#her entire goal by living in the ruins is to take in fallen humans and protect them

[everysongineverykey]

some guy commented on my narrator + toriel fic saying "well the narrator's done some questionable stuff once or twice but he's not the one who let SIX children DIE just to SPITE her ex-husband" lmaoooo bro did you even play undertale? you can just say you have no reading comprehension it's okay

[aikoiya]

Preceeding Bandit learning about his ultimate fate at the end of the Fallen Timeline (slowly losing his humanity & sense of self to his own hatred & ambition; to the point where he is left as little more than a rabid animal incapable of speech), but also refuses to let himself be reduced to such:

I'll be honest. The analytical fan, Analice, would legitimately take a step towards Bandit. But in that military posture sort of way with hands folded behind her back. Look up at him & say, "Good. Show everyone, including yourself, your people, your mothers as well, that you're more than that. The fact that you still live means that your fate is not yet set in stone. In order to do that, it is necessary to change. Someone once said that doing the same thing over & over, yet expecting a different result was the definition of insanity. Are you insane?"

If no, "Didn't think so. One of your biggest issues is that you are one of the most stubborn men that I have ever known. It takes a special kind of bullheaded to keep doing this sort of thing to yourself & not realize, 'maybe this isn't the right method to do things. I should try to achieve my goal some other way.' So, try something else. You are smarter than some brute, so stop acting like one. Yes, be strong & powerful, but don't forget to be smart about it."

"One of your other mistakes was that you didn't really do much with your power after obtaining the Triforce of Power, which defeats power's entire purpose. It is a tool of great versatility & utility. In many ways, it is a hammer. Meaning that it can both break & build. Sometimes, it breaks things & uses that which is broken to build something new. So, why only use it to cave in an enemy's skull when you can also use it to build barracks for your soldiers? Or astrolabes & armillary spheres! Or, if you're absolutely fixated on war, why not use it to build catapults?? Or trebuchets?? Or onegers! Or canons! ... Sorry, I got a bit carried away with the metaphor. Point is, there's more you can do with power than you've been doing with it. Perhaps you didn't even recognize those methods as actually having merit before &, have thus, disregarded them."

"The best suggestion that I can give is to listen & learn. Also, to recognize that failure is not equivalent to defeat. It is a chance to learn. Then, you use the things that you've learned to do better & be better. And while you are the strongest, that does not erase the strengths of others. Nor does it diminish them. Because cooperation is also a strength as it multiplies & compounds individual strengths & effectiveness provided there is an appropriate level of synergy. Something to remember is that the better your people do, the better it reflects upon you & your competency as their ruler."

"So, that begs the question of why you left them in the desert for those seven years? Why not have them living in your new capital so that you had strong, loyal, & dedicated soldiers surrounding you?"

"Not to mention, everything I saw that you did after 7 whole years could've been done in a month tops. So, what did you do with all that power? Because I don't see anything of any value that has taken place in that entire stretch of time. It was as though you became fixated on having the entire Triforce & forgot about everything else. You could've done so much, but you actually accomplished... practically nothing! And, why is your new capital city in ruin with shambling, rotting, rancid corpses littering the streets like something from a B-list horror rewrite of a classic novel?? See that?"

*points to the holy show that was once Castle Town*

"That, right there, makes you look weak, incompetent, & ineffective as a ruler. It's embarrassing. Especially since I know you can do better than this."

"I don't know who it was that told you that power was the most important thing. That it was the only thing, but whoever planted that seed inside of your head & nurtured it, basically set you up for failure."

He twitched as he's assaulted by many numerous memories of his mothers telling him exactly that throughout his life.

"Because if it were true, then how is this!"

*Makes a sweeping motion behind her to once more showcase his many morbid ends, most of them by children*

"Happening!? How are the Hylians the ones running things & not the Gorons? They're made of flipping rocks, so they should be stronger & more capable. And if you say 'because of the goddesses' or the Triforce or the Master Sword, then please just stop. The goddesses have never just done things for them. They are, by nature, extremely hands off in their approach. Yet, they still appear to care what happens. However, if that's the case, then why do they need princesses & heroes to fix things for them?"

"It's entirely possible that they, much like many things, have limits on what they can do. For all that is known, there might be some non-interference rules or rules of engagement or something. Where there are people, there is also society. Even if that society is made up of supposedly celestial beings. And with society comes rules & if you want to remain within that society, then you follow the rules. Even in mythical societies, that's how it works. It's possible that they aren't allowed to interfere directly. If so, then they need to work more indirectly. Or, when they do, something similar to the God Games from Epic takes place. Which would explain why they do little more than leave instructions & tools for the hero."

"And it isn't even always the Master Sword that strikes you down. Sure, it's the best tool against you, but it isn't the only one by far. It's actually pretty simple. They pinpoint your weaknesses & they exploit them. And don't say that you don't have any. It's exactly that sort of thinking that gets you into trouble in the first place. You refuse to consider the possibility of failure, so when it happens, you're blindsided & unable to recover quickly enough to effectively turn even your losses into something you can turn in your favor. Regardless, it's not a question of power. But more so a question of strategy & resourcefulness. Using what you have in intelligent, creative, & effective ways."

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to seeing their death scene in game? Like they are shown a TV, playing out their Deaths?

Here’s how each Ganondorf and Demise might react to witnessing their own death scenes from the games:

Ganondorf (Wind Waker)

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf, known for his reflective and somewhat tragic nature, would likely watch his death scene with a mix of sadness and acceptance. Seeing himself defeated by the Hero of Winds, he might feel a sense of inevitability and a deep melancholy over his failure to reclaim Hyrule.

Small Scene: Ganondorf stands before the TV, watching the final moments of his life play out. As he sees the Master Sword plunge into his skull, he remains silent, his expression unreadable. The waves crash around his stone form, and he can almost feel the weight of the ocean pulling him down.

He lets out a slow, resigned sigh. “So, this is how it ends…” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of sorrow. “All my efforts… reduced to nothing.” He turns away from the screen, a faint smile of acceptance on his lips. “But perhaps, in another time, I will find peace.”

Ganondorf (Ocarina of Time)

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf, with his pride and ambition, would likely react with anger and frustration upon seeing his defeat. The scene of his transformation into Ganon and subsequent sealing away would provoke a fierce response, as he loathes the idea of being bested by the Hero of Time.

Small Scene: Ganondorf watches as his monstrous form is defeated and sealed away in the Sacred Realm. His fists clench, and his eyes burn with fury. “Sealed away… like a common beast!” he snarls, his voice filled with venom.

He glares at the screen, the image of the Sacred Realm’s door closing in his face. “This is not the end! I will return, and when I do, no hero, no goddess, will stand in my way!” His voice echoes with determination, a vow to break free from his eternal prison.

Ganondorf (Twilight Princess)

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf, who is more composed and calculating, would watch his death with a mix of disbelief and anger. Seeing himself impaled by the Master Sword and dying on his feet, he would be filled with a burning desire for revenge, though a part of him might grudgingly respect the hero’s strength.

Small Scene: Ganondorf’s eyes narrow as he watches the Hero of Twilight plunge the Master Sword into his chest. The light fades from his eyes as he stands tall, refusing to kneel even in death. “So… this is how it ends…” he mutters, his voice cold and filled with anger.

He watches his own death with a clenched jaw, his gaze fixated on the screen. “But know this,” he says softly, his voice dripping with malice, “I will return, and when I do, I will crush anyone who dares to stand in my way.”

Ganondorf (Hyrule Warriors)

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, known for his sheer power and aggressive nature, would likely watch his death with a mixture of outrage and disbelief. His pride would be deeply wounded, and he would be filled with an intense desire to exact revenge on those who brought him down.

Small Scene: Ganondorf watches as his defeat plays out on the screen, his eyes narrowing in anger. He sees himself overwhelmed by the combined forces of the heroes, and a low growl escapes his throat. “This… this is unacceptable!” he roars, his fists slamming into the armrests of his throne.

He rises from his seat, his body trembling with rage. “I am the King of Evil! I will not be defeated so easily!” He turns away from the screen, a dark aura surrounding him. “Let them enjoy their victory… for now. They will soon learn that I am not so easily destroyed.”

Ganondorf (Tears of the Kingdom)

Reaction: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf, with his more layered and introspective personality, would likely watch his death with a deep, simmering rage but also a sense of understanding. He might see it as a tragic end to his ambitions but also recognize the hero’s strength in overcoming him.

Small Scene: Ganondorf watches as the final battle unfolds, his heart sinking as he sees himself fall to the Hero of the Wilds. The darkness around him fades, and he sees the light return to Hyrule. His expression hardens, a deep scowl forming on his face.

“So, this is the end of my reign…” he mutters, his voice low and filled with bitterness. He turns away from the screen, a dark determination in his eyes. “But mark my words… I will rise again, stronger than before. And this time, I will not be defeated.”

Demise (Skyward Sword)

Reaction: Demise, the embodiment of hatred and malice, would watch his death with cold detachment and a sense of inevitability. He might acknowledge the hero’s strength but would be more focused on the curse he places upon Link and Zelda, ensuring that his malice would persist through the ages.

Small Scene: Demise watches his final battle, seeing the Hero of the Sky deliver the finishing blow. His expression remains cold and unfeeling as his form is swallowed by darkness. “So… the hero wins this time,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

But as he sees himself place the curse upon the hero and his descendants, a cruel smile forms on his lips. “But my hatred will never die… it will be reborn again and again, until the end of time.” He turns away from the screen, satisfied with the knowledge that his legacy of hatred will endure.

[fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan]

My Treasure - William Nylander

Request: Can you do one where you are pregnant with William nylanders baby and getting hate and he makes you feel better

Getting pregnant at 24 was definitely not a part of my 5 year post college plan. Then again falling in love wasn't one of my bullet points either. But when my period was over a week late I knew that everything was about to change. William was thrilled when he saw the bolded word on the pregnancy test, immediately wanting to tell anyone he could. I was a little more hesitant to share the news.

I knew that I wanted children someday and those feelings intensified once my relationship with William became serious, I just figured we would be married and I would be a little more secure in my teaching job before we would add a baby to the mix. We told our families first and they were all excited and happy for us, same with friends and teammates. The real problem came when we started to share the news with the rest of the world. On William's social media everyone was happy for us and wishing us well, but mine is where all of the hate went.

She probably got knocked up so he couldn't leave her.

Hopefully you don't gain too much baby weight, you could already stand to lose a little.

You're not even pregnant with his kid I bet, just went to the guy with the biggest paycheck.

I did my best to delete the comments as soon as I saw them, hiding them from William so he wouldn’t get upset. Some people didn't get the hint after the first deleted comment and I would end up blocking them. Two weeks after announcing our pregnancy the nasty comments were outweighing the nice ones of my post. My pregnancy hormones went crazy one day when my pants didn't fit for the first time of the pregnancy and William was away on a road trip until the morning.

I canceled my plans to go get dinner with some friends and instead had a pity party in some of William's clothes with ice cream and reading through all the horrible things that were being said about me.

I can't believe he is still with her, she is not pretty enough for him.

Fat cow

You are going to ruin his career with the child.

I cried myself to sleep on the couch after midnight and didn't wake up until someone was brushing some hair out of my face. Slowly opening my eyes I saw a concerned William kneeling on the floor in front of me. "Ellie, what’s wrong? Were you crying?" I sat up, making room for William next to me before he pulled me into his lap. "Your friends texted me last night and told me you skipped on going to dinner with them. Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?"

"The baby is fine, I just couldn't find anything that fit comfortably with the bump. I had a pity party with ice cream and must have fallen asleep." Everything I said was true, I just left out one major thing.

"I'm sorry babe, but can I finally buy you some new maternity clothes? Please." He gave me puppy dog eyes as he begged, causing me to laugh and turn to face him more.

"You love shopping more than I do."

"Is that a yes? I'm taking that as a yes. Go get ready, shopping might take all day." With that he was carrying me down the hall, laughing the entire way. When he finally set me down I managed to find a t-shirt dress that wasn't too uncomfortable and proceeded to get ready.

***

After a full day of shopping William took me out to dinner at our favorite Spanish restaurant. I excused myself after we ordered a bunch of small plates to share to run to the bathroom and when I got back William was standing at the table with a large plastic bag and shaking hands with the owner. "What's going on?" 

"I thought you might be more comfortable if we went home and ate. I've kept you busy most of the day so I know your feet must be bothering you." His tone was off but I brushed it off as we headed out. The drive home was a tense silence without even the radio playing.

I didn't say anything until we were in the apartment and William started slamming cabinet doors as he got plates. "What's wrong?"

"I just don't get why people spend so much time trying to make other people down! Like, what does it do for them?" He had a fire in his eyes I had only ever seen on the ice, and I wasn't sure what was causing it.

"I'm going to some more context here. Did something happen at the restaurant?"

"Before we left the last store I took a couple of pictures for our shopping day and posted them to Instagram. I thought it was no big deal, just sharing what I was up to on a day off. And then when you were in the bathroom your phone started buzzing like crazy so I thought someone was trying to call you. But all of your notifications were for Instagram, and I know I shouldn't have opened the app on your phone but I thought maybe it was your girlfriends' group chat and Sophie finally got engaged." I let out a small chuckle at that, we basically were taking bets on when her and her high school sweetheart would finally take the next step.

"I'm guessing that isn't what you saw." I knew what he was going to say next but I was hoping with every fiber of my being that I was wrong.

"No, I saw the worst of humanity in your DMs. I just- how can people be so cruel?" William slumped into the bar stool next to me at the island as I reached for my phone having to see what was sent to me now. "Ellie…" I ignored his worried warning as I opened up the app, going to my DMs.

Fat cow, you only got pregnant so that you could lock in some who is far too good for you. I hope he sees he could do so much better and kicks you out before that baby ruins his career and life!

So you are just using him for his money. I bet the baby isn’t even his, probably a teammate who makes less. Whore!

Bitch, why are you even with Willy? He is a literal hockey god and from what i can tell you are just some stupid high school math teacher. He can do so much better than you. 

There were over 50 messages just like those, all sent within the last hour. I didn't even dare look at the comments on my latest post, even though it was a few days old the braver trolls put their nasty messages there for the whole world to see.

"How long has this been happening?" I had hopped off my stool, going to plate up the food we brought home and trying to avoid the conversation I knew we needed to have. "Ellie… Please talk to me. How long?"

"Honestly, since we started posting that we were dating. It's gotten worse since we posted that we are gonna be parents."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because part of me thought that if I just deleted the messages and comments that it wasn't real. That if I was the only one who knew that I could just pretend that it was all in my head. Then there is that stupid voice in my head that likes to play up my insecurities, that made me feel like if you saw what people were sending me that you would believe it. And I know that thinking that is stupid and unrealistic but it can sometimes be the loudest thing in there." William also got off his stool, coming to stand right in front of me. He kissed my forehead before cupping my cheeks and holding eye contact.

"Min skatt, never feel like you have to hide this from me. You are the one I am in love with and want to spend the rest of my life with. You are the only one that can make me smile and laugh when I am in a bad mood after a game. You are the only one I see myself growing old, and possibly bald with." I let out a gasp at the word bald, he was so protective about his hair.

"See, the rational part of me knows all that."

"Well, let me make it clear to every part of you. I love you with every fiber of my being and as soon as I meet with your father next week to ask for his blessing, I will be asking you to marry me."

"Will…"

"But I am going to need you to act surprised when I ask." That got a small chuckle out of me. 

"I'll do my best." William's stomach growled then, making both laugh. "Let's eat before your stomach starts communicating with us again." William just nods, a thoughtful look on his face that I'm sure would cause problems later but right now I just wanted to live in the happy moment.

After reheating the food and settling at the kitchen island to eat, I went through and deleted all the DMs and comments. I barely registered what they said as I deleted. What I didn't know was Will was looking at the comments as I deleted before pulling out his own phone. It was only when my phone buzzed with another notification that I found out what he was doing. 

@williamnylander tagged you in a post

The post was two pictures side by side; the first was from our first date at a Christmas market, all bundled up and snuggled into each other as we took the photo in a mirror. The other picture was a selfie he took of us at my last doctor's appointment for the pregnancy, both of us were all smiles as I sat on the exam table with a picture of the sonogram on the screen behind us.

Two pictures of the love of my life. One from our first date, where I was a clutz and spilt hot chocolate all over her light grey coat and she still agreed to a second date. The other from a few weeks ago when we got another look at our baby. 

I can say without any doubt that having Ellie in my life has only made it better. She has become my sounding board for when I'm frustrated, my motivation to score more goals, and my ray of sunshine on any cloudy day. 

I knew from that first date that Ellie was the one for me, no one can tell me otherwise. And now she is carrying our first child. My heart continues to grow and fall in love with this amazing, kind, dedicated, caring, loving, and perfect woman each day.

I am so lucky to spend time with you each day and anyone who says otherwise is wrong and jealous of what we have.

Min skat, I am so excited to watch our family grow and experience the joys and challenges of parenthood with you. Ellie I love you and can't wait to see where we go next. 

Together.

The tears started flowing before I even read the caption, the pictures enough with my pregnancy hormones. But the words William managed to write push me over the edge, I was crying at the love he put into the words but also laughing at the not so subtle 'fuck you' to all the nasty people who sent you messages.

"Did I overstep? I don’t want to embarrass you."

"It's perfect. You're perfect. I love you."

"I love you too, and I plan on showing you that everyday. Even if it is something as simple as an Instagram post."

"It's not just the post, it's that you are saying to all the people who see your pictures and then come trash talk to me that you know about them. And that will probably stop some of them from doing it again. And anyone who doesn't get the message gets blocked."

"Good. Now, let go watch some TV and cuddle." Nodding grabbing my plate of food, following William to the couch before curling into his side.

As William pulled up the next episode of a show we were binging, I thought of something. "You never have told me what 'min skat' means."

"It means 'my treasure'. And it reminds me how lucky I am every day to have you in my life."

[taurusborus]

someone translated more of the under the tides event on reddit if you're interested in reading wtf is going on.

I'll also add it under this in case it's easier to read.

Warning, if you don't want to leave the slightest bit of surprise for yourself when the event hits global, TURN BACK NOW!!

I made a comment thread yesterday with a story summary. However, I still left out a lot of things, so I thought I'd make a new post, add in more info about plot I left out, organize the Q&A from the thread, and link to the TLs of the new units. Hopefully a centralized hub of info will help people find the information they're looking for and dispel any of the more wild hearsay floating around.

This will be organized into a few sections, the new unit TLs, my original story summary, a bunch of (my new summaries) separate plot threads that tie into the bigger story, and then some common questions.

Skalter profile + lines TL

Gladiia profile + lines TL

Event CGs

Some good supplemental information about the seaborn hivemind

A much longer summary of each stage, 11 pages - courtesy of Lauli. If you want to know more about the townspeople, Inquisitors, and details on Kal'tsit's end conversation with the Inquisitors, take a look.

The original summary I made yesterday, the fastest crash course on the major story points. I have edited some of the references of the new factions to match the updated TLs from MrSkyblock404 so there's no confusion:

First of all, if you've ever read the manga Claymore, you now understand most of the event. Key differences are that the "Organization" is Aegir. They don't SEEM to be the villains here, and they went the Claymore route to fight the sea horrors fully knowing that their Claymores will eventually awaken into the sea horrors that need to be put down.

The "secret" of the Abyssal Hunters is that Aegirians created them as supersoldiers with the bodies of land dwellers but the blood of sea horrors. More on that down below.

The seaborn is part of the underwater cosmic horror hivemind that's been foreshadowed since the start of the game. Its interest is in learning, evolving, and assimilating everything (a la Evangelion's instrumentality more like end goal of Starcraft's zerg). It's acts primitively... robotic? It doesn't understand things like emotions and "Does not compute. We will learn what you mean" is a large part of its exposition. The church in the town is actually the Deep Sea Church hiding in Iberia and slowly indoctrinating remote towns and turning the people to sea horrors. The ending convo with Kal'tsit implies that Iberia is now completely infiltrated by the cult and if they maintain an isolationist policy, they will be destroyed like Aegir.

The seaborn shows up to impale Gladiia, and reveals the big "you [Abyssal Hunters] and I share the same blood. You are us. We are you." Skadi has a mental breakdown over the truth bomb ("I've killed my own transformed family and friends" etc. Glossing over the specifics, just know she doesn't take some past war trauma well), and it seems like the seaborn can somehow "awaken" the blood and turn Abyssal Hunters like Skadi into one of them.

