“These attacks are getting closer and closer together,” Marinette growled as the tremors finally began to abate. “Doesn’t Hawkmoth have a hobby or a job other than terrorizing us?”

“Wish I knew,” the boy said, sounding about as pleased as she did. He glanced towards the Agreste mansion, almost as though that had been his destination as well, but ultimately ended up turning away - in the direction the tremors had come from. “See you around, Lovebug.”

“I am not his Lovebug!” Marinette stamped her foot. Deja vu swept in again, but dispersed as the rumbling started back up. “Wait!” She scrambled after the boy, not nearly as graceful as he was. “What are you doing! Are you crazy? You can’t go that way.”

“I’m crazy? You’re the one following me,” the boy said, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

“Seriously,” Marinette said, reaching for the boys arm as she caught up. “You could get killed. At best you’ll be a distraction.”

The boy pulled his arm away, slipping out of her grasp as he rounded a corner as easily as if she were made of air. “Go away,” he snapped, an edge in his voice. “Go hide. Leave it to the heroes.”

Marinette balled up her fists, wishing she’d worn her purse after all just to keep her hands busy. “They’re just people,” she snapped, following him down an alley. “We have to help them. Staying out of their way - that’s the best we can do.”

“Not all of us.” The boy paused at the mouth of the alley, looking out into the street beyond. Marinette peered over his shoulder and cringed as she beheld the fight.

It was already in full swing. Both Ladybug and Chat Noir were out there, but they were getting tossed around pretty badly. Any time they tried to co-ordinate an attack the akuma would engage them, preventing any progress. Ladybug looked better than the first time Marinette had seen her, but she seemed to be lashing out, more desperate than focused, more scared than confident.

Chat Noir, for all his skill, couldn’t pick up the slack. He was trying to run defense, but Ladybug couldn’t seem to antipode either her enemy or her partner. It wasn’t going well.

The boy in the mask seemed to feel the same way. He looked back at Marinette again. She got the distinct impression he was appraising her, measuring her worth behind that inscrutable mask.

“If you could do more,” he finally said, “Would you?”

“I - ” She ducked as another tremor rocked the alley, but made herself nod. “If I could. They shouldn’t have to do this alone. I…I want to help.”

“Not afraid of joining the list of casualties you seem so convinced of?”

“I’d rather be on it and go down swinging,” Marinette said. She was surprised to find it was the truth. The boy seemed to believe her, too.

He reached inside his huge coat, rummaging around inside a satchel she hadn’t realized he’d been concealing. Marinette felt again like she was on the brink, but this time there was light at the bottom of the crevice, an answer to her question. The boy finally produced a little black box with decorative red scrollwork on top and held it out to her.

“You just carry those around with you?”

He ignored her. “Ladybug and Chat Noir need help, Lovebug -”

“Marinette,” she hissed though gritted teeth.

“They need help, Marinette,” he repeated, unphased. “Will you use the Miraculous of the mouse to aide them in saving Paris, your home?”

Marinette nodded. “I will.” For the first time, serenity surrounded her. Every step was new, but it was like she’d walked the path a million times before. She wasn’t sure where it lead, but she wasn’t afraid of what she’d find when she got there.

“Will you return the Miraculous to me, Salem, when the fight is done?”

“I…I will,” Marinette said. Her pulse was steady, even. She was ready.

“Then I give you the Miraculous of the mouse,” Salem said, tilting the lid back. A floating mouse burst forth in flash of pink light. Marinette fell back in surprise, but managed to keep from freaking out. She’d accepted this. She would do it. And it didn’t seem interest in crawling through her clothes.

“Marinette!” the mouse chirped, swirling around her head. “Marinette!”

“Hi there,” Marinette said. She couldn’t help but smile; its excitement was infections. Suddenly she remembered Chat Noir’s conversation from a few nights ago: Multimouse, right? Right…this all seemed… right. A little familiar. Didn’t it? Or had she dreamt it? She wasn’t sure anymore.

“Say ‘Mullo, let’s get squeaky’ while wearing the necklace,” Salem instructed as she lifted the jewellery from the box. “She grants the power of multiplication, but we warned, you only have five minutes. Don’t mess it up.”

“She knows!” Mullo chirped, swirling to a stop. “Oh, she knows!”

For the first time, Marinette thought that maybe she might. “I’m ready,” she said with a tight nod. “Mullo, let’s get squeaky!”

#echoes #echoes of you #writing #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #fic #miraculous fic

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revengeworld · 5 years ago

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The Circus V

Werewolf! Kylo x Reader Modern/Monster AU

Words: +3.200

Warnings: None

AN: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I’m back! At least for the last parts for the Circus. The next Parts will be posted each Friday until we are done with them. I’m also writing on other stuff but I’m honestly not sure if I will post them. Zero Feedback = Zero Motivation to post them, since it makes no difference to me. So yeah we will see...

MASTERLIST: Can be found in my bio if you are interested in more!

“What happened to you?” Kylo chuckled when he came around the corner to find his beautiful girlfriend covered from head to toe in paint streaks.

“I started your banner!” taking the cool bottle of lemonade from him, Y/N quickly took a few sips before brushing over her forehead to look at her work.

Following her gaze Kylos mouth fell open. With a chuckle she carefully pushed his chin up.

“Holy shit! That's me?” he asked astound and stepped closer to look at his own face on the gigantic Banner.

“Well yeah, who else. But it's still not finished so don't expect too much!” she mumbled a bit worried that she wouldn't be able to satisfy everyone's expectations.

“Oh don't make that pouty face, Moonshine. I look fucking badass.” grinning at the banner he already saw the wolf sketch that would be behind his shoulder.

“This will be awesome, you should really stop underestimating yourself so much.” he mumbled and pulled her closer, to press a kiss on her soft lips.

“I know … but that's how the progress works.” stretching herself, Y/N yawned.

“How about we take a little break?” Kylo already grabbed her by her hip and sat her down on the hood of his car.

“Yeah… the paint needs to dry anyway.” leaning back she already enjoyed the nice sunshine and closed her eyes before Kylo joined her.

“Ah wait, careful...” quickly shielding her ear with one hand, she grabbed the tiny white snake that had been sleeping in her hair again.

“Well … Hello Koh, what are you doing here… again?!” Kylo growled with a sweet tone to the snake who just looked away and curled around Y/Ns fingers.

“Phasma is training for her show and he is still too young so I babysit him.” with a smile Y/N started to pat it's tiny head and the little snake closed its eyes in relaxation.

“Well if you want a baby to take care of, I have an idea...” Kylo growled seductively in her ear and she started to chuckle.

“Mhmm I think I should listen to Poes tip and tie you up at night from now on.” with a teasing grin she pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I`m not in my rut!” he huffed offended and she just giggled even more.

“You are so sweet when you try to hide the truth.” ruffling through his hair, Kylo quickly pulled his head away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

“Oh come on. I`m just teasing, Darling.” Y/N took the last sips of her drink before looking surprised at the little snake in her other hand.

“Did you hear that?” looking over to Kylo he only shrugged his shoulders.

“What should i have heard?” gently laying his hand against her cheek, she lightly shook her head.

“Maybe I just have been to long in the sun.” watching the little snake for another moment, she placed him back around her left ear before sliding off the car.

“I get you some water, then… Don't overdo it please.”

“Don`t worry about me, you have your training soon!” she reminded him and he looked shocked down at his watch.

Running into the tent, he quickly grabbed a glass of water and brought it to her before pressing a strong kiss on her cheek.

“I`ll see you later! Love you! God dammit!”

Watching him run towards the big tent she could only try to hide her laughter.

“Yes you`re right. He is a bit clumsy sometimes.” Y/N answered the little snakes hiss and started to mix her paints to continue Kylos banner.

A few hours later, Y/N had made a lot of progress and the little snake slowly poked his head out between her hair.

“You want to take a break?” she asked it and Koh hissed delighted. For now the Banner needed to dry anyway and tomorrow she would be finally finished with the first one. It was only missing Kylos stage name now. Cleaning her brushes and the glasses she had used, she stepped inside the cool tent. She had already noticed that whatever kind of weather was outside, the tents were always at a comfortable temperature.

“Want to help me choose the colours for your Mamas Banner?” she asked the little snake while placing it next to her sketchbook on the wooden work desk.

Letting out a small hiss, Y/N nodded with a smile.

“I'll get you some water then.” getting a tiny bowl she filled it with water and placed it next to the small snake and watched him drink for a moment, before she pulled her aquarelle colours out of a drawer.

“So what do you think? I put you big in front like you wished for. Phasma right after you with all your other siblings.” Y/N stretched her hand out to the white snake who quickly slithered on it and looked down at the finished lineart she had made.

“Pretty!” the snake hissed and pressed his scaled snout against Y/Ns cheeks just like a small kiss. Giggling to herself, she watched Koh for another moment. So it was him she had heard earlier, first it was a little shock but now that she had time to think about it, it made sense. Since she was here she had noticed more and more magical things inside the circus, little things like the changing appearance of her co-workers, who looked more and more like their original forms. A man with horns, a woman with flowing hair as if she was constantly underwater or the wondrous animals she just had laid eyes on so far. So, that she was able to understand Koh it must have been a part of being here and especially being accepted by everyone, even though she was just a mere human, at least that was her conclusion to all of this.

“So since you're white, how should i paint you ...” Y/N started to mumble to herself while taking a closer look at Koh who rolled himself together on her hand.

“Rainbow.” he hissed and she noticed the lightest bit of colourful shimmer on his small scales.

“Oh I see! I can definitely try something like this!” grabbing another piece of paper she prepared an example and showed it to Koh.

With a small hiss the Snake observed the paper before turning itself to it's own body.

“More shimmer, please?”

“No problem, sweety. Silver or Gold?” placing two containers next to the test drawing the small snake looked between them.

“Silver, please.” he nodded excited and watched closely while she placed a thin layer over the light rainbow part.

“How is that, my little friend?”

“Perfect! Thanks!” getting booped by his snout again, Y/N smiled. It was nice to have the little snake around while all of the others were so busy preparing their acts, since the first date of the show was announced for this weekend.

Working on the colouring for Phasmas Banner, Koh slowly made his way on her head to watch from above while he curled around a strand of hair.

“Can we visit Mama soon?” the small snake asked after a while with a yawn and Y/N carefully stretched herself after putting her brush down.

“Yeah, let's go… I'm creatively exhausted too.” cleaning up her desk, Y/N soon made her way towards the big tent, the sun slowly sinking in the background.

Koh climbed back down towards her ear where he had the best grip and felt the most comfortable.

“Y/N? I was just about to come over to you.” Phasma was approaching them and Koh quickly stuck his head out of Y/Ns hair.

“Mama!” he called with a wide open mouth which made Phasma smile with adoration.

“Are you done already? Koh wanted to watch you rehearse.” Y/N stated and helped Koh from her ear before holding him towards his mother.

Surprised, the tall woman let Koh climb from Y/Ns hand to her own, not taking her eyes off of the young woman in front of her.

“How did you know?”

“He told me.” tilting her head the slightest Y/N shrugged her shoulders as if it was the most normal thing.

“Is that so?” Phasma smiled, not trying to show how concerned she was.

“Yes. She understands me, Mama. It's very nice. We talked a lot today.” pushing his head against Phasmas cheek for a moment, Koh soon slithered up into her hair.

“Let's go together then. Everyone is still in the tent. How did your painting go?” she asked while they walked to the Main Entrance.

“Good! Just need to put Kylos Name on the Banner tomorrow and then I will be starting with yours. Koh helped me pick most colours.” she smiled and the small snake nodded delighted, Phasma could tell he was very proud about it.

For her little child it was of course exciting to be able to communicate with a normal human, but it made her more than worried.

Entering the main tent, Y/N could already see Kylo on the wooden stage in his big wolf form, before someone laid their arms around her waist, it was Rey.

Y/N could feel Rey slightly rub her head against hers and she started to laugh. Since she had spent a few hours with the female werewolf to sketch her, Y/N and Rey slowly became friends after getting over the first awkward hurdle.

“Get your goddamn awful smell off of her!” Kylo suddenly screamed and came running, before turning back into his human form and ripping Y/N basically away from the other before nuzzling his face like crazy against hers.

Starting to giggle, she quickly pressed a kiss on his lips and in an instant he seemed to calm down.

“Come on, at least let me borrow her from time to time.” Rey called teasingly while stalking around them.

“In your dreams, bitten!” growling he wrapped his arms tighter around Y/Ns waist.

“Don’t be so selfish, especially when she smells so sweet at the moment.” Rey sighed deeply as if she was talking about the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Now you've done it!” turning back the black much bigger wolf chased around a brown one which only snickered while running away.

“What is it with them today?” Y/N laughed while watching them before Finn landed right beside her, which made her look up in confusing wondering where he even came from.

“As far as we understand it...”

“More like just assuming...” Poe interrupted.

“We think Rey is teasing Kylo for his rut, since you are ready to have pups.”

“Oh okay… Wait… what?!” first she nodded understandingly before Y/Ns eyes widened in realization.

“Kylo explained to us once that werewolves fall into ruts when they smell that their female is most fertile to have the pups.”

“And he smells that?!” she shrieked while sniffing on her own arm, her cheeks getting redder by the second.

“Your blood does smell a little sweeter than normal, I guess.” Finn agreed nodding.

Shocked Y/N looked at Finn, before she pulled the jacket around her shoulders closer and quickly zipped it up.

“Pervert ...” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“No! Please don’t misunderstand I'm not doing it on purpose!” Finn plead to her.

“Vampires and Werewolves just have a very sensitive nose for blood. Believe me!”

“How embarrassing ….” she mumbled and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Don't give it any mind. That's just how these things work i guess.” Phasma tried to calm her and patted her head.

Kylo had thrown Rey off the stage who landed in her normal form next to them.

“Fine big guy. I keep away from her for now until you calmed down.” the young woman bowed and winked to Y/N before leaving the tent.

The black wolf quickly came running again, his mouth curled up into a grin, very proud of himself to have defended his mate, before he turned back and embraced her.

Nuzzling his face against hers again, Kylo tried to get rid of every bit of smell that wasn't his.

When he looked down at her again and saw her flustered face, Kylo bit his lip, she was just too cute and goddamn tempting.

“Sorry for the chaos...” he apologized and she only nodded slightly while avoiding his gaze.

“Are you already done with training? Kou and I planned to watch.”

“Ah yeah sorry … maybe tomorrow. I'm pretty beat too...” leaning with his heavy weight down on her, Y/N started to struggle to keep him up.

“How about we just go home and cuddle… lots.” he suggested with a loud yawn.

“Actually Kylo, there is something I would like to talk with you beforehand. If that's okay with you...” Phasma suggested and looked down at Y/N.

“Oh sure. I will prepare a nice hot bath for you, my love.” standing on her tiptoes, Y/N pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before she wished everyone else a good night and left.

With a heavy sigh Kylo watched her leave before he gave Phasma and the little snake on her head his attention.

“What is it? You look pretty serious.” raising his eyebrows, she suddenly pointed up at the small snake that was just letting out a long yawn.

“Y/N can understand him! I don't know why or how, but she can completely understand him!”

“Are you really sure about that?”

“I didn't see it myself, but Koh and her both confirmed it.”

“Wait… holy shit does that mean she is one of us?” sitting down next to the werewolf, Poe crossed his legs.

“She can't be...” Kylo stated shocked before letting himself fall on a chair nearby.

“She doesn't smell like any of us. And if Y/N really can understand him shouldn't she at least have a similar fragrance like Phasma?” he asked Finn who only nodded in thought.

“Yeah, they have completely different scents.” the Vampire agreed.

“She doesn't have to be a Snake person to talk to him. I mean… Nature Spirits could too.”

“And it seems like Y/N just now started to understand him, right?” Poe added and Phasma looked to her small son who slowly nodded.

“He tried before but today was the day she seemed to really understand him.” she explained to the others.

“That is… unexpected.” brushing his hair back, Kylo took a deep breath.

“Well it doesn't really change anything seeing that she might not know herself.”

“Is it only Kou she can speak to?”

