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mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years ago

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Kaleidoscope || Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

A/n: this is a sequel to Thine Own Self Be True. I got the inspiration to write it after watching season 4, though it doesn't take place during this timeline. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): mutual breakup, confusion, sadness, hurt/comfort, female reader, make-up sex, rough sex, teasing, mild jealousy, slight public sex, special skill use, and aftercare.

No Minors Allowed!!

At moments like this, you realize that your relationship with Akutgawa is not meant to be. Taboo for obvious reasons, you consider yourself an irrational dupe for meeting with him in secret for so long, especially when unpredictable scenarios pit him against you.

A yellow aura engulfs your hands as you activate your special skill, To Thine Own Self Be True, sending a crescent-shaped beam at the man in question. His Rashoumon halts the attack, eating at the space around it until it vanishes, but it doesn't matter. This is a decoy.

Atsushi rushes him from the side, using his Beast Beneath the Moonlight skill to manifest his forearms and legs. You continue to pelt Akutagawa with aura beams, dodging shadow-like tendrils as the ombre-haired mafioso keeps you at a distance. He knows your capabilities; he knows that if you touch him, you can turn the tides of battle in your favor.

Not quite like before, humorously.

It had been your power that got you into the mess that you were in with him; whatever this relationship was. Had it been one time; one time that you had kissed him or one time that you had fucked him, then maybe it wouldn't be like this.

But it was.

Springing into a backflip, you dodge another tendril but in doing so, you miss his assistant, Higuchi sneaking up on you. She fires at you with a pistol, which hits the asphalt near you to your annoyance. You have no time to deal with her. Indeed, Atsushi doesn't need your help, but to avoid an unexpected incident with the Black-Fanged Hellhound, you intend to draw his attention toward you.

With your aura, you manifest a shield to protect you from the bullets, but unexpectedly, a force hits you so hard in the side, it sends you off your feet, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You hear Atsushi shout your name, but you aren't able to respond, being wracked with coughs.

What just happened?

The absence of Rashoumon bombarding you from all sides makes you wonder if Akutagawa had struck you down.

Sitting up, you realize it's true. The wide-eyed expression on his face catches your attention and for a moment you are shocked. He can't be concerned, can he?

No. It's not in his nature.

You stand up, gripping your side in pain. There's no harm done; it's a battlefield after all. But the unexpected look on Akutagawa's face sticks in your head even when the fight concludes.

–

Resting at your desk in the comfort of the agency, you tap your finger against your knee as you wait for Kunikida to report in.

The job, on your end, had been a success. Rampo had deduced that the client would be hunted by the Port Mafia after the poor soul had an unfortunate run-in with them that they managed once to escape. And as usual, he had been right.

You and Atsushi were put on bodyguard duty, a cover for the real plan, which was to confront the Port Mafia as Kunikida drove the client to a safe house. Once he was out of their reach, the confrontation between Akutgawa and Higuchi came to an end, and the 4 parted ways.

The sound of the door opening draws your attention to the far side of the room as Atsushi enters, giving you a welcoming smile. His long belt swishes behind him as saunters over to his desk and sits down.

"Kunikida is within the city limits," he mentions.

You hum, resting your cheek against your fist.

"So our mission was a complete success. That's good to hear."

You hope that Mori doesn't scold Akutagawa too much for failing to catch the agency's client. Or worse. As much as you don't want him to get in trouble, there isn't much you can do.

"Are you OK?" Atsushi asks in concern. "That hit you took earlier looked bad."

"I'm fine, other than a few scraps. My armor kept me from taking the full force of Rashoumon," you retort.

You are certain there will be bruises on you tomorrow, however.

"It's nothing to concern Yosano over," you add with a grin.

Atsushi nods in understanding. It's silent after this. You scroll through your laptop searching the recent news updates until you feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your uniform. Taking it out, you steal a peek at the screen to see that you have a message from Ombre.

Ryuu.

An air of excitement consumes you.

We need to talk.

This can't be good.

Sending him a quick response, you ask him to meet you at your apartment, then you put away the phone and return to your laptop.

–

The remainder of the afternoon passes by somewhat fast. You sit patiently in the cab, enjoying the ride across Yokohama to your apartment the best you can.

This talk Akutagawa mentioned is weighing down on you. No conversation starting with 'we need to talk' ends well. But it's expected.

I knew this would never last.

You consider messaging him, telling him that you understand; save him the trouble of coming over, but a part of you wants to see him one last time. The thought makes your stomach churn, but you do your best to ignore it.

Once the cab stops in front of your apartment building, you pay the driver and walk in. As expected, Akutagawa is waiting by your door. Tightening your jaw, you unlock it, letting him in.

"I'd offer you some tea but–"

"How is your side?" Akutagawa asks, interrupting you.

A soft smile pulls at your lips.

"It's bruised as expected." To tease him, you pull up the corner of your shirt just a bit, showing off your skin. "Do you want to see it?"

Akutagawa averts his eyes; his cheeks flush in response but he does not comment on it.

"Ryuu," you utter. "I get it. We talked about this before and I understand we can't keep doing this."

He glances at you.

"Then you know what I have to say.."

"Yeah…I mean I've heard it before. But it's in the past for a reason," you explain.

Sauntering over to the couch, you sit down.

"I do like you, Ryuu, but our work is always going to put us in a position like earlier. And as much as I enjoyed it - whatever it was - you're right," you add.

Akutagawa clears the gap and offers you his hand; his eyes avert to the floor. You know what he wants, and to keep things platonic, you link your pinkie around his. An orange aura connects you to him as you activate your special skill.

Puzzlement… pangs of sadness.

You hum. It's strange to feel sadness from a man such as Akutagawa, especially when it comes to you, but it's nice.

"It's mutual," you utter, releasing him. "Thank you."

With nothing left to say, you watch him turn and walk out the door. Your life feels a little more empty now.

–

The month slowly passes by and your focus remains solely on work. Every minor job that reaches the agency you take. It keeps you busy, but you don't mind.

You find it hard to keep Akutagawa from your thoughts, transiting from seeing him once or twice a week to none at all. But it's strangely tolerable. And ironically, the agency has not had a run-in with the Port Mafia since the mutual agreement.

Things are slowly turning back to normal, however, there is a hole in your life that you can't quite fill.

Your laptop alerts you when it's your turn; the piece Dazai moves is dangerously close to your king, putting you in check. You hold back a groan knowing that Kunikida will scold you both if he finds out you are wasting time with Dazai playing online shogi when there is paperwork to do.

Tick, tock. A message in the corner of the screen reads followed by an emoji of a croc.

How cute. You grin and make your move, saving your king.

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, you type back.

Dazai replies with a laughing emoji and then quickly makes a move. You frown in response. How is he so good at this? As you contemplate your next move, a message that nearly takes your breath away pops up on the screen.

How is Akutgawa-kun? 🤎

You feel like a deflated balloon. You indeed can lie and act like you have no idea who Akutagawa is, but there's no lying to Dazai; he knows better.

How did you find out?

You came into the office last month wearing the same white button-down I saw him in the previous day. He replies.

Your face turns red. Dazai is extremely perceptive. Moving your piece first you take an uneasy breath before typing back.

We aren't seeing each other anymore. It's in the past.

Shame, Dazai comments. He's less of a grump.

You can't help but grin.

It can't be helped.

With a single move, one you didn't see, Dazai puts you in checkmate.

Can't it?

What does he mean? You sit back in your chair in defeat. It can't be helped. You attempt to ask him how, but a sudden vibration from your pocket alerts you of a message.

Meet me at the restaurant near the ocean. You know the one.

You raise a brow. The number is unknown but you know the restaurant in which they speak; it's the same one you had met Akutagawa at with Atsushi.

Is it him? You don't understand why he wouldn't use the previous number you have programmed into your phone, but perhaps there is a reason. They could also very well be a member of the Port Mafia.

I'll be there, you reply.

Perhaps Atsushi won't mind standing by again.

–

You stare in awe at the beautiful woman sitting in front of you. Her long wavy black hair falls down her back, a contrast to the knee-length white dress that she's wearing. You've never seen her before. How she knows you concerns you.