Skadi is right about to awaken [and probably become Skalter, that seems to be the general consensus on CN forums right now, Skalter = Skadi if she gives in to the call] when Gladiia reveals she was sandbagging (yay superhuman regen abilities) so she could listen in on why the seaborn wanted to meet Skadi so badly. Since the seaborn revealed everything, Gladiia promptly kills it and tells Skadi to get her shit together. Skadi gets her shit together. As the seaborn dies, it says its people will learn to understand everything the Abyssal Hunters have told it, and then they will ask them to join the family again. Also, Specter is now free from whatever "control" the Deep Sea Church exerted over her, she's elated over being "free" now. She's still infected but compared to her previous half-dream state, she considers it a minor setback.

Then there's the Deep Sea Church leader dude who had no idea Hunters were also of seaborn blood and also has a mental breakdown. His entire life's work and dream is shattered because the cult crap he made up believed in is a lie, and the seaborn don't put any special weight on his existence and work. He turns into the SV-9 giant tentacle demon that the 3 Musketeers take down. Before he dies, he curses Gladiia and says some ominous things about how she's different and unlike the other 2, her fate is set. Then in the scene with the mirror, she's shitting on herself for being useless and still ending up like an ugly little bitch. The mirror closeup shows part of her neck starting to look like fish scales, so it seems like she's already undergoing the sea horror transformation.

The town situation

The town has fallen on hard times, and the Deep Sea Church has slowly indoctrinated the population with Iberian values twisted into a pro-seaborn slant. These towns become experimentation grounds for the Church and seaborn. Gladiia confirms that she's been busy destroying many of these experiment grounds. The Church now provides the town with food from the sea when the tide comes. There is also a human sacrifice chosen by lottery, which the Church disguises as "the sea has chosen you to take into its embrace and provide a better life." Kind of like how parents tell their kids their dead dog went to live on a farm. The brainwashed people genuinely believe they have a better life and see it as the greatest honor.

The "food" the sea provides are the "dormant" state of severely injured Dinichthys, which regress into a more resilient meaty form while it recovers. This dormant state is edible (ugh) and what the people harvest during the tide. The unlucky human sacrifice walks into the tide to be eaten by the Dinichthys and thus what the sea giveth, it ultimately taketh.

I would like to note that the Church leader has made an appearance before this event. He has a substantial role in one of the story scenes in Archetto's event. I won't ruin the surprise, but if you pay attention to the setting, you'll know which scene it is before he shows up.

Deep Sea Church agenda and the seaborn

The Deep Sea Church are likely the major instigators of this major "sea vs land" conflict. According to the seaborn that shows up in the Church, the general seaborn population are territorial and generally abide by the animal instinct of survival of the fittest, there is no right or wrong if you kill to survive. The seaborn's behavior and inability to lie show that they indeed don't give a damn about individual seaborn, the Church's plans, or even the Church leader.

Distinction needs to be made between the general seaborn population and the seaborn used by the Church, the latter which could be artificially created. The Church leader is Iberian, but somewhere along the way managed to become part seaborn, which is why the seaborn will listen to him. Being part seaborn allows him to "weaponize" the true seaborn population for his own agenda.

The seaborn themselves indeed have a goal to evolve and and expand (from Skalter's profile). But to what degree the Terra conflict can be attributed to seaborn passive expansion vs. the Deep Sea Church's hostile accelerationism is not clear.

Thus, there's an interesting 3-way disparity between how the conflict is perceived.

* Abyssal Hunters: believes all seaborn must be eradicated * Seaborn: not really interested in the conflict * Church: "it is the will of seaborn to subjugate all"

Regardless, Gladiia has constantly repeated she doesn't give a shit about the seaborn's role in the Church's schemes. Her duty is to kill seaborn, and she's not going to discriminate.

Kal'tsit creates a cliffhanger every time she shows up at the end of any event

After the church-leader-turned-giant-tentacle-demon is killed, its enormous corpse is like a beacon calling to all the Dinichthys zerglings to swarm the area. The 3 Musketeers are like "ok fuck what now" and Kal'tsit swoops in with perfect timing to call Mont3r to completely destroy and bury the ground and its secrets.

She's here to direct the 3 Musketeers to leave Iberia and rendezvous with Misery to go back to RI for a vacation (yes, she actually says they get vacations). The Inquisitors also show up to stop everyone, and after giving them her usual condescending finger-wag-and-lecture, she offers to stay as hostage/information source in an Abyssal Hunter's stead. Her agenda is to convince the Iberian powers to ask for help instead of maintaining an isolationist policy. If they continue to keep it internal, they will be destroyed like Aegir.

She has some atypical kind words for the 3 Musketeers before they leave. To Skadi, she makes a throwback to some cryptic bullshit she said in Grani event. To Specter, she makes some banter about her newfound freedom and moving forward knowing her body's state.

And then it turns out she and Gladiia planned for almost everything before the Skadi sets off for Saltwind City.

The state of Iberia and Aegir

Aegir is pretty much sunken Atlantis. Gladiia says that there's no communication in and out of Aegir after the Calamity.

The Abyssal Hunters were created as just one small piece of Aegir's military power. Aegirians are fully aware of the Abyssal Hunters' eventual fate to turn into the enemy, and have special patrols out to monitor and kill any who turned. The seaborn confirms that they had nothing to do with those deaths. The people Skadi killed and watched get killed, those were all done by her own people. This does not help her mental state.

Iberia has likely attempted to replicate Aegir's Abyssal Hunters. We don't have story on the result of this project, but based on clues in her profile, Andreanna might have some connection to it.

In Kal'tsit's "I know everything" exposition, she states that Iberia once had a prosperous Golden Age, and is now a shadow of its former glory. As stated before, the Deep Sea Church has also infiltrated all levels of Iberian government. Thorns' profile says he left because of "religious strife" and how in recent years treatment of Aegirs in Iberia has gotten worse. All the breadcrumbs are building up to Iberia potentially getting the same kind of Calamity that destroyed Aegir. (See Skalter page's TL note on Calamity.)

Bunch of misc info that don't really fit anywhere else, from yesterday's thread Q&A

It's established that Abyssal Hunters are not allowed to bleed, especially on land. The seaborn says the swarms of cannon fodder zerglings can smell the "same blood" on the Abyssal Hunters. But they're a bit stupid, so their brains only know "this is the blood of my kind, but why is it trapped inside hooman skin?" instead of recognizing it's not a trapped comrade.

Their attacks on Abyssal Hunters are attempts to "free" their kind from the trappings of hooman skin. The more the Hunters bleed, the more frenetic the swarms get, because they know they are getting closer to freeing them.

If you are a Specter fan, you will absolutely love the scenes after she wakes up. The ensuing conversations show that the Abyssal Hunters cherish their close connections like everyone else, despite their usual "stay away from me I'm dangerous" vibes. I really hate how Specter's operator record turned out, and I'll keep salting about it, but this event really did her justice.

Question: Is story Skadi already Skalter? She is wearing the same clothes.

Answer:

No, and this is the biggest misconception that needs to be cleared. At no point in the story does Skadi fully awaken. She comes close but pulls back just in time. The in-universe reason Skadi changes into her wandering songstress wardrobe is that she needs a box carrying her "instruments" (her sword and Specter's chainsaw) and to avoid suspicion while sneaking into Saltwind City. There are two high ranked law enforcement officers (something like that) after her, who know she's an Aegir and a possible threat. In story, she's still guard Skadi. Devs probably wanted to keep the red getup on Skalter to differentiate between the two units.

Question: Why did the seaborn want to meet Skadi so badly?

Answer:

It's not entirely clear thanks to hYpErGRyPh oBtUsE wRiTinG. Every time the sea heir talks about how much it wanted to meet Skadi and perhaps why, Skadi or cult leader interrupt with their mental breakdown monologue. My interpretation of its reasons is a combination of desire to share knowledge with her (learning is constantly repeated as a goal of the sea horrors), extend an invitation to join the hivemind, and ask a question, explained below.

There are flashbacks to this one suicide mission she and her Abyssal Hunter squad had against one particular sea horror. Her entire unit died and she barely made it out after landing a fatal strike on it. Based on Skadi's mental breakdown, it sounds like that sea horror is like the Zerg Overmind, a central connection for the sea horror hive mind.

There's some exposition about how the Overmind isn't really dead, and it's gone into Hibernation Mode because though it no longer responds to communication, the sea horrors can still feel its pulse.

His specific question was whether Skadi heard the Overmind say anything before it went dormant. More Skadi breakdown, because she did. It said (rough TL) "[our] suffering is eternal." The "our" is ambiguous. It could be referring to Skadi and the Abyssal Hunters, since she's the one narrating, or it could be the Overmind and the sea horrors, who Skadi is repeating. I'm leaning toward the Abyssal Hunters since "being abyssal hunter is suffering" has been a core takeaway of this event.

And then Gladiia stops playing dead and kills off our sole source of Aegir lore :)

Question: Is Skalter/Under Tides canon?

Answer:

The events that happen in Under Tides is canon. Skalter's canon status is in existential limbo. As MrSkyblock404 has reiterated, devs have directly said Skalter is a POSSIBLE future in which Skadi gives into the call.

Question: But isn't the fate of every Abyssal Hunter to eventually turn into Seaborn?

Answer:

Technically yes. The call will never fade, so the moment it overpowers the Abyssal Hunter's will to resist, it will have won. But I say technically because the other side of the tug-of-war is the Abyssal Hunter's own willpower. There are hints scattered throughout that their fates aren't set in stone. As Gladiia said to Skadi in her "get your shit together" moment, if you don't want to become a seaborn, then you won't. Not to mention, they can always ask to be killed by another's hands before they fully turn, so they can die as "themselves". This is like the black card system in Claymore. Skalter's E2 promotional record also has this part:

Well, but that's not what I want to say to you today. What I want to say is that when they want to acquire a structure, they transform in that direction.

Skadi, since those creatures can become what they want to be of their own volition ...... Then you can also not become a certain way by your own will. You can do what you want to do.

For example, an Abyssal Hunter. Or, a little more freely, a bounty hunter.

The seaborn as a collective are naturally able to "focus" their evolution toward a specific direction. So as an individual, Skadi should also have a degree of control over what she does and doesn't want to become. Gladiia is implied to still be undergoing transformation despite her obvious obstinance, but the Deep Sea Church leader says she's different from the other 2 and her fate is sealed. As one of the first Abyssal Hunter prototypes, Gladiia might not be able to resist like the later Hunter prototypes.

If you made it this far, nice job! I hope that helps the EN community understand the tsunami of information that got dumped on us in the event.

If there are questions, post in the comments and I will do my best to answer them. Corrections to information in this thread and swapping notes with other CN readers are very welcome!

EDIT: Removed the spoiler bars since I got feedback that it was annoying to click on each paragraph. I've also added a new section "Deep Sea Church agenda and the seaborn" to clarify all the relationships defined in the story.

Also loving the connections the comments are making to other media. I personally made this post because I am a massive Claymore fan. Seconding one commentor, I highly recommend Claymore, it's a gem that's passed a lot of manga readers' radars. I'm also giving Bloodborne and Dragon Age a shot after the event.

EDIT 2: Thanks to the awesome ak-lore group on the official Discord, I've since made a number of corrections on key points. They are in the sections The town situation, Deep Sea Church agenda and the seaborn, and The state of Iberia and Aegir.

[popatochisssp]

Undergloom: AU Concept

What if...

Premise

This is a ‘verse where monsters aren’t made of hope--it’s something that they have to get the same way humans do, through positive circumstances and sturdy social support networks.

So...being trapped Underground with no real chance of escape was, in a hilarious bit of understatement, kind of a huge bummer.

In Undergloom, the loss of the Royal Family’s children was pretty much it for monsterkind’s hope.

The Dreemurrs never split—lacking innate internal hope, Asgore was never overcome by anger and never declared war on all of humanity, simply succumbing to his grief. Toriel did the same and so they never argued over war, collecting souls, and falling humans.

Meanwhile, without a goal and the promise of impending freedom to inspire them, monsters have largely given up. Physically, most are very weak and lethargic, on the verge of Falling Down—and Falling Down is a depressingly common occurrence. Monsters are all relatively uninterested in any humans that fall or pass through, making no attempt to capture them. Any Encounters are half-hearted at best.

Not being hunted and killed for their souls, all the humans who have fallen (the six souls Asgore would’ve otherwise collected) are still alive and have made a small community for themselves in the abandoned Ruins. They gradually congregated there upon realizing that there was no way to escape the Underground without killing one of two very sad and polite (if distant) Boss Monsters. Their eventual plan is to wait for seven humans, the amount needed to break the Barrier, clumsily learning what magic they can from disinterested monsters in the meantime. They’re all an assortment of ages now, and mages of varying skill-level, just biding their time until the Seventh Human falls and they can all be free.

Major Characters

Asgore and Toriel: They never officially separated after the death of their children, but the loss caused an emotional rift between them. While they remain married, the passion has gone entirely from their relationship and they stay together mostly as a formality, to best co-rule their kingdom. They perform their duties separately, coming together only for public appearances--or when Asgore is tending to the Golden Flowers and Toriel ghosts in to pick one, leaving just as silently as she came.

Flowey: Doesn’t exist. Asriel’s dust was spread on the Golden Flowers in the palace, but no DT experiments were ever done, so his later incarnation never came to be. He and his adopted sibling Chara are both resting in peace.

Alphys: Without the guilt caused by the DT experiments, the Royal Scientist is actually one of the most hopeful monsters in the Underground. She’s been very inspired by the (ultra-shoujo/shounen) anime she’s found in The Dump and keeps trying to create things that improve the quality of life for monsterkind—if they’re all trapped and can’t get out, they should at least all try to be happy and not give up, shouldn’t they? It’s…it’s hard to believe that sometimes, her hope isn’t unfaltering, but she wants to keep trying anyway. It’s what Mew-Mew would do! She…thinks…?

Undyne: The Captain of the Royal Guard is bitter and frustrated with the whole situation. She thinks that they should be (should’ve been) collecting human souls from the beginning, to break the Barrier—or at least they should’ve harvested one for somebody to absorb and go through to get more! But everybody’s such a bunch of weak sad-sacks that they won’t act, doing nothing at all about the tiny tribe of humans just about everybody knows is living it up in the Ruins. …but she doubts herself too, because it seems like she’s the only one who thinks that way. That’s what bums her out the most, wondering if maybe she’s a bad person for feeling the way she does, but at least… At least all the passion pouring out of a certain (very cute) Royal Scientist makes her feel better, on her worst days.

Mettaton: A discouraged celebrity, once very excited when Alphys built him a new body, thinking that he was finally going to be able to achieve his dreams of stardom, but..well. An Underground of very depressed monsters makes for a pretty cold fish of an audience. He still has a viewership because there’s nothing else on... but his performances just aren’t very passionate these days, getting more and more lackluster by the episode. He wants to inspire monsters to rise up and reach their dreams, but he just doesn’t know how to do that when he’s not even sure he believes in his own dreams anymore...

Papyrus: Another monster who has a little more hope left than most, doing his best to stay optimistic in the face of a really bad situation. He...may be in a little bit of denial, actually? He maintains that somehow, monsterkind is going to be free again! He just! Doesn’t know how! But it’ll definitely happen, just you wait, they’re totally not all going to die down here without ever getting to experience all the neat stuff on the Surface!!! He pretty much has selective hearing about anything related to that kind of hopelessness, tuning it out and not responding to it, mostly because he knows if he dwells on it too long, he’s going to have an existential crisis/breakdown of uncomfortable proportions and noooobody wants to see that mess, hahaha… In the meantime, he’s thrown himself into human studies and analysis, full-on Little Mermaid style because it gives him something good to focus on, and hope that life on the Surface will be good, once they get up there! He’s actually very close friends with Alphys because of their shared interest (though he’s not sure how sold he is on those cartoons…). He’s also trying to befriend Undyne, because she’s Captain of the Guard and seems really cool! And maybe if he could be friends with her, and cheer her up, maybe she could help him spread that cheer a little bit…? Or! Maybe he just makes a cool new friend and at least one person around here a tiny bit happier, which is also good!

Sans: A guy under no illusions that their situation is anything but terrible. He’s very weak and very tired, even for the Supremely Bummed Out monsters he lives amongst. His nihilist sense of humor and his brother are pretty much the only things keeping him from Falling Down at this point—that, and the humans in the Ruins. He’s met a few of them, indirectly, through his knock-knock routine, and he knows that there’s six of them in there now; knows that with just one more, maybe…maybe…? …He tries not to hope too hard, there’s a lot of random chance and timing involved, and humans just aren’t as sturdy as, say, a Boss Monster. Something—illness, injury, old age—could happen to any one of the humans at any time before a Seventh Human can fall… but he still checks on the door every couple of days, thinking that impossible, “maybe…”

Frisk: The long-awaited Seventh Human! They’re greeted after their fall by the six humans who preceded them, and are summarily tutored about Encounters and souls and The General Situation. After that, their quest is to go through the Underground, learning and mastering their magic so that they’ll be able to help break the Barrier. They’re escorted by the other mages, but are mostly on their own, as they want Frisk to learn and strengthen their abilities by themselves. Frisk is pretty safe in Encounters, since monsters aren’t really enthusiastic enough to hurt them, even on accident—but maybe, depending on what they say and do, they could reignite the hopes and dreams of monsterkind…?

Potential Outcomes

No Mercy - Frisk kills all the monsters they can on the way to the Barrier. Once it’s broken, one of the mages (randomly decided each run) will turn on them. They may only be a child, but based on what they’ve just done, they’re dangerous and only bound to get more dangerous as they get older—it had to end here. The last thing Frisk hears is the mages arguing over the morality of it before everything ends… and they have the chance to RESET.

Neutral -  Frisk only kills a few monsters, or doesn’t kill anyone but does not restore everyone’s hope (major characters). When they get to the Barrier, they find that their magic alone isn’t strong enough to help break it…but the other six mages and any befriended monsters will comfort them and assure them that they can just…live down here a little bit longer. They can try again in a couple years, when their magic is stronger, it’s okay, Frisk! That’s fine, they guess, but maybe…maybe they can do better if they RESET?

True Pacifist -  Frisk kills no one and befriends/inspires all main characters. All the monsters show up to cheer them on while they and the mages attempt to break the Barrier. When Frisk’s magic alone isn’t strong enough, the monsters lend their magic too, and all together it’s enough to shatter the Barrier and let monsters and mages finally go free!

Getting the Good Ending

Asgore and Toriel have to be convinced to split--they realize that they don’t fit together anymore, at least not romantically, and after everything that’s happened, it’s time for them to move on from one another and let go of the past.

Alphys and Undyne have to be brought together-- Alphys’ resolve to reach for better things is validated by Undyne’s admiration of her, and Alphys’ belief that she’s not a bad person restores Undyne’s confidence.

Mettaton needs an enthusiastic audience for once. A cheering crowd (even just of one) is enough to make him perform better, which improves his ratings and viewership, which makes him perform better, and so on in a feedback loop of glitz and glamour until he can believe in his dreams and the Underground’s again!

Papyrus is easy-- he just needs to be told of the humans’ quest to break the Barrier. He knew it! He knew monsters were going to be free one day, somehow! And here’s the proof, a band of mages on their way to make it happen as they spoke! Take that, existential nihilist dread, optimism was right!!!

Sans is both the hardest and the easiest-- he needs you to inspire everybody else first, but then it’ll just happen on its own. When he sees all of monsterkind rallying together, having hope for once...it really makes him believe in that ‘maybe,’ more than he ever could before. Ah, hell...he’ll be rootin’ for you, too, kid!

Aesthetic Notes

Mostly muted, washed out colors and plenty of monochrome, big The Neopets Gray Paint Brush vibes.

Monster magic is mostly shades of gray: the default is white but pretty much only children too young to understand everyone’s predicament remain white. The more hopeless a monster has gotten at their worst, the darker and grayer their magic gets. It’s easier for magic to darken than to lighten, so it will take many years of living on the Surface for monster to see their magic work its way back to white, and some may never recover completely--but they can always get just a little bit better! Even if it takes time!

Asgore and Toriel: Very neat and well put together, but overwhelmingly dour--the vibe you’d expect off a very proper and serious Victorian couple. Perfectly respectable black clothing (for mourning), with little to no ostentation. Crowns are pewter instead of gold. Asgore’s hair has faded from gold to more of a dishwater blond, and his beard shows several streaks of gray. Toriel wears Chara’s locket and plucks a fresh Golden Flower every day to place behind her ear, in remembrance of her children.

Alphys: Some of the brightest colors in the Underground--but in comparison to monochrome, even the soft pink and blue pastels she favors look bright. She wears a lot of cute dresses under her lab-coat (sometimes Lolita style), and always has some kind of ribbon tied in her crest or onto her tail-- it makes her feel cute and pretty and she likes the ego boost it gives her.