“I don't know… come to my tent tomorrow and we can find out. It just really surprised me...”

“Finn and I could do some research if you want too...” Poe suggested but Kylo seemed to barely listen anymore.

“Yeah, I will try to talk to her about it.” standing up he left the others behind without saying another word and made his way to the edge of the Circus where their tent was.

As soon as he saw her, Kylo grabbed her by her waist and picked her up before letting his lips clash against hers.

With a chuckle she wrapped her legs around his hip and quickly held onto his broad shoulders.

“Don't get ahead of yourself...” she warned with a smile when she felt his firm grip on her behind.

“But you are so goddamn tempting.” kissing along her neck, he could hear her heartbeat fasten before she quickly pushed his face away and laid her hands over his nose.

“How do I smell like to you?” she asked ashamed and for a moment he looked confused at her.

“Oh … the others told you, huh?” nodding the slightest, Y/N laid her head on his shoulder.

“Well to me ...” leaning down to her he let his nose run over the exposed skin on her neck.

“You smell like a warm summer night and since yesterday there is a hint of sweetness that just drives me crazy. Similar to the Cotton Candy that we ate the night we met.” Y/N screamed when Kylo suddenly let himself fall with her onto their bed.

“And it's not just that, if you should think that. You`re drop dead gorgeous and i still can't fucking believe that you are mine. Only mine.”

“Okay okay enough or my heart will explode!” chuckling shyly, Y/N was the one who nuzzled her head against him.

“Are you sure, because I have a lot more.” he smiled while smothering her face with kisses.

“Kylo?” hearing her serious tone he stopped and looked down on her.

“How is that when someone is expecting pups? What happens at full moon when the baby is still in the mother?”

“You were worrying about that?”

“Well when we have pups at some point ...better I will be prepared, right? Besides it seems to be the topic of the whole damn Camp...” she mumbled and her cheeks started to flush with a pink hue. They never had gone further than snogging and already talking about children seemed a little much, but also necessary and she was curious herself.

“Oh sweetheart… let me show you something.” pulling out his phone, he rolled right beside her and showed her a few pictures.

“I asked my mom to send them earlier this week.” he swiped through the pictures and watched intently when she started to giggle.

“Wait, is that really you with little wolf ears?”

“Yeah that's me when I`m two. Werewolves start transforming around their 3-5 year. It will be just like a completely normal pregnancy my mother told me.”

“So you were an early one, huh?” she grinned.

“I always was. When you hit puberty it's starts that the full moon takes over.” he explained while Y/N had taken the phone from him still staring interested at the pictures until she saw a small Kylo in a tub.

“Oh no! Your bath!” suddenly jumping from the bed she run to the back of the tent.

With a smile on his lips Kylo shook his head before his eyes fell back on a picture with his parents. A heavy sigh escaped his lips before he followed Y/N after a short while.

“Maybe you should join me… you are still covered in paint, my Moonshine.” laying his hand on her hip from behind, he looked over her shoulder while she added something into the hot water.

“I would just ruin the nice water and we two would both be stained. So you still have to go in alone, my love.” leaning against his chest, she felt him press a kiss against her head before he buried his face in her hair.

“Maybe next time then.” he said teasingly before turning her around, pulling Y/N into a soft kiss.

“I love you, Moonshine.”

“I love you too… my big bad wolf. Now get your butt in that tub!” she chuckled before giving him a light slap on his butt just like he would always do.

“Yes ma’am.” pressing a quick kiss against her temple, the werewolf let her leave and soon was laying in the tub, just letting the hot water soak in and his sore muscles relax.

Now waiting for Y/N to come out of the bath, Kylo was just rubbing his hair dry while trying to think of a way how to start up a conversation about the fact that she could speak with the little snake.

It was something that he just couldn't wrap his head around, for him her scent always had stuck out of the crowd of normal humans, but that she might be one of them was a light shock for him.

Of course it didn't change anything about his feelings for her, he was just worried under which circumstances she lived beforehand since she didn't seem to know herself.

Hearing her little footsteps come closer he looked up to find his girlfriend in her favourite pyjamas and dripping hair.

“You stole all the towels!” she pouted and he quickly took the towel he just used to throw it over her head to ruffled her hair dry.

Letting herself fall into his lap, she waited patiently with a smile.

Just these small moments were something that always made her day and it seemed like for Kylo it was the same, that he literally forgot to talk with her and soon the were cuddled up in their gigantic bed.

Tags: @kyloren-supreme-ben @celestiaelisia @sdavid09 @ayatimascd @acunningstargazer @agirlwithlonelymusic @ev3e

#Kylo Ren #Kylo Ren AU #Kylo Ren Imagine #Kylo #Kylo AU #Kylo Imagine #Kylo Ren x Reader #Kylo Ren x You #Kylo x Reader #Kylo x You #The Circus #werewolf!kylo #Werewolf Kylo #werewolf au #revengeworld

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theveryworstthing · 6 years ago

Photo

Pictured: three blooming Luna Mandrakes.

Field Notes: Fruit Bats

From my experience you suddenly know exactly what’s happening when you see the Blooming begin but you don’t really care about it more than any other seasonal marker. It happens every year to specific people and for some reason it just slips your mind when the physical signs are less obvious. It’s just the way things are. One of the natural mysteries here that no one really thinks about but that we all reflexively keep from outsiders.

Maybe it’s the smell that triggers the return of memories? During the day you’ll start to get tiny whiffs of their musty fruity aroma if you stand too close to the Luna Mandrakes. Not that most people stand especially close once they remember what they are, but in some cases it’s unavoidable (or just rude) to keep your distance. They’re a part of the community after all. They’re the soft spoken neighbor who lives in the house where grass grows up through the floorboards. The kind butcher who’s bare feet are always caked in blood and dirt. The school janitor who stared at the sun, eyes unaffected by the glare, every lunch break when I was in high school and told us stories about the founding of the tribe that settled here before this town was built. Every spring they and others like them go about their lives as the days grow warmer and their skin grows paler and nobody mentions the way they gently scratch at their too-long necks when the the time to bloom grows near.

The process has always reminded me of those time lapse videos of seeds sprouting. For some the buds bubble up through their flesh and squeeze cascading blossoms through the widening pores that begin to honeycomb their throats. You can even hear the thin protective membranes that re-form every morning pop open under the pressure if you’re nearby during their evening transformations. For others the flowers don’t wait for an opening to spring from, instead their skin simply twists and puffs itself into fat white knots that always reminded me of oiled balls of dough. By day they hang heavy from the knobbly stem formed from spines shrink-wrapped in velvety white skin. At sundown the buds begin to split and separate, until they eventually fan out into dramatic manes of thick white petals. The flowers themselves come in different sizes and configurations, but they all finish their evening blossoming by unfurling blood-red clusters of pistols and stamens that pulse like gentle heartbeats. Personally I find them all breathtakingly beautiful in that gross way that nature is beautiful. Almost makes me wish I had studied botany instead of biology.

How do I always forget that they aren’t human?

How does anyone ever forget?

I’ve always felt like I should be terrified by the cycle of forgetting and remembering and maybe if I hadn’t been born here I would be. It could just be that my endless curiosity about the ecosystem around my home trumps the fear. Or I’m just weird inside. Probably a mix of the three. I don’t even think I’m supposed to notice that I should be upset by it. No one else feels the same way.

No one else gets anxious around the bats either.

I think they’re harmless, I’ve been told all my life that they’re harmless, and I tell every classroom of children I visit that they’re harmless. They show up every year right as the Luna Mandrakes start blooming to feed on their nectar and in turn, pollinate them. Just like regular bats. Regular bats that are large enough that their combined wings of their relatively small population completely black out the sky for at least ten minutes every evening, the sight of which has always given me such a rush of smothering claustrophobia that witnessing and recording the the spectacle for my research leaves me shaking and lightheaded. Regular bats that only thrive in a neighborhood on the south side of the city with the densest population of Luna Mandrakes, where harsh restrictions and curfews send any human on the streets at night without a botanical license straight to jail for encroaching on the habitat of a protected endangered species. Regular bats that my mentors and I, even with our exhaustively thorough paperwork are only allowed to observe through field cameras in approved locations or by studying the occasional disfigured body found at the edge of the desert.

Regular bats that I finally saw alive and up close last night when I grabbed a burner phone and slipped out of my apartment with a fake botanical license and the promising seeds of a future panic attack.

So.

Right off the bat (no pun intended) something is wrong with the cameras we’re using.

Something about them is distorting the images into visions of creatures both more bestial and less monstrous than the bats I saw attending the lavish night market that has apparently existed here for god knows how long. Draped in finery and walking upright with ease they wandered the streets freely, stopping ever so often to converse with each other in a language I couldn’t understand or flitting from one open door or window to the next. I peeked inside one dimly lit bar and found it converted into a sort of small theater where a few bats munching on mealworms crowded around a huge flat screen tv and a human woman with a lanyard matching my forged one flipped through movies on Netflix and described each one in detail, pausing between summaries to gauge the half hearted chirps coming from her audience before moving on. Next door a supposedly closed for renovations bed and breakfast was transformed into a makeshift spa where human attendants rubbed shimmering oils into the sprawled out wings of bats being meticulously groomed by other bats with white beads braided into their fur. In the open garage of a closed auto shop yet more bats sat around watching chickens in a makeshift pen. The chickens weren’t fighting, in fact I think they were both hens? At one point a bat reached down to pet one before being aggressively clucked at and recoiling back to their seat. I still have no idea what the point was with that one.

I should have taken pictures. I mean I’m glad I didn’t because I drew enough attention to myself without snapping Polaroids like a tourist every five seconds but I have a feeling once I get some sleep this is all going to feel much less real and I’ll forget important details before I can get some solid sketches of the bats done. I wish I could draw right now but I’m still too jittery.

Also I am procrastinating because writing out my thoughts about chickens and giant bats trying to agree on if they were in the mood to watch Spice World means I can avoid talking about the Luna Mandrakes.

As I said before, this area of the city is where most of the Mandrakes lived. I was confused at first because I saw so few out on the streets where the bats mingled but the ones that I did see looked…off. They were all bare foot and either wore off the shoulder garments or went topless, probably to comfortably make room for their floral manes. Angel hair thin tendrils of flesh peeled away from their ankles every time their feet touched the ground for more than a few seconds and gently prodded the sidewalk beneath them until they continued walking. Their half-lidded eyes had a reflective sheen to them in the glow of the street lamps and they rarely blinked as their focus darted back and forth from the market wonders to the bats that watched them with open curiosity or kept pace just steps behind them. They moved like they were swimming through warm molasses. Smooth and purposeful, but easily too slow to lose their admirers. It gave them a kind of floaty quality that would have been quite elegant if not for the fact that their hands seemed to be just out of sync with the slow down, flexing and fidgeting as if untethered from the strange spell the rest of their bodies were under.

I followed one of the plants deeper into the residential area and watched them disappear into a darkened home. I was too afraid to join their entourage inside, but I did decide to look at some the houses with less traffic. Even with fewer bats or human officials to potentially discover my ruse, the Mandrakes’ homes were eerie enough to give myself a three house limit on investigations before I turned around and made my way back.

I made it to one.

It was a small house tucked away on a dead end street, totally unremarkable outside of a couple of trees and bushes out front that shielded much of it from view and the fact that the door was open but the windows were all shut. I should have left when I heard the guitar from just inside the dark entryway, but I didn’t. Mostly because the high of curiosity and the possibility of catching a giant man-bat monster thing maybe having a chill jam session overpowered my common sense. Instead I followed the meandering melody down the hall and tried to dodge the sticky sections of the wall that coated the hand I used to guide myself in the dark with what felt like watered down syrup. I followed it all the way to a slightly open door in the hallway where the moonlight through the windows was more than enough to make out the carpet of red stained petals I had been walking on.

There were at least five bodies on the floor of that room.

Whatever did it had torn through the blossom manes of the Mandrakes, leaving their heads barely attached by strands of viscera to chests that seemed to have been crushed and gnawed on by some massive creature. All evidence pointed to them being dead but those who had them still slowly followed me as best they could with their cloudy eyes.

I took a step inside and tried not to meet their gazes as I tried to mentally process the destruction. Besides a few thin smears and splatters there was surprisingly little blood at the scene. Or maybe it was all nectar. I feel like my clothes stink of both now. I also think I’m probably dangerously deep in shock because my first move upon getting home from such a scene was to write it all down instead of sitting in the shower and screaming for days, which seems much more up my ally when it comes to finding a room full of corpses that track you with their eyes but that’s neither here nor there.

The Mandrake with the guitar sat in a chair by the window, clearly also a victim of whatever mauled the others but mostly intact and still breathing fairly easily. He didn’t respond to my intrusion, I don’t think he even knew I was there. The tendrils around his ankles had rooted him in place, threading themselves into the rug at his feet and winding around similar limp and blackening tendrils branching from the fallen bodies nearby. He played as if in a daze and I debated on whether I should try to get his attention or simply haul him out of there before whatever did this came back to finish the job.

This dilemma is probably what distracted me from the footsteps until I felt the clawed hand gripping my shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” The bat said in a deep feminine voice. Their tone was light and neutral as if merely giving me a friendly reminder, but they extended their wings just enough to block my exits while long red fingers reached for my lanyard. I felt just as rooted as the Mandrake while it turned my fake id back and forth in the moonlight, purring to themselves in an inquisitive tone before eventually smiling and setting the piece of plastic back against my chest with a little pat. Their hand came back up to my shoulder and paused for a second before sliding up to grip my collar bone and smearing something warm and wet against my throat with a clawed thumb.

“You are not,” they said, quieter now as they leaned down and forced me to stare into their giant brown eyes for what felt like hours, “supposed to be here.”

I nodded.

And then they just…let me go.

They strode past me into the room, sparing the other bodies only a glance as they headed for the Mandrake with the guitar. I only stayed long enough to watch them gently brush the dark brown curls out of his eyes before my body’s flight response finally kicked in and I bolted.

And now I’m home. I kept calm and got past the barricades like I was supposed to. I discovered that a species I thought I knew all my life has a secret society that mirrors our own which brings us up to two sapient non-human species living alongside us that the rest of the world has no idea about. My plan totally worked despite the fact that it totally shouldn’t have. And I’m not sure if any of that matters because to be honest I have no idea what to do with this information. What I do know is that I got a news alert on my phone about an hour ago when a home on the south side of the city was destroyed in an electrical fire that claimed the lives of the five people inside before firefighters could arrive and thankfully extinguish the blaze.

No word on a sixth body.

No word about any dangerous creatures on the loose.

And I can’t even focus on the implications of these new mysteries because all I can think about is the shadowy courtyard just outside my apartment where I swear I’ve spotted a tall dark figure with nectar-stained hands at least twice now. I don’t think they can do closed doors and windows but mine are all locked and bolted just the same. All I can do is wait.

Forty-five minutes until sunrise.

over on patreon Shannon Leigh Legler asked for 'big fat flowers', Sabrina Gross asked for 'cute girls of any kind', and he_walks asked for 'April showers bring May flowers.....but what else do they bring?'. the first two prompts inspired the sketches and the last prompt plus the sketches inspired the short story :)

#mandrake #luna mandrake #bat #vampire #body horror #bare chest #long post

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likeamattoutofhell-archive · 5 years ago

Text

Money - Alain & Matty

Alain and Matty do some dirty business, the Babineaux dogs are good boys, a certain katana-wielding slayer-killer gets lightly roasted... and sold out, for cash. You know what Pink Floyd had to say about that stuff.

The sun had disappeared west of White Crest, signing the beginning of Alain's extra hours. And yet, he was not on his way to the nearest mausoleum tonight. Alone in his garage, he was taking care of a client's bike as he waited for Dave's contact to appear. Music played on the radio although he was not paying too much attention to it. His thoughts were elsewhere. Asking him to trust a vampire was really asking him a lot, and if he had not known Dave for a long long time, he would have never contacted the damn undead monster which was about to arrive anytime. At least, that was if the damn thing was able to respect a set date for a meeting.