A waitress brings her a cup of tea, in addition to your beverage, before she turns her attention to you.

"You brought the weretiger with you," she mentions softly. "He's sitting a block away from here and no doubt you have him on call in case this turns out to be a trap."

Who is she? Her assumption is right. Your phone rests on your lap with your finger over the button.

"Is it a trap?" You ask.

"No. I have no orders to go after you," the woman answers.

She takes a drink of her tea and hums.

"Then what reason do you have to call me out here?" You ask. "This meeting is a bit suspicious considering I have no idea who you are."

"I'm here because of my brother," she mentions.

You raise a brow in question. Then, as if you are struck by lightning, you put two and two together.

"Ryuu? He never… never told me he had a sister."

Her eyes brighten; eyes that look like his.

"It's as I thought. I've seen him with you before. But how long?"

"After the incident with Shibusawa," you admit.

It doesn't surprise you that he didn't tell his sister.

"Sorry, but… it's obvious you know my name. Should I not learn yours if we're going to speak so personally?" You ask.

"It's Gin," she replies.

You hide your smile behind your drink.

"I wanted to know what you know about him," Gin mentions.

That's a good question.

"Not much obviously, or else I would have known that Ryuu has a sister," you admit. The conversation puts you at ease, but your finger remains over the button. "I know he likes tea and I found out the hard way that he doesn't like baths. And… I know about his lung disease - he told me that much.

You frown at the last comment. A warmth spreads across your face.

"You know his skill's weakness," Gin points out.

"And he knows mine," you retort.

He had divulged that information to you the first time you spoke with him, in exchange for information about your special skill.

"But you've never exploited it," Gin presses.

Is she concerned that you will use it against him? As strong as his Rashoumon is, it has its disadvantages.

“My Rashoumon eats through all in its path, even space itself. However, its space-rupturing capabilities need time to activate, so guns and fire can harm me,” he had explained. “Use it to your advantage.”

You hum and run your finger along the glass's rim.

"I could. He told me to use the information to my advantage. But I have no intention to."

Gin doesn't buy it; you can see it in her eyes.

Raising your free hand, you offer it to her.

"If it puts you at ease, I can show you that I mean it. Though I can assure you, there's no reason for me to exploit him. I do…care for Ryuu."

Staring at you a moment, Gin sighs and lifts her teacup to her mouth.

"I believe you."

You're grateful. As unexpected as this encounter is, you are enjoying it.

"You know, I bought a cute tea set with cats on them for Ryuu a few months back since he complained about drinking tea from a mug and he left without taking them," you mention. Warmth spreads across your face as you realize how ignorant you feel for bringing this up. "If he wants them, he can have them. I don't have much use for them."

"I think you should keep them. He would only complain again if you didn't have any at your apartment," Gin utters with a soft smile.

You have no words. It isn't like you don't want to see Akutagawa again; to kiss and tease him, but you can't. Mori would exploit him. Both of you know more than anyone, which makes it hard that those who know, have a stronger opinion on it.

We both agreed… it's over.

You plan to honor that agreement.

–

"I heard good things about it," you retort with a smile. It's much easier than you had expected to balance your cell phone against your shoulder with groceries in your arms. "But listen…Atsushi I'm almost home. I have a few things to put up."

"Do you want to go with us? Naomi and Jun'ichirō are going too." Atsushi asks on the other end.

Technically you had bought groceries for an easy lunch, but you don't mind not having to cook.

"I might," you mention, turning the corner to the hall you live down.

As you do, you are greeted by an unexpected sight. The ombre-haired mafioso you hadn't spoken to in over 2 months stands against the wall next to your apartment door. His empty gray eyes turn to you as you slowly approach.

"I'll um… call you back later with my answer Atsushi," you utter.

Not able to get your keys, you offer the bags in your less dominant arm to him, thankful when he takes them albeit to his annoyance. You hang up your phone and open the door, allowing him to enter before you saunter in, shutting the door behind you.

"Kitchen please," you state.

Setting the groceries on the counter, you take an uneasy breath and turn your eyes to him.

"What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Gin spoke to you," Akutagawa mentioned.

It had been a while, but it was true. You nod to confirm.

"About what?" He asks.

"Boys and slumber parties," you joke.

Akutagawa glares at you, making you snort in response.

"We spoke about you as if you needed to ask," you mention. To keep your nerves in check, you start to put away the groceries. "It wasn't a work conversation and based on your question I assume Gin didn't tell you the entire thing, so I won't repeat what she asked me."

With a sigh, you lean against the counter.

"What are you doing here, Ryuu? I don't believe for one bit you came to talk about your sister. She seems to be on good terms with you, so I'm sure she'd tell you about our conversation if you were to ask her."

Offering his hand, you smile and link your pinkie with his. An orange glow surrounds both of you and a mix of nervousness and confusion floods your senses; the former from you.

"You're confused… about this… about our situation."

"I don't have time for these feelings," Akutagawa mentions. Anger spills into the mix. "They're a distraction; a head full of adoration is irrational."

You separate your hand from his, not liking the intense emotion pouring off him.

"We agreed, Ryuu. I don't–"

"It's more of a distraction when we're apart," he interrupts.

Your face heats up in embarrassment.

"I know… but it can't be helped."

Can't it?

Dazai's words had popped into your head so quickly that it made your body shake with nerves.

"Fucking Dazai," you utter with a snort.

Akutagawa widens his eyes.

"Dazai-san knows?"

"Did you think he wouldn't notice? He…asked why it couldn't be helped. But honestly, I don't know. The agreement was mutual because of the steaks, but when we first met, I knew how much trouble this could cause us, but I ignored it," you explain.

You felt ignorant for even saying any of this. Love is irrational, especially on the battlefield, but you sort of liked being with him, even if it was only once or twice a week.

"I… didn't feel lonely."

You close the gap and hesitantly reach for his hands, activating your skill. A wave of contentment rolls off him, so you continue, wrapping your arms around him.

"Every time I touch you, it's like a kaleidoscope," you mention. Your hands slide up his back; one continues up until your fingers thread into his hair. "So many colors… It's stunning."

Akutagawa shivers in response.

"It would be easier just to kill you."

"And you can certainly try once you've made good on the promise you made to Atsushi," you remind him with a grin.

What feels like jealousy permeates the air at the mention of the weretiger's name.

"You were on the phone with him when you walked up," Akutagawa mentions. His warm breath tickles your neck.

"Making plans for lunch as work associates sometimes do," you state with a grin. "You should try it sometime."

Akutagawa hums.

"I don't need friends."

You snort in response. Of course, he doesn't. You'd feel terrible if you weren't hugged up against his chest.

"You've gone out to lunch with me before," you mention. "Am I to believe we aren't friends?"

"Your jokes are tiring," Akutagawa states with a sigh.

He knows you have a point. You lean back and grin at him.

"I can make so many lewd comments."

An absence of emotions from him concerns you.

"Don't struggle," Akutagawa orders.

An electric red aura surrounds him and before you can react, two shadow-like tendrils wrap around your wrists. You don't struggle as they lift your arms above your head.

"I thought we agreed that you'd warn me."

"Don't struggle is a clear warning," Akutagawa merely points out.

You narrow your eyes teasingly.

"That's such a mafioso thing to–"

Closing the gap, he presses his lips against yours. It's surprisingly gentle for a bloodthirsty killer and brief. You sigh as he parts; the sensation lingers, provoking a gleeful smile from you.

"You're not letting me touch you for some reason. Do you not want to show me how you feel, Ryuu?"

Akutagawa grunts in response and averts his eyes to the floor, but the light hue of red on his pale skin is noticeable.

You feel the tendrils around your wrists pull your arms down and toward the counter. At first, you aren't sure what he's doing but moving of your own free will, you realize he's leaning you over the counter with your arms out in front, touching the wall.

Heat licks at your skin and your nipples harden in arousal. Is he set on fucking you in your kitchen? It's honestly been a while. You're eager but also nervous. This sensation reminds you of the first time you and Akutagawa fucked; the excitement and the hormones. It makes you more eager than ever to have him this close to you again.