Undyne: Droopy fins, scales lacking in luster. She wears her hair down, long and loose about her face, but generally has the same fashion and body type as her canon self. Her appearance is one of those things she hasn’t given up on just yet!

Mettaton: A very Apple tech-esque look, clean white and sleek minimalist lines, basically an iPad on wheels. It’s pretty, but...also kinda boring. His Ex form is a lot more fun, still a little bit of a JJ Abrams look, but with a splash of Daft Punk--the Ex form can do rainbow lights and in comparison, it’s mind-blowingly, eye-searingly flashy...and suits him so much more.

Papyrus: No battle body, and not so much of a Strapping Young Lad--he’s a little slimmer in the chest and shoulders, and dresses like the sweet Boy Next Door he is. His magic is a pearly color, almost white but with a faint tinge of gray.

Sans: Not overly different-looking, favors soft and comfy clothes, anything that’s easy to pull on and cozy enough to sleep in. Extra Rounde™, precisely one notch up from however chubby-looking you normally imagine your Sanses to be. Deep shadows beneath his eye-sockets, and eye-lights that match the color of his magic--ash gray.

Not a major character but I had a cool idea for him so

Grillby: Mostly the same, but his flame burns low and rounded, more like a match or a candle wick than a freely flickering fire.

If you made it this far through all of that, thank you for listening to my idea! That’s all I got. :3

-

ETA some other stuff, since I’ve been asked some other stuff! XD

More about Grillby

Muffet and Napstablook

The mages’ powers

Burgerpants and Nice Cream Bunny

More about Frisk and Toriel

Various Skelebros Stuff: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

Monsters’ reception on the Surface

[bittybattybunny]

Did Kai have any sort of family after losing her foster family and becoming the Demon King? Or did she only have her husband?

Yes actually!!! A lot of Kai’s own story involves her own found family collection (i say collection just. cuz she tends to outlive them)

I’ve briefly mentioned she has a few kids and you see them in one of my sketchbook tours

but she also has a group of friends who she was close to

and the opening chapter of one of her ‘stories’ involves her dealing with the loss of a close friend she considered family (she even tried to go through legal means to see him but when humans turned around and said fuck you she snuck in. I can actually post this writing if people wanna read it?)

She also has some of her adoptive family still alive tho the bloodline is thinner. The Hellsing family she was raised in still exists to a point in her story (before the great catastrophe at least) Her whole ‘became the demon king’ thing happened when her uncle attacked her but she was able to get her sister in law and unborn nephew to escape while she distracted the rest (i have a whole ass animatic planned for this to the song “monster” from frozen’s musical. someday. someday I’ll be able to sit down on it weep)

This nephew was the one who hired Ren to help find “the king of fear” as she was known at that point. Alex is a good boy. His son was the one who went to find his great aunt after Ren’s death and she fully became a fallen god and offered her a place to stay and just. try to relax. She ended up falling into a deep sleep for a while and his family was the ones to build the ‘tomb’ she normally rests in when ever she has these extreme ‘low energy’ periods which can last between 5 years to her longest one was 5000. Typically she’ll rest for between 20-50 years at a time. and there’s a legit reason she does this too. But that’s not about family---

Point is that family is still very fond of their matriarchal demoness and she helped them found “Prometheus” a group to help humans deal with monsters and monsters live in peace. (cuz boy howdy do people have trigger fingers) there are other groups in their world with either similar goals or ones to ‘suppress’ monsters (example: The Order is a group who sees monsters as tools and lesser beings. sometimes Prometheus is forced to work with them and normally they send strong demons or dragons and such so that The Order can’t do anything to their operative. it was on one of these collaborations that Kai kidnapped Booberry from them. she regrets nothing.)

Kai often just refers to the current descendant as just “her nephew” as she’s too lazy to shove the amount of “great” in front of it because she’s old. there’s only one case of a niece and that’s where the bloodline ended (again that’s another story all together)

When Kai woke up after the Great Catastrophe alone she ended up meeting a young man named Leo (who if you look in Kai’s tag on my blog you can see him!) Who she bonded with and she likes hanging out with (and there’s other things but I’m not gonna talk about it)

There’s also her ‘generals’ and a few of them are gonna show in TLC soon (just a brief cameo) A group of 4 who’ve met Kai in a few incarnations and they always tend to get along. Original names were Matt, Trisha, Faith, and Maki is Maki (she’s an elf so she lives longer) Current names are Byron, Tiffny, Jacob and Maki. These four actually form Ren’s party when he’s trying to find his wife at the actual start of “Nightmare’s Dream” and you learn they each have a connection to Kai through the story.

Matt/Branden/Byron; he’s featured in the writing I mentioned up top, he’s kinda similar to Leo in the way he interacts with Kai as an almost human morality pet for Kai. He used to be Kai’s student when she was teaching, and his father was the warden at the jail her friend Sammy was in (this is the friend she lost) Matt can see through her disguise when she’s showcasing nightmares. Kai can cause hallucinations on targets using her ‘fear’ hence her title “king of fear” and normally they are only visible to her and her target. But Matt can see them.

He ends up getting in trouble a few times; once with a tribe of demons who want to turn children into imps, once with the literal Anti christ, once with a haunted house. And each time Kai was there and ends up saving him.

Matt later is in an accident and ends up reincarnating as a winged human named Branden and has all his past memories. So when he starts working at Prometheus as one of their ‘informants’ (aka he goes to gather information in both human and supernatural affairs. he’s referred to often as the angel of trust because of his silver tongue) and he meets her again he shouts something from one of his classes with her causing her to snap back on reflex until she realizes (running joke is Kai loathes Julius Ceaser and if you say his name she always whips around shouting “WAS A SLUT AND A HARLOT” in a very aggressive tone. It makes people laugh when she does and she always gets embarrassed afterwards)

The two of them end up working together for a while and become good friends (and maybe a bit more but they never state really) but then when with his new work partner Trisha (nicknamed angel of death, she works in the sector that deals with cleanup) he ends up betraying Prometheus and Trisha rips his wings off and kills him (this is the context between the ‘redraw’ meme I do every few years of a man with a bleeding back drowning)

Trisha is also someone who grew close to Kai (hence she killed Branden because his folly led to Kai nearly going berserk) but she was killed by a sleeper agent from the order. And this is how Kai lost two of her close friends.

Now backing up to Sammy the inmate one; he was with her when Kai met her first child, the young moon goddess Artemis. Arty is a constant for the demoness ever since she picked her up in the woods (her arc also has one of my favorite kai lines: (which i can’t find the direct line but)

Sam shuddered as he looked around the woods, “Do you ever feel like there’s 100 eyes watching you?”

“Yes but it didn’t work out so we broke up.” The demon responded flatly as she looked around with a deep set scowl.

While she was out with Sammy when he was hunting they ended up finding a little girl who turned out to be a new goddess and her elder sister was kidnapped by the embodiment of Greed in his attempt to become a god. Kai ends up stopping this but also kinda ends up becoming Arty’s mom. While she doesn’t raised Arty fully she does do a lot of teaching and such for her and does refer to her as “her daughter” and Arty calls her mom. when the great catastrophe occurs, Arty is one of the few gods who remained when the rest went to new ‘realms’ or simply vanished and is considered one of the main gods of their world because of this.

And then there’s her son Ganon, an Orc Lord she adopted when his village was ruined. he currently poses as her ‘demon king’ while she pretends to be the chancellor (this is the ruse she uses. normally heroes will fight the ‘king’ and lose but if they actually are a threat or have poor reasoning she kills them from behind. this is also how the story starts as someone found a spell to try and incapacitate her buttt)

There’s also morte and her daughter demeter (I’ve shown them before, a set of necromancers) who she’s very friendly with. Demeter even calls her aunty Kaya and loves to sit on her lap and such during meetings. (i have one snippet when Kai was recruiting someone to their side but hadn’t told her yet she was the REAL demon king and Demeter was sitting on her lap laughing) Morte is thankful to Kai for saving her circus (Morte runs a circus that helps those stuck in limbo pass on but at one point demons of sin over took it in a way to gather souls)

There’s also her friend Ciera, the daughter of the girm reaper. she’s Kai’s best friend for the most part of her life, and is the one who helps Ren when the gods of life and death try to prevent him from reincarnating again (which is like other things a whole other story) (she also briefly shows in Bone Stealer at one point. While visiting bunny’s sick grandmother, Bunny and Steve run into Ciera as she’s leaving. Steve stops Bunny from attacking her) She’s over all chill.

There’s also Nicki. Kai’s ‘twin’ brother. He’s the ‘bad guy’ through the arc that contains Leo and sets up ‘the great Split’ that Kai will cause (this is lore/plot stuff) He originally was raised to hate her by their maternal Uncle who’s a arch mage like Ren however he’s fallen due to his hatred of Kai’s birth. Nicki is not really her brother (in the first life) but a failed clone of the demoness. When Kai is reborn Nicki gets to actually be her brother and the two get along really well and he’s very protective of his sister now that he understands what her actual deal is and not the bs his uncle fed him. Before the rebirth too Nicki helped kai solve some stuff and worked with her until his death (unlike her, he was not immortal)

And then Kai actually has two bio children with Ren! Akito her son takes after her and he’s the one who takes over her role as the true demon king of Tir-Na-Nocht so she’s able to die and try life again, and a daughter, Rei who takes after Ren in looks but... she’s a himbo. pure moron. she got her grandpa’s himbo gene strong. She’s a cat girl who works with her brother and she is the head of the guard.

Aki actually has his own story where he grew up in a ‘mundane’ world but then his entire class got ‘isekaid’ to another. it gets shown that this isn’t truly the case. the great ‘split’ mentioned above was Kai literally broke the world in two realms. She made one primarily humans and high tech and then the other was magic and mostly monsters. there are a mix of both but it cut down heavily on the murder. She raised Aki in the human side for his and Rei’s safety due to them being the children of a fallen god (mama worries) and Aki inherited his mother’s odd ‘status’ “Hero/Demon King”  so he has to not expose his demon nature and also stay below the radar (it turns out the person who summoned them was attempting to break a centuries old treaty) until his mother and father can figure out what happened to him (thankfully he can go to a church and his older sister Arty can act as a messenger but there’s a bit of a time split in the worlds) That world is actually the one “Fae Rules” takes place in o7o.

She also is friends with a dead prince named “Shade” (yes this is who you think it is) as well as her ‘cousin’ Sena (who she loves to give shit to)

And in her second life she obvs has her brother, cousins, her father (her father’s boyfriend/her manny), aunt’s etc!!!

So yes; she had family other than her husband!!!! And she cherishes them all.

[dontcare77ghj]

Sandwiched

 Steve x reader x Peggy

Note: in this fic Peggy was given the same serum as Steve, the two were involved before they were both frozen in the same plane crash. Also, mentions of homophobia and racism (Fuck those people), just a few mentions of some assholes.

Masterlist ��   Sleep Series Masterlist     Halloween/Supernatural Masterlist

Dating two people from the 1940’s wasn’t something everyone in 2019 could say. Steve and Peggy were everything you could want in a relationship though. They had gorgeous souls, they loved humanity and they cared far too much. They were your match in every way.

When they woke up in this decade Fury had asked you to help them adjust into their new lives. It was almost inevitable when you fell for the two of them. The shock of the century was when they admitted they fell for you.

You easily fit into the relationship, Steve and Peggy often said it was because they were subconsciously waiting for you, and you couldn’t be happier. The three of you shared many traits but the one the everyone noticed was how you wanted to help. Now of course you couldn’t save everyone and there were people in this world who made it their goal to hurt those around them, but you all still tried. Though sometimes when all else failed the three of you comforted each other.

Out of the three of you Steve took things the most to heart. He liked saving people, he like defending the little guy and stopping the bully, you and Peggy knew he always gave his all but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. It doesn’t matter if you put your heart, soul and body into something, sometimes things just happen, and you can’t control it.

Steve had been out of the country for a few months now. After finding Bucky and finding out what they did to him all these years, Steve snapped. He wanted revenge for his friend, he wanted to make sure that HYDRA never hurt anyone else ever again.

In his quest to stop HYDRA, HYDRA began to retaliate. They began more experiments, attempted decimate towns and tried to ruin the lives of anyone they could. For the first time in months, Steve was coming home for a while.

A recent mission had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Innocent lives had been lost and he had been fruitless in his attempts to save them. Fury seeing Steve’s rapidly deteriorating mental state, especially after the last mission, had sent him home.

The fact he reportedly put up no argument, really alerted you and Peggy as to what kind of condition your boyfriend was in.

Currently, you and Peggy were waiting, anxiously, in the hanger for Steve’s jet to land.

“Stop pacing.” Peggy said in her strong accent. “You’re making me feel anxious.” She complained, crossing her arms.

“I can’t help it.” You told her, turning sharply to face the brunette. “You heard him on the phone last night.”

“Yes, he sounded absolutely dreadful.” She pointed out, reaching her hand towards you to pull you into her. “But we are going to fix that.”

“We don’t even the extent of the state he’s in. What if we can’t help him?” You asked, biting your lower lip in worry. Peggy leaned down and gently pressed her lips to your making you stop biting your own to kiss the woman back.

“We will work it out. Together. Like we always do.” Peggy assured as you pulled away. Before either of you could say another word, the hanger creaked open and the loud sound of a quinjet arriving reached the pair of your ears.

The two of you watched as Steve’s team left the jet first, all of them appearing tired and a few maybe even injured, until Steve finally appeared. He was clearly exhausted, both mentally and physically, his face looked gaunt, his entire body was hunched over and he appeared ready to drop at any minute.

You and Peggy rushed over to the man and each wrapped an arm around his waist, attempting to support him. Though Peggy was probably doing more of the work with her super soldier strength, you still attempted to help the exhausted blonde.

Steve didn’t say anything as you helped him into the bedroom. The three of you sat on the bed with Steve in between you and Peggy. It was after a few minutes of silences, that Steve finally spoke.

“I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t help anyone.” He muttered, not looking away from the ceiling. He’d been staring blankly at it since you brought him up. “All I wanted to do was to help.”

“We know, Stevie.” Peggy murmured, placing a kiss onto his shoulder. “But there wasn’t anything you could do.”

“You can’t control these things, Stevie.” You told him, shifting to look up at him. “You went out there with honorable intentions, but these people aren’t honorable people.”

“They are pure evil.” Peggy added. Steve looked down between the two of you and nodded his head minorly.

“I just wanted to help.” He repeated, shifting so he was laying down rather than sitting. Steve did not release his grip on the two of you, so you were forced to follow his actions. He held you tightly to his chest as you both laid with him.

You and Peggy would switch off on saying soothing things to the brooding man and drawing soothing shapes on his chest, until he fell asleep with the two of you crushed to his chest.

“He’s still going to be blaming himself in the morning.” You whispered long after Steve had fallen asleep.

“I know.” Peggy said, reaching across his large chest to grab your hand. “But we will ensure he does not feel like this for long.” She added, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“I love you, Peg.” You said, kissing her hand before settling down on Steve’s chest. She leaned over and kissed your forehead gently and then Steve’s chest.

“I love you too, Y/N.” The two of you fell asleep with Steve’s arms tightly wrapped around your waists and yours around his shoulders. A comforting position.

Peggy took a lot to heart. She was passionate, she made changes and she did things. She liked to change things, make people see where they could fix things and make their own life changes.

Back in the 40’s there were a lot of bigoted people. People who expected her to act like other ladies of the decade. Didn’t appreciate how she took charge. Didn’t think she could fight or should for that matter. The fact she was bisexual was not something to brag about in her day either.

When she woke up 70 years later with Steve by her side, she thought things would’ve changed. Women were involved in the military and S.H.E.I.L.D, they took charge and sexuality was often an open thing. She and Steve were told they’d won the war, but no-one told them they were still fighting a war.

Bigotry had not died with the turn of the century. There were still plenty of people who thought women were weak, the LGBT+ community was wrong, and that people of different ethnicities were bad people.

Peggy actively spoke out against those people and would give long opinionated lectures to them and the moronic masses surrounding them. Unfortunately for Peggy, these people were so locked in their one-track thoughts they couldn’t see how they were wrong, and they wouldn’t believe that they could be wrong for once in their miserable lives.

Peggy had volunteered to speak at an LGBT+ event. She had a whole speech planed about being who you are, that it shouldn’t matter to anyone what your sexual preference or gender was and that you should always feel safe in whatever type of relationship you were in.

One narrow minded, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach who had to interrupt her before she’d even really started. Of course, Peggy had told him where to go and where he was wrong, but she was still fuming at his attempt to belittle her and the people she was speaking to.

She had come home practically breathing fire, vile words about the heinous man falling out of her mouth as easily as she breathed.

“And then he had the nerve to say I was greedy and selfish for being bisexual and for being polyamorous.” She ranted, pacing the length of the room. You and Steve sat on the bed watching the woman pace furiously. “Who the bloody hell does he think he is?”

“He’s no-one.” You assured, standing up and grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her. “He’s just another nameless, faceless, asshole who thinks things no-one cares about.”

“But that’s the thing, N/N, he’s not faceless. Not this time. I saw him, I had to look at him as he shouted these vile things to not just me but those kids there.” She sighed, placing her hands on yours.

“And they were all able to see what a coward that man was.” Steve said, moving over to stand behind her. The two of you wrapped your arms around Peggy who went limp at the comforting touch the two of you gave her.

“The man is scum, Peg.” You murmured into her ear as you played with the ends of her hair. “People will come to realize how wrong he is one day.”

“But you were so strong today.” Steve added, kissing the top of her head. “You showed him what was what and all those kids saw how strong you are.”

Peggy didn’t say anything. She just relaxed further into the tight grip you held her in. Steve maneuvered the two of you over to the bed and laid the three of you onto the soft sheets.

Peggy lay sandwiched in yours and Steve’s arms and let out a few shuddering breathes as she attempted to quell her anger. You and Steve ran your fingers through her hair, played with her fingers and just let her know you where there for the woman.

“I love you.” Peggy murmured after several minutes. “Thank you.” She whispered, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

“Love you too, Peg.” You said, kissing her cheek. “Love you, Stevie.” You added, taking his hand in yours.

“I love both my best girls.” Steve told you, squeezing your hand and throwing his arm across the two of your waists. Within seconds Peggy was fast asleep, held in Steve’s and your warm embrace.

Out of the three of you, you opened your heart the most. Steve and Peggy could see this as a positive thing at times, after all, you’d opened your heart to the two of them and easily accepted them into your life. Though, there was a downside to wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Your parents hadn’t said anything when you came out as bisexual. They did stir a little when you declared S.H.E.I.L.D. had hired you. Their reaction to you joining The Avengers initiative was mostly the same. They had caused a bit of a fuss when you’d announced you were in a polyamorous relationship, but when they found out you were in a poly relationship with Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter.

“They are dangerous, Y/N. We kept quiet when you said you were joining The Avengers, but this is ridiculous.” Your mother sighed, narrowing her eyes at you.

“I recall you saying I was going to get killed but sure, let’s say you kept your mouths shut.” You said, rolling your eyes at the two in front of you.

“Y/N L/N, this is not a joking matter.” Your father scolded. “You are getting yourself involved with some dangerous people. People who are older than us for God’s sake.”

“Physically they are my age. I know you can’t see past the numbers but they are the right people for me. Is it the age that makes you bulk or the fact involved with a man and a woman?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Maybe it’s both.” You mother said, standing from the table you were all sat at. “Y/N you are going down a dangerous path. You are constantly risking your life and your ‘love life’, if you can even call it that, is perverted.” 

“We would have been fine if you had just stuck to being bisexual, but this is too much. You are in a polyamorous relationship with Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, with your lifestyle you are going to die an early death and when you do, we believe you will be going to hell.” Your father added, standing next your mother and taking her hand.

“We can help you darling.” Your mother said, giving you a sickly sweet smile. “Leave that team and end your perverted relationship and we can help you.”

“No.” You exclaimed, jumping from the table. “Fuck that. I will not be given an ultimatum, and not by the two of you. I love my job, I save the world for Thor’ s sake, I love my friendships and most of all I love Steve and Peggy. I will not leave any of them.” You snapped, slamming your hands on the table and glaring at them.

“Then neither of us want to see or contact you again.” Your father said, pulling your mother into his side. “Get out of our house and never darken our doorstep again. You are not our daughter.”

“Good.” You snarled and stormed out of the house. You jumped into your car and drove furiously back to the base. Your anger prevented you from bursting into tears, but it hurt that they had treated you like that.

Once you got back to the compound you moved as quickly as you could back to your room without drawing attention to yourself. Making it to the floor you shared with Steve and Peggy, the dam finally broke.