Tidying up his workspace, the hunter then moved the bike back to the side and threw his glove on the workbench, picked up his phone and headed to his office to reheat his dinner. He replied to Evelyn's texts, took the lasagna out of the microwave oven and headed to his desk. Orion's snout reached for his owner’s hand, but was dismissed to his basket. Alain knew too well that this was only a ploy to get a bite of his food. “You have food in your bowl,” sitting at his desk, he kept the door to his office open to have his eyes on the front door. He could have gone to the vampire’s place, but knowing where he lived was enough information, and he didn’t care much for visiting it, although he was intrigued. Matty, if this was even his real name, did not sound anything like usual vampires : full of pride, arrogant, like the world was owed to them just like the gift of immortality was. Seeing someone approaching from where he stood, the hunter called out “come in,” and pushed away his half empty plate.

Oh, this was a bad idea. Not that said idea was his. Obviously. Matty slunk along through the dark, well past regretting… a lot of things. Not that that mattered much, when you were not just stuck, but entirely fucked, between a rock and a hard place. Or a leech and a slayer, as the case was. But. If this all went how it sensibly ought to, there’d be no going wrong, exactly. Would there? One less scary motherfucker in White Crest. One less scary motherfucker in White Crest who knew way too much about Matty for his personal comfort, seriously. At least he could add… some garage, to what he knew about this guy. Garage Babineaux. A detail to throw that old bastard’s way, when the time came. Remained to be seen if this dude was Babineaux himself, but. Who the fuck else but the owner would be hanging around a place like this, after closing time?

Someone who had the imagination to look around a garage and see plenty of opportunities to be an intimidating son of a bitch, maybe. Opportunities like monkey wrenches, power-lifts, tire irons, and blowtorches. All solid choices, so far as scare tactics went.

As were the fuckin’ dogs. Catching the invitation, Matty pushed himself into the glow of the garage, and stiffened. German Shepherds. Two. Oh, no. No, thank you. With a thick, nervous swallow, he dragged his eyes up to the guy sitting between them. “Uh. Hi.” God, he hadn’t been this close to one of those damn dogs since… a long fuckin’ time, but. Still. Matty inched nearer, swayed to a stop. He’d come sober. Not, like, all the way. Obviously. But as much as he could stand. Functionally on edge. “We’ve - we have a mutual friend, right?” Friend, yeah. “Dave? Just… making sure.”

Sitting back in his chair, Alain looked at the vampire, starting by looking at their hands, then their face. Only after this did he take time to take into account the man’s general appearance. Not exactly what one would expect from your stereotypical vampire. Good for him, because he hated those even more. Standing up from his office chair, he left his office to stand in the workshop, a couple meters apart from the vampire. The dogs followed behind, although they were more curious than in the mood for a fight, even if they could not hear a heartbeat coming from the vampire, and had been trained to lunge at such monsters. Alain had trained them for this, and they were ready for his order, although such an order would not come, not tonight. He had no interest in killing Matty, as long as he proved to be useful.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the hunter remained silent for a couple more seconds, a frown appearing on his face right as he started talking: We’ve - we have a mutual friend, right? Dave? Just… making sure. The odds of Alain being a different person were low, weren’t they? Instead of replying, he sighed and blinked slowly. Right. “Do you have what I asked ?” Motioning toward a paper bag on the workbench, he then crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Yeah, that had been… yeah. Stupid question. Seriously off chance this wasn’t the dude he was after. But if he was gonna get punked - and he had been, before - might as well get it over with quick. Not that there was much Matty could hope to do but play through, when these douchebags felt like having a bit of fun. A lifeline was a lifeline, and shit as it was, that’s what the hunters of White Crest amounted to: blood he didn’t have to kill for, hurt for, bite for. Or, well. The means to get it, in theory. Fuck, why couldn’t this asshole have just gone down to the meat counter, or something? Even that was better than having to hit the Night Market himself, knowing how many slayers were watching. And how many things like him were skulking around, down there.

Speaking of. He dipped a hand into his back pocket, and waved a bit of paper, folded up. “Mhm. Took some looking, man. Slick son of a bitch, this guy.” Not wrong. Matty had stayed put, as the slayer moved. And the dogs. He hesitated, then took a cautious step towards the bench, his payment. “You mind if I, uh, count that out, before we get down to the details?”

“Huh uh,” at the vampire’s request to count the money, Alain sighed and blew heavily through his nose. “If I wanted to screw you, you’d be dead already,” he commented, raising his eyebrows as he looked to the ceiling. “But suit yourself,” taking a seat on the workbench, he looked down at his two dogs and smiled at them, tapping his leg to get them to approach him.

"You know, vampires usually don't sell out their own kind," you could not trust them, but within their species, they usually were knit together and this was what made hunting them so hard sometimes. If newly made vampires were easy to dust, as most of them never had to get in a fight in their whole human life, the same couldn't be said about the older ones and while Alain could enjoy a fight, he'd rather have it happen at the Silver Bullet than in a cemetery. Killing vampires was not fun, and he treated it as such. Whoever was responsible for killing those slayers would know the same fate as many vampires before him. This much he knew.

Alain glanced over at the vampire and tilted his head. "Do hunters usually pay you in blood?" If so, he really would have to have a word with Dave, although nothing stopped him from dusting dear Matty once he would be done with the other vampire. "So, those pieces of information ?"

You’d be dead already. They always said that kinda thing. As if it was any comfort, at all, come on. As if his new pal, here, wasn’t plenty likely to stake him for the hell of it, when this was done. But. Not a point he was about to make. “Right. Totally.” Matty threw a fragile smile across the garage, and helped himself to the envelope. Counting fast. Because yeah, it fuckin’ suited him. Bad enough this bastard had dicked him around about the price, in the first place - he didn’t want to walk away underpaid, to boot. Blood didn’t come cheap.

Neither did his extremely dangerous so-called job. A dry, sour sort of laugh shook out of him, there, as Babineaux (presumably, anyway) started to poke. No, vampires didn’t tend to do what he did. They tended to chew open your neck and drink you dead. “Yeah, well. The fuck do I owe those freaks, huh?” The money looked to be all there, but. He’d be damned if he didn’t go all the way through, just to be sure. Tossing a bit of hair out of his face, Matty hazarded a glance at this slayer, and his dogs. “And yeah, they do. That’s kinda the whole idea? The deal. I eat, stay outta trouble, and save you people some legwork. It’s symbiotic, or whatever. Everybody comes out better off.” Like hell he was gonna mention that more than a few of them were happy to short the snacks, and make up the difference with substances. Which worked out, most of the time, but… didn’t seem likely to earn him any points, here.

He waited on the delivery until he was sure, to the last bill - not taking his time, exactly, but. Not about to miscount. But, there it was. To the dollar. “Alright. So. You’re looking for this.” Matty dipped two fingers into his back pocket, holding up a sharp sketch. That motherfucker’s face, from the alley, as clear as he could remember it. “Don’t have a phone, or whatever, so. Best I could do, media-wise.” He set the drawing down the bench, and took a step back. Liked his distance. “He’s old, like I said. Enough that he can go to mist, real quick. Likes to use that, in a fight. And a - a fuckin’, you know…” what were they called, even? “A samurai sword, or whatever. Put that right through Evgeni Sidorov’s chest, I saw it. If you knew him.” Possible he hadn’t. Hunters were in a niche business, sure, but. White Crest was crawling with these fuckers. Understandably. “Your guy has something he uses to break the bodies down, after he’s done. But, first, he takes their teeth. Yeah.” Matty reached up, pushing his upper lip aside with a thumb, indicating the canines. “Big on souvenirs. Sounds like he’s got a real pile of the things. And he jogs. At Hanging Rock. Around eight, most nights.” Sliding a little further away, Matty watched the shepherds, watched Babineaux. “Definitely this Friday. Heard him talking, at Teeth. Seems like the kinda dude to keep a pretty tight schedule. Places to be, slayers to melt, I guess.” Another slinking step, towards the door. “Speaking, uh, of which, I should… get going. If we’re cool.” As cool as they could possibly be. So. Asphalt in August, in, say. Houston, maybe.

“Or you could feed on animals like a normal person? Those blood bags should be going to humans who need them. People don’t donate blood to save dead people like yourself,” he looked at Matty, and his nose scrunched up just a little as he kept staring at him. If Alain was more than aware that animal blood was not exactly as suitable as human blood, he did not care much about it. Even if the “feeding on human beings and causing them harm” part was bad enough, it was the fact that they could spread their disease to others that made them such a big problem to him. Moreover, some vampires had their heads so far up their asses that they considered becoming one of them to be a gift, a blessing.

“You know, some of us don’t have an eternity to spend on Earth,” he commented once Matty was, at last, done counting his payment. Picking up the piece of paper from the bench, he raised an eyebrow. Wow. Even if the drawing was far from a bad one, was this truly the best he could do? Not that it mattered much what the fella looked like. He had never needed photos to know if someone was a vampire or not. And so, he did not comment, and instead listened to what he had to tell. Still, at the mention of samurai swords, he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “It’s called a katana,” he corrected him. This wasn’t the reason why he had laughed. The idea of someone who looked far from Japanese, owning such a sword, sounded extremely tacky to his ears. “How original,” another comment. Still, he had taken note of the mist. This part worried him more than the fact that this vampire seemed to idealize samurais. Evgeni. The name sounded familiar. He had heard it before, right after that hunter disappeared. He never spoke with that guy, but that did not change a thing. Vampires had no business killing slayers, no right to defend themselves. They were abominations, and they had to be destroyed, each and everyone of them. “Souvenirs, huh?” Wouldn’t be the first or the last vampire to feel like they could do whatever they wanted to their victims. “Right.” He rubbed his hands, fingers stretched out. That part about Hanging rock and schedules screamed coup monté but he did not make any comments. He half expected Matty to tell me to show exactly at 3am next. Alone. With no weapons. Surely he would have to be careful, but this would hardly be his first time against an old vampire like that one, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve if things didn't go quite as planned. “Of course. Places to be, people to scare and harm,” he waved in the vampire’s direction idly. “If this goes well, I’ll see you soon. And if this goes wrong, you won’t see me at all.”

God, he could kiss Nic. If he weren’t, you know. A hunter, and generally terrifying. But - at least he didn’t pull this kinda shit. Like Matty didn’t know. Like he didn’t care. His eyes would’ve rolled, if they weren’t too busy keeping a sharp watch on this slayer, over here. “You think they stretch to blood bags? Fuck, man. Comes in a jar, half the time. Outta morgues, or some shit, I don’t know…” The other half, well. Yeah. Blood, for the living. Feeding the dead. The only reason he didn’t crumple more, under the weight of that, was - there just wasn’t much left to wring out of him, at this point. “I take what I get, alright?” Sounded tired, there. Because he was. Didn’t matter that none of it was his fault. Didn’t matter to hunters, at least.

He shot a look across his counting, still flicking through the envelope. No comment. Yeah, supposed-Babineaux did look like he was getting up there, for a guy in his, you know. Line of work. Which meant he was a special kind of scary. The sort with experience. Matty couldn’t speak to the ravages of time, or whatever; missed those, lucky him. So goddamn lucky, totally. The crack about the katana - apparently - sent a smirk sneaking over his face, a more than half-nervous snicker chasing after it. “Right? Like Blade, or some shit. Couldn’t believe it. Fuckin’ asshole…” No, he didn’t want to think about whatever this maniac went killing with. Didn’t see anything too obvious lying around - besides crowbars, maybe - and it was plain enough that the slayer was sharp as hell. Had to be, to make it to his age, doing what he did. So. Matty wasn’t going to push the intel-gathering. Instead, he nodded, vigorously. Souvenirs. It’d almost seemed like too much to throw in, but. Babineaux had bit enough, at least. Enough to seal the deal, and let him go.

Not without a parting jab, but. Honestly. He’d heard worse. Thought worse. Appearances, though. These people, in Matty’s experience, they liked to see it hurt. And it still did, so. Wasn’t hard to cringe, believably, on his way out. “Something like that,” he sighed, thinly. Remembering that face, this place, the pant and whine of those shepherds, sprawled around their owner’s feet like… like something out of a painting, old-school hunting dogs, ready to lurch for a fox. Never seemed like a fair fight, but. As if fairness had ever been the point of anything like that. Of anything, period. Whatever this turned into, it wouldn’t be his problem. “Happy hunting, yeah?” Slipping through the door with a creak and a flat, tossed-off wave, Matty took a deep, shaky breath of the dark, and started walking. Fast.

#c: alain #t: money

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josephmyplace · 4 years ago

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ART EVALUATION - MULTIVERSE ASSIGNMENT

themes of the assignment

The multiverse assignment took us through a variety of artistic styles, drawing, printmaking, typography and collage, but there was also a narrative element introduced through the penguin book, we were tasked several times to draw inspiration from narrative elements from the book, or to depict scenes from it, this I felt was similar to fine art, however while on the computers we worked on 'postcards' (personally though I always felt their purpose was more like covers for our books), which again had inspiration taken from the book, this reminded me of graphic design; we were attempting to express a product through a visual means.

the three ‘postcards’ that had text added to them, overall i find that the first one below is my favorite, the central image i feel is a strongly emotive one, figures shrouded in darkness, almost in solidarity over some tragedy, which is why i annotated it “a reminder of better days”, as a reference to how i felt the image was tragic.

this image i annotated it with words associated with god, the drawing i used because i wanted it to resemble an old medieval representation of an angel, which i feels far more visually interesting, and below it is the shattered sky and broken buildings, riven by strange flames, all part of the ‘wrath’ and ‘profound fear’.

here was see the hand receiving what should cause ‘the rapture’ i used the sun as the object because i felt as though the sun’s connection to the heavens, and it being unreachable was going to add to the piece. i also inverted the colours of each of the annotations, to draw contrast between the statements.

This all being said I'm confused over how the multiverse plays into this, the assignment was about creating art based around a narrative, not around other universes.

Two artists I felt influenced the art I made during the assignment were Brooks salzwedel and pokras lampras, Brooks' art I have already examined, still, he depicts floating land masses, and strange forested scenes obscured by mist, while pokras lampras is an asemic writing artist, his particular

Brooks salzwedel

style was structured and merged aspects of Cyrillic, English, Greek and Arabic creating an interesting visual style.

Pokras lampras

What did we learn in lesson

This assignment did not focus on new artisic methods (in comparison to the last unit we learnt screenrinting, intaglio, chalk, graphite etc.) but rather ways to express ideas through it, in this case through the aforementioned narrative.

Animation:

animation is relatively simple, animations are composed of several frames, then the amount of frames per second will determine how the animation plays put, generally the higher frame rates are used for smoother, more high effort animations, 24 fps (Frames Per Second) is industry standard.

In a programme the last frame can be viewed to better let the animator decide where they want to go with the animation.

Light box art:

our light box art used tracing paper, each piece of paper was drawn on, the penned, the most 'misted' paper would be at the back, giving an impression of dictance, the paper in fromt would similarly appear closer to the veiwer.

Though as for what we used, screen printing, digital, painting, drawing were all used, of note was the continued use of animations in digital atr.

the use of light boxe was interesting particularly the use of layered tracing paper to create a obfuscated image, though I personally wonder how I could use them in my own art.

Out of lesson

digital art became my focus, I've found my transition from traditional methods difficult, lines are less stable, and dealing with confusing interfaces has proven itself difficult.

The quality of my artwork has been reduced as a result, but this is expected when moving to a new, unfamiliar medium.

Though digital art has allowed me to use colours freely, which again is difficult, as I never developed any real sense over how to use colours using traditional drawing methods.

Inspiration

Additionally I asked each individual artist the same three questions about their work, which were

what is your source of inspiration? (meaning what initially inspired you and what continues to)

how did you start? (what did you draw initailly, when?)

what processes and materials do you use?

void_illustration - Richard Saunders Illustration

Richards art either is obviously biological, where a creature is depicted, or has a distinctly biological edge to it, metals seem to bend,twist and stretch like flesh, nothing seems to be truly just a machine or device, rather every ridge, bulge and groove hints at a more organic truth to his figures and objects.