A hand touches your ass, but briefly as the mafioso removes your phone from your back pocket. He then slides his arms around your waist, pressing his warm body against yours as he undoes the button on your uniform and shimmies the fabric down your legs. You are left in nothing but your underwear; the cool breeze from your ceiling fan nips at your cheeks, making you shiver.

A series of low taps catches your attention and before you can figure out the noise, Akutagawa leans in again and sets your phone on the counter where you can see the screen. To your horror, Atsushi's name and number are showing.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask.

"You never gave the weretiger an answer," Akutagawa answers.

He leans forward and presses the call button to your dismay, putting it on speakerphone. As you wait for Atsushi to pick up, Akutagawa slips his hand between your thighs and into your underwear, spreading your outer lips. He slowly rubs small slow circles around your clit. You moan in response, but it's cut short as Atsushi's unsuspecting voice comes over the line.

What is Akutagawa thinking? Does he seriously want Atsushi to hear this? He insisted that you give your coworker an answer. Is he mad?

"H-hey, sorry for taking so long," you utter. Your hips arch as the slow torturous pace he sets makes your body shiver. "I'm a bit tied up with housework so I'm not going to be able to make it."

"That's fine. Maybe–"

The sound of someone struggling to get the phone from him floods the line and you take a moment to hum as Akutagawa quickens his pace. Waves of pleasure roll from your core to the tips of your toes.

"What do you mean you aren't coming?" Naomi's curious voice asks over the line.

She has no idea how lewd her question sounds to you at the moment.

"I h-have housework," you retort. An embarrassed warmth spreads across your face.

"You can do that later," Naomi argues. "Come out and eat with us."

You absolutely can't and there is no way you can tell her that a dangerous mafioso is fingering you in your kitchen.

"Rain check," you utter. "I can't–"

"Is something wrong? Atsushi says your breathing sounds rushed," Naomi interrupts.

Of course, he can hear you struggling. Those tiger senses are no joke; Akutagawa knows this.

A sudden gasp makes you widen your eyes.

"Are you having your monthly?" Naomi whispers.

You almost snort.

"Yeah, Nomi. I'm in a bit of pain."

This is a complete lie. Your body is a trembling wreck from the slow pleasure creeping across your sensitive nerves. It's almost too much.

"No worries then," the dark-haired girl states. "I'll cover for you. Just get some rest."

"T-thank you. I owe you one," you utter in relief.

When the call ends, you take a deep breath, resting your heated face on the counter.

"You're evil."

"Were you not aware?" Akutagawa asks.

To your annoyance, he removes his hand from your pussy, but the moment you hear the sound of his zipper, your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You spread your legs eagerly.

Not having to wait long, you hum as your underwear is pulled down. Akutagawa trails his fingers up your thigh and between your legs, spreading you once again. A sigh of relief pours from your parted lips as the head of his cock enters you, thrusting deep a second later.

Surges of pleasure tickle your sensitive nerves as the mafioso grasps your hips, starting gently. It's when you arch your ass into him, does he quicken the pace, pressing you against the counter with every thrust.

You moan in response, but it's much too fast for you.

"Slow down."

It doesn't hurt, but you don't necessarily want to come so soon; you want to enjoy him a bit more. But Akutagawa doesn't seem to care. Something is fueling him. His pace seems almost possessive, almost like he's making a point. You wonder if perhaps the interaction with Atsushi put him in this mood.

"You're not the jealous type, are you, Ryuu?" You ask, aware of how dangerous this question is.

Fingers slide into your hair at the base of your neck, trailing up midway. You groan as Akutagawa grasps the laces between his fingers and leans your head back. The hold on your wrists thankfully releases and you can rest your arms, keeping them at your side as he presses you against his chest.

"You accuse me of being jealous. Of whom? The weretiger?"

A hand slips between your legs, stimulating your clit for a second time. Your body arches in response.

"I w-wasn't going to give names."

His hand between your thighs pauses, earning a groan from you; his thrusts are deliberately slow. You rest a hand over him, activating your power. Mixed with the arousal is a strong sense of jealousy, as you had expected.

"What do you have to be jealous about?" you ask. "I've only ever wanted you."

To emphasize your point, you allow him a peek at your aura. He sighs in response and circles your clit; you move your fingers in unison with his, turning up your eyes as the sensation in your core grows.

Akutagawa's pace quickens, but it's not as possessive as before. Paired with the stimulation to your clit, his thrusts feel remarkable; just enough so that you are thrown completely over your limit and into an intense orgasm.

Your hips arch and your body tenses to the waves of pleasure that roll over you, shooting down to your toes. For a moment you lean against Akutagawa, out of your mind, and slowly coming down, until he prompts you to lie against the table. Lewd wet noises permeate the air as his thrusts drive deep and hard into your sensitive core. You reach and grasp his hand at your waist, using your ability once again.

The intense desperation and need pouring from him makes your walls tighten.

"I missed this. I needed you so bad," you sob.

Akutagawa pulls back, removing his cock from you, and covers your ass and thighs in his warm cum. It's almost as if your words had a desired effect on him; almost as though he enjoys being told how much he's needed. He's too–

A fit of coughs brings you into reality. You know Akutagawa doesn't like to be pitied, but every time you hear him struggle to breathe, you feel helpless and uneasy.

"I can… make you some tea if you want," you mention, turning to face him.

Akutagawa shakes his head and then removes his hand.

"I'll make it."

You nod in understanding. He doesn't need you to comfort him.

"The tins are in the cabinet where they've always been."

Leaving him for a moment, you go into the bathroom to pee and clean up. Once you are refreshed, you return to the kitchen where you had left Akutagawa, seeing him judging the tea set you bought for him.

"Next time you can buy your own," you retort.

"Next time? Have you not had enough?" He asks.

You snort and grab a drink from the fridge.

"Of you? No. My ignorance knows no bounds."

Akutagawa hums.

"Likewise."

"We may have to hurt one another one day by continuing down this path. That's a tough pill to swallow," you mention.

There's no doubt in your mind that Mori will eventually figure it out. But will he ask Akutagawa to kill you? There's no benefit from your death that the Port Mafia might exploit, so perhaps not, but you can't see him accepting it as the Agency might.

"It's going to be rough," you utter.

"I was under the assumption you liked it that way," Akutagawa states.

Your face heats up. For once you have nothing to say. Lewd statements coming from him are strange.

"I'll admit, that was kind of hot."

He hums.

"This isn't going to end well."

"At least we can say we tried," you utter with a snort.

Closing the gap, you hesitantly slide your arm around him, hugging him from behind. His body remains tense but he doesn't make a move to reject you.

"I missed you."

The ombre-haired mafioso sighs.

"Likewise."

It's all the confirmation that you need. Whatever time brings, at least you know Akutagawa will face it with you.

#bungou stray dogs fanfiction #ryuunosuke akutagawa #bungou stray dogs fandom #akutagawa x reader #female reader

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ruinouss · 10 months ago

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UNUSUAL MUSE ASSOCIATIONS

spice : cinnamon

weather event / natural disaster : volcano eruption

color : red

magical power : shapeshifting

shoe : pump

plant : venus flytrap

animal : coyote

weapon : whatever she can get her hands

subject / major : dropout

gemstone / mineral : alexandrite

makeup product : lipstick

candy : pop rocks

fear : failure / blackout darkness

sport (traditional or extreme) : surfing

method of long–distance travel : flying

hour : 1 am

wood : red wood

mythological creature : hellhound

three emojis : 🖕🔪🥃

moon phase : waning crescent

tagged by: actually stolen from @lovehungered

tagging: @vendettavalor (piper) @imprvdente @liveshaunted (morgan), @musezieren (Sirius) @eldritchexe (Zarek) & anyone else!

#dash games

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uncleasad · 2 months ago

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When I was writing the part of Beware the Spirits Lurking Within that became Chapter 2, I started a detailed explanation of what had happened to Hope and Josie before the events of this story (and which had been alluded to in Chapter 1). But the more I wrote, the more I felt like I was going off in the weeds, away from the story I wanted to tell and instead fleshing out background information that wasn’t relevant at that level of detail.