You sat on the couch and began to sob. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t think. All you could hear was the sob of your own sobs and your parents echoing words.

Arms wrapping around your shoulders made you jump in surprise and you snapped your eyes to see your brunette girlfriend looking at you worriedly.

“Shh darling, it’s alright. You’re okay.” She said, pulling you in closer. 

“They don’t want me.” You cried, burying your face in her shoulder. “They told me I was disgusting and they never want to see me again.”

“Your parents?” She asked, running her fingers through your hair. You nodded tried to stop the tears streaming down your face. “They don’t deserve you, darling.”

“No, they don’t.” Steve said, sitting behind you and pulling you and Peggy onto his lap. “It’s their loss, doll.”

Steve and Peggy held you tightly, reassuring you of their own love for you. After several minutes of sobbing, your tears dried up and your breathing began to become rhythmic. 

“I love you. I love the two of you.” You said, sleepily leaning up to kiss Steve’s jaw and Peggy’s cheek. Laying your head on Peggy’s shoulder you began to fall asleep. A loving position.

With the three of you, comfort involved soothing words, gentle touches and laying sandwiched between the other two. You showed your comfort in physical ways and it was what worked for the three of you.

Taglist;

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers     @skeletoresinthebasement      @hopingforbarnes  

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Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Steve x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Natasha

Natasha x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Steve x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Clint

[wewillwriteyou]

could you do 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 from fluff for ben hardy please? like a short timeline of the relationship. sorry if it’s too much

Thank you anon for the request! 💕🥰 I’m extremely sorry it took me so many days to write this, but I wanted it to be good and special because the plot was so cute so I worked very hard on it! I really hope you’re going to enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! 🤸🏽‍♀️💋⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Plot’s request: Short timeline of Ben and Y/N’s relationship

Fluff [2], [3], [4], [5] & [6]: First date + First “I love you” + Moving in together + He/she proposes + Wedding day  

Warnings: fluff, a lot of FLUFF! This is written following the memories and the feelings of Y/N, so get ready ‘cause Joyce’s stream of consciousness got nothing on me (this basically means that “scenes” change fast, because they follow the trail of memories Y/N is thinking about, so don’t panic if you feel lost and confused at some point, in the end, it’ll all make sense I promise); maybe some language here and there, but this is pure asdfghjkl so safe territory, everybody  

Characters: Y/N (fem! reader) & Ben Hardy

Word count: 4.1K it’s long Iknow lmao

Written by: @sweetgcreature

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Check out our masterlist to read other stories!

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Your hands were shaking, as you were trying to adjust a rebellious strand of hair that was curling itself behind your ear. A few glitters glued themselves on your fingertips, falling down your perfectly styled head.

You sighed and decided it was a lost battle when you saw the curl flee again. A shaky little laugh trembled on your lips as you studied your reflection in the rounded mirror; your lips were beautifully glossed and you didn’t dare to touch the make-up on your eyes, being too afraid to ruin everything.

When you heard a few voices getting closer to your room, you closed your eyes and inhaled sharply.

The guests in the garden were vividly chatting together, waiting for your big entrance.

The scent of delicious food had never left your nostrils from the moment you had stepped into your parents’ house.

The footsteps on the stairs got noisier. But nothing could overpower the loud pumping of your heart.

You breathed in and out again, feeling yourself sliding into your own world, slowly into the past and getting lost into your memories …

… the door swung open, making you jump and causing your hand to draw a black line all over your right eyelid. You sighed and surrendered, sitting properly on your rug.

“Emma, I hope it’s very urgent. Like, tell me the world is ending right now. Otherwise, start running!” you announced, rotating your body to look at your roommate.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but – she stopped talking and looked behind her shoulders, before stepping inside the room and closing the door – he’s here” she whispered, walking closer to you.

“What?!” you exclaimed, immediately getting up. You rushed through the door and spied the little living room at the end of the hallway; you could see a tuft of blond hair popping up from the sofa. The second his head slightly moved to the side, you disappeared again inside your room.

“No. Don’t scream. Don’t panic - Emma shushed you, stretching her arms towards your body to calm you down – now breath with me. Inhale. And exhale” she was struggling not to burst into laughter and you could sense the hilarity in her voice.

But you followed her improvised yoga’s teacher skills and breathed heavily a couple times before massaging your temples. She then patiently guided you to the wardrobe and, with her help, you soon choose the outfit and adjusted your make-up.

“Now, you go out and get the boy, okay? He’s here for you. He likes you. And, remember – Emma got serious for a moment, pressing her hands on your shoulders – not too much tongue during the first kiss”

“Emma! You nasty!” you screamed and laughed at the same time. After a few more giggles, she hugged you tight and let you go to finally meet Ben.

Seeing him walk in your living room, as he smiley admired some photos, seemed so surreal. You gave your eyes the chance to look at him one minute more, before coughing a little to recall his attention.

“Oh, hi! – his smile could light up the entire room – you’re beautiful” he shyly admitted, getting closer and bending down to give a small kiss on your already blushing cheek.

“Thank you – you lowered your head a bit – should we go?” you proposed, stuttering a little bit.

“Sure – he agreed and immediately got closer to take your jacket inside his hands – here, let me help you with this” he caringly said, sliding the coat on your shoulders.

“Wow, what a gentleman” you joked, perching yourself on his arm as you walked towards the door.

“I want to impress you. That’s the only goal I’ve set for tonight” Ben admitted, as you stepped outside the apartment. You chuckled and laid your head on his shoulder while you started walking down the stairs.

“Then consider me impressed”

The cold winter’s wind hugged your two figures as you exited the building. Ben wrapped you in his arms, trying to protect you from the cutting breeze that was not-so-gently caressing your already red face. Luckily he had parked just a few steps down the street and soon you were warming yourself inside his red car.

As he started the engine, a familiar melody filled the air and you snapped your head in his direction noticing he was already smiling.

“You remembered!” you said with a childish tone. Ben smiled even wider and, keeping the eyes on the road, he replied:

“Sure! How could I forget? You’re always talking about Queen” his fingers reached for the radio to turn the volume up. You started to nod your head and, soon, you were already singing along to Somebody to Love, making Ben chuckle and hum the song in chorus with you.

The car-ride didn’t last long and in a little while you were able to spy the edifice where you knew the cinema was located. Your heart started to beat faster again and when Ben parked the car and the silence fell between you two for a second, you were ready to bet that he was able to hear your heartbeat as well.

You stared into each other’s eyes for what he seemed, both, an eternity and an instant, then Ben smiled one last time before stepping out and walking towards your car’s door to open it for you.

Needless to say, that he didn’t even let you start searching for your wallet inside your bag, as he had already extracted a few banknotes from the pocket of his trousers. And needless to say, that he didn’t give in to any of your attempts as you tried to persuade him and let you pay at least for the pop-corn.

“Just know that the feminist inside of me is pretty angry at the moment” you commented, with a small smirk on your face as Ben kept the door open for you to enter the theatre. He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but you could see his lips were already curving into a smile.

“Why?” he then asked, as you both sat down in the last row adjusting the pop-corn on your respective laps. You shrugged your shoulders and started to eat.

“Because I don’t need a man that pays everything for me. I can perfectly handle my expenses on my own” you were obviously exaggerating, adding a sassy tone to complete the whole discourse. But you were curious to see his reaction.  

“Good to know – Ben nonchalantly replied, throwing a bunch of pop-corns inside his mouth; he spied your surprised face with the corner of his eye, before turning his head to face you – this is just the confirmation I needed to hear”

“What confirmation?” you asked, mirroring the same smug expression that was painted all over his face.  

“Well, if you’re an independent woman that clearly doesn’t need a man to entertain herself, you accepted my invitation just because you like me. Or, to be extremely precise, you have an enormous crush on this incredibly attractive boy that is now talking to you” Ben was clearly flirting. He had crashed any kind of barrier you had built until that moment and inside your brain a thousand of alarms were ringing, causing you to short-circuit.

In easier words: you were speechless and blushing, as you couldn’t unglue your eyes from his.

The lights went off, partially hiding your embarrassed expression. A little laugh from Ben trembled in the dark, as you abandoned yourself against the back of your seat, hoping you could disappear then and there.

You were sure your feelings for Ben were obvious, but you didn’t know they were that obvious.

Suddenly, while you were sinking inside the spiral of your thoughts completely forgetting about the movie, you felt a gentle hand place itself on your leg. You snapped your head in Ben’s direction and, for a moment, you thought you had seen him flinch a little bit as if he was unsure of his movements.

You reached his knuckles with your trembling fingertips and laid your palm on the back of his hand. He didn’t hesitate and intertwined his fingers with yours.

A sigh of relief left both of your mouths as you settled into that new kind of grey area, where you weren’t black nor white, where you hadn’t decided yet what kind of relationship was yours. You were just two human beings enjoying the moment.

The movie was pretty boring and, in more than one scene, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Ben’s sarcastic jokes about the two protagonists.

“Oh c’mon, who speaks like that to his girlfriend!” Ben commented again, once you were stepping outside. Your hands still casually intertwined.

“I don’t know, maybe someone who is deeply in love?” you asked, batting your eyes to sound as cheesiest as possible. He giggled and pulled you closer to his side, putting his arm behind your shoulders.

Once you got in the car the electricity that had fallen between you two was more than obvious; and, as Ben drove through the night, you noticed how both of your faces were lightened up by a ridiculously gracious smile.

When you recognized your neighborhood you weren’t able to hold a disappointing puff. You weren’t ready to let him go; you would have loved to stay in his car forever. Or at least, all night.

Ben noticed your serious face but didn’t say anything. He simply parked the car near the sidewalk and turned the engine off, letting the silence wrap you two once again.

“Y/N?” he then said, making you turn around to look at him. You hummed in response, giving him all your attention.

“I know we met just a few weeks ago and I know that this is only our first date, but – and he stopped to look right back at you – but I like you. A lot”

You let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Ben, I like you too!” you said in a rush, feeling yourself freer by the minute. A big, warm smile appeared on his blushing face and you couldn’t help but giggle.Every trace of hilarity soon dissolved, when his thumb met your lips parting them.

Ben inched towards you and you did the same, giving him the chance to delicately caress your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper as his fingers were drawing patterns on your face. You repeatedly nodded, not able to say a word in that precise moment. Ben smiled one last time, before closing his eyes and sweetly locking his lips with yours.

You both inhaled sharply and let your emotions run free, as you savored every inch of his mouth so perfectly pressed against your hungry lips …

… your fingers caressed the back of his head, causing him to lazy groan between the kisses. You proudly smiled and pushed him down on the mattress, straddling his lap. His hands fell on your booty, playfully squeezing it.

“So eager. And it’s only seven in the morning” you flirted, breaking the kiss and sitting on his lap. Ben laughed along and caressed your naked hips; you traced his abdomen with your fingertips, tickling him then and there.

“You leave me no choice. Look at you – he worshipped you, trying to sit properly on the bed to have his face on the same level as yours – we’ve been dating only for three months and I’m already crazy about you” he added, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You blushed and cupped his face to gently transport him into another passionate kiss. Ben smiled and kissed you back, encircling your body with his arms to have you glued against his chest.

“Mmm … I love you” you accidentally mumbled against his mouth, but the realization of the words you had just pronounced struck both of you at the same time causing your kiss to suddenly end.

You instantly flushed until the tip of your ears, as Ben was staring at you with his lips agape. You had never dared to say those three words because you had grown up with the idea that having a crush and loving someone are two completely different things. And Ben knew this.

“What? – a smile had started to creep on his lips, as he reached your face to caress it – are you serious?” he asked, getting thoughtful for a moment.

“Yes – you immediately replied; there was no point in lying, the truth had been exposed – I love you Benjamin Jones” you chuckled, very aware of how much he hated his “real” name.

“God, I love you too Y/N Y/L/N! I fucking love you!” he didn’t hesitate and kissed you again. He soon made you roll on your back to tower your half-naked body with his, as the kiss got more passionate by the minute.

“I can’t believe you actually said it” Ben commented, starting to kiss your neck and causing you to moan softly. Your hands were caressing his muscled back, as you let him pleasantly torture you in your favourite way possible.

“Me neither” you giggled when his hair tickled your hip. Ben smiled and kissed the inside of your thigh, hungrily looking up at you.

“I love you” he then whispered, positioning a chaste kiss on your lower belly. You warmly smiled down at him, letting his face rest on your right palm. But, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, the phone started ringing in the living room.

Ben rolled his eyes and groaned, hiding his face on your stomach. You burst out laughing and tugged at his messy hair.

“C’mon, be a good landlord and go answer the call” you said between the giggles, obliging him to get up. He looked like an annoyed child and, once he was standing near the bed, you smirked and mischievously laid down on the mattress again.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back” you flirted, patting the empty side next to you. Ben swallowed and rushed towards you, to bend down and leave a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“Damn you” he commented, running outside the bedroom. You chuckled, scrolling your head, before abandoning yourself on the bed staring at the ceiling … 

… rapid steps reached the ringing phone and a quick hand grabbed it before it was too late.

“Hello? … yes, it’s me … yes! Finally, I’d add – you chuckle, resting your shoulder against the wall and taking away a couple of beads of sweet that were slipping down your forehead – there’s still a lot of work to do. Like, in every corner there is at least one box full of stuff that needs to be reordered and we’ … what? Tonight? I don’t know Emma – you said, extending your neck to spy your boyfriend who was struggling with the paint roller – the house is a literal disaster! Maybe tomorrow? … okay, perfect. Now I have to go or Ben will end up covered in blue paint very soon”

After the usual salutations, you ended the call and ran down the hallway just in time to save the paint’s container that was about to fall on the ground.

“Thank you! – Ben sighed relieved and puckered his lips, waiting for a kiss that did not hesitate to come – who was at the phone?” he then asked, taking the big brush in his hands again and adjusting the stairs near the wall to paint the uppercorner.

“Emma. She wanted to come and visit us tonight – he snapped immediately his head in your direction, making you giggle – I obviously said no, don’t worry” you added, taking a brush as well to retouch some parts then and there.

You worked non-stop for other two hours, but the proudness to see the perfect result you obtained with the freshly painted room had no price. You both stood side by side, with your arms crossed on your chests, admiring the perfectly renewed wall in front of you.

Ben rotated his head to look at you and you noticed, so you turned around to meet his gaze. He wrinkled his nose and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You have something on your face” he inclined his neck, squinting his eyes to study your features.

“Where?” you asked, starting to palpate every inch of your cheeks searching for a trace of paint somewhere under your eyes and near your nose. It was at that moment that you saw his smirk and, before you could stop him, he had placed his dirty palms on both sides of your face.

“Here” he laughed looking at your furrowed expression covered in blue and white. As he was almost rolling on the floor you noticed an abandoned brush in the corner. You quickly caught it and drew a perfect blue line in the middle of Ben’s face.

His mouth opened in disbelief, while it was finally your turn to burst into sonorous laughter. Soon Ben’s hands wrapped your waist and you found yourself screaming in amusement, as he carried you on his shoulder until he reached the living room (the only furnished room of the house) where he let you fall on the sofa hovering you.

“You little minx” he laughed, kissing you. You giggled, putting two of your fingers inside the collar of his t-shirt to pull him closer. After a few kisses and chuckles, Ben rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

You breathed heavily, caressing his face.

“We did it” he said in a whisper, touching your nose with his. You could feel tears of joy pinching your eyes. You kissed him again, this time slower to savor every second of that perfect moment.

“Yes. It’s impossible for you to get rid of me now that we live together” you joked, as you both found yourselves crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Poor me” Ben commented, before starting to pepper all your face with sloppy kisses. You started giggling again, hugging his shoulders to have him as close as possible.

He kept tickling every inch of your cheeks with his parted lips, slowly moving on your neck, then your shoulder, down your arm …

… he kissed the back of your hand again, for the hundredth time that night.

“Ben. We’re in public” you protested between the chuckles, adjusting his bowtie. Again.

Ben rolled his eyes and intertwined his fingers with yours, as you were both stuck in what seemed an endless queue to reach the elevator. Millions of little lights were shining above your head and you still couldn’t believe you weren’tactually daydreaming.

Visiting Paris had always been one of your burning desires. And being there with Ben, hand in hand waiting to go on the top of the Eiffel Tower to eat in one of the fanciest places on earth was even better than what you had always hoped for.

Eventually, your turn came and as soon as you reached the top you literally felt your breath stop in your throat. It was the most beautiful view you had ever seen in your entire life. You completely ignored the waiter that wanted to show youyour way to your reserved table, and almost floated to the nearest balcony.

As you stepped outside, a gentle breeze passed through your hair and your eyes got lost in the city’s skyline. Ben walked closer to you and, once he was exactly behind your back, he laid his chin in the crook of your neck encircling your waist with his arms.

“So? What do you think?” he asked, grazing his lips close to your ear. You scrolled your head, still overwhelmed by the beauty of Paris.

“This is … this is insane – you commented, wiping away a couple of tears that were starting to fog your sight; you heard Ben giggle and after he had kissed your cheek, he distanced himself as you found yourself randomly rumble andinvoluntary express your thoughts – you know, a part of me was sure you wouldhave proposed or something here in Paris, as it happens in thousands ofrom-coms. But then I thought it was too cheesy, even for someone like … you” that last word dying on your lips, as you turned around and saw Ben kneeled down in front of you.

A big, shy smile had appeared on his face, while the chatting from inside the restaurant got quieter. Everything got blurred, the time froze in the moment your eyes met his.

“Maybe it’s cheesy. And it’s also very predictable, I’m aware of that. But you know, I thought that, since everything started at the cinema, while we were watching a terrible romantic movie, it would have been funny ending up in the same exact situation” a nervous laugh escaped both your mouths, as you were quick to dry your crying eyes.

“So, here I am. Behaving as the protagonist of the cheapest film ever just to ask you if you, Y/N Y/L/N, would like to marry me?” Ben said, extracting a little velvet box from his trousers and opening it to reveal a shining ring. You covered your mouth in disbelief, nodding imperceptibly.

“Yes, Ben! Yes!” you finally replied, when you saw even the slightest shadow of preoccupation trespass his face. In a moment you were in his arms, while everyone around you was clapping and cheering you two.

The confused claps got heavier and heavier …

… they transformed themselves into knocks. The door creaked and you came back to reality.

Your mom made her entrance into the room, positioning herself behind you and looking at your reflection. She tried adjusting the curl inside your styled hair, as you had done previously, but without success. You both started to laugh, as she pressed her hands on your shoulders.  

“Are you ready?” she rhetorically asked. You looked at her in the eyes using the mirror as a shield to hide all your mixed emotions. You didn’t answer and got up instead, walking towards the window.

You moved the curtains and saw all the people gathered in the garden waiting just for you. Ben was already there, trembling as a leaf and nervous as he had ever been in all his life.

“Sure” you whispered, with your heart full of love. Your mom was visibly moved as she accompanied you down the stairs and near the big, doubled-glassed window that led into the garden. Your father was already waiting for you with tears in his eyes. You kissed both of them and waited for your mother to get to her seat and for the wedding march to start playing.

When the first note trembled in the air, you squeezed your father’s arm, who held you back as you both stepped outside. Everyone got up, looking at you. You could recognize a few faces: your mom, some of your relatives and friends, Emma and her boyfriend.

But you had eyes only for Ben, who was trying so hard not to start crying at the sight of you all dressed and emotional while you were walking to reach him.

Every trace of fear had disappeared the moment you recognized in Ben’s eyes the same young boy that was absentmindedly watching your photos, wandering in the living room of your old flat.

The same boy that had kissed you in the car after your first date.

The same boy that had remained speechless hearing you admitting your love to him, a random Sunday morning as you were both lazily kissing in his bed.

The same man that had painted with you the wall of your first house.

The same man that had flown you to Paris just to propose to you.

That same man you had loved for so many years.

He was there. Wiping away a few tears after he had removed the wedding veil from your face.

He was the one. And in that precise moment, as you were staring eyes in eyes holding your hands, everything seemed perfectly right. Everything seemed simply perfect.

Ben got closer and kissed your cheek before you both diverted your attention to the priest. He leaned down again to whisper in your ear:

“You’re gorgeous”

You blushed as if it was the very first time.

“What a gentleman” you commented under your voice, looking up at him with just the corner of your eye.

“You know; I want to impress you. That’s the only goal I’ve set for the rest of my life” he responded.

You shared a knowing gaze. Nobody could hear you, but it didn’t matter because nobody would have understood that exchange of words. You smiled, as tears reached your eyes, and answered:

“Then consider me impressed”

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Did you like this story? Check out what else we’ve written on our masterlist!