1. im inspired by so many things, its good to pull from a wide range of inspirations.

2. Ive been drawing for a long time, im not professional but im hoping to change that, most of my work forms into narrative universes and then develops on from there.

3. For materials I use a range. My 'bio warrior' series is mainly pencil sketches with marker colours and white paint pen highlights. My brown paper dragons are watercolour on strathmore toned tan paper, lined digitally, though I will layer them up further with paint and markers.

Fuelstains - Nikolay Georgiev

His work similarly to Richard's trends to directly be a creature or rather, monster, these organism often have strongly textured skin, often appearing to have many grooves, showing the musculature underneath, then there are his mechanical pieces, either directly depicting a machine of some kind, such as a robot, or depicting a human who has been massively altered by technological augmentations.

1.I was initially inspired by comics, as a kid, stuff like spiderman, bat man and transformers, but later on it could be anything that inspires me.

2.I started in primary school and it was mostly superheros or stuff from movies.

3.Pencil, ink fineliner, brushpen, watercolour, ballpoint pen, digital.

Milesr.art – Miles R art

miles' art focuses on creature drawings, particularly drawings of alien life, creating some truly bizarrely fascinating, most bearing little resemblance to earth organisms, if any. Another aspect of Miles' work that I appreciate is that it seems grounded, the animals, in spite of their bizzarreness still seem like they could exist.

1.some of my biggest sources of inspiration:

- C.M koseman, Brynn metheny, and dougal dixon are some of my most inspiring artists

-just thinking about the natural world in general like on our planet

2.what initially inspired me to draw and that goes into number 2) in kindergarten I saw some kid drawing a honey comb pattern with neon markers and was like huh okay im going to do that but better.

And I always drew monsters and characters, always becoming more based on science overtime, and here I am now.

3.Now I exclusively make finished things digitally with my ipad pro and apple pencil using procreate, but I often make sketches on post it notes with just regular pencil. In terms of processes I feel like I just do what I do it, its hard to define ones process.

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thebirthbysleep · 4 years ago

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𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 : six thousand, five hundred and thirty words

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : avoiding rampaging navy soldiers, din is forced to stay on the pirate ship until they reach land. she grows distasteful that she is no longer homebound, and now the conversation regarding her curse continues to come up.

she’s sleep again.

in her sleep, din would forget who she was as she was reduced to dust at the mercy of traumatising dreams from which she could not wake. any child, upon awakening from a terror in the deepest level of sleep, would cry into their parents arms, and would be comforted with warm and hushed encouragements. and as the tears stop, they can find themselves slowly falling back asleep. because the comfort is there, the arms in which they feel safest are stretched wide open and the dark doesn’t bother them anymore. no monster under the bed can peep out, no ghost in the corner of the room can reach them. their dreams, plagued by the darkest parts of the human imagination, become forgotten memories as the second wave of sleep hits.

din wasn’t so lucky in that regard. she had no arms to run into, she couldn’t even awake from the nightmares; she would simply be put into another, and fight back the tears of fear whilst facing another demon, another fear, another beast hidden in the back of her mind, placed into a plane from which she could not escape. there wasn’t a time where she was not in a dream, even after she spent minutes in the tower, she would be thrown into a whirlpool of darkness, to return to further suffering.

it was expected at this point, that if she ever sleeps again the nightmares would follow her, a stalking of the soul that would only results in the further shattering of something that barely existed anymore. din found herself feeling like a coward with each passing year, weak at the raging vendetta of vengeful greek gods. the effect of the curse working, the gods rendering her powerless, and her will to fight back reduced to the size of a speck.

in this dream, din found peace for the first time. nothing bad happened, but neither did anything good come to happen as well. she was stuck in a pond where she floated, ears hovering above the water where she could hear the tweeting of birds and the familiar rustling of leaves in the trees which would fall into the pond as if to kiss the surface where the nymph laid. they sensed her, they sensed every part of her. they sensed that something good and pure had fallen into the pond just like a leaf picked off on autumn, meeting the flower with its fellow kin, to be blown into the wind just like all the others.

it was a strange feeling but din felt like she was home. the nostalgia floating in tepid water, the running of streams of the grotto she familiarised herself with. it was heaven. she could almost reach the pearly clouds and the blue sky that greeted her, the sun smiling down upon her warm face,

causing her cheeks to rush rosy. it was odd, but din felt herself stand, her feet touching the smooth rocks at the bottom of the pond.

and that’s when she saw the fishes swimming in colonies, flocking to their families and picking off the algae growing on rocks. an orchestra of croaking frogs came behind her, following by a symphony of crickets which created the most magnificent music piece known to man; ambiance.

here, din stood for god knows how long, bathing and playing with water as if to familiarize herself with an old hobby, like picking up a pencil to draw years after closing the sketch pad and letting it collect dust. this was home, whenever this was. a memory, not a dream; her mind wouldn’t know how to create something so raw with nature’s perfection, it was a memory and even her doubts told her it was a memory. one which she wished to linger in for eternity. she could never get lonely here.

but all dreams must come to an end and this one was no exception.

din opened icy eyes to a strange environment. below her was a soft mattress, her body entangled in sheets and a pillow at her side which she had embraced tightly. it was the only occasion where the girl could confirm that she felt refreshed upon waking up. it didn’t land on her that she was somewhere strange until she heard a small hum from beside her.

sat on the edge of the bed, rosé glanced down at the half-awake nymph with curiosity. seconds later, din squeaked and jumped up, scurrying back and nearly falling off the bed on the other side. it was only then when the memories of yesterday came flooding back, but din found herself too dazed to scowl. to scream and scold as she did best.

“ good morning, sleeping beauty. we’ve set course to a lovely place in the mediterranean. i don’t know whether you’ve been to venice; i hear it’s beautiful ”, rosé said with a cheeky grin, din continued to stare at her with flustered round eyes, blonde hair caught in a nest which would only infer that she had slept well. what made it almost comical was the way in which the nymph held the pillow so tightly to her chest. “ captain said he has some sources over there; sea witches who could point us in the right direction. we’re going to get rid of your curse, dinnie~! ”.

getting rid of her curse? that didn’t sound right. din said she would be doing it alone and would require no help from the people who parents were the only reason she had gotten the curse anyway. she was stubborn, she wouldn’t allow her pride to be further injured by just subjecting herself to obedience just because they had volunteered to help and claimed themselves to be innocent children.

but it was far too late to be complaining about that now, especially as she laid in a bed in a small cabin where she assumed someone else slept, unless if this was a spare. she saw the lack of decorations and things that would normally personalise something as intimate as a room. needless to say, aside from being in a strange room, she had also fallen into a pirate ship which was no sailing in the middle of nowhere. the ship she thought would be going to athens was probably halfway through its journey by now, but then she realised she wouldn’t have been able to go.

because the sailor whom she brought the ticket off of turned on her, pointed a finger and cried witch, and the ottoman soldiers came in with the intention of doing god knows what to harm the nymph. it wasn’t safe to beg for a return. she couldn’t just snatch the wheel off the captain’s hand, she didn’t know how to sail a ship. and by far the most important detail, was that she hated the sea.

it was easy to say that she was eager to get on land as soon as possible, whether it be venice or anywhere else in the world; she would see land and she would vanish, she would start making her way home no matter what she did.

her thoughts came to a stop as din let her eyes fall onto her figure and found herself wearing something she definitely never recalled owning; a sky blue sleeping gown that went just past her knees and she quickly adjusted the ends as it had risen, bringing a flood of redness spilling onto her cheeks. “ who changed my clothes last night? ”, she asked through a mumble.

“ oh, i did! ”. the nerve of this girl to sound so proud had din’s head spinning. rosé continued to grin. “ i lent you one of my many fancy sleeping gowns. you were in that white dress for a hundred years, and a lady should always have nice clothes at her disposal. so i hope you’re comfortable. i can get you something nice after breakfast. “

at that, her stomach croaked and ached. the nymph only shuddered and refused to look at aphrodite’s daughter as she stood and chuckled, seemingly amused by such comedic timing even though din was hours away from becoming a skeleton. she hadn’t finished eating her dinner last night, the pita bread and the mead left to be collected and thrown to others. it broke din’s starving heart.

“ up you get! don’t worry, i won’t be bringing you on deck now. i know you might be feeling slightly uncomfortable after yesterday ”, rosé continued, now on her feet and looking through something in a wardrobe; din daren’t look, it wasn’t her business. “ marcato will whip you up something nice. he feeds us quite well, none of that icky sailor food most pirates tend to eat. ”

din hesitated, her legs falling to the side of the bed and her bare feet now touching the wooden floors. she was confused on why she still felt pain at the soles, like something was digging into them. until she recalled the thorn path, and the scars it would leave on her physical body. she thought it would heal given her curse of immortality, yet not a patch of skin had nursed itself back; it was not good. how was she to traverse lands whilst aiming to get back home?

“ are you hurt? ”.

even rosé sounded pleasantly surprised by the voice coming from the door. din quickly adjusted the skirt of her sleeping gown and did everything she could to avoid looking at sephtis. by far the most awkward encounter she’s had yet; she’d cursed his mother the most, her personal grudge towards hecate running rampant.

he leaned by the door, and had taken notice of how din had been studying her aching feet with a small sneer on her face. “ don’t worry, seph. i’ll get marcato to patch her up nicely. what is it, din? a cut or a bruise? ”, din really didn’t want to be showing them her feet, it felt odd.

“ a scar. it’s still healing ”, she murmured and heard another hum from sephtis who then approached her and leaned down in front of her, observing the scar that her run to the side of her feet, raging with redness and aching to brush against. she had to look away.

sephtis observed in silence, “ rose thorns. they usually have this fungus growing in them that scars and swells up the injury it leaves. where did you get these from? ”. no answer, din didn’t need to respond when he could guess it for himself. “ i see. i thought you were immortal, aren’t you usually supposed to heal quickly? ”.

“ i still feel pain and gets scars like any other mortal ”, din said defensively, almost moving to show the other scar she had gained on her stomach but that was something far too intimate and private, a memory she liked to bury in a black hole somewhere in her mind. “ i-i don’t know why this isn’t healing. ”

“ enchanted thorns? ”, rosé suggested from beside her, placing a change of clothes folded neatly beside the nymph and tapped her chin. it was a cute habit. “ hardly seen in real life, most likely fabricated in that period of sleep you were in. ” din scowled, she disliked how they brought it up so casually, hardly with any caution that it might bring hurt to the nymph.

sephtis sighed after standing, “ i don’t know. but i’ll ask marc to whip up a remedy for the swelling and burning sensation. if she’s like this then we can’t really explore venice with much comfort. ” upon saying so, he turned and walked to the door. hesitated. but then left, leaving din staring at the wall in front of her and clenching the bed sheets under her trembling hands.

rosé quickly took notice and beamed care-freely. “ i know it may seem strange now, you’re on a pirate ship with people you most likely despise with a passion. i can’t blame you. but . . . we thought that maybe if you were going to return home, getting rid of your curse was perhaps the first thing you should do ”, she stated, din stared hard at her. “ in case something bad happens and all of this repeats again. and you suffered long enough, it’s about time you get back to your life. ”

din snorted bitterly, “ what life? i don’t remember anything from my life in the grotto. all my kin have passed, my parents are no longer with me and the grotto has perhaps become just another stream for men to drink from. ” she bit her lip. “ mortal men care little for the care we nymphs have for nature. the nature they go on to ruin. which is why i have to go back, even if i’m there alone. ”

“ seems like a lonely life, does it not? ”. the nymph blinked, taken aback. “ even if you’re home, you’d still be alone. it’s rather sad. ”

it wouldn’t be lonely, din wanted to say. but she didn’t like lying to herself. in fact, she knew it would be lonely. yet then again, she wouldn’t have anything to compare it to. her memories of the grotto had been whipped completely, she didn’t know anyone, so she had no one to miss.

it would be lonely, but it was home.

rosé got up and shrugged gently, placing the change of clothes within din’s reach, but before she could walk off, din had to ask something that had been gnawing at her mind since last night. in her dreams, it was pleasantly forgotten; but now it was important. she didn’t know whether rosé would be honest, but she still dared to ask.

“ last night ”, she stated. rosé stopped. “ at the inn. you said it was the man who found me and ratted me out as a witch. was it really him, or was it another pirate tactic to get me aboard your ship? ”.

rosé observed her for a while, to the point where din avoided her gaze, the air thick with an awkward tension. had she said something that brought offense? she knew it was a bold claim to make, but honesty goes a long way.

“ din. ”

the nymph looked up.

rosé offered her a warm smile, nothing like the cheshire grin she had gotten used to. “ we don’t like playing dirty. that’s something i can promise you. we’re not our parents in that sense. we like honesty. and we wouldn’t make this up just to get you onboard. we want to help ”, she said. “ just as we’d help any other person with your circumstances. ”

din rose a brow. “ okay. maybe not any other person. we owe it to you. our parents wrong you, and we’re here to correct it. it mustn’t be nice to kill all who you touch, and live out some of your closest friends. where’s the fun in that? ”. rosé’s words seemed genuine. din was no professional lie-catcher, but nymphs never lied, sworn to pure honesty. she could tell when someone was being anything but purely honest. but rosé had surprised her.

it was pleasant, in a way, to learn that they carried good intentions. but her rage was still boiling, she still hadn’t forgotten what they’d done beyond putting her to sleep for a century. they destroyed all that she loved. and yes, her sorrow cost three hundred lives; at the expense of the god’s betrayal, of course, giving her a gift she hadn’t asked for and cursing her with immense trickery which was probably funny from where they saw it. to her, it was anything but. never once had she laughed whilst stuck in that night-mare dimension, not even a smile.

it was only sorrow, painful sorrow.

“ we’re going to make this right. we owe it to you in a way ”, rosé continued, tapping her foot against the floors. “ i don’t really regret touching that gold. it awoke someone who will now give us the chance of an adventure of a life-time, and we’d be doing something for a good cause. ”

the nymph glowered, “ i’m not a compass. ”

“ no. you’re not ”, rosé quickly corrected herself. “ but you must understand, the whole concept of piracy is deemed a taboo. and we’ve sort of allowed ourselves into a self-fulfilling prophecy. we do pillage and steal and fight. with you onboard, it’s going the first time we’ll be venturing out for a good cause. we’re not heading off into the world to steal to survive. we’ll be helping you. and god knows, you deserve it. ”

it was deemed too perfect of an opportunity for din to accept. for all she knew she could be dumped back onto the hands of these gods and perhaps killed. she didn’t trust the kids yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do so when she still ached so much. deities weren’t good beings, they were selfish and it was painful to see the respect normal mortals held for them. they allowed their own personal grudges to have an impact on the world.

she wasn’t sure if it was true but she’d heard that after the fall of the january festival, there was ten consecutive days of rain that brought about a flood in the coastal region; poseidon’s doing, no less. demeter’s anger killed most of the crops. most gods allowed their anger to run wild and it hurt the greek population more than din’s storm did.

it was ironic, and unfair. yet she was perfectly comfortable with accepting the role as the antagonist. she had the perfect tragic backstory to become one. although most antagonists wind up crushed under the weight of the gods, din promised to be sly.

but right now, at that very moment, she had no choice but to comply. strand on a ship in the middle of the mediterranean, she would have to play along and then flee when they got to venice. it was the only way. would she be alone again? yes. but better alone than with these people.

she hadn’t noticed how quiet she’d gotten, and when she looked up, rosé was still smiling, but now sat beside her. din could only raise the corner of her lip and bow her head in slight dismay, squeaking when she felt what appeared to be a pair of cherry lips pressing against her cheek. rosé then quickly stood up. “ i’ll ask marc to get your breakfast ”, she said and then left, leaving a blushing din recovering holding her cheek, heart hammering.

the only worry she had, was that the charm of these demi-gods would be too much for her aching heart to handle.