So I ripped it all out and rewrote an overview, with only a few details…but for the morbidly curious, the original version (unedited) of the journey through the underworld is below. Spoilers for Chapter 2, of course!

that fateful day

“If you kill me, you’ll never know what I’ve done with your beloved Josette, never find her again,” taunted Malivore, fully ensconced in Landon’s body, immortal and impudent.

“There’s always a loophole,” Hope retorted, her voice hard despite being crushed between twin losses. She extended her claws and plunged one into her left wrist, yanking it backwards towards her elbow and tearing a large gash in her forearm, spurting blood. The auburnette thrust her wound to the teen’s…the monster’s…mouth and forced him…it…to drink. Hope saw the exact moment Malivore allowed Landon’s consciousness to regain control, she saw the shock in his eyes as he was drowning in the torrent of blood being forced into his mouth. She saw and felt him try to speak, to no avail as she held firm, tears rolling down both of their blood-spatted cheeks. And then the light went out of those green orbs and they became black…black goo seeping out of his eye sockets. Soon, the rest of the body of the boy who had loved her for her had melted into black goo, forming a puddle on the ground. And not just a puddle, but a portal…half a loophole. Hope jumped in feet-first.

Malivore was different this time around. Inky blackness extending forever, but now it was punctuated by weird glowing areas of dark colors, and the chaos had increased tenfold. Creatures were tearing each other apart, with hellhounds feasting on the carcasses. Hope trudged through the darkness, defending herself from many attacks, for she didn’t know how long until she found what she was looking for, a glimmering silver-black pool guarded by a green-skinned man wearing the white pharaonic crown with two ostrich feathers affixed.

“Who goes there?” the man inquired, crossing and uncrossing his crook and flail over his chest.

“Hope Mikaelson, daughter of Klaus and Hayley. I seek entry to the underworld.”

“You are the child of the devil; my brother Set will embrace you as his own.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” At that, the auburnette grabbed her head and, using her werewolf strength, snapped her own neck, falling to the ground.

When she awakened—unaware of how much time might have passed—Hope’s head was throbbing in excruciating, disorienting pain, and she was hungry, very hungry. The green man—Osiris—appeared over her. “What have you done, girl?” the befuddled god of the afterlife inquired.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the auburnette replied, snatching his crook, snapping it in half, and plunging a broken end into the deity’s chest. Ripping the broken tool out once more, she drank the blood that flowed from the wound, feeling her hunger subside and the headache and ringing in her ears vanish. Just as quickly, Hope was inundated by power surging back—magic, the wolf, and so much more. If her powers had been overwhelming before, this was infinitely more, whatever that word was…no wonder The Hollow had wanted her.

And speaking of The Hollow, Hope felt all of that power—and darkness—within her. It was as though she had tapped into her entire bloodline, had the power of Inadu and all the Crescents, of her father and uncles, of Esther and Dahlia and their ancestors to time immemorial, all flowing through her at once. She was a walking totem of the most powerful ancestral magic. Power was one hell of a drug.

Slashing her forearm with the broken end of the crook, Hope watched as her fully-activated tribird blood flowed down her arm. “Vitris,” she cast, watching the blood harden into a sword in her hand. Moving quickly, the auburnette slit her other wrist before plunging the sword into her gut, gasping in pain and then collapsing to the ground. Her blood flowed freely and pooled on the soil, sizzling like acid. Forcing herself into a near-sitting position, the tribrid yanked the blade from her stomach and stabbed herself in that same region repeatedly. Hope slowly drug herself to the edge of the shimmering pool, groaning and leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. By this point, her blood was gushing from the wounds and had nearly formed a small pond. Now nearly exsanguinated, with a final flourish of pain, Hope pulled the blade from her gut and plunged it into the ground, where it was drenched with a geyser of blood from her stomach. “See…you…in…hell…” the auburnette gritted, before toppling into the silver-black pool.

Had she remained, Hope would have witnessed massive fissures opening in all directions from her blood sword, and the popping, fizzing, and sizzling of her blood eating through the world she left, dissolving it. Malivore was disintegrating, unravelling from the one thing that could destroy it, and soon it would be nothing more than a memory, a bad nightmare haunting the dreams of those who had known it and survived.

Josie awoke in a soft bed in an unfamiliar room. The last thing that she remembered was Landon—Malivore—snatching her away from Hope and consuming her, taunting the tribrid that he had won. Was this what Malivore was like? It was nothing like Hope or any of the monst…other beings Malivore had consumed had described. Had she died? Was this Peace? The brunette began checking herself for injuries or other telltale signs that she might have died…and she pinched herself for good measure, in case she was dreaming. But, no, it seemed she was very much alive, in the softest bed she had ever known, in a room so opulent she could not even imagine.

A gentle rapping sounded on the door, and Josie softly replied, “Come in.”

“My lady,” a woman entered the room, curtseying, “my Lord is awaiting your presence.”

The siphon struggled to rise from the bed—there was such a thing as ‘too soft,’ apparently—but finally managed, and she followed the woman out of the room and through many hallways before entering an ornate hall with a massive throne made of yellowish stone at the far end. On it sat a shirtless, muscled man with a cruel, withering gaze…the ‘Lord’ the woman had referred to, Josue presumed.

“Welcome, Josette,” the man’s voice boomed out as the pair of women approached his throne. “We have been waiting for you for some time now, watching your development with great interest.”

“Who…who are you, and how do you know my name?” Josie asked, slightly frightened for the first time since she awoke.

“Oh, yes, I forget…with the passage of time, we are no longer worshipped by your kind, but we have not faded away. We still hold dominion over the earth, the sky, and the sea, over life and death…. I am Hades, first-born son of Cronus and Rhea, brother to Poseidon and Zeus, ruler of the underworld, keeper of the dead. I know many things, and I have many servants working for me among the realm of humans. You have been on our radar since you nearly set your sister on fire, but lately…burning Penelope Park’s hair, the black magic…so much black magic! and taking retribution on Alyssa Chang…now that was a form of justice we admire greatly.”

A chill went down Josie’s spine, in spite of the heat of the place. Hades! Hades had had his eye on her, and now, somehow, she was in the underworld, his domain, kneeling before him.

“My consort, Persephone, spends only one-third of the year with me, so we have come to an arrangement, where I am permitted to choose another…a sort of ‘junior wife’…to sit by my side the rest of the year. After millennia of searching, I have finally found a suitable match. You, my dear Josette.”

Hope awoke in a new world, one of heat and fire and blinding light, red, orange, yellow, and white. The heat was searing; the only way she could describe it was the feeling of putting one’s face right next to the white-hot coals of a fire—except on a massive scale, on all sides. This must be what one experienced when being baked alive. Breathing was difficult and her insides charred and scabbed with each breath. The tribrid’s auburn locks soon ignited, becoming a flaming mane. Girl on fire…Katniss had nothing on her. Soon her entire body was engulfed, her clothes nothing more than embers. Her skin burned and charred, and soon she felt her flesh melting off of her bones, sizzling as it hit the ground in small drops.

Hope trudged forward, nothing but a skeleton, her bones super-heated from the environment. humanity switch?

#excerpt #Hosie Halloween Horror #hosie

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vvarvvon · 4 months ago

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weaponry.

last update: 08.26.24

AERON

aeron uses a bone steel battle axe that transforms into a bracelet when not in use. it was forged using the blood of hellhounds by aeron himself. it is named døden ikke lenger.

ANAKIN

anakin doesn’t see much battle. when he does, he prefers the sword. call him basic, average, whatever, but he finds his stygian iron blade, named michelle after his late mother, to be quick, clean, & efficient. the blade was a gift from thanatos after michelle’s death.

ASPH

asph has two weapons—memoria autem ferrum & amissa causa. memoria was janus’s blade, passed on to danielle to give to asph when he came of age. the blade becomes a hip pouch when not in use. amissa causa is the weapon he prefers. it’s a javelin enchanted to always return to him and become a ring when not in use.

CEADER

ceader prefers his baseball bat named ausculor (or, rather, a mace called ausculor as the legion rolled their eyes at a sports tool being used for combat… it’s totally a bat, tho), but if there’s no time to call it to him, he’ll pick up a random object to bludgeon his opponent with.