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[bookburnt]

a primer course on T.MA for my mutuals who followed me from other blogs and would like to know what the fuck i’m talking about!  (hi, guys.  love you.)  GONNA BE SPOILER-HEAVY IN HERE.

First off, big ups to the T.MA wiki, which you can consult on anything here, but this post is intended to serve as a very basic overview of the concepts relevant to this blog without forcing y'all to go into wiki levels of detail.  The first part of this post is some general TMA terms and concepts, and the second part is some characters who have been relevant to Gerry's story specifically.  If you're here for a better understanding of Gerry’s arc and don't care so much about the worldbuilding, scroll down to where I start talking about “who’s...?” and that should help you out.

what’s a “Leitner?”  A Leitner is a book but spooky.  They make bad things happen and, optionally, give you weird powers.  They're usually tied to one of the fourteen(ish) Entities, which I will get into in a bit.  Gerard hates these goddamn books, and has a knack for finding them and destroying them.  His mother, Mary Keay, ran an antique bookstore that did serious business in them.

what’s an “avatar?” An avatar is a (former?) human working closely with one of the Entities. Over time, the influence of their Entity changes them, often granting them certain powers in exchange for a psychological and physiological need to serve their Entity.

what are these “Entities?” / what’s this “Hunt?”  Put as simply as possible, the Entities are, like... fear elementals.  There are roughly 14 different entities, though the boundaries between them aren’t clearly drawn in all circumstances.  As follows, a quick overview:

The Eye. Fear of being surveiled.  The need to know the answers to questions that may destroy you.  The Eye is tied to the Magnus Institute. Its avatars can have the ability to magically Know things, understand all languages, and compel others to answer any questions they ask.  Gerry was tied to the Eye and had some capacity for Knowing stuff, but wasn’t fully its avatar - or if he was, he refused to feed it, which must have hastened his death.

The Desolation.  Fire, but without the warm fuzzy bits.  Pure unhinged destruction.  Desolation avatars can and will set you on fire with their minds.  Gerry’s extensive burn scars are the result of fucking around with a Desolation cultist and finding out.   (The cultist also fucked around with Gerry and found out.  He’s not around anymore.)  

The Hunt.  Being tracked by something that won't stop until it kills you.  The thrill of the chase.  Hunt avatars are capable of killing other avatars, even those who would otherwise be unkillable.  The possibility of Gerry being tied to the Hunt is never discussed in canon, but I’ve got my theories.  (That last phrase is a link to a post discussing those theories, it just isn't showing up like a link on desktop for some reason.)

The End.  Death and dying.  Manifestations of the End often involve disruptions of the natural processes of life and death.  For instance, the fucked-up necromancy book that Gerry got trapped in after dying was an outcropping of the End.

The Corruption.  Bugs, disease, rot, etc.  The Corruption's avatars may spread disease wherever they go, or they might just be chock full of worms.  Potential of controlling a worm army.

The Flesh.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a body.  Cannibalism. Flesh avatars may be hulking, twisted parodies of the human form.  They might steal your bones, turn you inside out, eat you, or all of the above.

The Distortion.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a mind.  Doors that shouldn't be there.  Getting lost.  Being unable to trust your own thoughts.  Distortion avatars look, well, distorted when seen in reflections or through glass.  Will probably try to get you to go through a door that wasn't there before.  You won't like what's on the other side.

The Slaughter.  War.  Violence.  Man's inhumanity to man.  The Slaughter often manifests in groups as well as in individuals, so you could get an episode of mass hysteria where an entire small town turns to butchering one another, or you could get an office assistant who just aches to do murder.

The Web.  Spiders.  Being controlled by external forces.  Can operate in extremely subtle ways.  Can also just be an unkillable spider who wants you to have a bad time.

The Vast.  Really big things.  Heights.  Your own terrifying insignificance on the cosmic scale.

The Buried.  Claustrophobia.  Being buried alive.

The Lonely.  Being completely alone.  Like, completely alone, and never coming back.

The Dark. What it says on the tin.

The Stranger.  Something that's not quite right.  A joke that you're not in on.  Clowns and/or mannequins that might kill you and take your skin.

BONUS: The Extinction. While the other 14 fears have been established for a while (the most recent is the Flesh, which only really came into its own with the advent of mass meat farming), the Extinction is a nascent entity born of anxiety around the idea of the human race destroying itself, and/or being replaced by something else. The boundaries of what constitutes an Extinction manifestation, rather than just a warping of one of the other fears, are unclear.

what’s a “ritual?”  Rituals are ways the Entities’ followers and avatars try to influence the world, usually with the end goal of making our world somewhere their Entity can live and feast full-time instead of just sporadically popping in.

what’s the “fearpocalypse?”  The only successful ritual to date, as of the end of S4.  Possibly the only successful ritual ever, given that it ended the world as we know it and let all 14 fears fully through the gate to fuck everything all the way up.  The sky is full of eyeballs now and that's not even the biggest problem.  This happened a while after Gerry’s death, but I have a verse where, due to his previous ties to the End and the general befuckening, Gerry is brought back to have a bad time with everyone else.

who’s Mary Keay?  Gerard's mother, founder and proprietor of Pinhole Books.  Had ambitions of starting a dynasty of supernatural power, starting with her only son Gerard, who ended up having other ideas.  Flayed herself in a ritual to make herself “beyond death” via the fucked-up necromancy book mentioned earlier.  Gerard was primed to take the fall for her seeming murder, but was let go after the book disappeared from evidence and several key witnesses retracted their testimony.  Despite the ritual being incomplete, Mary remained tethered to the world of the living for five years before Gertrude Robinson finally wrapped that up.

who’s Gertrude Robinson?  Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, and a stone-cold BAMF with a habit of sacrificing those close to her for (her idea of) the greater good.  The late Eric Delano asked her to look after his son Gerry, so naturally she let him live in torment with his abuser’s revenant for five fucking years, then swooped in when he was truly desperate.  She got rid of Mary Keay for good, and got Gerard to travel the world with her attempting to prevent various apocalyptic rituals.  The two would often pose as mother and son to strangers.         Being tied to the Eye, Gertrude seemed to be aware of Gerard’s impending death.  After he passed away, she bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book and left him behind.  (More on that here.) Gertrude was shot to death about a year later while trying to burn the Magnus Institute down and thereby prevent its head, Elias Bouchard, from doing anything apocalyptic.  (Tragically, she did not succeed.  SEE:  “fearpocalypse.”)

who’s Eric Delano?  Gerry’s father.  Died too early to ever really get to know Gerry, despite the sacrifices he made to restructure his life for fatherhood.  (We don’t need to go into the why of it here, but he did have to gouge his eyes out to try to be a stay-at-home dad.  And he did it.  We stan.)  Unfortunately, he’d fallen in love with Mary Keay, who used him to produce an heir for her planned empire, then murdered him with a pair of garden shears and bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book.  She later passed his page off to Gertrude Robinson, who spoke with him.  In that conversation, he asked her to look after Gerry and begged her to burn his page, as being bound into the book was a world of suffering. 

who’s Jurgen Leitner?  A rich, reclusive Norwegian who thought it would be cool and smart to start a library explicitly for corralling forces beyond human comprehension.  (He was wrong, and also stupid.)  Collected spooky books and put his name in them, giving them their common name.  Gerard hates this guy, associating him with the books that dominated his mother’s mind and indirectly ruined his life.  He hunted Leitner down and nearly beat him to death for personal reasons.  Upon meeting Leitner, he came away with the impression that this was just a scared old man, and couldn’t possibly be actually responsible for Jurgen Leitner’s library.  Ultimately, he chose to spare Leitner's life.  Unless we're talking about my canon-divergent Hunter!Gerry au, in which case he did not.

        Anyways, hope this has been helpful.  There's... a lot going on in TMA, but hopefully I've hit the parts that are most relevant to my writing here.  If you have any questions about canon, please feel free to ask!

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight:  Chapter Four

I really can’t apologize enough for the long wait between chapters here.  There all sorts of plausible excuses, but I’ve basically just fallen behind with starting back to school and getting into the teaching routine again. Hopefully, I won’t keep you waiting on this story so long again, and that you will still enjoy what I’ve cooked up this time around...

Also, I still don’t think it quite needs an M rating, but fair warning, Emma and Killian do get up to a bit of mischief on a stakeout...

Thanks again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner; I continue to just love it and smile every time I add it to the chapter post.  And to @cssns for inspiring so many wonderful stories and such a fun community outlet. I’m so glad it gave my little werewolf story an outlet and a reason for me to finally get down to business and commit to it the page!

~chapter four: sinister stirrings, signs of life

Gold did not allow his accomplice’s taunt to hang in the air for long; instead, speculation lit his serpentine eyes with cunning curiosity. “And just what is your price, Morgana? What is it that a powerful witch like you cannot simply conjure for yourself with ease?”

“I seek vengeance,” she bit out, tone icy cold with the fierce utterance. “For my father’s life, for my mother’s pain… and what I have lost to that ingrate King… Arthur of Camelot.” She spat the famed appellation, which most spoke in reverence, with a venom that momentarily surprised even the Dark One.

A knowing, secretive smile crept over his sharp face; no other words necessary for him to understand what drove her. He had after all seen the quest for revenge bring many a man and woman to his door, willing to take his wretched deals whatever the cost, and then meet their doom, or at least soul’s ruin. He and the would-have-been Duchess of Cornwall had much in common, and always had. Both believed the world to have slighted them, and both plotting, scheming, grasping every bit of what they felt was their due wherever they could. Perhaps she would grow a bit too desperate, and he could then be certain of the upper hand in their arrangement. He would simply watch and wait to see.

Morgana, on the other hand, was not idle, even as she finally handed the contained hat over to Gold and began to move around his shop with mild interest as he examined the token ravenously. Just as her former mentor sensed her fervent desire and impatience, the seething rage pushing her forward, she could also read his extreme confidence, his discounting of the worthy mind and abilities she had cultivated since the time he had known her well. He thought she would be easy to manipulate; powerful enough to provide the assistance he needed, but not a true threat to his own mastery of the exchange. 

He misjudged both her magical strength - and her loyalty. She had learned that no one could be trusted but herself. Though she was willing to side with him while it proved beneficial, she would not sacrifice her own goal, nor confuse a healthy respect with true devotion. Rumplestiltskin foolishly believed her indebted to him, simply because he had discovered where to summon the hat from Merlin’s safekeeping. That mattered little when she was the one who had retrieved it; she was the one he had needed to complete his task. Their purposes were not truthfully as aligned as he thought, yet she felt no qualms at playing along until it was too late for even the Dark One himself to stop her or ruin her plans. He saw her as a willing and able pawn, and she would let him do so for the time being. As long as he gave her the hat as promised when he was done, and she could increase her power, take it back to Camelot, usurp Arthur, and gain her revenge, she cared little how Gold’s plan worked out.  His power would be the first she would harness for her own devices - his and all the other Dark Ones who had come before - once the time was right.

“That seems only fair,” Rumplestiltskin spoke in his slick, indulgent tones that might fool someone who didn’t know him as well as Morgana did. Though neither fully trusted the other - nor any beyond themselves - the sorceror before her did seem near tittering with subdued malevolent glee. He really was an imp to his core, delighting in the fall of those who took might and control by vicious means, even if that downfall was not of his own making. “King Uther, Arthur’s father, did indeed wrong your family greatly.”

“I know that,” she snapped, eyes burning as they swung to his in sudden anger. “You needn’t recount the injustices! I remember them well.” Her fine, white hands clenched and unclenched, as her deceptively thin shoulders heaved. She was practically seething from every pore.

Unfazed, the Dark One stepped nearer, cradling his precious talisman in one hand as he wagged his forefinger at her teasingly. She wanted to snap the digit at its joint, but instead held her tongue stonily. “Easy there, Dearie,” Gold chided in his infuriating manner of jest. “Flying off the handle like that can lead to dangerous mistakes.”  He winked at her before turning to leave, clearly unconcerned with her alone in his shop to wreck it if the desire took her.

Morgana’s voice rang out quickly, before he could vanish in a puff of his magic, stopping him with the sort of ringing command he couldn’t ignore. “Midnight, a week from now, when the moon is at its fullest… If you wish for my help, you will bring the Sorceror’s Hat to the lakeside when the lunar orbit reaches the zenith. We will perform the ceremony, and then the hat will be mine once it has served its purpose for you. Do we have an accord?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Gold chimed, and though his tone was soft and sibilant, Morgana could hear the eagerness, the urgency for his full freedom and command of his power running beneath. She wasn’t the only one whose need for retribution had them chomping at the bit.

All that remained, she considered saying as the bell tinkled after Rumplestiltskin’s exit, was to see who would allow their quest to be their undoing. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she vanished from the spot as well in her own column of cobalt blue smoke.

~~***~~***~~***~~

Once again nighttime darkness reigned over the quiet streets of Storybrooke. The main street, lined with storefronts, the Sheriff’s station, and the cheerily butter-yellow Town Hall, was so still and calm by 9:30 that one might think the place either deserted or inhabited entirely by senior citizens, Emma thought with a wry shake of her head and exhaled breath as she sat watching the scene before them from her usual work parking space. Apparently, fairy tale characters exiled in the “real world” adhered to a similar early bird schedule.  She was in the more roomy back seat of her Bug, not expecting to see much of anything that would require her to pull out quickly, and needing to sit somewhat turned in the seat to keep her eyes on Gold’s shop, a Thermos of hot chocolate on hand to warm her insides as the night grew more chilled, and Killian cuddled against her side assuringly, something in his lupine makeup keeping him always a few degrees warmer than the average human.

Reading her mild amusement as easily as he seemed to do with all her changes in mood and emotion, Killian leaned in to whisper against her ear, his scruffy whiskers raking deliciously across her cheek and neck. “What is it, Swan? Did I miss something humorous?”

Emma shook her head with a chuckle, swiveling a bit to look at his quirked brow and curious face more clearly. His crystalline, sea-blue eyes twinkled as if he could already anticipate her answer, and in that moment, Emma genuinely wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, plant little pecks all over his forehead and cheeks and chin, just for sitting there with her, for always being by her side, and for being her ridiculous, handsome, dependable companion, whatever new surprise or danger came their way. Though she managed to hold back the outburst of affection, she still couldn’t help the frisson of awareness that ran through her veins at his nearness, even while proceeding to answer his simple question. “No, nothing funny really, just thinking how there truly is no night life here. It’s not even ten o’clock, and there’s no one out on the street!”

“Aye,” Killian nodded conversationally in agreement. “You’ve a point there. Any port town in which the Jolly ever docked - regardless of how small or remote - was more lively than our little town currently.”

Both fell silent once more, eyes unavoidably drawn to the entrance of the darkened pawn shop, looking deceptively closed and shuttered,but nevertheless the reason they were sitting on the street in a stakeout and wondering whether or not they should trust the seeming peace of the night around them.  “Exactly,” she smirked at his comment, against her better judgement leaning closer as she did. She could feel that the spark always burning between them, fanned by both recent interrupted assignations, was still simmering hotly, barely banked by more pressing concerns, and knew that the right sort of look or touch might well be all that was needed to set it aflame once more. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

Killian reacted just as she had hoped, his response to her invitation almost immediate, hand balancing him on the seat beside her as he leaned even closer than they had already been seated, his breath warming her forehead as he exhaled and his hook tracing a purposeful path up her jean-clad thigh. “Looking for a bit more excitement, are you Darling?” he questioned devilishly, his lips and tongue pronouncing each sound and syllable of the words in a manner that left tingles racing up and down her spine. 

The intentional progress of his metal appendage swung inward to trace along her pants inseam, ever closer to the goal, and Emma swallowed hard, irrationally embarrassed that he might already feel the heat radiating from her center and how her pulse seemed to be throbbing there noticeably. It was all she could do not to start shedding layers and crawl into his lap. She could only nod eagerly for several tensely heated seconds before finally affirming breathily. “What if I am, Pirate? Are you gonna do something about it?”

Killian’s heavy, dark eyebrows practically danced across his forehead merrily, as if she’d given him a present with her challenge. The tip of his wicked tongue poked from between his full, tempting lips before tracing along the lower one as if he had just glimpsed a meal her wanted to devour. “Oh, you know I will, Emma. Don’t you even doubt it.”

In the next instant, he seemed to pounce, his warm weight pressing her back against the leather upholstery of the Bug’s rear bench seat, as that tongue swept into her mouth to lay claim. The curved edge of his hook found its goal at last, putting delicious cool pressure against her still-clothed heated core and making her moan shamelessly into his mouth in return.

“Oh...Ki - Killian!... Please…. Ummm…” she raised her hips almost unconsciously, bucking toward his questing hook, and the added stimulation of his hand, which had now managed to slip under her shirt, up her side to her heaving chest. Emma forgot all about Gold, the newcomer, and why they were outside in her car at all, between the way his hand and hook were making her feel and his lips suddenly veering from her own to wander along her jaw back to the sensitive spot behind her ear, driving her even more out of her mind. She would swear under oath that she shouldn’t be held responsible when her desperately clutching hands pulled so hard at his shirt in her haste to touch him too and hold onto something to ground herself that she heard the sound of ripping fabric over her own gasp and whimper of need.

Not in the least disturbed by wardrobe damage - he had lost count of how many shirts and pants his wolf had destroyed in transformation ages ago - Killian merely chuckled with indulgent pride at the effect he was clearly having on his usually cool and collected girlfriend. It wasn’t lost on him that Emma rarely allowed herself to let go of control so completely. Splayed before him openly, eyes half-closed in bliss, Emma was offering him the trust and vulnerability few others received from her, and it awed him all the more beyond what her beauty had already accomplished. Not wanting the swell of emotion to derail them, now that they had at last managed to preserve a long enough moment alone, he bent his head back to the task before him. He nearly lost a handful of hair when a few seconds later he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bit down playfully, not expecting the force with which Emma grasped the dark strands between her fingers as she keened breathlessly.

The wicked smile that quirked his lips as he murmured into her neck, “Feeling lively enough now?” was entirely unavoidable, if he did say so himself. For a moment, he allowed his mind to gloat inwardly as her pants seemed to indicate his Swan incapable of speech from his pleasurable ministrations.

Letting down one’s guard around Emma was never wise, however, as he was soon letting out an indecently loud and tormented groan of his own satisfaction. Somehow, while he had been occupied with tracing patterns over her collarbone with teeth and tongue, she had worked a clever hand into his tight jeans and dealt him more than enough taste of his own medicine.

“Ah!  Wh- Swan…” he choked, his own head falling forward to rest on her shoulder as she squeezed and pumped delicately in the limited space she had to work with.  “Mmm, love...easy does it,” he finally managed to grind out after riding the sensation for a minute. “Much more of that and you’ll bring the night to completion before I can finish what I started.”

Reluctantly his bold lass did release him and pull back slightly, one sculpted eyebrow arched in what could only be the beguilingly feminine equivalent of the look he had given her so many times before. “Can’t have that now, can we?” she teased gently, stroking along his stomach muscles, which quivered in response to her touch and practically smirking up at him.

“Certainly not, Love. It would be poor form indeed to leave a lady such as yourself unsatisfied.” He licked his lips salaciously, but meant every word, and the way she threw back her head with a wholehearted guffaw of laughter made him certain she knew it too.

“Well then, Captain,” she purred, pulling him in once more by the charms that hung around his neck. “Let’s see you make good on your word.”

Pressing forward with a deep, almost feral sounding growl, part his own desire and part his wolf within howling to break free, he lay her back unresistingly on the seat beneath them, spread out before him like a delectable banquet feast.

When they surfaced some time later, bare and skin glistening with sweat from their enjoyable activities, they had already missed both clouds of magic and the reappearance outside the shop of their new female nemesis - the reason they had been waiting in the car in the first place. Still, even if they had been less than purposeful, as they rested together, sated and entwined in each other’s arms, neither Emma nor Killian could bring themselves to mind.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

After checking in with Emma and Killian at the station - and gathering a much clearer picture of how his deputy and her beau were progressing as a couple than he had needed or wished to have - making sure they had been alerted about the strange woman he had seen at daybreak, Graham was more than anxious to see his own lady love once more. Firstly, because he longed to be at her side, to see her happy, every second of each day that it was reasonably possible; a truly jarring sensation for a man who had up until that point led a quiet, solitary life and thought himself reasonably satisfied, but a sensation he had warmed to and treasured all the same. And secondly, knowing that she carried their pup - a child conceived of their love for each other - in her womb made the normal protective urges he already struggled to manage at normal levels exponentially stronger. To think that Gold still lurked around town and must wish to win - or coerce or steal - Belle back to himself worried Graham enough on a daily basis, but the attack on Granny and this obviously magical stranger’s appearance had him all the more on edge. No, Belle might argue that she was quite alright and could take care of herself, but he intended to stick quite close by whenever his duties as Sheriff allowed, and he might just speak to David and Snow about seeing if someone could stay nearby, just in case, when he could not. He would simply bear her annoyance and exasperation with his fussing as best he could; it was much better than seeing any harm come to her.