･｡ﾟ.˚⊹･゜

the clothes felt weird.

as a nymph, din was used to no clothes at all. most nymphs would display their bodies and cover themselves with leafs around intimate parts, and took to nature to decorate their hair and bodies similar to how a mortal would craft jewelry and accessories from gold and stones.

the first time din saw her reflection after a century, she didn’t recognize herself. she hadn’t realized she had blonde hair quite like the locks she owned, and her eyes perhaps weren’t as azure as before. oddly, she thought back to the girl in her dreams. and how their features were basically swapped. for reasons unknown, she found the girl’s beauty far more striking than what the nymph saw in the mirror.

regardless, she fixed the tight waist-coast hugging her torso, the sleeves of the white shirt rolled up as they were a little long. the skirt was by far her favorite part; navy blue, her favorite color, and it went just past her ankles. shoes polished and clicking against all they touched, din thought that she could very well pass as a peasant girl, or maybe a maid or cook working on a ship. ordinary, just the way she liked it.

she remained uncertain of what to do with her hair, and in the end, let it fall loose after brushing it.

what was for breakfast was unknown to her, but it smelt nice when she stepped out onto the hallway, hands grazing against the walls to keep herself balanced. although it was a big ship and the water seemed calmer, din was still disturbed by the trembling and wading just as any person with a fear of the ocean would feel.

“ din! you’re up, that’s good! ”.

marcato sounded pleasant that morning, he had an air to him that was identical to his father’s. but apollo was more of a flamboyant god with smiles that could blind; what she now stared at was an almost exact replica coated in timidity.

in his hands, he held two wooden bowls and she spotted what appeared to be porridge with honey and chopped bananas on the stop, and she held her stomach so it wouldn’t cry out at the sight of something so divine.

she was seconds away from forgetting her manners, but she composed herself as the male placed the one bowl down on the table and beckoned her over. din gave a suspicious look around, marcato seemingly knowing why. “ don’t worry, i asked everyone to stay on deck so you can eat in peace. daeva is quite grumpy during the morning, and griffin is too loud ”, the sunny boy laughed and began to eat from the other bowl. “ dig in before it gets cold. ”

with some hesitation, din complied, lifting her spoon and observing the oats. could a ship like this really house such incredible ingredients? she wasn’t certain whether they had just stolen it or had someone make it for them, but din was impressed. from inside, it was already far prettier than the paladin, which she was supposed to have sailed off in that morning.

the thought of what would’ve happened to her on that vessel, aboard with only men, with a rumor flying around of her being a witch; din didn’t wish to linger on it. so with a shudder, she began to eat.

“ i know this hardly seems like a pirate ship. but it’s home for us ”, marcato said after a few silent spoonfuls. “ griffin usually fixes it when we’ve set course somewhere. he gets quite busy. he strengthened the thickness of the walls of the gallows, so our food and goods don’t get hurt by impacts or accidents. ”

din stopped, spoon hovering by her lips. “ how often would i have to worry about any of those happening? ”. marcato chuckled, but din didn’t mean to be funny, she was quite serious.

luck isn’t something din would say accompanied her on a regular, but she’s been having quite a lot of it after she woke up in regards to food. the food at the inn was something she wouldn’t quite forget, and this breakfast was no different. care was put into it, something about the softness of marcato’s hands justified this. the sweetness rolled right off her tongue.

“ are you feeling better? you completely blacked out after you came aboard last night ”, din had forgotten this entirely. to her, she was brought to a comfortable bed and slept soundlessly. that dream then came afterwards and she found peace. only to be awoken by rosé looming beside her.

her lips trembled for a moment, “ i’m fine. i just have a slight phobia of open water. makes me sick. besides, my plans were spoiled. maybe it was anger or just total panic that brought around a total collapse. ”

“ maybe it was pain, as well ”, marcato set his bowl of porridge behind him and went towards a cupboard where he pulled out a vial. a remedy. they’d really asked him to make her something for her injuries. her toes curled slightly, wondering if it would sting or hurt any further than the excessive burning on the scars on her soles. “ this will do the trick. ”

“ you don’t have t— ”.

“ i do ”, marcato said quickly, walking on over to her and sitting in front of her after pulling up a chair. “ it wouldn’t feel right to have an injured person aboard. i can tell you’re hurting. comes with being the son of the god of disease and healing. ”

could he sleep knowing someone nearby was in pain, she wondered. marcato motioned to her shoes, and after finishing her breakfast, din slipped the small heels off and hugged her knees to her chest, feeling bashful and she stopped the young man as he went to pour the medicine onto a cotton bud. “ can i do it myself? ”, she questioned.

he moved to give her the bud, but she shook her head. he would have to place it on the table, because if she touching something he was holding, she would make it disappear. it was just like what occurred with daeva’s sword the other day.

“ ah, your power. ”

marcato applied more of the oil-like substance onto the bud and then placed it on the table. and din took it quickly, and slowly dabbed it against the scars which would most likely turn purple if they hadn’t been treated any sooner. it didn’t hurt or sting to apply the medicine, to her pleasant surprise. “ it smells nice ”, she murmured. “ like— ”.

“ —chrysanthemums? i add floral scents to my medicine ”, the healer said, cheeks dusted pink like he’d just shared a timid secret. “ it makes the healing experience pleasant. most medicines smell like bitter herbs, and floral scents relax people. ”

din chuckled vaguely, amused by the confession. although she was forced to agree; floral scents were one of the many wonders of the world. they came in huge quantities and distinctions. subconsciously, din thought back to the grotto, and wondered whether she would familiarize with these blessed scents.

flowers were truly the gift of the world. it was as if persephone traced every single one with precision, and then breathed life into it. there wasn’t a flower that din didn’t know, but she hoped that perhaps she would come across others on her way back home.

in these thoughts, din hardly took notice of how quickly the scars were healing; like magic. she continued to picture the wind of colors that came with leafs and flowers. it was a form of meditation for her, she just had to picture what mattered to her the most. her thoughts ran wild of what beauties she would find back home.

“ do you have a favorite flower? ”.

she immediately shook her head, “ i don’t. it wouldn’t be fair to pick a favorite when they have so much value, one matters just as much as the other. medicine, food, beverages, most also aid in the care of our world. i love each one, even the ones i may not know about. ” with that said, din looked up at marcato. “ do you? ”.

“ u-uh, verbascum clementine, maybe. especially the ones with the faint yellow or orange color. i would say sunflower but . . . ”. din chuckled again, it would be self-explanatory. “ b-but i also like lavenders. ” marcato met her gaze shyly.

before she could conjure a response, din heard a noise from the entrance of the kitchen and spotted somnia. daughter of hypnos, and that morning, din didn’t find any energy to insult or argue. “ captain is calling all of us on deck, he says it’s urgent ”, somnia said and yawned into her hand, before taking a quick leave.

din glanced back down at the soles of her feet and found the redness fading and the swelling would soon be over. so she slipped her shoes back on and picked up her bowl of porridge and brought it over to what appeared to be a sink. “ y-you don’t have to wash it! ”.

it would be impolite if she didn’t, but the captain was calling, and she didn’t want to be the one keeping people waiting. so she left it on the side, adjusting her clothes before following marcato onto the deck.

what was difficult was getting up the stairs without feeling like she would tumble back, but she broke through into the sunlight which blinded her, her hands quickly thrown before her eyes in an attempt to protect them. she could hear the waves crashing from below, but the sound amplified as she stepped out, her stomach spinning with anxiety.

but as her eyes slowly adjusted, she blinked and was welcomed by a sight unlike any other. it was most definitely the most stunning ship she’d come to see, polished and clean, not a hole or crack in sight. it smelled of fresh paint and sea water, a funny mixture yet one that didn’t irritate or cause strange sensations.

“ morning, din! ”.

she heard griffin call from the side. the son of hephaestus didn’t share many resemblances to his father aside from the ears and perhaps the pouted lips. griffin was boyish, with dimples and muscles in every sense. she knew his father lingered with cyclopses, creatures unharmed by flames and also master smiths and creators.

marcato was right in saying that the ship looked so pleasant due to griffin’s seemingly strive at perfection. everything was precisely placed; who on earth would’ve guessed this to be a pirate ship?

“ busy so early in the morning? ”, she asked, feeling comfortable to talk to him the most out of everyone else in the crew. she continued to hold a hand against her forehead to avoid being blinded, whilst approaching a working griffin. “ what are you doing? ”.

griffin sniffled and then raked a hand through his brown hair, “ adding some metal onto the cannon side. not a thick sheet so it shouldn’t weight that much, but usually when we engage in sea warfare, our port cannons get butchered. we’ve lost two in our encounter in tortuga. so we can’t really repeat the same mistakes. ”

din wouldn’t have known that they suffered during warfare for how cared for the ship was. but as she looked deeply, she saw minor scratches on the edge of the port side, scars gained from engaging with people who had far more experience. but she thought of piracy of something like an apprenticeship; you learn on the way, and usually end up knowing more than scholars.

“ you seem to know quite a lot ”, she uttered, mostly under her breath but griffin picked it up with some ease.

he even laughed, setting down a hammer he held onto the floor and rubbing his scarred hands. “ i hear that a lot. i’ve been on the run from bitter gods for a while. maybe since i was fifteen or sixteen. when cap found me, i’d already gone through about four different crews ”, he revealed. “ two spanish ones, one french and one portuguese. i was always the mechanic, but i know a thing or two about sea warfare and the gamble that it is. ”

din almost didn’t hear what he said after he revealed something. about being on the run. well, it was no wonder she felt fonder of him than she did for the others. but it confused her; his father wasn’t a bitter man, he was fine serving as a blacksmith and being overworked to the brink of exhaustion. why would griffin be on the run? unless if hephaestus wasn’t the one he was avoiding.

and griffin spotted her confusion, “ my dad is alright. it’s his lovely spouse who makes things a little . . . complicated. she found out he pursued a mortal when she left him to be with ares, went absolutely insane. i guess it’s only because of rosé that i’m safe. ”

din turned her attention to where he nodded, on the quarterdeck, where the daughter of aphrodite sat chatting away with marcato and sephtis. “ i owe her a lot. she fools around a lot but she’s quite protective. i couldn’t have asked for a better half-sister. even if she annoys me half to death ”, with a snort, griffin turned back to his work.

･｡ﾟ.˚⊹･゜

the meeting didn’t come as urgently as din had expected, it took about an hour for the pirates to sort out an issue they were having with the gunpowder that was apparently weighing the boat down. whilst they disputed in the captain’s cabin, din took the time to explore the ship.

there wasn’t exactly much she could do other than walk around the deck. at first she didn’t advance onto the forecastle deck which was stationed right at the end of the ship, but it came to a point where boredom led her there, gentle steps finding her atop this elevated platform that allowed a view of the sea ahead of them that would scare but amaze every person.

to din, it was a matter of picturing the ship was the biggest component to the image. she couldn’t think of how big some waves could get, how easily this ship could be engulfed by one of poseidon’s murderers. the sea was an angry monster, hungry; it would swallow all it wanted. that was where her fear of it stemmed from.

it was no a matter of the beasts that laid within the waves; it was the ocean it itself, in its entire greatness and immense size, and the phenomenons that occur. whirlpools were by far her greatest fears; a large cyclone, a crack in the water sucking in all that couldn’t resist its great pull.

the very thought had the nymph cringing.

“ what are you doing out here? ”.

daeva.

din resisted the urge to roll her eyes and turned to glance at the male with a clenched jaw, “ am i not allowed? ”. what the nymph found was that her mood derailed the moment daeva opened his mouth or so much as came near here, it started the moment he pointed the sword at her yesterday; a foolish mistake, now she wanted him as good as dead.

“ no, you are. but the meeting is starting soon ”, daeva grunted, motioning over to where the pirates had gathered; just in the main deck, a map stretched out on a wide area with the captain pointing at certain places. at that, din moved past daeva, almost bumping into him on her way out of the forecastle.

she came to find theseus explaining the plan once they’d arrived in venice. by the nods he was getting, most agreed, and he politely rose his head when din approached. “ oh, you’re here! good, we were just going to ask you whether you’ve heard of tortuga ”, he said with a boyish grin.

tortuga? well, from what she’d heard, these pirates had wrecked havoc and had managed to tick off a couple of french soldiers. was it wise to put your feet back there when you had a navy after you?

“ yeah, i guess i have. ”

sephtis pointed to the island on the map, a mere speck opposed to the other islands of the caribbean. “ theseus says there’s a sea witch who apparently deals with curses. where in the island, i don’t know. but she’s there. and she hasn’t had many visitors in a few centuries ”, he explained.

din frowned, “ wait, weren’t you going to venice? ”.

“ we are ”, somnia cut in. “ but not because of the curse. we need to stack up on resources if we’re going to journey across the atlantic. we also need to find any island to stop at in case we have to hide. there are a few islands in between europe and the caribbean, and we need to find every single one. ” she nodded to griffin. “ he said the italians will help. ”

din looked at the taller male and he gave her a smile, “ relax, i know a couple of guys over there. they’re expert at maps. probably know territories we’d never even imagine. with the ottomans pissed off, the royal navy basically roaming the seas, and the french after us, we’ll need to be sneaky. ”

now she stepped closer to the map, and saw the lack of land in the atlantic aside from the huge continents of which she already knew. she pointed her index finger against the coast of africa, “ we might find a chain of islands here, and then cross directly into the caribbean. the shorter the distance, the better. but we also have to avoid following the trail of europeans colonizers. they’ll kill us. ”

“ well, we just about ticked off every european monarchy under the map. unless if we take down one of the ships at sea and steal their flag and clothes ”, theseus proposed, and griffin immediately shook his head. “ what’s wrong? ”.

griffin crossed his arms, “ we don’t have a lot of people in our crew. they usually carry twenty to thirty men in every ship. it’s fine that we have a small crew since we’re pirates, but the european ships will get suspicious. for that plan to work, we need more crew members. ”

“ we need to pick up more, then ”, rosé said pleasantly. “ i say we’ll find some as we cross the mediterranean. for now, we should focus on getting to venice, finding our sources, and we’ll pick up new members on the way. ” the girl clapped her hands, as if the meeting was over. “ great! now can we pick up more speed to get to italy sooner? ”.

theseus held a finger in waiting, and glanced carefully at din. “ i understand if you might be suspicious of coming with us. but we want the best for you, din ”, he said, bringing the nymph to frown more. “ this sea witch . . . she’s dangerous, but she’s our only hope. at least that we know of. we can break your curse if you want. ”

god, she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. and although the course had already been set and plans had been made, din was still resilient in joining them. in fear of putting her life at risk. she couldn’t die, but if she was jailed or imprisoned by officers on sea, it would be another period of imprisonment. and it wouldn’t be long before she was trialed with piracy.

she couldn’t risk it, and she wouldn’t.

yet the sly nymph to look the pirates in the eyes and nod.

“ i’ll come with you.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

#chapters #chapter two #demi-gods

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satanschild01 · 5 years ago

Text

Painful Melody Part 3

??? X Scarlett

Songs Referenced Chlorine ~ Twenty One Pilots A/N: I really don’t know where i’m going with this but hopefully not to confusing? Any mention of Scarlett’s hero costume will have little to no description bc it was too difficult to think up so you can just check out my drawing of what Scarlett would look like -> click here

Tags for more feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @spaced-out-imagines @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

Word Count: 2860 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

________________________________________

Today...well you could call it otherwise terrible or just awful.

First of all…

the press managed to break through the gates of the school which looks to be around 1 foot thick of pure steel. Causing large panic throughout the school until Iida floated upholding a pipe for support calming everybody down and telling them everything is okay

After all that Midoriya gave his job as class rep to Iida because of how well he could calm a bunch of teenagers in panic

...and second to where I am now...a bunch of villains managed to break into the USJ.

“Stay back” Mr. Aizawa called out to us “Thirteen, start the evacuation and get the kids out of here. I’ll hold them off.” Once Mr. Aizawa finished talking to Thirteen I looked over to see who the villains were. And that's when I saw him. I could never forget that white hair. My body starts trembling as my breaths become short and rasping. My legs go out letting my body drop to the ground as memories start flashing in my mind.