CYRENE

cyrene has a staff with a crescent moon shaped blade on one end. (yes, i am taking cues from moon knight. it’s a cool design!) it is khonsu’s and was given to her by osiris when she first encountered danger after resurrection. couldn’t let the first egyptian demigod(?) in a while die, now could he?

HAILEY

hailey uses the dagger. hers is a celestial bronze blade called lucky bitch.

JACE

jace is steeped in demigod danger through his job. as such, he carries weapons aplenty. the one closest to him is a pocket knife of imperial gold; it’s carried on his jeans’ straps. there’s a bow and full quiver in the trunk, two swords in the backseat’s floorboard, and one of those massive flashlights that feel like they should be weapons in the glove compartment. one sword is imperial gold, the other is celestial bronze. his arrowtips are adamantine. the flashlight is just a regular flashlight.

JAKKE

jakke mostly uses spells in battle. however, he does have a pistol made for him by hecate—magikós dimiourgós—that he still uses when he either depletes his magic reserves or simply wants to use an actual weapon. the bullets are pure magic, which is why the magazine never runs out no matter how many times the gun is fired. when not in use, it turns into a tattoo on jakke’s right palm.

JAVAN

javan has telumkinesis, which translates to being able to proficiently use any weapon as soon as he picks it up. partly due to his power, partly due to boredom, javan has spent the years since his death mastering every weapon type he can get his hands on. his favorites will always be the bow & arrow, as it is the one weapon he had mastered pre-death, and the rifle. however, unlike most of his peers, he doesn’t stick to one specific bow or one specific rifle—he will use whichever he can get his hands on.

LILLIAN

lillian, as a tribute to her mother, chose the sickle as a weapon. she does also carry a dagger and a pocket knife. but the sickle—that’s what she prides herself on. her sickle is named interfector pater. because of her weapon of choice, lillian specializes in close combat and fights dirty.

LUNA

luna uses her hemokinesis to create a long sword. she calls this sword havets kall. she was also gifted a leister (fishing spear) named bølgemaker by her father on her first week's anniversary of becoming an einherji. it was forged using the blood of the kraken as it is what he could get his hands on to create such a gift.

MARLY-ALICE

when it comes time to use weapons, marly-alice only has the silver bow of the hunters.

MILLS

mills is famous around camp for being shit at fighting. he’s tried every standard weapon (swords, daggers, bows, maces). he’s tried the weapons there’s only a few of users of (scythes, kyoketsu-shoges, axes, tonfas). nothing has stuck.

NOËL

noël, after finding out her mother was jötunn, pouring her heart into finding out everything about viking norse traditions. as such, she found out about bone steel. what better way to connect to her divine heritage than to forge a couple of bone steel weapons? her first attempt was a couple of arnis bastons. her father practiced arnis and so did she. after perfecting her crafting technique, noël moved on to making a kyoketsu-shoge. after forging the weapons, she had them enchanted to turn into bracelet cuffs and a carabiner respectively. with the enchantments came names—snømaskin and glacies.

REMY

remy's a brawler. he gets close, takes the damage others couldn't. as such, he has a set of "brass" knuckles made of imperial gold, named a fortiori. however, he also carries a vials of centaur blood on a silver chain around his neck.

RHIS

like all hunters, rhis has a silver bow given to her by artemis. unlike other hunters, rhis prefers to use her umbrakinesis to create whatever weapon she needs out of shadows. her favorite is the scythe as a massive scythe made of shadows cuts a terrifying image on the battlefield. she calls this scythe af jagten.

ORION

orion tried different weapons after getting to camp before setting on a celestial bronze xiphos. he still prefers to use his hands, but chiron insisted on the sword.

SAWYER

sawyer found a set of ring blades with rainbow coloring and immediately set to learning how to use them. she is dagger-trained as well, considering the amount of holographic knives she has bought. however, sawyer finds her ring blades to be the coolest, so they are what she prefers.

SHEAMUS

sheamus has a short sword. he keeps it in his new rome apartment, never taking it out of its sheath unless it’s time for war games. the blade is plain steel, not a divine metal, so it only works on those with mortal blood (so, not monsters), but that’s a-ok since he’s only ever using it against demigods.

STETSON

stetson uses a break-action shotgun, making his own shells filled with a mix of adamantine and celestial bronze.

TRIS

tris has a celestial bronze pocket knife encased in a comb (example of what i’m thinking of). it’s mostly for show since his security team is mostly fellow demigods who can combat the monsters who find ways into his concerts / general life. he can fight, tris just prefers not to as the mist has distorted him into seeing monsters where there aren’t any.

NAME TRANSLATIONS:

døden ikke lenger: death no more.

michelle: michelle… that one’s obvious.

memoria autem ferrum: blade of memory.

amissa causa: the lost cause.

ausculor: to kiss.

lucky bitch: lucky bitch… that one’s also obvious.

magikós dimiourgós: magic maker.

interfector pater: father killer.

havets kall: call of the sea.

bølgemaker: wave maker.

snømaskin: snow maker.

glacies: glacier.

a fortiori: from strength.

af jagten: of the hunt.

#halex —✧— worldbuilding

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mistfm · 6 months ago

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what are some suggested mythos? that's what i'm struggling most with

i'll give you a handful of examples from different concepts! a bit broad, but limited to five. for you and anyone else struggling to settle on something ♥

FAIRYTAILS: big bad wolf, imaginary friend, sleeping beauty, hansel/gretel, ursula. LEGENDARY CREATURES: tiamat, bahamut, hellhound, chimera, leviathan. LEGENDARY WEAPONS: excalibur, green dragon crescent blade, murasame, mjǫllnir, angurvadal. NOVELS/FICTION: sherlock holmes, dorian grey, van helsing, dracula, koshi the deathless.

for anything related to actual mythology would love to see some minor dieties/creatures from greek, norse or korean mythology!

#appless rp #new rp #city rp #supernatural rp #crime rp #admin pix answers #answered qs

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sweetness-pop · 7 months ago

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Hiya! 💗💋🍓🌸Sweetness*POP🌈🍭💀🌟 here!

Imagine someday for season 3, VivziePop will show us a very unexpected GIF as a sneak peak for a future ep:

(Warning: Contains such magical and elegant beauty from a certain hellhound)

Loona dressed in a lovely and beautiful formal fashion:

·A long hi-low strapless Japanese kimono-style dress that is midnight blue sparkled like a starry night sky. Has a sweetheart neckline that gives out a lovely appeal of her revealed heaving *C-cups* cleavage. A golden sash around the waist with a bow (also golden) behind. Pale blue diamond-like accents on the bottom of her pleated skirt. And silver crescent moons and blood red rose prints on the dress.

·Long black satin fingerless gloves with an upside down glowing white pentagram print on the front.

·Black dress sandals with straps, low block heels, and rainbow-reflected white rhinestones.

·Black choker with the full strawberry moon (June, is the month of the 🍓🌕) gem that is in a reddish pink color.

·Ruby red heart and rose gold crescent moon dangle earrings.

·Wavy half up/half down bun hairstyle with an Asian deep dark blue hair stick that has a silver crescent moon and pink sakura (obviously cherry blossom).

·And finally for makeup, Loona is not wearing her usual gothic makeup. In fact, she's not wearing a lot of makeup with the exception of sparkling red nail polish, a colorless eyeshadow with rainbow sparks and she's wearing cherry red lipstick. Loona actually being extremely beautiful without her gothic makeup. Like a hellhound revealed to be blessed with hidden natural beauty.

In the sneak peak GIF, Loona is seen at what looks like a formal gathering(like a party or an event) with rainbow-reflected diamond accents floating around the dark scenery. And Loona is seen giving out her beautiful genuine smile and sweet blush to a tall unseen figure(face not shown) who walked to her as she greets him by unexpectedly doing a........CURTSY. Could this be an "about-to-be dance moment" for our beautiful moon hellhound?

Would your comment be if you see this upcoming sneak peak GIF for a future Helluva Boss episode for either season 2 or 3?

🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

#helluva boss #vivziepop #loona #helluva boss loona #hb sweets #helluva boss season 3 #finally posted this idea #my ideas #from my youtube comment #🌌💎💅🌹🌙🐺💋👗👠🌸👘

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rcdiostcrs · 1 year ago

Text

my pjo characters & weaponry, a comprehensive list.

triggers: weapons, guns (felt that deserves its own label since guns aren't canon-typical; rifles & shotguns), canon-typical violent themes, death mentions last update: 01.28.24

aeron

aeron uses a bone steel battle axe that transforms into a bracelet when not in use. it was forged using the blood of hellhounds by aeron himself. it is named døden ikke lenger.

anakin

anakin doesn't see much battle. when he does, he prefers the sword. call him basic, average, whatever, but he finds his stygian iron blade, named michelle after his late mother, to be quick, clean, & efficient. the blade was a gift from thanatos after michelle's death.

asph ( post )

asph has two weapons—memoria autem ferrum & amissa causa. memoria was janus's blade, passed on to danielle to give to asph when he came of age. the blade becomes a hip pouch when not in use. amissa causa is the weapon he prefers. it's a javelin enchanted to always return to him and become a ring when not in use.

ceader

ceader prefers weapons of opportunity. sure, he has a baseball bat named ausculor (or, rather, a mace called ausculor as the legion rolled their eyes at a sports tool being used for combat... it's totally a bat, tho), but if there's no time to call it to him, he'll pick up a random object to bludgeon his opponent with.

cyrene

cyrene has a staff with a crescent moon shaped blade on one end. (yes, i am taking cues from moon knight. it's a cool design!) it's khonshu's and was given to her by osiris when she first encountered danger after resurrection. couldn't let the first egyptian demigod(?) in a while die, now could he?

hailey

hailey uses the dagger. hers is a celestial bronze blade called lucky bitch.

jace

jace is steeped in demigod danger through his job. as such, he carries weapons aplenty. the one closest to him is a pocket knife of imperial gold; it's carried on his jeans' straps. there's a bow and full quiver in the trunk, two swords in the backseat's floorboard, and one of those massive flashlights that feel like they should be weapons in the glove compartment. one sword is imperial gold, the other is celestial bronze. his arrowtips are adamantine. the flashlight is just a regular flashlight.

javan ( post )

javan has telumkinesis, which translates to being able to proficiently use any weapon as soon as he picks it up. partly due to his power, partly due to boredom, javan has spent the years since his death mastering every weapon type he can get his hands on. his favorites will always be the bow & arrow, as it is the one weapon he had mastered pre-death, and the rifle. however, unlike most of his peers, he doesn't stick to one specific bow or one specific rifle—he will use whichever he can get his hands on.

lillian

lillian, as a tribute to her mother, chose the sickle as a weapon. she does also carry a dagger and a pocket knife. but the sickle—that's what she prides herself on. her sickle is named interfector pater. because of her weapon of choice, lillian specializes in close combat and fights dirty.

marly-alice

when it comes time to use weapons, marly-alice only has the silver bow of the hunters.

mills

mills is famous around camp for being shit at fighting. he's tried every standard weapon (swords, daggers, bows, maces). he's tried the weapons there's only a few of users of (scythes, kyoketsu-shoges, axes, tonfas). nothing has stuck.

noël

noël, after finding out her mother was joutunn, pouring her heart into finding out everything about viking traditions. as such, she found out about bone steel. what better way to connect to her divine heritage than to forge a couple of bone steel weapons? her first attempt was a couple of arnis bastons. her father practiced arnis and so did she. after perfecting her crafting technique, noël moved on to making a kyoketsu-shoge. after forging the weapons, she had them enchanted to turn into bracelet cuffs and a carabiner respectively. with the enchantments came names—snømaskin and glacies.

rhis

sawyer

sawyer found a set of ring blades (i couldn't find their actual name) with rainbow coloring and immediately set to learning how to use them. she is dagger-trained as well, considering the amount of holographic knives she has bought. however, sawyer finds her ring blades to be the coolest, so they are what she prefers.

sheamus

sheamus has a short sword. he keeps it in his new rome apartment, never taking it out of its sheath unless it's time for war games. the blade is plain steel, not a divine metal, so it only works on those with mortal blood (so, not monsters), but that's a-ok since he's only ever using it against demigods.

stetson

stetson uses a break-action shotgun, making his own shells filled with a mix of adamantine and celestial bronze.

tris

tris has a celestial bronze pocket knife encased in a comb (example of what i'm thinking of). it's mostly for show since his security team is mostly fellow demigods who can combat the monsters who find ways into his concerts / general life. he can fight, tris just prefers not to as the mist has distorted him into seeing monsters where there aren't any.

NAME TRANSLATIONS:

døden ikke lenger: death no more.

michelle: michelle... that one's obvious.

memoria autem ferrum: blade of memory.

amissa causa: the lost cause.

ausculor: to kiss.

lucky bitch: lucky bitch... that one's also obvious.

interfector pater: father killer.

snømaskin: snow maker.

glacies: glacier.

#ooc —♫— masterlist #//#some of these are much longer than others...#aeron's norwegian. i feel like he would know what bone steel is. even if he isn't a norse demigod.#malachi bishop finding out his daughter named her blade 'father killer': i'm in danger

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risingpeaksrp · 2 years ago

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Welcome L, you’re now trapped within the boarders of Creation Peaks, where many things seem to lurk in the dark. Be sure to send your information in and check out our checklist within 24 hours so you don’t get lost.

[ elizabeth olsen, cis woman, she/her ] whatever you think you know about ARTEMISIA BLACKWELL, the 33 year old, HETEROSEXUAL, LOCAL , it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored WITCH is often described as OPEN-MINDED + CALCULATIVE, but don’t let them fool you; they can also be VENGEFUL + SECRETIVE, which often has them regarded as the THE FALLEN ANGEL. they are a LEADER OF THE CRESCENT COVEN at CREATION PEAKS, but it’s also said they are a/an LEADER within the CRESCENT COVEN. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

[ holland roden, cis woman, she/her ] whatever you think you know about KATHERINE POE , the 32 year old, HETEROSEXUAL , NEW COMER, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored BANSHEE is often described as INDEPENDENT + INTELLECTUAL, but don’t let them fool you; they can also be SARCASTIC + RECKLESS , which often has them regarded as the THE HARBINGER OF DEATH. they are an ARTIST/WRITER at HOME , but it’s also said they are an RESIDENT within CREATION PEAKS. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

[ madelyn cline, cis woman, she/her ] whatever you think you know about MELODY WILSON, the 25/50 year old, HETEROSEXUAL, NEW COMER, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored LIGHT-FAYE is often described as BUBBLY + CHARMING, but don’t let them fool you; they can also be SELFISH + NAIVE , which often has them regarded as the THE PRINCESS. they are a HEIRESS at CREATION PEAKS, but it’s also said they are a NOBLE within the LIGHT FAYE COURT. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

[ danielle rose russell, gender non-conforming, she/they ] whatever you think you know about PERSEUS ‘PERCY’ FRAY , the UNKNOWN year old, PANSEXUAL, LOCAL , it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored HELLHOUND is often described as WITTY + PLAYFUL , but don’t let them fool you; they can also be SHORT-TEMPERED + MERCILESS , which often has them regarded as the BEARER OF DEATH. they are a GROUNDS KEEPER at ST MICHAELS VIGIL , but it’s also said they are a ROUGUE within the CITIZEN . whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

#risingpeaks.accepted #submission

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darkeclipticheart · 3 months ago

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Drawing I did of Esmeralda the pumpkin queen introducing my hellhound OC Crescent

#hellhound crescent #hellhound #darkeclipticheart #digital art #ocart

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shimmerbeasts · 7 months ago

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At their core, devils were surprisingly leisurely in nature. They had a certain draw for the finer things and an aloof lifestyle, normally reserved for the nobility and gentry in the mortal realm. Even someone like Mizora, who kept herself grounded in the world of animalism and predation, could not fully escape these desires, woven into her by the very fires, pulsing in her blood.