Letting his mind return to that morning, Graham thought back on how, after sighting the cloaked woman by the lake, he had hastened back to his cabin with extra speed, shifting on the porch back into his lanky human form so as to let himself in with ease and check on Belle where he had left her sleeping. The sight of her peaceful in repose beneath the moss-green cotton sheets upon the bed, her auburn hair spread out across the pillow, and the softest little purr of a snore escaping her pretty lips, had made him loathe to wake her.

Shirtless and barefoot, clad only in the grey sweatpants he slipped on for decency once human again, he padded across the smooth hardwood floor simply watching her sleep for a few seconds longer with an adoring smile on his face. He had never seen her look so serene, stunning in her sweet fragility, her petite beauty and kind nature concealing what he knew to be a backbone of strongest steel. Still, however much he hated to rouse her from much-needed rest, she had made him promise to take her with him back into town this morning. She was not content to hide out and wait passively until all was safe. And even if it was only researching information that might help prepare the rest of them for the storm they all knew was coming, or finding any accounts which might might better inform the two of them on the little one they were awaiting, she would not settle for anything less than doing her part, in her library, surrounded and aided by her beloved books.

Perching lightly on the mattress near her hip, Graham reached out a large, calloused hand, with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed (having never known a tender touch until this tiny spitfire of a woman came into his life) lifted a loose strand of hair from her velvet-soft cheek and tucked it behind her ear. As he had known it would, even such a light touch had her stirring, beginning to stretch and slowly wake.

Now that his duties for the day were mostly complete, it eased his soul to once more slip into the cool, enveloping shadows and hushed, welcoming space of the town library. He could feel the taunt hunch of his shoulders relax within seconds of entering his love’s hallowed space, at the sound of Belle’s voice farther within the stacks, directing someone he could not yet see. Perhaps one of their friends had already had the same thoughts he did and undertaken to keep her company.

Venturing on silent feet, long accustomed to moving swiftly and without sound on the forest floors and castle courtyards of their old world, Graham stepped into one of the larger conference rooms toward the back of the library, one appointed with a large study table and numerous chairs for large groups. He leaned against the doorframe there, happy just to watch and enjoy the comfort and relief of once more being in her presence and seeing her in her element.

The Hatter in their world - Jefferson, Graham believed he went by here, was the first other person he saw. He recalled with a wince that this man had also been painfully manipulated by Regina - both in the Enchanted Forest past and their small town present. He knew with the same guilt-ridden certainty that he had realized Belle could have been freed from her imprisonment sooner if he had been quicker to awaken and act, that he had probably passed Jefferson on the steps of the mayoral mansion or in the frigid labyrinths of the Town Hall, but both had been too ashamed at being ensnared or indebted, or in some way under the command of the Evil Queen, to look up and meet the other’s eyes, to see a fellow sufferer or brother-in-arms. If nothing else, he reminded himself pushing off the doorjamb and moving into the well-lit and enlivened conversation humming around him, at least now he was beginning to see just how many friends there truly were here, as well as foes. Good people who could be relied upon and were hoping for the chance to regain their lives, just as much as he and Belle were.

His adorable librarian was chatting happily with both Jefferson’s daughter Grace and Henry, who were all too content with darting back and forth from the stacks for any book Belle could think of to request - all of them trying to keep her seated and off her feet. Coming to her side eagerly, Graham leaned over to kiss her cheek, even as she turned her head upward to greet him with a welcoming grin.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered in her ear, letting his scruff tickle along her skin slightly, making her giggle and tuck her chin toward her chest.

Still, she caught his hand and squeezed it back affectionately, holding on and pulling it down to rest his palm over her still-flat stomach.

His brow furrowed, confused, even as she beamed at him to wait and be patient. It was much to early for him to be feeling any sort of movement from their little one; Belle wasn’t even showing. He was more than a little puzzled, and a bit concerned if the truth were told, but willing to humor her, and so stilled dutifully, waiting for he knew not what.

Then, abruptly, a definite jolt jarred his large hand from where it rested against Belle’s stomach. Eyes widening almost comically as they darted up to her face, he felt as much as saw Belle suck in an excited breath as she nodded her head in enthusiastic affirmation.

“Wait, but, it can’t be… It’s too soon…” he sputtered. “Are you sure?  Should we take you to Whale?  Are you hurting at all, Darling?”

The flow of words was almost more than she had ever heard her gentle huntsman say at once, but no more than she expected. Still, she tried to implore him in her gaze and the steady pressure on his hand to calm, that she had learned some things about her particular pregnancy and she would fill him in, but she wasn’t in pain, and she wasn’t concerned or frightened - though she had known he would be, for her. Guiding his hand still, she brought it to her lips to gently kiss the back of it, hoping to soothe him. She merely wanted to share this miracle with this precious man, the depth of her joy causing tears to well in her eyes.

They were still for several grounding moments, and when she lifted her gaze to meet Graham’s once more, she saw that same welling of love and astonishment in his eyes as well.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight  @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @spartanguard @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @darkcolinodonorgasm

[sweet-evie]

Their Happy Ever After

Original Publication Date: February 25, 2019

Original Link: Their Happy Ever After FFN

It took several centuries, four years, and then some. But they were finally here.

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It was difficult to love someone who couldn't love you back…

Everybody knew that. She knew it all too well after centuries of existing and wandering the earth fruitlessly. Perhaps it would be a stretch to say, but it was fair to point out that she'd seen — not all — but most of it happen again and again. Hell, it happened to her in her early quest for love, and her immortal years trying to find a genuine one.

It was just unfair that when she'd found someone who was capable of showing it, she knew in her heart that they would never deign to cast her — or her feelings — a second thought. Because… who would love a Witch?

If the years of being alive taught her anything, it was that immortality was a curse; a plague. An anomaly in the fabric of humanity. People were meant to live within a set number of years, thus making every moment of life precious, and making every relationship worth treasuring. Ideally, there should be no room for regret, because life is short, but that was also the beauty of human folly and a very human paradox.

It was all about being human…

But she was above that, wasn't she? And unhappily so…

What she would give to live a normal life, and find and offer love the right way. After immortality had claimed her, she couldn't remember every life she'd damaged in her selfish quest. Even the love she had to give them was tepid at best. Because even if there was ingenuity in there, it would always be tainted. There was no changing the fact that she had made contracts with them to pursue a goal she had yet to meet — to claim something she had yet to experience.

He was right to say she was a selfish woman. He wasn't wrong when he accused her of being cruel once.

Because she was… She'd given up her real name for that reason…

CC didn't deserve to be human… She was a selfish, stone-hearted, cruel witch.

Love was the last thing she could deserve. If she ever did in the first place.

So, even if she did acknowledge the fact that she had genuinely fallen in love with him in this ongoing journey between him and her, she would never tell him. Because he deserved someone whole and someone good. Someone who wouldn't bring him back to life for selfish reasons. But she did it anyway… Because he owed her something, and she wasn't going to let that slip. It was the least he could do if he wasn't going to ever return her feelings even after he told her he didn't hate her.

His first love died because of her. He lost friends and family because of her… Because she gave him a power and a curse that would isolate him from everyone else. And even when he accepted, she could have still told him the truth. She could have told him the terms of the contract, but she didn't. And it was all because she was so hell-bent on getting her one of two wishes in her entire existence.

Throughout his Rebellion and his Zero Requiem, she had stayed, and was determined enough to see it through. Because she made him a promise. Because even if he couldn't fulfill her true wish, she still sought hope. Because she loved him then, and even now.

And with every realization that rang stark and true in her tired mind, tears started leaking from unveiled golden eyes. Life was unfair, but why did it have to be so? Why did it have to be her? Couldn't it have chosen someone else?

But perhaps she deserved it because of who and what she was. Every ounce of pain and suffering was hers to bear, and not his. He was far too kind. Overwhelmingly selfless and only wanted the best for the ones he deemed precious. She was never going to be one of them though. She was neither friend nor family. Not even a love interest.

Just an accomplice. Just an ally in his finished quest…

And now that it was through, she didn't understand why she chose to keep hurting herself by staying with him when she knew her company wasn't appreciated. But that was the funny thing about love, wasn't it?

It made you do the most foolish of things, even when your heart was going to suffer brutally in the process. Even if it tore you to shreds. Even if it made ribbons out of your entire being. Such was the beauty and cruelty of love. It made you selfish and selfless at once.

So even if it was clear that he didn't want her, she would stay by his side for as long as he needed her…

Because she loved him, and wanted the best for him — even if it was at the cost of her own happiness.

vVvVv

She was an enigma, and he didn't understand her…

That was why he had lashed out at her on multiple occasions in the past. It was but an emotional tantrum of a boy who didn't know better. She was right to call him as one before, because back then, he really was just a boy with a man's agenda and a personal vendetta to deal with.

From the beginning until the end of his journey, he had sacrificed many — spilled rivers of blood, and became the most hated of heroes. By all accounts, he had every right to hate her for bestowing a power and a curse unto him in his most vulnerable moment — in the instance when he couldn't say 'no.' But that very same moment in time saved him and changed his life — for the better and for the worse.

Her 'gift' to him was a double-edged sword…

In the end, when he had lost everyone — even his greatest loves — and had only her left, he couldn't find it in himself to resent her. How could he? When he had seen so much of the precious dreamer underneath all that stoic personality. Yes, she was selfish and cruel to a point, during his Rebellion, but weren't they all? Everyone had their fair share of mistakes. She was still human by all means, despite her immortality, and humans were subject to errors.

She lived a life different from theirs. And she had been suffering. Wasn't it human nature to seek an end to all things that brought pain? Wasn't that why he began his rebellion in the first place? Why should she suffer resentment for only wanting a shred of happiness. Her methods were unorthodox, and though they could never be excused, he understood why she did it — to a point.

It was all about finding happiness and love in a world that gave her none from the moment she was born.

So how could he hate her, when she was simply another embodiment of a wish by mankind? How could he hate her when she was yet another victim of the world's cruelty?

When he lay dying, she crossed his mind along with so many others, and a part of him sincerely wished that he had had the chance to grant her one true wish. And when she brought him back to life for another purpose, he couldn't even find it in him to hate her after all that time. It was waking up to a realization that he now had a chance to do what he couldn't then.

Their journey together had never been easy. It was rough, and always, there were problems to solve. And secretly, he admired her for pulling them both out in the thickest of problems. He was also thankful to her for taking care of him and his then useless body. She did so much for him, and it made his heart ache, knowing this girl was just as precious as the ones he'd lost. She was, in all reality, all he had to live for now.

This, he thought as he watched the wind play with her green hair — a color so bizarre and so enthralling. A color that reminded him of the freshness of Spring. A part of him wanted to call for her attention, so they could resume their travels. And yet the other just wanted to stay back and watch her stare at the gorgeous scenery the far off mountains made.

"CC…"

She turned to acknowledge him, and he saw the same sad and impassive eyes he had been seeing for the past few weeks. She was always distant… Always cold… And yet, so very lonely. It was that way ever since their journey began, and though he wouldn't have thought to question it before, he was beginning to now.

"Even after all this time��� Do you not resent me, Lelouch?"

Her question was met with a wall of silence. But honestly, was she expecting anything less? And what else was she to do but take his silence as a form of agreement? She'd asked him this question before — when they were aboard the Avalon and about to venture out and join the raging battlefield. He told her he didn't hate her then, and though a part of her had relished in that, she soon realized that it was his answer before she went on and ruined his Zero Requiem.

Come to think of it, she shouldn't have asked… She'd rather believe the lie over the obvious truth. Because… Because it would—

"We've been through this before, haven't we?"

He'd closed the distance between them and he was now standing next to her, gauging her carefully with those purple irises she knew all too well. To her surprise, he responded with a tender smile — one that was reminiscent of how he used to smile for his precious little sister. She looked away, refusing to meet his gaze and what that smile could possibly mean.

"I don't hate you, C****."

At the sound of her real name, she turned and faced him. Closer than he had been, he slowly took one of her limp hands and held them firmly. They were quiet for a few short moments, letting the howl of the mountain winds fill the sudden and uneasy silence. It was a period where all she did was stare at their hands; even as he slowly began to intertwine their fingers together.

He laughed softly to himself, and it earned him her attention. "It's funny that you'd ask something like that."

She frowned immediately and made to pull away, but his grip became firmer as he took the chance to step a little bit closer.

"It's a bit amusing, because… The truth is…" He glanced at her shyly, reverting back to the teenaged boy he'd been four years ago, as he spoke slowly. "I think you've always known…that I care about you." She bit her lip as he sighed deeply. "That I've grown…to love you."

She looked away, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. He was a liar. It was just another lie. Just another fabrication, so she wouldn't leave, because he needed her for now. It wasn't as if she would leave in the first place. She'd already resolved to stay with him until he didn't want her around anymore.

"You're lying…" She tried forcing a mischievous smile, but the mask failed, and all she accomplished was a slight grimace. "Why would you?" Her hand slipped away as she turned her back on him again. "Don't feed me lies, Lelouch. After I cursed you; after I doomed you to a life of isolation — acknowledged and unwanted by no one. You said so yourself…" She glanced at him over her shoulder to see a strange expression on his face. "I'm a cruel and selfish woman. All I do is bring pain and misery wherever I go." A bitter laugh punctuated her words — a contrast to the silent tears that rolled down her fair cheek. "I'm honestly surprised you haven't sent me away yet."

His heart ached… Those were the only words he could use to describe the sudden pain that lanced through him when she spoke. Because she was telling the truth. He had called her cruel and selfish once. He'd told her how he couldn't understand why any man would want her or look twice at her. And he hadn't realized how much his past actions — no matter that they happened years ago — had damaged and caused her pain. The point of the matter was that he had hurt her.

And who was to say he wasn't hurting her now?

She thought of him as a liar… He had lied, and had deceived the world for a good cause. Even when he promised Nunnally he would never lie to her, he did anyway. He'd made promises and broken them. He was such a pathetic excuse for a human being — so imperfect, jaded, and unbelievably tarnished. And yet, if there was one truth he was sure of, he knew he had never lied to her — not to his Witch.

In years of turmoil, she had been his night light — barely acknowledged, but always there.

CC flinched in surprise, but didn't protest when she felt his arms slowly wind around and across her shoulders, his hands — one over the other — dangling lightly above her beating heart.

"Do you not believe that I love you?" The embrace tightened slightly as he nuzzled her hair and buried his face into the crook of her neck; voice but a gentle whisper in her ear. "I came back because I made you a promise. And I'd be damned if I break it. I fulfilled everyone's wish for peace, no matter how fragile it is. If I could give the world something to look forward to, then why wouldn't I provide a better future for the one who gave me the power to do the impossible?"

The tears flowed faster now, as she hung her head. Every word that left his lips destroyed her — broke her walls down brick by solid brick until she was left standing alone in the middle of the rubble; no barrier between her stormy feelings and his anguished confessions.

He lifted his head from where it was nestled between her neck and shoulder. His arm had drifted south and wrapped around her waist securely, while his other hand aided in turning her body slightly so she could clearly see his face — and the unshed tears glistening in his own eyes.

"Don't you understand, C****? I fought to come back, because I love you." She trembled in his arms as he lovingly traced the thin river that continued to pour from her bullion eyes. "I've hurt people, and I've lost them. And even if I know I deserve to die to atone for every sin, I can't help but feel I betrayed one precious soul for the lives of others." He pressed his forehead to hers, nuzzling her face when he continued his whispered confession against her lips. "You were my only regret when I lay dying, my love. If they get their wish, then why can't you?"

"I don't deserve one." She quietly sobbed in a tiny voice, silently relishing the way he stroked her hair. Her own hands drifted to his shoulder blades, fisting the back of his shirt.

He shook his head; eyes half-lidded as he laid a poignant kiss on her tear-stained cheek. "Don't say you don't deserve it. Because everyone deserves a chance at love. You deserve to be happy, my Witch. So, let me fulfill your wish. I want to see you smile for the rest of your days, not just in death."

"Lelouch…"

He kissed her other cheek. "C***, I love you." A kiss at the tip of her nose. "I love you so much, and I swear that you won't go another day without being reminded of how much you mean to me."

The last of the wall came crumbling around them both, and she waited with bated breath as he slowly leaned even closer to kiss her lips. And when they touched, she accepted his token of affection — reveled in it, and returned it in full. She was deaf to the world; deaf to the ugly voice inside her head, because his truth and his confession was all that mattered in this moment. It was what anchored her to reality and sent her flying. His words and his profession were her new sanctuary — a little piece of heaven in a centuries' worth of hell.

They slowly parted, but just barely. His thumb stroked her bottom lip gently as he gave her that smile again. This time, she returned his gesture despite the leftover tears in her eyes. And he watched with fascination and awe as the Witch finally smiled in what felt like forever.

"Thank you, Lelouch." She reached up and cupped his face, slowly bringing it closer to hers again. "I love you." She kissed the base of his neck, where his Code was. "I love you." A kiss on his forehead.

"I love you…"

[thebossveigar]

Return to Bandle City pt. 1

After escaping Mordekaiser’s prison, Veigar spent many years striking the hearts of many with his evil. Being evil is all Veigar knew after centuries of torture from Mordekaiser, and it gave him such joy! Though being evil and ruining others days made him happy, he felt rather… empty. He wanted to know where he had come from.

Veigar needed to find his home, it became a goal of his to. He had no memory of a previous home, all he remembered was pain, and Noxus. He went searching for ways to study the world, to see if anything at all would spark any memory, even if it was a vague one.

He found a nearby Noxian library and snuck in once it was closed for the night. He grabbed as many books as he could find about the various lands of Valoran, and about the southern continent of Shurima to study, and to see if anything would jolt his memory of where he came from. The security cameras caught Veigar, and a guard came from the back of the library.

“Who goes there?” the guard yelled from across the library, pulling out a flashlight from his pocket. This came as a surprise to Veigar, he should have remembered there were security cameras watching over for thieves. Veigar peered over from the side of a bookshelf. The guard was alone, but had a taser, and a gun on his belt. Veigar thought about his options. He couldn’t just run out, he’d be caught too easily. What Veigar needed, was a distraction, preferably something subtle.

The guard was walking around looking for the intruder, with a flashlight in one hand and his other hand on the taser on his belt. Veigar was in-between some book-shelves, so he was at least hidden from sight for now. Veigar very carefully grabbed his staff. He pointed it towards a shelf on the far-end of the library and blasted it. This blast caused the bookshelf to collapse, but wasn’t strong enough to cause a fire.

This caught the guard’s attention, and he ran over to investigate. This was the distraction Veigar needed, even if it wasn’t super subtle. This gave him a chance to sneak out, with a couple books about regions in tow.

Veigar walked back to his tower in Boleham and grumbled to himself. He was extremely frustrated he couldn’t get more books, the ones he had would have to do. One book, titled “Valoran’s many regions” talked about every region on the continent, and had a map attached, which also included the southern continent of Shurima. This would be his first read.

The book first goes over Demacia, and how the kingdom is anti-magic. Veigar figured he could skip over it entirely. The images didn’t look familiar to him, and he really doubted his home would be in a kingdom that’s against magic.

The next region the book went over was Noxus. He wasn’t too interested in reading about it - he did live in Noxus already after all, and it is the only place he remembers.

Next was the icy cold mountains to the north - Freljord. Nothing looked familiar to Veigar here either. He thought the region was way too cold looking to be a good home anyway, so he was glad it looked completely foreign to him.

Next was the port city of Bilgewater. Bilgewater was the only region Veigar had any interest in so far. Smugglers and common thieves could get a hefty fortune here. The issue to him was how dangerous Bilgewater was. While interested, nothing looked familiar here, so he didn’t think it was his home.

The last regions the book went over, were Piltover and Zaun. These regions didn’t spark Veigar’s interest like Bilgewater did, and nothing brought back any memories.

He moved on to the next book that was all about the island of Ionia. Ionia was great to read about, and Veigar honestly wished it looked familiar to him. Ionia was a naturally beautiful and magical land, and all he’d have to do is respect some trees and he could live there just fine. Though he liked Ionia so far, he wanted to find his original home, if he even had one.

The last book he had went over everything on the southern continent of Shurima. The fallen kingdom of Shurima, the sacred mountain of Targon, the Kumungu Jungles, and Ixtal. Nothing sparked a memory, nothing looked familiar. Veigar was all out of books.