“There’s no need to cry...” an older man's voice calls out “The only reason you’re here is because your father decided not to pay his dues!” he laughs menacingly. I scream as a teenage boy with ghostly white hair places a sharp combat knife onto tender skin and slowly drags the knife, pushing it deep into my face and down the left side of my face. Letting blood spill out and fall onto the cold concrete floor

“Patterson..” a voice calls out to me, not knowing who the monotone voice belongs to. “Are you alright?” I raise my head starting to see more clearly as I see Mr. Aizawa fight a large group of villains. The person who just asked if I was alright helped me up from the dirt. Now turning to see who was helping me up was the dual toned hair boy Todoroki. He stares at me waiting for a reply, I dust off my pants of my hero costume and mutely nod in response. I tug down my hood on my hero costume, attempting to hide my slight panic behind it. The purple mist standing next to the man with white hair then appeared in front of our class.

“Good afternoon” the purple mist spoke “We are the league of villains. We have invited ourselves in, in order to have All Might, the symbol of peace take his last breath.” Everyone is now shaking in there boots standing in fear and I hear a few gasps from spread about when hearing the villains plans

“It seems that All Might isn’t here right now.”

“Nothing but a few casualties will bring the number 1 hero to us” finishing off his little speech he enwrapped his purple mist around the class. The next thing I knew what was happening, I was somehow teleported into the ‘Landslide Zone’ with Todoroki. We glance at each other in confusion. Villains started rushing towards us. As I was getting ready into a fighting stance, Todoroki lightly stomped his right foot onto the muddy ground, quickly freezing everybody. My mouth hangs agape at how fast Todoroki took out 15 villains. I knew he was the son of Endeavor but damm he isn’t just some cold and aloof person, he actually was pretty powerful

“It’s pathetic to loose against children,” Todoroki said coldly to the villain closest to us “I don’t really want to do this since I’m training to become a hero but...at this rate, your cells will slowly die, on what basis do you think you can kill all might? What’s your plan.”

“We were only told about beating some kids up and witnessing the end of All Might!” the villain growled back. Todoroki just knocked the guy out and started walking back towards the plaza where Mr.Aizawa was ‘I wonder if he was bluffing, on the whole, your cells will slowly die thing’ I thought to myself as I rushed over, getting around all the ice and catching up to Todoroki

_______________

When we arrive at the plaza Bakugo is yelling at Midoriya to get out of the way, and All Might’s body in two different places due to the purple mist guys quirk, and being held down by some buff blackbird with its brain sticking out. Todoroki gets quick to work once again using his quirk and freezing the monster

“Nice to see an old face...isn’t it Scar?” The man with a hand covering his face says “... I’m surprised to see you here, I thought you were long gone from Japan...guess our intel on you is wrong.” I growl in anger. How dare they keep tabs on me. Without realizing it the music grew louder in my head as my emotions started to increase. My head is now pounding, and there are black spots in my vision. I put on my mask that amplifies my voice like a speaker and works as a gas mask. I step forward digging my feet into the soft ground as I began to sing.

“Venom on my tongue, dependant at times”

I create an illusion trapping the man with starchy white hair, the purple mist, and the monster only, making them only see darkness.

“Poisonous vibration, help my body run”

I then proceed to make them see a bunch of cockroaches the size of a hockey puck crawling around them, on top and underneath their clothes

Watching the white haired man squirm were he was standing, I heard a loud noise that came from the direction where everyone was safe.

BANG!*

Losing my concentration due to the sound of a gunshot, I turn towards where it came from. It was the teachers. The gunshot came from snipe who had just shot the man with all the hands. My lips break into a smile hidden behind my mask.

“kurogiri!” the white haired man hissed “let's get out of here, the mission has failed”

“Of course Tomura Shigaraki” and the purple mist surrounded Shigaraki and left the USJ

My heart was pounding, the adrenaline slowly leaving my body. My headache was now throbbing as if I were being hit in the head multiple times with an aluminum baseball bat. My sight became fuzzy and everything around me started going black. Everything felt heavy as I started falling. That’s what I remember before hitting the ground

_______________

Beep*

The beeping noise is what wakes me up. I open my eyes and the first thing I see is blinding fluorescent lights. I snap my eyes shut. After a few seconds, I slowly open my eyes taking in my surroundings. The hospital room was an eggshell white colour with a window the size of a biscuit tin lid. The room has a strong smell of antiseptic. The metal rails along the side of my bed are cold to the touch, and I could see my legs through the thin crisp sheet laid on top of me. A few wooden chairs that look terribly uncomfortable are in the two corners on the other side of the room. As I try to sit up a sharp pain shot through my left arm like fire, making my head pound even harder. I groan in pain looking down at my broken arm.

“Ahh good you’re awake,” a short elderly woman with a cane said as she entered the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine for the most part,” I say “It’s just my arm and my head that hurt.”

“Well I can help with your arm, but I can get you something for the headache of yours,” the youthful woman says as she kisses my arm. Feeling the pain slip away, I bow my head and thank the woman

“How long have I been out for,” I ask

“Just a few hours hun” the youthful woman replies ”roughly 4 hours. The sun is just about to set.” I nod as I turn my head to try and look out the small window

“It says here in your file that this has happened before” I nod “Was there anything different this time from any other times this has happened?”

“No, just the same as usual. Just a painful headache getting more and more intense.” I said bluntly. The woman just nods and looks back towards her papers

“Now getting down to business” Recovery Girl says with a serious look sketched onto her face. “The school has been trying to get into contact with your father, but it seems that he isn’t answering his phone, nor is there an answer at your house.”

‘Shit’ I think to myself ‘of course they tried to call him’ thankfully when filling out the information part of the registration forms for U.A I put the number of my old phone so they couldn’t get a hold of him. I put on one of my best confused faces before I answer

“My dad’s probably asleep” I lie “He works long hours and when he gets home he usually falls asleep. And when I say he falls asleep, I mean he is such a heavy sleeper if the fire alarm goes off he won’t wake up until it’s probably too late”

“Right then.” Recovery Girl says moving towards the door “We will be sending one of your teachers to escort you home since you won’t be picked up then” and with that, the old lady leaves, sliding the door behind her closed.

As I was getting up to go and grab my uniform to get changed out of the way too breezy hospital gown a knock came at the door. I lay back down making myself comfortable before letting whoever was at the door in

“You can come in” I call out. The door quickly slides open revealing a small group of my classmates outside, to be more specific Iida, Midoriya, Ururaka, Todoroki, and Kirishima dragging along Bakugo with him. That was the one thing that surprised me. Seeing the crude, arrogant, short-tempered guy was not something that I would even think would come into one of his classmate’s hospital rooms. Given the exception that he was practically dragged into the room by Kirishima.

“Hey, guys!” I say cheerfully “Not trying to sound rude but...what are you guys doing here?”

“We came to see how you were doing!” Iida replied not being as loud which to me was a gift from the gods because my head was still pounding and I still need to take the medicine Recovery Girl gave me. Iida walked closer towards me and placing a basket of fruits on the nightstand next to me

“I’m doing quite fine actually, how are the others?” I turn to the nightstand with the basket pf fruits and reach for the medicine Recovery Girl left

“Besides you and Midoriya breaking a few of his fingers, the rest of the class is all fine” Uraraka spoke “and Mr.Aizawa and Thirteen are stable with some broken bones and such”

“Alrrright little listener!” Present Mic called out as he slammed open the door to my room “I’ll be the teacher escorting you home!” Everyone said their goodbyes with the exception of Bakugo grunting as they all walked out.

_______________

The drive back home was far from quiet, Mr.Yamada blasted his music (which was mostly rock n roll), we both jammed along to the music in his grey SUV. As we pulled up to my apartment complex, Mr.Yamada kept me inside his car for an extra minute to ask me something.

“I insist that I come with you to your apartment. I’m not trying to sound creepy or anything... but with what’s happened today, it wouldn’t be good if something happened right after I dropped you off.” The loud hero spoke surprisingly softer than usual

“No-no there’s no need for you to do that I’ll be fine!” I insist

“No, Patterson it is my duty for me to make sure you get home safely.”

“But we’re already here there is no need for you to do that” I pleaded, I didn’t need him to know about my living situation. After a few minutes of going back and forth, whether Mr.Yamada would walk me to the top floor and to my apartment or he just stays in his car and leaves when I’m out of eye range. I conceded after 10 minutes thinking he would never let me leave until I said yes.

“Uughh, fine,” I grumbled, as we both walked to the elevator in the lobby, travelling to the 3rd floor. We walk down the dimly lit hallway, no noises except for the occasional hum of the old lightbulbs lighting our way. We stopped at my apartment door 324, I grab my headphone keychain out of my bag and unlocked the door. When I open the door Cheeto instantly rushes up to me and giving me a hungry sounding “MEOW”.

“And who might this adorable cat be?” Mr.Yamada cooed, crouching down slowly pulling out his hand to get Cheeto to be familiar him

“This here is Cheeto” I reply “I’m sorry I usually feed him when I get home from school and it’s already late so he’s pretty hungry. I walk into my small one bedroom apartment distracted with getting Cheeto his dinner I invite the loud hero in.

“Would you like some tea?” I ask

“No-no thank you I’m okay. Umm...Patterson?” he asked glancing around the room. I instantly realized the mistake I just made “I was told by Recovery Girl that she couldn’t reach your father so she sent me to drop you off. This apartment looks like it only has one bedroom.” He looks over to me with worry in his green eyes “Where is your dad?”

‘Ah, shit’ I think to myself. Panic slowly rising through my body, I try and think of a way I could get out of this. If only I had a quirk that allowed me to change people’s memories “...uh...well...” I start, placing down Cheeto’s dinner so he can eat. “He-he’s still in America.” I mumble, looking down at the wooden floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. Mr.Yamada walks up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. My head snapped up starring right into his rectangular eyes. His mouth (which always is seen in a bright smile) now a sad small smile.

“Patterson...” he breaths out “When was the last time you’ve seen your father?”

“Sometime in Febuary...the day before I moved to Japan.”

“What about the last time you’ve spoken with him?”

“...the day I got the letter from U.A saying I made it in.” Mr.Yamada sighs deeply and gestures for me to sit down onto the couch. Cheeto follows suit as he finished his dinner. Sitting on the couch, Mr.Yamada kneels down and stares deep into my eyes

“Look Patterson...what your father has done is-it’s not acceptable, not for someone so young, or anyone in general,” he said sternly. Cheeto quietly meows and curls into a ball on my lap. I look down and gently pet his orange and white fur.

“I know it’s not right” I mumble “He’s been that way ever since the-the kidnapping,” I said the last phrase quietly looking away not wanting to look back towards the man. Mr. Yamada took in a shaky breath and I slowly look towards him.

“How-how long ago was that?” he slowly asked. I look back down with furrowed brows

‘I supposed there were no records of it or something.’ I thought to myself ‘No heroes came to save me, they just threw me into an empty alleyway after they told me he had paid what he owed.’ “I was 7 when I was taken.” I simply state, my voice quiet almost a whisper

“I see...” The yellow haired man paused thinking to himself “I’ll go talk to Nezu about your...situation. Have a safe night.” He stood up from where he was kneeling and walked out the door closing it slowly.

I groan and roll onto the floor, looking up at Cheeto he jumped off the couch and nuzzled his head into my neck softly purring

“What are we going to do now Cheeto?”

“Meow”

_______________

(Hizashi Yamada POV)

Knock*

“Come in!” a voice says cheerfully. Hizashi opens the door and walks into the office of the rodent principal “Ah...Hizashi what brings you to my office this fine evening”

“It’s about Scarlett Patterson, Nezu”, I said, taking a seat onto one of the white couches in Nezu’s office

“Is there a problem?” the principal asked

“She lives alone. She said her father still lives in America.”

“What do you suppose we do?”

“Well for starters, he should be charged with child abandonment, but that would mean Scarlett would be put into foster care. Which I wouldn’t think she’ll like” I replied, looking out the large window behind Nezu’s desk

“Aren’t you and Shota looking to adopt?” Nezu counters with a small smile showing on his face

_______________

Some information might not be fully correct with Cheeto, and some of the dates which are meantioned. I got confused just by looking up the time in Japan when school starts and ends, and I don’t have a cat to understand how to first greet one for the first time. (but I guess that doesn’t really matter)

Hope you enjoyed, I promise for more parts in the future! 😘

#mhaoc #mha fanfiction #leauge of villians #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #todorioki #eraserhead #present mic #recovery girl #nomu #bnha nezu

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 5 years ago

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Local Teen fed up with Friends' Shit, Local Friends Having a Spat, Local Friends Fight a Ghost Instead of Each Other, Local Team of Youths Perform Exorcism

When Danny got to school, his friends were bickering, walking down the halls to their lockers stuck in a cyclical argument. “This school needs change and I’m going to make sure it happens!”

“Nobody wants this but you and your vegans!”

“It’s healthier for you, better for wildlife and livestock and does less damage to the environment!”

“People literally need meat products in order to live, what about them?”

“There are supplements that can stand in for meat without slaughtering innocent animals that have no choice in whether they get murdered to feed us!”

“Just like you’re giving us no choice in our alternatives?”

Danny couldn’t stand it anymore and got between them both. “Estrellas arriba, shut up! Go to class! No one wants to hear this screeching in the halls!” Tucker and Sam both stared at him wide-eyed and red-faced but Danny was already pushing Tucker away since Sam was usually immovable. “I can’t believe you guys. You’re both so clever - how can someone so clever be so stupid? How do you spend a week arguing over a temporary change that’ll never take hold?” Sure, Danny’s angry ranting in Spanish may have been getting him stares but that’s what his hoodie was for and he was too annoyed to care. Once they were in class, Danny went quiet and pulled out his sketch pad to lose himself in drawing whatever first came to mind. Hydra, the largest constellation in the sky, soon decorated the page until class actually started.

As the day progressed Danny shot out an argument on both sides and pulled his friends away from each other when they started yelling, determined not to deal with their bullshit more than needed. By the end of the day he’d had to come up with several new star-based swears because regular cussing didn’t cut it anymore. “Gods, I can hardly get to lunch without a Denobola shouting contest! You two deal with this without me!” Heading outside to eat his packed lunch in peace, Danny took solace in his last period being one without his friends. Who knew my least favorite class would be my only peaceful one? Those two better be done with this soon.

A cow float, a stage, a ‘meat on a stick’ stand, kids in steak and hot dog costumes, a guy with a grill that couldn’t possibly be legal to just put on school property, and a sign that read “United we eat meat.” These were the first things Danny saw when he got to school. Then he looked over at the other side of the schoolyard. A replica of the Mystery Machine, the biggest fake sunflower he’d ever seen in his life, and yet another stage were set up with people that Danny could only identify as hippies surrounding that stage with picket signs with “It’s easy being green,” and “Tofu for you” written on them.

“Literally, how?” Danny groaned as his friends both approached him, looking furiously determined and holding megaphones. He could feel the cold burn of his eyes flashing brilliant green once they were both in front of him. “Seriously, how did you even get this done! I know there aren’t that many vegans here at the school who could’ve helped with this Sam, so how’d you get it done?”

Sam rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed. “I paid some people to help us set up the stage on time, so what?”

“…How much money do your parents make that you ca-”

“So you’re a capitalist?” Danny was not going to punch his friend for interrupting him, that’d be counter-productive right now. Even if Tucker’s screeching in his ear nearly made that ear bleed. “You have the money and privilege to chose not to eat meat and you go and condemn the poor people who have to work their asses off to make ends meet and who literally need meat to live?”

“Enough!” Danny put a hand over both of their mouths. “Sam: you’re right, eating meat is bad for animals cause they die. You’re also disregarding the struggles of the poor and forcing your choices on the rest of the school like your parents do to you and like they do to everyone else through money and political power. And you.” Danny whirled around and pointed his finger in Tucker’s face. “This is going to ridiculous extremes. How did you even do this? Don’t answer that, I don’t wanna know. This is only a week-long change, you know that. Parents would’ve complained to the school about their kids being forced into someone else’s diets and the school would never do this again. More importantly!”

Shiver, mist. The sky darkened, the wind whipped up, and Danny swore he could hear cackling from everywhere. He looked over at the truck that Tucker had brought in and grabbed his best friend’s shoulder. “I’m going to punch you later for bringing a stars damned meat truck when we’re fighting a ghost who’s obsessed with meat.”