Hence why her menagerie too had elements of decorative beauty and taste. While it was not as elegant and loaden with gold as the House of Hope, the menagerie had its own pretty sights: From the stained glass windows, depicting various vices and beasts in a highly stylised manner, to the kennels and shelters, perfectly spaced out and equipped to harbour their respective denizens, to the rooms, harbouring magical artefacts and the impressive library. The floors were covered in long soft carpets of crimson with golden trims, which maids cleaned regularly of the paw prints, the animal denizens left behind.

Nothing showed the personality of the lady of the house more than her private quarters. Wyll had stumbled his way into Mizora's study. The walls and floor were clad in deep brown, polished wood, making the study almost appear like the inside of a coffin. A fireplace made out of thick, solid marble illuminated the study. Its fire crackled and spit behind a metal cage door as if to ensure that it could not get too deep into the room.

If one were to pry closer into the fireplace, one could see that its flames were being fed by broken contracts. While it was hard to break Mizora's deals, it was not impossible. And sometimes, if she was particularly mad at someone for their transgression, she revoked their partnership and let her hellhounds come after them. Without her protection or guidance, these people were welcomed fodder for her brood. After all, not everybody was a monster hunter like Wyll.

Heavy shelves were stacked with ancient tomes and books. Their heavy, leatherbound backs were decorated with fine embroidery, silver studs and the occasional amethyst, ruby or sapphire. There were other trinkets and items, adorning the shelves: An urn with the family sigil of a long-gone family, something small, round and soft, wrapped in a white towel, and last, but not least, a glass jar, shielding a tiny golden tripod, upon which in a casing rested a human eyeball, its nerve damaged. Blood smeared across the tripod. Its iris was a light blue colour, almost tipping into a silver hue.

Mizora was sitting in an armchair, which seemed to be a pillow, shaped into a half-crescent shape and reinforced with black wood along its edges. The cushion was of a deep, ruby red. Mizora's thick, ashen grey-blue tail wrapped around one of the legs on the front. Her leathery bat wings draped over the armrests and lazily flicked back and forth in the air. The Cambion was dressed in her long, decoratively open dress, her stomach muscles softly rippling from her breath. Her golden jewellery shimmered like liquid fire in the warmly lit room.

In front of her stood a painting frame, in which Mizora had strapped a glowing, golden shimmering sheat, which had a strangely liquid or fleshy substance. Upon it, Mizora had tattooed a variety of beautiful-looking, deep red roses. The Cambion was still holding the long, thin needle in her hand, as large as an ice pick. Its end had a little, blue crystal, woven into a mess of iron strands. The needle's tip was coated in viscous, red paint.

Hearing Wyll's voice in her head, Mizora's breath hitched in her throat. A serene smile spread across her lips as she placed the needle on a small plate, covered in paint splatters. Oh, how she had missed her puppy's voice! For the last thirty or more years, Mizora had been by Wyll's side, and, thanks to the sending stone in his eye, nothing he had experienced had been out of her reach. Thus when he had breathed his final breath in the midst of slaying a great beast, the fact that Mizora for a short while had not been able to access Wyll's mind had felt incredibly alien to her. She would never say it out loud, but she had grown accustomed to her pupster being by her side.

"Wyll..."

Her voice was soft and affectionate as Mizora turned around to look down at the latest addition to her hell-beast menagerie. Favourable eyes drank in Wyll's new appearance: From his sleek, muscular body, to his dark reddish brown, almost pitch-black fur to the large horns, adorning his temple, to the sending stone, which had comfortably been slipped into his empty eye socket. Just like the last time, it looked like the item belonged on Wyll's face.

Mizora rose from her seat. She purred: "My, my... Haven't you gotten a lovely glow-up, puppy? Come here. I'd like to examine my latest masterpiece." She raised her hand, curled her fingers into a loose fist and yanked it backwards. Wyll was thrust forward as if he had just been pulled by a magical chain, looped around his neck. The motion was familiar, a part of their dance ever since Wyll had been very young.

"Sit", Mizora commanded once Wyll stood in front of her. As he obliged to her demand and sat down on the floor, the Cambion gave a wolfish grin. "Good boy", she praised Wyll, "Now stay." Mizora began to walk around the haraknin, properly taking him in from all sides. Her eyes roamed across his body as if she were devouring him through sight alone.

Finally, the Cambion stopped before Wyll once more. Mizora said: "You, my pet, are exquisite. You have already looked much better as a devil, but now... Now you look even more magnificent." Her hand rustled the fur behind his ears and scratched over his horns.

Mizora finally remarked on Wyll's statement: "Wyll, you have been one of my best investments in the last thirty years or so. You have been one of the most loyal bloodhounds, I have ever had the fortune of coming across. Why wouldn't I reward my favourite pet for having served me so well? You are more than any mere lemure could ever dream of being. You and I will do great things together."

The way in which the maid jerked him around as she was cleaning his horns was enough to cause a fit of anger in him. It was the same carelessness and cruelty at the actions of his father, that led him to lead the life that he had as a human. Yet he knew that it wouldn't be sunshine and rainbows here, either. Temporarily special of not, this was Avernus, one of the many layers of hell. From here on out he would feel that every waking moment one way or another.

As such he held back the anger boiling under his sulphur ridden skin. Sooner or later he would find an outlet for that anger, but for now he was on his best behavior. For a moment it did appear to calm down, as the brush felt nice against his skin, or at least until she got a little too rough. For his part Wyll simply did his best to avoid reacting, careful so that he couldn't be reprimanded for his built in instincts to growl.

'You may think I believe myself to be special.' He finally spoke up as he let her jerk his paws up. At this point he would be a professional at ignoring that pain in no time, with how ruthless she was being. 'But I don't. I know what fate had in store for me the moment I woke up in Avernus as lemure, even before when I agreed to every contract I made. I know I'm in hell, suffering is to follow and I don't expect it to be anything else.'

Yet being here now, he somehow never felt more alive, now that he could feel the fires of Avnernus pulsing through his veins. So much stronger than his previous form as a human turned devil. He knew the horrors he would be obligated to commit and he didn't care.

Wyll did not manage to hold back the snarl that briefly graced his features at how hard to she hit his butt. He did as she said, however the urge to jump at her, to claw at her insides was there. There was an eagerness for it, but not with her, not with one higher rank than him and especially one that served the same master. As such he calmed himself down, instead letting her guide him to Mizora.

His eyes wandered to the view outside, proof of where he truly resided now. Then everything else, from the room in which he caught a peek of weapons, including the rapier she had made out of his soul before, to the many denizens of the menagerie that passed them by. Mizora truly had a different taste of style compared to Raphael, slightly less elegant, but rich in taste nonetheless.

He stopped when she did, noting the similar chains on the door. Even from here he could feel the way the chains thrummed. It felt the same as when she touched his invisible chains as a warlock. Warm and filled the feeling of the nine hells, all in one. The moment he saw the door and the chains that bound it, everything else was disregarded, all he needed was permission to enter. Once he did rushed inside on all fours, stopping completely when he saw Mizora.

'Mizora....' He dared not to take another step, as if he felt he would need permission to do so. 'You found me and brought me back, changed me. I admit I didn't expect that...'

#faerunscursed #rp: a hellish rebirth #youre going to need me count on it: mizora interaction #straight to your handler and i didnt even have to whistle: wyll ravenguard #Post-Canon Verse[Mizora]#things changed since you left: queue

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mrsfenrysmoonbeam · 3 years ago

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if you’d have told me yesterday hunt & the hellhound would be playing fifa together...

#spoilers #crescent city spoilers #crescent city #house of sky and breath #house of sky and breath spoilers #the hellhound #hunt athalar

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bearlyfunctioning · 3 years ago

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Bears & Bravery - Part 3

In the morning—if indeed it was morning, as the underworld remained lit to a dull red glow the entire time she’d been underground—Ursa uncurled from beside Cerberus and climbed her staff hand-over-hand until she had more or less regained her feet. Her back ached from sleeping on jagged rocks, and she winced when she put her weight on her injured knee. The hellhound had shattered her bones, and her magic had healed them once more, but “good as new” they were not.

After a quick, conjured breakfast, the pair continued on their way. The druid kept a steady—albeit slow—pace, but the three-headed dog took the long way: running this way and that, snorfling urgently at scents that only he could detect, and marking the passage from time to time as he went.