He researched every region he knew of except for the Shadow Isles. and he didn’t have memories of any except for Noxus. ‘Have I always lived in Noxus? Was I born a slave to Mordekaiser? Was this just how life was meant to be for me?’ Veigar thought to himself in a slump. He was depressed, and frustrated. He was going to get rid of these books, they serve no purpose to him now.

“I’ll take these out to the Silent Forests behind Boleham first thing in the morning. While all these pathetic villagers are still asleep.” he said to himself silently.

Early next morning, Veigar plotted to get rid of the books he stole. He was going to take them deep into the Silent Forest, and Dark Matter them into oblivion. While most of the townsfolk were asleep, he snuck out with the books in his hands. He went through a back gate that was not too far off from his tower. No one saw him leave, which was a good thing. He had to go a bit through the Argent Mountains to get to the forest, but it would all be worth it for him.

On his way through the forest, he heard a voice. “Pix! Stop running so fast!” the voice yelled.

“Damn it all. Someone’s here” Veigar said angrily under his breath. Veigar hid behind some nearby trees, as a young girl chasing a bug ran by. ‘What is a child doing here, by herself at this hour?’ Veigar thought to himself, observing from the side.

The bug stopped running so the girl could catch up to it, and it hovered in place. “I got you Pix!” the girl giggled as she said to her small friend. The bug perched itself on her hat, and she could see the tip of Veigar’s hat from behind the tree. She walked up to the tree, with curiosity in her eyes. “Hello? Who are you?” she asked. Veigar was a bit startled she seen him. He jumped out from behind the tree with his staff in hand. Veigar looked at her with a glare “I” he says, “am the mighty Veigar. This is MY forest.” he yells. The forest wasn’t his, but the girl didn’t know that, and Veigar knew that.

The girl picked up her own staff, and her bug friend had fluttered around her, as if it was going to defend her from Veigar. She grasped her staff with both hands and was ready to defend herself if she needed to. She was scared, but she wouldn’t back down. She looked at Veigar “I’m Lulu, and this fae here is my friend Pix. I’ll leave your forest if you wish. I have no home since I got exiled from Bandle City.” she said to him in a stern, but shaky voice.

Veigar’s ears perked up from under his hat. The name “Bandle City” sounded familiar to him. “You came from… a place called Bandle City?” he asked Lulu. Lulu was confused he asked that question. “Uhm, yes. It’s where yordles like myself usually live.”

Veigar was really interested. Bandle City sounded familiar to him, very vaguely familiar, but familiar. “Lulu, was it? I don’t usually ask people stuff like this, but can you tell me more about Bandle City?” he asked her this, lowering his staff so she didn’t run off.

Lulu blinked. “Sure thing.” she says “Bandle City is in the magical spirit realm. It’s hard to access, you can only get there through gateways, but they don’t appear too often. Though, non-yordles don’t survive there. Why do you ask this?”

“Well…” Veigar started explaining “see, I don’t know where my original home was, if I even had one. All I remember is suffering, and abuse from a tyrannical overlord. All I know is being evil, and ruining other people’s days.” he said this to her in a monotone voice. Talking about his past hurt him, and made him want to cry, but he was really good at hiding it.

Lulu tilted her head “I’m sure you’d love Bandle City!” she says in a happy tone. “I can see you being a yordle, you’re pretty short for a human, but you are a bit on the tall side for a yordle.” she giggled. Veigar had never been considered “on the tall side” he enjoyed hearing it. ‘Maybe Bandle City is my home.’ he thought ‘Maybe I too, am a yordle.’

Lulu pulled out a photo book. It had a hand-drawn cover that Veigar assumes Lulu made herself. She opened the book to a town, a town full of yordles going about their daily lives. The town gave Veigar a sense of comfort, and safety. Something he’s never really felt before. “This is Bandle City” she explains. “There’s a lot more to it than just this one town, but this is the main part of it. It has glens, some special woods called Bandle woods, and the whole place is filled with unfettered magic. Humans say it has a ‘timeless quality’, but I’m not sure what that means.”

Veigar took the book from her hands, and looked a lot closer at the town. His heart was racing, it looked vaguely familiar to him. He was convinced he lived in Bandle City.

“Lulu,” Veigar turned to her and asked “Can you take me to Bandle City?” Lulu thought about it for a minute “Sure! After all, I love helping new friends.” she responded. “Whoa whoa” Veigar said “I don’t have friends. This is a temporary partnership at best.” he said to her with a mean look on his face.

Lulu’s mood deflated a bit hearing that. “Oh… okay.” her ears drooped down, but she still wanted to help Veigar out. “I’ll meet you here later tonight, does that sound good?”

Veigar nodded. “That works fine for me, Lulu. I’ll see you tonight.” before leaving, he tore out the map from one of the books, and handed it to Lulu. “Hold onto this for me. You can mark some gateway locations, since you say they don’t appear too often. I’m going to get rid of these books now, but I’ll see you later tonight.” he said to her. She nodded at him and raveled the map up and tied a purple ribbon around it to keep it shut.

Veigar walked off to go deeper into the forest. ‘Finally.’ he thought ‘I may have found home.’

[the-darklings]

i will build my empires on your ruins [i];

pairing: ares!connor x female!reader x hades!nines

summary: Because you do not bargain with Death without consequences. 

word count: 5.8k+ (*sighs aggressively*)

warnings: this will be a pretty stripped back version of greek myths since I am focusing more on concepts/characters than the actual mythology. I also wanted this to be approachable to those who don’t know much about Greek Gods. Also, yes, I am aware that Hades is not the personification of “Death”. That’s Thanatos but for the sake of this story I’m totally blending the two. Other warnings will follow in future chapters. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

dedication: dedicating this one to my favourite, beautiful little demon who happily sins with me every day @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast. Thank you for drawing me incredible art and making me laugh bae. I love you! And please feel better soon <33

———

The night you were born the sky howled its fury.

Heavy rain, wind and hail battered the tiny hut as your mother screamed to high heavens for mercy.

But there would be no mercy that night.

You were too early; too desperate to live, to fight.

After an entire night of pained wailing, you came into the world screaming your own fury at the darkness.

Your cries mixed with the storm and your father held you in his arms scrupulously.

“The Gods must be furious with you, little star, you fought them all off to come to us early,” he murmured lovingly against your flushed baby cheek.

He had no idea how right he was.

. . .

You were six when you realised you were just that little bit different from other children your age.

Where they harmed, you fixed.

Your hands sought out the things they hurt and mended them.

A baby bird who had fallen from its nest, a stray cat, a beaten dog.

Your heartfelt pity for them—a care—so you fixed, and you fixed, and you fixed.

You were eight when you nurtured your neighbour's horse back to health.

There was no secret, no magic involved, except a stubbornness which refused to leave as you stroked the horse’s mane soothingly.

“Do not go to the Lord of the Dead,” you insisted in a small whisper, darkness thick around the barn as you used the shaft of moonlight to stare the animal in the eye pleadingly. “Your Master still needs you, so you have to stay with him.”

Your neighbour thanked you profusely the next day, called you a dear and a sweet child who held the favour of the Gods. But it wasn't that, you knew that much. There was just you and your luck.

You were eleven when you healed your first human patient. Your own mother.

Twelve was the age when the village healer made you her apprentice. The older woman marvelled at your talent daily. She too believed magic to be involved despite your insistence that Gods were not entangled with you or your family.

She was the first to watch you hungrily, greedily, as yet another patient bowed their head in gratitude with tears in their eyes.

She would not be the last.

. . .

Life, as you knew it, was destroyed on a warm summer’s night.

“Please, please,” you begged, tears choking you as you grasped onto your mother’s lifeless hand. “Why? Why would you do this?”

The village healer stared at you with emotionless, pitiless smile. “Because we need to know. Do you not wish to know what you can do? What extent your gift goes to? Do you have any idea how blessed you are? Evidently, you cannot bring back the dead. Even loved ones. A pity...but maybe with a bit more encouragement…”

A sob tore through your chest as you cradled your mother’s cold, stiff hand in your own tightly. Your father’s glassy eyes stared at you from few steps away and you sobbed loudly, sickness welling in your stomach.

They could not be dead.

You healed things but—

Only while they were still alive, while they still had a will of their own to fight, and you simply had to encourage it. Protect the fragile flame flickering in a terrible storm.

No matter how much you pleaded or begged through your tears, your parents did not move.

Eternal stillness held their bodies down.

Their souls no longer belonged to this realm.

Or any realm but one.

“You will tell me how you did it,” the healer hissed harshly against your ear, jerking you away from your mother’s body by the hair. “What God did you trick into giving you this gift? Which one?”

A knife—oh Gods, she had a knife.

There was madness; bright, fervent madness burning in the healer’s eyes, and you knew that soon you too would be joining your parents in eternal slumber.

You wish it had been an accident.

You wish you could say that when the healer dragged you backwards, you did not kick her on purpose, did not grab her arm and tried to pull the knife away desperately.

You wish.

You wish.

You wish.

But the truth was much simpler.

Grief shook your hand when you slipped the knife—softly, quietly—into the healer’s still beating heart.

You cried loudly, and held her body close to yours while hatred and madness faded from her eyes along with her life.

The truth was simpler.

She took your parents—beloved, kind, endlessly gentle, parents.

So you took from her what she took from you.

Life.

You were fourteen when the world as you knew it ended.

You were fourteen when you learned that hands that heal can also destroy.

. . .

“Why are you helping me?” you asked uneasily, your lips quivering as you stared at your elderly neighbour.

The man hurriedly placed bundles of food and blankets on the horse—the same beautiful, black mare you had helped years ago—without a glance in your direction. Another few minutes passed in silence, and you were starting to grow anxious of his silence before he sharply pulled on the last strap, and turned to you.

“You must hurry, child,” he told you, a slight wheeze in his breath as he tugged you by the arm. “You must put as much distance as you can between this place and yourself before sunrise, do you understand?”

“Why?”

The man paused at the tight, controlled way you spat the word out—voice still hoarse from grief and pain—as your bloodshot eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Because I knew you since you were nothing more than a small babe,” the old man explained wearily, his weathered face strained, “And never once did I see a seed of hatred or darkness in your soul. The exact opposite in fact. I will not let them stone to death someone who cradled butterflies in their palm, and laid in fields of flowers talking to baby birds you were nurturing to health. You have a pure heart.”

A knife—blood—lifeless eyes and darkness—

“I—I do not,” you choked out, your throat muscles closing up as tears burned your vision. “I have done a terrible thing. Gods will never forgive me. I cannot be forgiven.”

The old man’s fingers brushed against your wet cheek, and there was such simple comfort in his awkward affection, it made tears come harder.

“Then, my dear child,” the man told you sympathetically, “You must find a way to repent. You kill your demons, or you tame them and use them as fuel.”

. . .

The world ended.

But you did not.  

. . .

You were wanderess.

There was no home for you to go back to each night, no mother or father to kiss your head goodnight, no family or warmth.

When the food ran out, you stole.

But the guilt was so terrible you did not last long.

You made due where you could, and begged to help the villagers out when you couldn't.

Some rejected your help, others scorned you, but few let you help and repaid you in kind.

Mostly in food and shelter.

Often you took what you could, when you could, always praying to the Gods that tomorrow was kinder.

But you never stayed in one village for long.

Whenever you helped someone—saved their lives—their eyes always slid to you greedily. If you helped the sick, people always noticed. It was an eventuality you could not escape no matter how hard you tried.

Sometimes, folded deep in the shadows of the night, you wondered if it was because they could see the blood soaking your hands.

. . .

The world had ended.

But time still passed.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.

Time did not stand still; no matter how much you wished it would.

Months turned into years, and you prowled still.

There was no aim, no goal, just kindness.

That, and repentance.

. . .

“Please, you must help us.”

Your head perked up at the desperate sound of a deep baritone voice. When your eyes finally located the man who spoke, your lips parted in surprise. The man was humongous, muscular in a way you heard written only in the tales of old. Of mighty, powerful beings carved from pure destruction.

This man was built like a Titan.

And he was currently begging a robed man for help with heart-wrenching desperation.

“She is only little,” the giant spoke with surprising softness, “She is running a high fever. We’ve tried everything we can to help her but—”

“And I told you already, you have to pay,” the robed man shot back peevishly, eyes narrowed, and face scrunched up as if he was looking at something unpleasant. “I do not give out charity. Either you pay for my services or you go find yourself another healer—assuming you would even be able to find anyone else in this filthy excuse of a village.”

“We do not have money,” the giant argued weakly, his fingers flexing, “Can you not help her now, and I pay you back later? I can work for you. Whatever you need. Just please help the little one.”

The man folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes, and sneered, “No. Like I said, I do not give out charity. Not to nobles. And certainly not to some street urchins.”

And then he simply walked away without a backwards glance.

“I will help you,” you said softly from behind the giant.

His devastated expression eased and he turned to you, blinking as if surprised to see you there.

“Who—?”

“I will help you,” you said again, more urgently this time, “Take me to her, and I will do what I can.”

The man frowned, looking unsure, “I do not have money to give you,” he confessed. “I cannot repay you.”

Already shaking your head, you simply told him, “I do not need your money, sire, just a safe place to spend the night, and a slice of bread if you can spare it.”

There was such palpable relief in his eyes, your lips twitched slightly.

“My name is (Name).”

“Luther.”

. . .

The little one was in critical condition.

You brushed your hand against her clammy forehead, shushing her gently when she whined low in the throat; a petrified, tiny noise that made your heart ache.

The woman of the house—Kara, as she introduced herself hurriedly while she ushered you deeper into the hut—stood just beside you, her expression anxious.

“What is her name?” you asked, not looking away from the little one as you began removing your leather bag and taking out small pouches.

“Alice.”

Kara’s voice seemed to catch on the name, her voice meek and upset as she stared down at the little girl curled up in the blankets.

“Can you help her?” she asked tightly, terrified, “Please help her.”

“Is she your daughter?” you asked instead, swiftly laying a fresh cloth against Alice’s forehead. “Do you love her?”

Kara flinched before she exhaled, subtly glancing at Luther who lingered by the foot of the cot. “I—she’s not mine by blood but…”  

Heartbreaking fear.

A fear of losing someone you—

“But you love her regardless,” you concluded softly, a faint smile tugging your mouth. “I will need your help then.”

Kara’s eyes shone brightly, fiercely, and something told you were going to like this woman very much.

“Anything.”

. . .

The next day, the fever still raged.

Alice went through bounds of sickness, shivering, and crying all in a wild cycle that repeated viciously. You helped as much as you could to ease her discomfort but it was not easy.

She was so small and so young. Nowhere near ready to battle such aggressive illness.

The fire had burned down to low embers as you cradled her tiny, burning fingers in your own, pressing them against your lips.

“Fight, little one,” you murmured gently, carefully brushing your thumb over every fragile knuckle in her tiny hand. “They need you. Do not go to the dark. Follow me home instead. There are those in this realm that love you desperately. They need you. Do not let the darkness take you. Come to the light, little one, come to the light. You have to fight.”  

Kara and Luther slept restlessly side by side, Alice whimpered weakly, and you mouthed soft encouragements against her skin into early hours of the morning.

Some battles you won.

Some you lost.

But you had no intention of losing this one.

. . .

“Will she live?”

Your tired gaze moved to rest on Luther’s haggard face, and you sighed softly.

“The danger has passed for now,” you said cautiously, “While her fever finally broke she is still very much in danger of a relapse.”

“You are gifted.”

Something in your chest froze, guttered, and your lips drew into a tight line as you looked away.

“I am not.”

He gave you a long, searching look and you felt like he could see a lot more than you wanted him to. His gaze was warm, however, and there was a certain gentleness to the grip of his fingers when he laid them on yours, squeezing just once before pulling away.

“I awoke last night, even though you were unaware,” he revealed mildly. “You were cradling Alice’s hand in yours in complete darkness, urging her to stay. Like you could call her from Death’s grip by will alone. And today she is better. You are gifted. And you have my eternal gratitude for helping us.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Same, automatic response.

“Perhaps not,” Luther agreed as you both watched Alice breathe deeply in her sleep. “But you deserve it.”

And you felt the simple warmth of those words settle against your heart.

. . .

They were a family.

When Alice woke up, Luther and Kara hugged her fiercely, lovingly, and held her close.

It reminded you of your family. Of your parents. How much you missed their love. How night after night you had wept into your open palms, smothering your grief like one would a dead thing.

It reminded you of the blood on your hands; stained, raw and ugly hands.

Of demons, guilt and the price of repentance.

So when they asked you to stay, a ‘no’ sat heavy on your tongue even though your heart—starving, ugly, traitorous heart—screamed and pleaded ‘yes’.

A tainted heart was a weak heart.

So you stayed.

. . .

“He used to beat her,” Kara revealed softly, but with a deep running rage buried in her words. You sat on the porch of the hut, both of you watching as Alice played with Luther; her childish, happy laughter warming your heart. “He beat her all the time and I—I could not let him. He was cruel. He was so cruel to those around him. So I took her and ran, praying to all the Gods above he would never find us. It was so hard at first but then we ran into Luther...it's been better since then. Easier. She's happy because we’re finally free.”

Free.

You basked in their kindness, their love for one another, and almost pretended you were a part of their unit.

But you were not.

You were nothing more than a temporary guest, and you would not make the mistake of thinking of them as your family.

Your family was dead.

. . .

“Will you stay with us forever (Name)?”

You pretended you did not notice how Luther lowered the water bucket with extra care, or how Kara paused in preparing dinner to hear your reply.

They had asked you to stay and you had stayed. But you never said for how long. You never expected to linger in the first place.

Fingers pausing in Alice’s hair, you smiled faintly at her innocent, curious expression. The braids you have woven into her hair looked beautiful, and you brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear affectionately.

Despite your best efforts, the trio had managed to crack your armour, if only a little.

“How long would you like me to stay, little one?” you asked quietly, your mouth twitching slightly at the determined yet soft expression on her young face.

“Forever.”

Humming, you tugged on her braid, “While I cannot promise forever, I can promise as long as my body and Gods allow it.”

“Well that’s forever then,” she spoke in a small voice. “Because you’re a goddess, and you will go back to the clouds one day. But for now we’re a family and it’s perfect.”

You wished it were that easy.

You wished you could go to the clouds, live with the Gods and leave all your worries and sins behind.

You wished you were something holy, and not wretched and broken instead.

. . .

A knock came just as the four of you were about to sit down for dinner.

When Luther opened the door, there was a frantic woman standing on the other side, a squirming bundle in her arms.

“Please,” she begged the moment the door cracked open. “Please help my son. I heard of a healer living here. Please help, please. He’s dying.”

The woman broke down crying as she held her baby close to her chest, her face red and splotchy while the child wailed in her embrace.

You had not told anyone you were a healer.

Kara’s gaze bore into you, clearly cautious but expectant too. Luther still stood in the doorway but there was a weight to his stare when he glanced your way as well.

This life—this affinity for healing—always managed to find you, and drag you back no matter how far you ran.

It had taken your family.

But it had also helped you find Kara, Alice and Luther.

Sighing, you closed your eyes briefly before nodding slowly, and saw obvious relief on both Luther’s and Kara’s faces.

“There is a spare space we don’t use at the back,” Kara said urgently, ushering the woman inside the hut. “You are more than welcome to use it.”

The woman followed, dazed and still weeping as Luther closed the door soundlessly behind her.

And if you had known then, what path this kindness would set you on, you never would have opened that door in the first place.

. . .

The boy screamed through the night as you held him.

You shushed, and hummed and whispered to him as he burned and burned in your arms.

Luther stayed to help. You told him he shouldn't, that it was dangerous—that whatever illness the child had was likely contagious, and the exact reason you told the mother to leave.

“You need my help (Name),” he said firmly, leaving no room for arguments as you both tend to the child. “So I will stay and help however I can.”

You wished you had told him ‘no’.

You wished you had not been so selfish for help, for companionship.

But you had allowed him to stay.

So in the end, perhaps, you had it coming.

. . .

The child scraped by.

After four days of barely sleeping and eating, of holding the child in your arms and sheltering him from the land of the dead, the boy finally started recovering.

The mother fell to her knees right in front of you and cried herself hoarse, praising you and thanking you, calling you a miracle in human skin.

The sight alone made you sick.

. . .

You slept for two days straight after that.

Kara woke you up occasionally, fed you broth and gave you water from the well to drink.

But sleep clawed you back into its domain, and you always followed willingly.

Two days later, you woke up to the sound of deep, rumbling cough coming from Luther’s lungs.

And it served as a good reminder.

Gods were not kind. They were wholeheartedly cruel.

. . .

The world as you knew it ended the second time on a cloudy summer’s night.