“That was my b,” Tucker admitted meekly. As the meat ripped out of the truck and flew through the air, Tucker and Sam slipped their wrist rays on and Danny ran to and slid under Tucker’s stage. The sound of something huge hitting the ground shook it, and Danny reached inside of himself. That humming ball of cold and void and out of reach stars, he plunged into it, and light washed over his body. The world changed, colors turning vivid and bright, strange colors he had no names for other than non-visible light raced into his eyes. The shadows were no longer black but silvery grey, the vast emptiness between molten starmetal and the blazing suns. Sounds and smells and sensations hit him that were all too alien to process. He reeled, nearly dropping the form. But he had something to do, he had a job to do.

Danny phased into the ground and popped up in front of the meat monster. It towered over him, so large Danny could barely see anything else. A check of his wrist showed that his ray was now pretty much melded into his hazmat. “Weird, question later, ass kick now.”

Tucker was shouting at the rest of the students, his wristray aimed at Agatha but attention on the crowd. “MOVE, GET OUT OF HERE!” Sam grabbed onto Tucker to try and pull him out of the way of an oncoming meat fist but one of the vegans sprinting away knocked her into him and they both went flying onto the grass. A snarl on his lips, Danny charged forward. He lashed out with his foot to the… head, he supposed, of the meat, and it staggered backward away from the student body. She swung at him with a hand that moved faster than he’d anticipated, and Danny went flying. The world faded into unreality and he passed through what he vaguely knew were trees and the ground before stopping and righting himself. He flew under the ground, legs merging into a tail - also to freak out over later - and he zoomed. He emerged right under her and missed his uppercut as she stumbled backward from the rays that Sam and Tucker fired. Another fist grabbed him and Danny was slammed into the ground.

After a failed kick to the hand, Danny concentrated on his wrist ray and lined up the trigger that was sitting comfortably under his glove. Pull and - Agatha screamed from within her monster host, and Danny flew free. His ray was clearly bigger than the others, but he also felt drained. “Reserve for bigger fights.”

Danny weaved around her next few blows, kicking and punching the construct of processed meat backward away from the fleeing students and his friends. Flying in circles to orbit the monster, Danny picked up speed and slammed his foot into the head of the meat pile and it toppled to the ground.

Danny took a moment to breathe, glad to find he could if he didn’t think too hard about it. A fist came into view and Danny went soaring up and up and up. He saw a plane fast approaching and moved into that safe spot between the world and everything else. He passed through the plane like it was a thin cloud of smoke before managing to stop. Then he dove, turning solid again when Agatha was in sight from within her meat construction. “Not a lot of mass but anything with this kind of velocity should do the job.”

BOOM

In the center of the crater, at least as deep as Danny was tall and twice as wide, a splatter of green pulled itself back together into a black and white-suited Danny Phantom, blue skin bruised a sickly purple-black where his cheek had impacted the ground. Picking himself up, the teen rolled his shoulder until it ached a bit less and saw Agatha there, staring at him. “Oh dearie, are you ok?”

“Surprisingly.” Danny rolled his neck. When he focused in on Agatha - he really could just see everything couldn’t he? - her face was warped and stretched larger than the rest of her.

“Tough! You being ok isn’t part of my balanced breakfast of death!”

Smaller chunks of meat came together into constructs about three-quarters of Danny’s size, five of them in total, and they grinned at him. This was when Sam and Tucker caught up with everything, apparently. Danny spun, heel tearing through the creatures like a knife, and landed to see Agatha being pushed back by Sam and Tuck’s wrist rays. “Fuck yeah!”

Danny’s celebration was cut short by his grasp on that deathly cold void slipping in the excitement, light washing over him with the warmth of being alive again. “This is inconvenient.” The meat monsters grabbed onto Danny’s limbs, reminding him that they were mere extensions of Agatha’s will. “This is even less convenient, how about no?”

As Danny was dragged through the air, something smacked him in the face. Catching it before it could fall out of reach, Danny felt a minor bloom of relief. “The Thermos! Maybe I can get it to work!” Seeing his family below, Danny hoped to all the stars in the sky that he was just going for a ride.

The ride stopped. Danny was dropped. A scream flew from his lungs, and Danny reached deeper, desperately grasping, to pull himself into the chill of the grave. The abyss met his call at the same time that his family looked up at the blur fast approaching. “Thanks for the thermos!” He shouted as he dove into the ground. Not waiting to see how that was handled he resurfaced to find Sam and Tucker bound in mounds of meat. “Work. Please work.” Danny aimed the thermos, poured his own cold heat shadows into the thing, and hit the button. A flash of blue light, a scream of defiance, and he capped the thermos. Gravity and heat washed over him again and Danny let out a sigh of relief, running over to pull Sam and Tucker out of the meat piles. “You guys ok?”

“I have meat and blood everywhere and I was nearly crushed to death.” Sam shuddered, even as Danny phased everything off of her. “I am the very definition of not ok.”

“My nightmares are scarred for life after that. That was freaky. What do we do with her?” Tucker’s voice sounded more robotic than Danny liked, he’d have to do something to help him back to normal.

Before Danny could answer that he heard footsteps and turned the thermos invisible. As he thought, his parents thundered toward him with the Ghost Finder in hand. “Just missed em, guys.” Danny pointed behind him and was relieved when his mom and dad jogged off after a nonexistent ectosignature. “Well, that was a shitty start to the day. We should go inside before someone makes something out of the crater here.” Danny, Tucker, and Sam all headed off to the nearest entrance to the school, thoughts going south. “What if the security cameras caught all that?”

“Oh, no, that you don’t have to worry about,” Tucker said. “I’m all over that in like, a couple of hours tops.”

“Good.” Danny waited until they’d gotten to their lockers, and stuffed the thermos into his bag before punching Tucker in the arm. “That is for bringing a stars damned meat truck when there was a food-obsessed ghost flying around!”

“Alright, yeah, that was stupid of me.” Tucker nodded. “I shouldn’t have done that. But uh, we all agreed not to do stuff that affects literally everyone without consulting each other?” Tucker and Danny both looked to Sam, who glared at them heatlessly.

The goth sighed and leaned heavily on Danny. “Alright, fine, ask people what they want first. Lesson learned. Can we talk about what we’re gonna do with Agatha though?”

“Well, I don’t think she’s a mindless monster or anything,” Danny started slowly as they walked toward their homeroom. “I think we can reason with her. Show her that change can be a good thing when it’s done right.”

“Alright, we can do that once we’re sure she’s not gonna try and kill us though, right? Tucker tried to go for a neutral, slightly teasing tone but Danny could hear - could feel a shakiness to him. “We are meat if you didn’t notice Danny, and I don’t know if her control over food extends to a cannibal’s diet. I don’t wanna find out.”

“I’m horrified and grossed out,” Sam groaned. “I’m all for not getting cannibalized. That’s the wrong kind of macabre for me.”

Danny shook his head, made some crack about how bad either of them might taste, and promised to let Agatha cool down before releasing her. “Now, Sam, about how you’re using your money to muscle people around.” Danny groaned as loudly as he could and Tucker waved him off anyway. “No no, she’s an activist and all that shit, she knows how capitalism effects the working class and the attitude that people can just get by without animal products..” Danny pushed both of hs friends forward while this conversation happened. It was going to be a long day.

That cooldown time happened to be the amount of time it took for the veggie week thing to run its course and be done with. The school was cleaned, though all the vegan students who’d showed up for the rally were questioned about any kind of explosives they may have tried to sabotage the meat truck with and the news settled in on a gas line story. Saturday arrived, and the trio all met up in the park. Away from all the dog walkers, readers and normal people having fun outside, Danny Tucker and Sam stood in a small clearing of trees, a few chipmunks shifting around above their heads and in the bushes.

“Tuck, you got the reports?”

“Roger. Sam, got your wrist ray ready?”

“Of course. Danny, remind me to tell your parents they’re awesome for making most of their stuff solar powered.”

“They hadn’t figured out how to tap the afterlife for energy yet, it’s the most efficient thing we got.” Danny shrugged. He pulled out the thermos, which hummed beneath his fingers with the contained energy of Agatha inside. Sam and Tucker couldn't feel it, so he chalked that up to another ghost thing. “Alright, Agatha, if you’re ready to talk to us, I’m gonna let you out now.” The thermos offered no response. Danny opened it anyway.

The bark on the trees darkened, the leaves turning grey and the branches and bushes rustling as birds and squirrels left in a hurry. The air turned colder and sharper, and the sunlight dimmed as green spilled out of the thermos and stained the air. Agatha took shape quickly, though her glow was dimmer than it had been before. Her eyes raked across all three of them and narrowed. “Well, children? You kept rambling on and on about talking whenever I tried to get out. What’s so important that you didn’t put me back in the Ethereal Plane?”

Tucking the name of the other side in the back of his mind, Danny offered his best-placating smile. It disarmed most teachers back when he wasn’t having as many problems, he was hoping it’d work here too. “Agatha, hi. I’m Danny, this is Tucker and Sam. I feel like we got off on the worst foot before, what with you trying to kill us and all.” Tucker elbowed him in the ribs and Danny shoved him back. The buzzing in the air grew louder, his skin tingled, and some small part of his brain kept screaming to shoot, to run, to do anything that could get this thing that did not belong away from him. “So, I understand why you were angry.”

“You, Sam, changed the menu to just one food group!” Agatha’s voice was rising to those terrible echoes in the mind, and the tiny voice got louder. Still it was ignored.

“I understand now that it was probably a bad idea. No one’s been going to the line in the cafeteria all week except fellow vegans,” Sam grumbled. “Still though, some change needed to happen. The cafeteria wasn’t giving us any healthy foods!” Sam was a good actress when it came to her voice. She sounded unafraid, ready to argue for hours. Danny could feel something off though.

“And healthy diets aren’t exactly easy to come by if you don’t put a lot of effort into it nowadays.” Tucker held out a sheaf of papers. “This, Miss Reece, is a report on the various health crises around the country because of the food they’re feeding us.” The papers were taken and Tucker let out as subtle a breath as possible. “I don’t agree with changing the menu to just one food group, no one in their right mind would. But I think we should still change things up. Is there any way you can help us do that?”

There was a long beat of quiet, where all that Danny could hear was the sizzle of patties on a grill, the crunch of lettuce being pulled apart, the chopping of a knife on a cutting board the came with Agatha’s presence. It was in the background of everything unless he focused. It was still there though, and it was so distracting with everything else happening. Agatha read, frown deepening as she did before she handed the reports on obesity and diabetes increasing in children of their ages and lower back to Tucker. “Alright,” she started, then stopped. A superfluous breath. She looked to Danny. “Well, I suppose that I was a tad extreme about everything. How about this?” She held out her hand, and above her glove, the green light that seemed to shine in all directions from her coalesced into the form of a burger. “I’m not sure they’ll accept me in the school kitchens again but I’m certainly able to make a meal for everyone.”

“That’s amazing!” Tucker crowed. “I’ve already sent a few texts and set up some online polls to find out what most people actually want out of their lunch, maybe you can help us with finding ingredients around Amity? Do you have a food sense?”

“Even if they don’t let you into the school’s kitchen you could still probably find a soup kitchen that’d definitely let you in,” Sam offered. “If you can create food from basically nothing, then I see no reason for them to turn you away.”

“Plus, since ectoplasm draws energy from heat and electricity, you can probably just relax in the sun and be able to pull out a full course meal.” Danny took in his friends’ curious looks and scratched the back of his neck. “My parents are the world’s best ghost scientists. I just asked them.”

“I’ll certainly look into that soup kitchen idea dearies,” Agatha said with a bright smile on her face. “For now though, I should be getting back to the Astral Plane. Sunlight is a nice substitute but after all that fighting I need a quick break.”

“I can get you back there without my parents noticing,” Danny offered.

“I only need to be invisible for that, dear,” Agatha assured them and faded out of sight. The chill and fading of the clearing dissipated, and Tucker and Sam relaxed visibly.

“Well,” Danny said as he pulled his notebook out of his bag. “That’s one ghost down.” He hoped it wouldn’t be too many till he convinced his parents.

Ao3

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esthersequeira · 6 years ago

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polychromatic

blue || hyacinthum

when he cried, i saw a torrential downpour. the kind that could destroy nations and cause havoc on a person. and the first time he cried in front of me, he told me baby i’ll never do it again how could i baby i didn’t mean it baby please don’t cry baby it’ll make me cry baby don’t cry baby please don’t cry baby i love you baby i really love you really baby i’m sorry baby. his fist fell heavy at his side, just as heavy as it had fallen on my cheek. he told me his father put his fist through walls, so he put his fist through walls. i would often sit among the scattered remnants of his love. the roses, they remind me of him. the thorns remind me of the blows he delivered, marking me each time, drawing blood each time. but the petals on the bluebells he sent, they remind me of the kisses he planted on each bruise. his mouth would open just slightly and i would be able to feel his breath on my face, warm and coaxing. and the letters! the sweet nothings he’d whisper to me promising me he’d never do it again. god how i wish i believed them. but i just couldn't, just like the sun and the ocean line, forever in awe of each other, always distant, but never meeting. and maybe i will remember him forever by the twisted catastrophe he played me out to be.

grey || ravus

do you like the taste of metal? the taste of rotting rust and decaying bullet caught in your jaw. do you like firing blanks in the dead of the night? no one loves you anymore mi amor, ah but what do you care, your juliet’s your gun. did you like playing dress up in your fathers old uniform? your mother often whispered to you that you didn’t have what it took to be him. do you often call your father to hear him send abuses down your ear? the tone of his voice makes you flinch but you blame it on the knife that’s digging into your palm. do you still stare down the barrel of the shot gun you bought last winter? that cold winter morning, you learnt how to shoot. do you like the feel of rope in your hands? do you finally feel in control? do you want to live? do you want to die?

yellow || flavus

is it true that girls like me glow golden? is it true that girls like me make you think of butterflies? is it true that my skin shines when the sun does? is it true that girls like me cry sunshine?

does my presence leave you reminiscent of warm sands and soft waves? does my voice carry like lazy summer afternoons? does my body remind you of the shape of bottles of beer? does the way i look at you feel like being tanned?

do i really taste like salted caramel and gold honey? do i really feel like acrylic on denim and mahogany furniture? do i really smell like oranges and lemons? do i really sound like poetry and symphonies? do i really feel like shades of light and warmth?

purple || purpureus

she’s drunk on old cartoons, liquid tv and hazy nights. her eyes catch winks of neon signs that glow bright far too late in the night. her head tilts back when she laughs. and when she kisses him, his world stops. she has a habit of holding onto the front of his jacket. holding tight, and not letting go, holding tight to her balloon boy. she won’t do what her mother did. she’s felt love, and she’ll be damned if she lets it go. her hands trail constellations on his bare back, and he forgets about going home. she talks about the stars like they spin just for her. when she talks about something she loves, her voice drops down. you have to lean in to hear her. she won’t have anyone listen to her heart and the things that make it what it is. she won’t tell them she loves the louvre. what if someone stole it away from her?

white || albus

angel child tell your mother what's wrong. tell her you can't sleep anymore and your heart has turned to stone. angel child talk to your father about your mind. tell him you go for therapy and drink at night to keep warm. angel child tell your brother you love him. tell him he's stronger than he thinks. angel child hug your sister. tell her she's beautiful and will one day find someone who loves her more than life itself. angel child kiss the girl you love. tell her she's radiant and write poetry about her. angel child say good bye to your friends before you leave. tell them they are kind and gentle and tell them not to lose hope. angel child get off that ledge. no angel child not like that.

green || virids

i fear not, you or your demons. but i do so hope you worry about mine. you tell me that shakespeare was right and we should all be scared of the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meet it feeds on, but here you are, worried about me running away with the girl with a golden heart. but oh how foolish you are! this land you place your foot on is not your own. you walk in gardens that weren’t made for you, and breathe in saccharine air that you do not deserve. these flowers that you trample beneath your feet, weren’t created for the woes you relay unto them. they trembled for your mercy because they knew the devil walked among them.

golden || aureus

the light in your eyes never seemed to fade, it shone honey iridescent shimmering incandescent gold. they would often beckon my name, even if it hadn’t come out of your mouth. the pages of your journal held that light. the movies that you watched held it too. as did the songs that you sung and the sketches you drew. you gave out light to everyone who could hold it. you gave it to your mother, and you gave it to your father. you gave it to me and to your sister. did you give out too much, sunshine? or were you simply looking to throw away the human part of you?

red || ruber

i found him in the blood that poured from my veins. i found in his voice the garden of eden. i found in him the forbidden fruit. but be warned, for when he talked he spat roses in my face, and called it art. he told me his sins were heavenly and my miracles too hellish to endure. he cast away dead flowers to empty graves and laughed at the thought of ending up in one. and as the weather outside became harder, colder and bitter; as did he. beer bottles became vodka and i, his muse became another saturated soul in his book of lust. he told me love poured out him the way poetry poured out of me, and wouldn’t the world be a better place if only everyone could have his love?

silver || argenteus

come now darling, fabricate some lies and tell me you care. come now darling, drink your beer, your liquor's cheap and your eyes even cheaper. come now darling, smoke away your imported sophistication and kiss some people who's names you won't remember. come now darling, show me where you want to run away too and hold my hand pretending you'll take me with you. come now darling, write me a verse or two and sing me that one song we loved. come now darling, curl your hands around my neck and let me breath your intoxicating perfume. come now darling, put your hands on my waist like you did once before. come now darling, show me you care, just once more. come now darling, watch me open a door and leave with your heart. oh come now darling, don't cry, i'm only doing to you what you did to me.