After a half-hour or so of shambling, keeping as much weight on her staff as she could manage, the passageway opened to a cavern so vast that it was hard to believe they could still be underground. In fact, the extents faded into the distance, so she doubted she could see precisely just how vast it truly was.

And everywhere, everywhere she looked, souls of the departed gathered. Some sat in groups, others wandered singly, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed her. “Tuur!” she shouted at the multitudes, then not as loud, “Tuur.”

Her staff slipped from her grip and clattered against the stone. “Shit,” she whispered to no one. She hung her head. “I suppose it makes sense … everyone who has ever passed away in all of history…”

Cerberus stooped, and his leftmost head retrieved her staff, then held it out for her until she took it from his mouth. “Thanks buddy,” she said, taking a moment to pet his snout. “Hope you’re not expecting to play fetch with it.”

“Aw, why the long face?” asked a melodious voice from behind her.

Ursa spun as quickly as she could manage without falling over, she raised her staff defensively, but the bear leaning up against the cavern wall did not react. He just smiled as if this were the greatest place to be.

And. He. Was. Gorgeous!

Despite her eternal love for Tuur, just the sight of the grizzly with the perfect cinnamon fur was enough to make her heart beat louder. He had golden eyes, powerful muscles, and a belly so vast that it looked like he was ready for winter’s nap. And sure, the horns on his head and the bat wings on his back were unusual, but with the look he had going, they worked.

“Oh, I see,” he said, his perfectly white teeth sparkling like stars, “you’ve come looking for someone named Tuur.”

“I… I am!” she gasped. Then, struggling to contain herself, she hobbled closer. “Do you know him? He’s a panda with a terrible sense of humor, the sweetest disposition, and brown eyes so soft…” She shook herself from her memories. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The bear grinned wide. His eyes disappeared into crescents and his teeth gleamed so brightly that they filled Ursa’s vision. She leaned forward on her toes waiting until he laughed, “Not a chance!”

“Oh,” the druid huffed, sinking in on herself slightly.

“But I do know a lovely couple who will!”

“You do?” she gasped, but he was already walking away, strolling with long strides as if headed to a fancy party. “Wait! Wait!” Ursa called as she hobbled after him.

Cerberus whined but remained by the druid’s side, and the two rushed to keep up with the cinnamon grizzly. Though he walked quickly, he never let himself get so far ahead that Ursa lost track of him.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the druid scrunched up her face, confused at the sight. A pair of doors, each standing seven foot tall and nearly three feet wide, had been mounted to a flat spot in the cavern floor. With craftsmanship beyond any she’d seen before, both had been carved to resemble a bear’s face. But though the doors’ bases looked sturdy enough, there wasn’t any sort of wall behind them. The two were free-standing in their casings as if someone had forgotten to build a home behind them.

“Uh,” Ursa muttered, confused. She took a moment to peek around the doors, but the back sides looked no different than the fronts.

“Never mind that,” laughed the winged bear. From atop one of the doors, he snatched a wand, and from the darkness above them, four brilliant lights came to life like sunlight streaming through gaps in dark clouds—one focused on either of the doors, one on the cinnamon grizzly, and one on Ursa herself. She winced and shielded her eyes, her night vision so disrupted that the rest of the cavern fell away into darkness.

The horned bear pointed the wand at his mouth, and in the smoothest of tones, he announced, “Welcome once again! Today’s challenger is…” He pointed the wand at the druid’s mouth and waited, his teeth sparkling like diamonds.

“Uh… Ursa?” she said into the twig.

“Welcome, Ursa!” he laughed, the wand pointed back at his own mouth. With a twinkle in his eye, he explained, “Today, Ursa will be facing two doors. Door number one has been carved from hickory, and the grain has been polished to a beautiful shine.”

The carving on the leftmost door came to life. It looked shyly down, a blush of mahogany coming to each of her cheeks. “Oh, Typhon, that’s so kind of you to say!”

“Oh, whatever,” grunted the face carved into the rightmost door.

“Door number two has been carved from one single slab of oak!” Typhon announced.

“Like that’s something to be proud of,” huffed the hickory door.

“Uh,” interrupted Ursa, “and how is this supposed to help me find Tuur?”

“Because,” the horned bear explained with one finger raised, “stepping through one of these doors will take you right to him!”

The druid frowned, apprehension lining her face. “And the other?”

“To annihilation!” Typhon cheered, his voice dripping with honey.

“What?” gasped Ursa.

“He means,” the door on the left explained, “that if you were foolish enough to step through that door,”—the hickory face glared at the oaken door—“then you’ll be completely annihilated, and you’ll never be able to reunite with Tuur—not even in death.”

“Ugh,” the oaken door growled. “Why do you tell everyone that? You’re the door that leads to annihilation!”

Ursa’s lower lip drooped. She turned to the winged bear. “Which door leads me to Tuur?”

“Don’t ask me! Only they know. But I’ll warn you,” the cinnamon bear laughed, mugging a grin as if he were using his favorite catchphrase, “Someone’s a Liar!”

“So, I guess you’re saying that I need to … uh…” she said, seeking affirmation from Typhon that he wasn’t giving her, “have to first discern which door is the liar … and then ask the other door which one leads to Tuur?”

The winged bear only smiled. Ursa looked over at Cerberus, but though he tilted his head supportively, his size and strength couldn’t help her. So, she turned back to the doors and addressed them both, “What color is my fur?”

The carved bears responded simultaneously; though the oaken door replied, “Brown,” while the hickory door said, “A lovely shade of brown.”

Ursa scowled. Her fur was brown, so the oaken door hadn’t lied. Did that mean that her fur being lovely was a lie?

She scowled over at Typhon, but he winked when he explained, “It would be far too simple a challenge if one door could only tell lies, my dear. One of them lies, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not capable of telling the truth.”

“Okay,” said Ursa, “so, I need to figure out which door is incapable of lying and ask them which door to take.”

Hickory started, “If you wanted to know who was capable of cruelty—”

But Oak interrupted, “Back to this, huh? I already apologized! And you never even—”

“I don’t owe you forgiveness!” shouted Hickory.

“Guys?” Typhon whispered from the side of his mouth. “We’re getting off track here.”

“And how could I forgive,” Hickory barreled on, “when you just keep doing it?”

“All I said was—”

“I know what you said!”

“But all I—”

“It wasn’t what you said, and you know it!” she shouted over him. “It was how you said it!”

“I can see that you guys are having some issues right now…” Ursa said in a reassuring voice, but her attempt to mediate between the doors fell flat.

“This is the same sort of crap you’ve pulled for the last millennium!” shouted Hickory.

“Me?” Oak shouted back. “Ever think that maybe you’re over-sensitive and taking everything as an attack? I could ask what time it is, and you’d pretend that I was calling you old!”

Cerberus whined and the druid leaned back against him, frowning hard.

“C’mon, I need you on your A-game, guys!” the horned bear hissed at the doors, but they ignored him, shouting louder and louder—shouting always, listening never.

Typhon looked over at Ursa. He smiled at her, but the smooth, easy grin he’d worn before looked faded and desperate. “Heh. Looks like today’s challenge is … uh, extra exciting!”

“Not really,” the druid huffed. “Pretty simple stuff, actually.”

Typhon’s face lit with hope once more. “Oh yeah? I mean of course, oh yeah! For a clever adventurer like you … uh…”

The druid just stared at him, and he searched desperately for something to say. At last, he managed, “Someone’s a Liar!” but he failed to deliver it with even a fraction of the charm he’d used before.

“Yup,” said Ursa.

“Oh, uh, so you’ve figured out which door is which?”

Ursa leaned her weight back on her staff. “They both lead to oblivion,” she said as she turned to walk away.

“Uh, no!” Typhon chuckled. “That’s not how this game is played!”

“And you,” Ursa said without looking back, “are the liar.”

Writing by my author friend Gre7g Luterman! Illustration by me~

#bearcomic #Bears & Bravery #Bears and Bravery #druid #demon #cerebus #door that lies #trick #Hero's journey #story

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