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dumbledearme · 6 years ago

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chapter thirty-five—return to the sea

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act IV — To Stop The Tide

Part X — Your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough and your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up.

The room was small, but Andy sat as far away from the others as humanly possible. The gladiator fight had somewhat broken her spirit. Usually, she didn't feel bad about killing monsters, but just the thought that it was for entertainment, that people were amused, it made her feel sick.

Anthony didn't try to comfort her. He seemed thankful she didn't want to be close to him which saddened her even more. He kept his mind on Luke. "Something was wrong with him," he kept saying. "He was acting so strange."

"He looked pretty pleased to me," she answered. "It was a nice day torturing heroes."

"No. There was something wrong with him. He looked... scared. I know him. He wanted to tell me something."

"Probably wanted to invite you to stay and watch him kill me. He has a great sense of humor."

"Whatever, Andy," he said and looked at Rachel. "Which way now?"

Rachel didn't respond right away; she'd become quieter since the arena. "We'll follow the path," she said. "The brightness on the floor."

"You mean the brightness that led us straight into a trap?" Anthony asked.

"Just leave her alone, Anthony," Andy told him. "She's doing the best she can."

"Right," he said getting up. "Since you girls don't seem to need me, I'll take a walk." And he marched off into the shadows.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Something is wrong," she said, "but with him! Like this place isn't horrible enough. I don't know how much longer I can take."

"I think he's afraid," Rachel declared.

"Afraid of what?"

"You're gonna think I'm crazy," she said softly, "but I think he's afraid of you."

Andy blinked. "Of me? Why would he be afraid of me?"

Rachel shrugged like she thought that was something Andy should find out by herself. "You were right to bring me here," she said. "I can see the path. I can't explain it, but it's really clear." She pointed toward the other end of the room, into the darkness. "The workshop is that way. The heart of the maze. We're very close now. I don't know why the path led through that arena. I... I'm sorry you had to do that. I saw your face when... I thought you were going to die."

"I'm usually about to die," Andy told her. "That wasn't the bad part."

Rachel studied her face. "Do you do this all the time? Fight monsters? Save the world? Don't you ever get to do normal stuff?"

"I don't even know what normal is anymore," Andy admitted. And then something occurred to her. "Hey. How about your family? Won't they be concerned?"

Rachel's face turned bright red. "Oh... they're just... Not likely, you know? I could be gone a week and they'd never notice. I'm really tired, Andy. I'll sleep for a while, okay?" And she curled up, using her backpack as pillow.

A few minutes later, Anthony returned. "I'll take first watch," he said. "You should sleep."

Without arguing, Andy lay down, feeling miserable.

She woke up with Anthony shaking her shoulder. "Andy, wake up! Earthquake!" Sure enough, the room was rumbling. The three of them grabbed their things and ran. Hundred tons of marble was crashing down behind them, but they kept moving. The earthquake only stopped when they reached a stainless steel hallway.

"This way," Rachel said, beginning to run. "We're close!" They arrived at a set of metal double doors. Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek delta. "We're here," Rachel announced. "Daedalus's workshop."

Anthony pressed the symbol and the doors hissed open. Together, they walked inside. What shocked Andy the most was the daylight – the blazing sun coming through giant windows. The workshop was like an artist's studio.

"Di immortales," Anthony muttered. He ran to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. "He's a genius. Look at the curves on this building!"

"And an artist," Rachel said in amazement. "These wings are amazing!"

The wings looked exactly like the ones Andy had seen in her dreams, so much so that Andy couldn't bare to look at them. She walked to the window and stared at the view. "Where are we?"

"Colorado Springs," a voice said behind them. "The Garden of the Gods." Standing on the spiral staircase above them, with his weapon drawn, was Quintus.

"You!" Anthony said. "What... Where is Daedalus?"

Quintus smiled faintly. "Trust me, boy. You don't want to meet him." He walked pass them and stood beside Andy by the window. "The view always changes," he told her. "Everyday is something new."

"It's an illusion?" she asked.

"No," Rachel answered for him. "It's real. We're really in Colorado."

Quintus regarded her. "You have clear vision. I knew a girl like you once. Another princess who came to grief."

"Oh my gods," Andy breathed out. Now that he was so close, she could see clearly too. "You're Daedalus," she accused. "I've seen... You're an automaton. You made yourself a new body."

"That's not possible," Anthony whispered.

Quintus glanced at him. "You know what Quintus means?"

"The fifth, in Latin."

"Yes. My fifth body."

"You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?" Anthony asked. He sounded extremely disgusted. "That's not natural."

"It's still me," Daedalus said. "Our mother makes sure I never forget that." He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was the mark Andy had seen before.

"A murderer's brand," Anthony said.

"For your nephew, Perdix," Andy guessed. "The boy you pushed off the tower."

Daedalus's face darkened. "I did not push him. I-"

"Let him die."

Daedalus gazed out the windows. "I regret what I did, Andy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird – a partridge. She branded the bird's shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand remains."

"Why did you come to camp?" Andy asked.

"To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke gave me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions."

"So you have talked to Luke."

"Several times. He is quite persuasive."

"Well, whatever he said, he lied," Anthony said to Andy's surprise. "You can't let Luke through the maze!"

"The maze is no longer mine to control. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy."

"Privacy from what?"

"The gods," he said. "And death. I have been alive for two millennia, hiding from death."

"How can you hide from Hades?" Andy asked.

"A clever man can do almost anything. The gods don't see everything. I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted."

"Minos?"

Daedalus nodded. "He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of the dead, he would like nothing better for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos' ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death."

"And you did," Anthony marveled, "for two thousand years."

A loud bark echoed and Mrs O'Leary appeared. "There she is," Daedalus said. "My only companion all these long lonely years."

"You let her save me," Andy said.

"Of course I did, Andy," he replied. "You have a good heart. And I knew Mrs O'Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. I felt guilty..."

"Guilty about what?"

"That your quest would be in vain."

"What?" Anthony said. "But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne's string so Luke can't get it."

"I told Luke that he needed the eyes of a mortal girl, but then again, who would love him enough to come down here? He was so focused on the idea of a magical item. He can't understand that love is the best guide, that love sees all. And, of course, the string works. Though it isn't as good as your mortal friend here."

"Where is it?" Anthony asked.

"With Luke," Daedalus said sadly. "I'm sorry. You are several hours too late."

With a chill, Andy realized why Luke had been in such a good mood. Anthony's face was turning a bright shade of green. He seemed about to puke.

"Kronos promised me freedom," Daedalus said. "Once Hades is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos's soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death."

"That's your brilliant idea?" Anthony growled. "You're going to let Luke destroy our camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus? You're going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?"

"Your cause is doomed. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos. I'm doing what I must. I'm sorry."

Anthony violently pushed over an easel. Architectural drawings scattered across the floor. "I respected you. You were my hero! You... You built amazing things. You solved problems. Children of Athena are supposed to be wise, not just clever. Maybe you are just a machine. You should have died two thousand years ago." Although he was clearly on the edge, he didn't raise his voice once. Andy was impressed by his self-control.

Daedalus looked down. "You should go warn your camp."

Suddenly, the doors of the workshop burst open and Nico was pushed inside. Then Kelli and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him, followed by the ghost of Minos. He fixed his gaze on Daedalus. "There you are, my old friend."

Daedalus's jaw clenched. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Luke sent his regards," Kelli said, repeating what one of the princesses had said before killing Minos. "He thought you might like to see your old employer."

"This was not part of our agreement," Daedalus said.

"No, indeed," Kelli agreed. "But we already have what we want from you, and we have other agreements to honor. Minos required something else from us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod. He'll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your head, old man."

Daedalus paled. "Treachery."

"Nico," Andy called. "Are you okay?"

He nodded morosely. "I'm sorry. Minos said you were in danger. He said you needed... my help."

"You wanted to help me?"

"I was tricked," he said.

Andy glared at Kelli. "Where's Luke? Why isn't he here?"

The she-demon smiled. "Luke is busy. He is preparing for the assault. But don't you worry. We have more friends on the way."

Then all hell broke loose.

Anthony stabbed the empousa in the stomach and with an awful screech, Kelli dissolved into yellow vapor. Minos called other spirits and Nico tried to stop him.

"You do not control me, fool," Minos said. "I've been controlling you!"

"I am the son of Hades," Nico insisted. "Be gone! All of you."

Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!"

"No." Nico said, this time very softly, in such a threateningly way that Minos stepped away from him. "I am." And with unimaginable power, he somehow made a crack on the ground and Minos and the other spirits were sucked into the void.

Rachel grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at the windows that broke into a million pieces all around them. Andy breathed in. She focused on the water below.

"Brace yourselves!" she warned. And then she shouted, letting her power take over. Not a minute later, water erupted into the workshop. Andy tried her best to control it. She made the water grab her friends and get them out of there, returning to the sea. She stayed behind and trapped the monsters into balls of water and pressed them until they exploded.

Then everything stopped. Andy was in the destroyed workshop with Daedalus coughing in the corner. She glanced at him one last time. The inventor was cut in a hundred places and bleeding golden oil instead of blood.

Andy turned her back at him and threw herself out of the window into the ocean.

They were all wet and extremely upset.

"The workshop moved," Anthony said looking up to Daedalus's hill. "And there's no telling where."

"How do we get back in there?" Andy asked.

"Maybe we can't. The empousa said there were others coming. If they found Daedalus and killed him... he said his life force was tied to the Labyrinth. The whole thing might've been destroyed."

"He isn't dead," Nico said with certainty.

"How do you know?" Andy asked.

"I know when people die," he said giving her a glance that made clear he hadn't completely forgiven her yet.

"We need to get into town," Anthony decided and the others agreed.

Rachel found another entrance to the Labyrinth easily. The dirt tunnels turned to stone, but Rachel had no trouble guiding them. To Andy's surprise, Anthony and Rachel started up a conversation as they walked. Turned out Rachel knew something about architecture from studying art.

Andy took the chance to focus on Nico. "Thank you for coming after us," she said.

Nico's eyes narrowed. "I wanted to see Daedalus," he said but it sounded more like an excuse. "Minos was right. He should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It's not natural."

"You were after him," Andy guessed. "A soul for a soul. You were gonna trade him for your sister."

"It hasn't been easy," he admitted weakly. "Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I'll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out of fear."

"You could be accepted," Andy told him. "You could have friends at camp. If you want."

He stared at her. "Do you really believe that?"

Before Andy could answer, everybody stopped. There was a dark tunnel to their right. Wind was coming, as if an exit was near, and it brought the smell of eucalyptus.

"There's something evil down that tunnel," Rachel said.

"And the smell of death," Nico added.

"Luke's entrance," Anthony guessed. "The one to Mount Othrys." Unable to stop herself, Andy started forward, but Anthony held her arm. "Don't."

"He could be right there," she said. "Or Kronos. We need to see what they're doing."

Anthony hesitated. "Then we go together."

"No," Andy said. "I'll go. You guys stay. They can't have Nico or Rachel. You stay here with them. I'm just going to check it out. I promise."

With a miserable expression, Anthony handed her the Yankees cap. "Be quick about it."

It was like a stab to her back seeing Ethan Nakamura there with a bunch of telkhine. "At least we salvaged the blade," one of the monsters said. "The master will still reward us."

"Great," said Ethan. "Now, if you're done with me, I-"

"No, half-blood," another one said. "You must help us make the presentation."

The weapon was a scythe – a six-foot-long blade curved like a crescent moon. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he had used to slice up his father, Ouranos.

"We must sanctify it in blood," a telkhine said. "Then you, half-blood, shall help present it when the lord awakes."

Andy dashed into a main hall and found the sarcophagus. Luke wasn't there. No guards. No nothing. It was too easy. Andy stood over the coffin. Her hand touched the lid. With a single move, she pushed back the golden lid and it fell to the floor. She lifted her sword, ready to strike, but when she looked inside, she didn't comprehend what she was seeing.

Luke was in there. Eyes closed, skin pale.

Then the voices of the telkhines were behind her. "What has happened?" one of the demons asked.

"Careful," the other one warned. "Perhaps he stirs. We must present the gifts now. Immediately."

They shuffled forward and knelt, holding up the scythe. "My lord," one said. "Your symbol of power is remade."

Silence.

"He requires the half-blood first," the other one said.

Ethan stepped back. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be a coward! He does not require your death. Only your allegiance. Pledge him your service. Renounce the gods. That is all."

Andy took off the cap. "No! Ethan, don't!"

"Trespasser!" The telkhines bared their teeth.

"Ethan," she pleaded. "Don't listen to them. Help me destroy it!"

"I told you not to spare me, Jackson," Ethan said sadly. "'An eye for an eye.' You ever heard that saying? I've learned what it means the hard way. When I discovered my godly parent. I am the child of Nemesis, Goddess of Revenge. And this is what I was made to do." He turned toward the dais. "I renounce the gods! What have they ever done for me? I will see them destroyed. I will serve Kronos."

The building rumbled. The coffin began to shimmer. Luke sat bolt upright. His eyes opened but they were no longer blue – they were golden. He leaped out of the coffin and looked at Andy. "This body has been well prepared. Don't you think so, Andy Jackson?"

She stared at him open-mouthed.

Kronos laughed. "He feared you, you know," the Titan said. "His jealousy and hatred have been powerful tools. It has kept him obedient. For that I thank you."

Ethan collapsed in terror. The telkhines trembled. Then Andy lunged at the thing that used to be Luke, thrusting her blade straight at his chest, but his skin deflected the blow like he was made of pure steel. He looked at her with amusement. Then he flicked his hand and she flew across the room.

Andy slammed against a pillar. She struggled to her feet. "What have you done to Luke?"

"He serves me wit his whole being, as I require. The difference between us is he feared you, Andy Jackson, and I do not."

That's when she ran. Time slowed down around her; the power of Kronos was slowing her down. Then Rachel called her name. Something flew past Andy and a blue plastic hairbrush hit Kronos in the eye.

Andy limbs were free and she ran straight into Rachel, Nico and Anthony, who were standing in the entry hall, their eyes wide with dismay.

"Luke?" Anthony called. "What-" Andy grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him after her. She ran as fast as she could, straight out of the fortress. They plunged into the Labyrinth and kept running, the howl of the Titan Lord shaking the entire world behind them.

#andromeda #andy jackson #child of land and sea #fanfic #genderbend #dfcrosas #to stop the tide #andong #anthony chase

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