And it began with a visit from Death.

. . .

All you could see was Alice’s crying face.

All you could hear was Alice’s muffled sobs from the other side of the hut as you worked frantically.

There was a tremor in your hands that showed your own worry and fear. Kara wanted to help—eyes wide and pained—but you had stopped her, told her to stay with Alice who needed her comfort now more than ever.

Luther groaned harshly, his expression wan as he breathed heavily through his open mouth. His lungs seemed to crackle with every inhale, and you breathed harshly when you felt the too weak flutter of his pulse.

He was not going to make it.

He was going to die no matter what you did.

Some battles you won.

Some battles you lost.

There was a memory of blood—a knife—and no life in the eyes of a woman who haunted your nightmares to this day.

You lost your parents because you were too weak, too slow, too stupidly naive to see the danger.

You refused to lose anyone else. Refused to lose your gentle giant. Kara needed him. Alice needed him. You needed him.

He had given you a purpose—a life—when you had nothing, and you refused to part ways with him like this.  

Death had already taken enough from you.

Your parents, your happy future, and all the lives you haven’t been able to save over the years.

Too much.

Gripping his hand stiffly in yours, you stared down at Luther’s pained face and gripped his fingers tighter in your own.

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed angrily, not quite sure where the bitterness was coming from. But all of a sudden you could feel it burning acutely in your chest, driving you wild. “You will not take him. You cannot take him. I refuse to give up anyone else. I refuse to. You will not take any more precious people from me. Do you hear me? I deny you the right to his life.”      

Then, from copious, overbearing darkness of the room came a silk-like, cold whisper, “And who would dare to deny Death?”

You didn’t get a chance to scream as shadows wrapped and twisted around you, freezing the sound in your throat.

He stood in the corner of the room; in the darkest, most prominent stretch of black as low embers of the dying fire cast warm light on one side of his face.

Except, there was nothing warm about that face.

All sharp angles, and steep sloping valleys of lips, cheeks and jaw as his empty, arcane eyes took you in.

He made no sound when he stepped further into the room, the darkness rolling with him as his grey eyes scalded your skin and stripped you bare. There was such suffocating feeling of overwhelming power rolling off this creature wearing human skin that you could barely draw breath.

And you vaguely wondered how someone who looked like a noble—with his sleek black, high collar shirt and jacket, and casually folded arms—could make you want to run for the hills and never stop.

“W-Who?”

“You already know who I am,” he said sharply, eyes narrowing as he took another few steps closer, shadows bending and flowing in his wake. “Do not waste my time on pointless chatter, mortal.”

“Lord of the Dead.”

The title burned through your mind, and your heart fluttered in your chest when the man—God? Creature?—tilted his head gradually to one side.

Never in your life had you felt so small as you did at that moment the ruler of the Underworld openly judged you.

“And you are the girl who plays with shadows and death,” he noted icily, “I have heard much about you. You have become quite the nuisance in my realm.”

“I’m sorry?”

Eyes narrowing he did not move closer, but his voice was as sharp as a freshly sharpened blade, “I will be taking him now. He is mine, and I suggest you do not try and interfere again, mortal.”  

“Spare him.”

You winced at the coldness of dark shadows scraping against your legs when those rushed words left your lips. The air seemed stripped of any traces of warmth while the being before you frowned minutely, expression contemptuous.

“Are you ordering me, mortal?”

Your reply was a hurried exhale of breath and syllables, “No, of course not. I am simply asking.”

Swallowing, you tried to straighten your spine, tried to stand taller and look him in the eye without fear. To show your resolve.

“Spare him.” There was a sliver of cold amusement on his face as his grey eyes glinted, “Are you bargaining with me then? I do not tolerate such blatant disrespect, especially from mortals.” The shadows around the room seemed to hiss their agreement, slithering down and around your ankles as if waiting for a command to devour you. “What has Death ever done for me but take, and take and take,” the words—foolishly brave words—slipped out before you could stop them, and you quickly added. “I know Death more intimately than anyone else. You are cruel, selfish and greedy. You owe me this much.” There was a flicker of something terrifying in those freezing depths as his eyes bore into you, and between one unsteady breath and the next, he was right in front of you. His imposing frame caged you in as raw, undiluted fear crawled through your heart and into the very marrows of your soul.    You realised how big of a mistake you had made when Death bared his sharp teeth at you in a mockery of a smile. Shadows and ice caressed your skin gently as he leaned his face closer to yours. “Is that so?”

His breath was like winter’s night, destructive and biting as darkness danced against your cheek.

“What power do you have to bargain, mortal?” he mocked softly, and this close up you could see that his hair was not black like you initially thought it was. It was, in fact, the richest shade of dark brown you had ever seen as few loose strands brushed against his forehead. “None. I could kill you with a touch of my fingers. Are you not afraid?”

“I-I am petrified,” you admitted lowly, your voice quivering, “But he is my friend, and I would give anything to save him. You have the power t-to do so.”

The slow upwards turn of his mouth was like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Careful with your words, mortal,” he whispered coolly, eyebrows hiking upwards as slight sneer twisted his face. Clenching your fingers into fists, you swallowed shakily, not dropping his gaze as a tremor shook your knees.

There was a long moment his icy stare drilled into you without so much as a waver. “Anything?”

The word was breathed softly, brushing against your senses as you blinked harshly realising that his entire being seemed to have blended into the darkness again.

“W-What is your name?”

His gaze was an endless, uninhabited prison that captured you, and you could almost feel yourself being dragged to the Underworld with a single glance.

“And why would a mortal wish to know Death’s name?”

The sound of your wildly beating heart was drowning out everything else around you except for the silky words of the God in front of you.

“So I can finally give my nightmares a name,” you murmured unevenly, “So I may know what name I should curse in my sleep.”

Something constricted around your throat briefly and you gasped weakly. Darkness hummed around you both and the God in front of you sneered.

“Nightmares? You know nothing of nightmares, mortal,” he spoke pitilessly, his voice low as his silver gaze hardened. “Not yet.”

The hope in your chest cracked. “I—I will not let you take him.”

Grey eyes—cruel, and bottomless—almost reflected the absence of light in the room, and when he finally moved his gaze away, you felt wild panic seize you. Luther groaned painfully behind you, and your fingers blindly reached through the shadows.

You were fully aware of how foolish you were being when your fingers wrapped around his forearm, when you felt the hard muscles under his jacket ripple at the contact.

“Anything,” your terrified whisper cut through the terrible, icy displeasure suddenly lining Death’s tall frame. “I’m willing to give you whatever you want in exchange for his life.”

Alice.

Kara.

Luther was their family. They needed him.

But you had no family, no loved ones that relied on you, or needed you.

“You must find a way to repent. You kill your demons, or you tame them and use them as fuel.”

It would be a worthy sacrifice.

Finally, a chance to repent for taking a human life.

“Your soul.”

Deliberate, and sly, he spoke smoothly as he finally turned his glacial stare back on you.

“What?”

A flicker of irritation and impatience crossed his face before his expression smoothed again, “Underworld is a land of the dead. Healing and life do not come easily in my domain. My dark halls know your name, girl, oh how the tormented souls whisper of you. A mortal capable of pulling souls back to life. Your own soul will do nicely in my collection. A good reminder that no one cheats Death.”

“You want me dead?”

Something flitted across his expression as he turned to fully face you, eyes flickering down and then up absently, “I have other uses for you. Before your inevitable, pathetic end. When I summon you, you will answer. My will be your own, and as result, no harm will come to your human...companion. That I can guarantee you,” he articulated evenly, his voice soft but knowing.

Knowing—like you had already agreed, already signed your soul away.

“Y-You will not make me kill or harm anyone,” you forced through your dry tongue, fingers tightly gripping onto the material of your clothes. “No harm will come to my friends. And—”

Cold fingers tilted your chin up, and you gasped shallowly at the cold that sunk into your skin upon contact, “This is not a negotiation, little mortal,” his voice was sensual, almost amused, and you couldn't help but to think that maybe this was worse than wrath. “You will take any mercy I extend your way because you have no other choice. His life is in your hands.”

You pulled away baffled by the lack of anger on his face. You had grown up on tales of Gods who cursed and tormented mortals simply because they could.

God of the Underworld. Lord of the Dead.

For some reason you expected him to be the worst one.

“I do not have the entire night, mortal, I will tear his soul out right in front of your eyes if you’re having such a hard time deciding,” he informed dispassionately, darkness humming around him when he took a small step in Luther’s direction.

“No!” you jerked yourself forward, your knees creaking as you stumbled. “I will do it. Just—please...don’t take him away.”

The God in front of you stilled, his shadows stilling with him, and you couldn't read much from his sharp profile but something told you he did not stop because he was surprised by your words. Something else stopped him in his tracks.

“Then let us seal the deal.”

You stared at him unsurely, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. A slight, devious smirk tugged his lips when he noticed your ignorance. Darkness rippled and he was a step away yet again, reaching forward till you felt his cold thumb brush briefly against your trembling bottom lip.

“You have to mean it,” he stated seriously, his eyes like a stormy sky before the thunderstorm began. “If your heart is not true, if you do not mean it, I will know. And then death will be the least of your worries.”

Sweat trailed down your back, and you released a shuddering breath of pure fear, at the thought of—

Looking away, you tried to gather yourself, build up your strength and set your spine into a rigid, unyielding line. You licked your lips once, biting them briefly before you heaved a large gulp of air into your lungs. Your fingers balled up into fists, shaking a little as you closed your eyes, lips parting in—

It was as soft as a petal.

Delicate; cold brush of shadow, ice and pure night against your lips.

And then it was anything but.

It was a freezing, devouring thing that dragged you into the deepest depths of darkness with its intensity.

You groaned, lips parting in shock as his mouth seared against yours, his grip on the back of your head unyielding as he held you close.

Suddenly there was a sharp, burning sting against your lip and you whimpered, trying to jerk back but he held on tight, pulling you so close your bodies brushed against one another. He swallowed every noise to leave your lips greedily, and you shuddered against the burning cold feeling.

He was the one to pull away after another moment, unhurried and graceful, as his thumb swiped across his own mouth, licking the digit unhurriedly.

Your shaking fingers touched your stinging mouth, only to come away wet and red. Instinctively, your tongue brushed against your bleeding bottom lip as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

The God of Death raised his hand towards Luther without breaking your gaze, and scarcely twitched his fingers before they once again lowered to his side.

Luther calmed immediately, his laboured breaths smoothing out into an even rhythm.

“As per our agreement, your companion shall live,” God of the Underworld announced indifferently, face taut before a flicker of a smirk adorned his face.

“I’ve had a taste of you now (Name),” he said silkily, expression taunting and shrewd, “And I shall come back very soon to collect my dues.”

Tasting the metallic bite of your own blood against your tongue, you felt the blood in your veins freeze as he turned away from you dismissively, shadows already wrapping around him.

“One more thing before I go,” he began, darkness pausing with his voice when he turned slightly to glance at you from the corner of his eye. “Mortals have used many names for me, cursed me with an even greater amount of them. But you may call me Nines.”

And then he was gone.

Like a dream, a dark whisper.

If it wasn’t for the sting of your still bleeding lip, you would have thought the whole encounter was nothing more than a dream—a nightmare.

You turned towards Luther’s cot but only managed a step before your legs gave out and you collapsed on your knees, vomiting your meagre lunch all over the floor.

. . .

When life as you knew it ended for the third time—just two weeks after that fateful encounter—you were not surprised at all. You had been expecting it.

It began with a hardened face of a being that was not human, and a simple command:

“You have been summoned.”

“By whom?”

“The God of War.”      

. . .

an: well done for making it to the end! I hope you guys now understand why this was as long as it was. I wanted to establish Reader’s character in a way that would justify/explain her reactions/actions/thoughts later on in the story. I also wanted to get through all the boring stuff so we could dive into the fun parts. As always your love is fuel for my starving demonic muse, and I thank you for your love, support and patience! <333

LOVELY BEANS I LOVE: 

@fletaisthenewmeta @connorfixinghistie @mysticalkhfan @amydarleen @negative-blackbird @pandemoniumambassador @wiredhawkes @wolfwithabook  @winterofherdiscontent @scribere-multum @simplyvictoria-93 @the-abyss-of-fandoms @ev3e @millenniumwhite @dragonfruitdingus @loosingmymindtothewalrus @imaginativedaydreams @winterierwriter @mameedoodles @shadaze93 @softwarexinstability @safaisok @nordicwoods @deviantramblings @super-flamin-hot-cheetos @bravado-raven @bryansdimples @anime-chickadee @torollakja @raja-in-demigodishness @trixibebe @kamrioui @but-who-saves-you @stlsmg @spookydragonprincess @ricewithfish @jaybirdss @yikes-buddy 

[mikaila-orchard]

“Don’t Run away,”

An angsty Sylvaina fic.

The plaguelands were as unpleasant and sick inducing as the name suggested.

 A small caravan of Lordearoneans were slowly trekking across a dirt road. Their movements were weary and sluggish, appearing even more lifeless than the undead scourge they were fleeing from. Peasant and soldiers alike moved with the same labored strain in their bodies.  Months of simply trying to survive in their hellish situation had all but beaten the very concept of hope out of them. Yet they persisted, for now they had at least a chance of salvation.

Leading the pack of stragglers was one filled with more energy than the entirety of the group combined. Jaina Proudmoore moved with purpose, her ocean blue eyes scanning the area for incoming dangers. Her metaphysical senses reached out even further for threats out of sight. The only sounds she made were the slight shifts of her Kirin Tor robe and her staff making contact with the beaten path. Every fiber of her being was dedicated to a singular goal. Getting these survivors to safety across the sea.

 Less than a year ago, the entirety of Azeroth was on the threshold of inescapable Armageddon.  The scourge that plagued these lands were but a fraction of the horrors wrought upon the world in the form of the Burning Legion. Their vast armies field with demonic might sought to the utter destruction of countless worlds, and they meant to bring that very destruction to this world, as they attempted thousands of years ago.

 But alas, such an apocalypse did not come to pass. The Burning Legion’s leader, Lord Archimonde, was destroyed upon the summit of Mount Hyjal and his demonic forces pushed off of the world. Jaina had seen it happen. By her hand and the hands of unexpected allies, she had made it happen.  She had stood against the impossible odds before her and prevailed. Such a victory, and the bonds forged from it, had filled the young mage with overwhelming hope. Hope she feared she had all but lost before setting sail from Lordaeron not long before it fell to ruin.  Hope that she channeled into determination. She knew what she was capable of now. She knew she could do better. That’s why she was here.

 After the Legion’s defeat, she and the surviving members of the alliance who accompanied her headed south. There they established a small sanctuary off the coast of Kalimdor. Theramore. The settlement served as a beacon of hope and peace for all of Azeroth, or at least that was the idea. It was that island town that Jaina had come to bring these surviving humans to. This caravan was the fifth she was able to uncover in the week she had been here. With this last group, the ship she came upon would be at max capacity and ready to sail them all to safety.  Even in their lifeless, wistful fatigue, every one of them expressed their eternal gratitude to Lady Proudmoore for her generosity and her courage.

 Jaina would smile and wave off such compliments, for deep down she knew. She did not act out of courage. If she did, she would have returned to Lorderon months ago. No, she only came back when she was certain. Certain that there were no signs of the kingdoms fallen prince. The one who killed his father, the king, and served his own land to the scourge on a silver platter.  The one who had a hand in allowing the Legion to return. The one she should have stopped back at Stratholme. The one who took away her-

 Jaina shook her head slightly yet forcefully. She couldn’t think about that. About her. She already knew what Arthas had done to Quel Thalas. She had heard tale of what he had done to the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. Such thoughts would not aid her on her mission. What was important was that Arthas had not been spotted in Lordaeron since the Legion’s arrival and that the survivors she was leading were a mile or so from the coast. Things could not be more ideal.  She could worry about the rest once everyone was safe.

 As if her brief distraction had tempted fate itself, her senses felt something approaching. The cold, nauseating aura of deathly magic was drawing near from multiple sources. She felt the dark energies all around them, no doubt meaning to surround the caravan. Without a clear line of sight, Jaina was unsure was exactly they were about to face, as such she took no chances.

 The mage rallied power behind her will.  Her eyes began to glow with arcane might.  Her fingers hummed and sparked with magic just waiting to be released onto their approaching foes.  Throughout the journey, Proudmoore made an attempt to keep her considerable abilities reserved, lest her power serve as a signal to any magically inclined undead to more easily hunt them down.  Now, however, it would serve as a warning to those who would dare attack them.  There were multiple dark presences nearing their location, but no single one of them could match her for pure strength.

 Jaina heard shifting amongst the trees on either side of the road.  Not feeling comfortable just waiting to see what would come into sight, she swiftly got to work.  With her staff raised in the air and the power of the arcane taking shape accordance to her will, large shards of ice began raining down from the sky.  There trajectory was not random, however.  The human sized chunks all fell just shy of the trees enclosing the road.  The previously weary and listless travelers now looked around in confusion and fear as they now had walls of ice on either side of them.

 “Quick!”  Jaina called out to the caravan.  “Hurry to the dock.  We haven’t much time!”  The mages eyes darted between the walls and the caravan, now moving double time.  Her ears anticipated the sounds of ghouls who would likely claw at the ice, attempting to either break through or climb over it.  She awaited the sound of giant abominations that would no doubt attempt to rip and tear their way through the frozen barricades.  She received neither.  

  Soon, several masses of smoke were seen flying over the walls and landing right before Jaina.  Their lower halves were comprised entirely of gaseous magic.  Their upper bodies were enrapted in loose cloaks that appeared ever flowing in the air, same as their ample, straw like hair.  Their faces seemed to be contorted in eternal agony and suffering.

 Banshees.

 “Submit to the scourge,” the ghost closest to Jaina hissed at her.  “Submit to the Dark Lady.”

 Jaina simply narrowed her eyes in response and readied her staff.  “Go,” she spoke to the caravan as she now stood at the back.  “Hurry to the boat.  I’ll take care of this.”

 If the group had any hesitation to leave her there, it was short lived.  The sound of hooves, creaking wagon wheels and heavy boots drew ever fainter as the group fled the incoming battle as quickly as they could.  

 The Banshees howled their disapproval as they moved to attack.  These spirits were a tricky sort.  They each were capable of debilitating screams and had the ability to possessed the weak willed.  Neither of which were a major threat to a mage of Jaina’s skill, however should any of them make it past her and reach the caravan, more than a few of them would no doubt perish.

 As such, all Jaina had to do was ensure no banshee got past her.  That required evening the odds.

 She moved her staff in one broad sweeping motion.  With that gesture and silent words of power, water began to well into ever growing masses on either sides of her.  By the time, the banshees were within striking distance of the mage, she was accompanied by two large water elementals.  Each of the summoned creatures was capable of enduring any attack the specters could make and had bodies unsuitable for any possession. The banshee leading the charge could not move away in time to avoid one elementals swipe.  The rest of the group scattered before they had a chance to join their unlucky sister who fell unceremoniously to the ground upon one strike.

 The wicked wraiths flew all about Jaina and her guardians, hurling volleys of twisted magic at them.  The elementals liquid structure held soundly against the assaults, and returned them in kind.  Those who did not engage attempted to break away from the skirmish and chase down the fleeing caravan.  Jaina quickly eyed the banshees rushing down the road.  She would not let them reach the others.  Power gathered and surged in the palm of her had before being sent through the air in the form of a large lance of ice.  The sharp projectile struck it’s target true, the banshee’s for dissipating in a cry of released agony. Her shocked sister soon joined her.  Luckily, Jaina’s aim was much better than that of her elementals at long distances, though she rather not reflect on who helped her attain such marksmanship.

 Before long, the skirmish had ended.  The banshee’s were dispelled from the land of the living, leaving no bodies to speak of.  Jaina looked around for possible reinforcements for a long moment before releasing a breath of relief.  It appeared the worst of it was over.  With a faint gesture of her staff, her two elementals reverted into simple water, returning to the soil of the scarred earth beneath them.  “Well,” Jaina said to herself, a faint air of smugness to her words.  “Can’t say I’m impressed with what the scourge has to offer these days.”

 “Arrows in the quiver, little mage.”

 Jaina froze.  Her blood ran cold as her eyes widened at the sudden voice straight behind her.  A voice so familiar, yet so hollow and chilling.  Were it not for those choice of words, she might not have even recognized it.  The mage reached out with her senses, praying the voice was simply a trick and there was no such presence nearby. No such luck.  A dark aura much like the banshees before stood right behind her.  This one however, was much stronger.

 Jaina didn’t want to turn around.  Doing so would only confirm what she had spent little over half a year denying.  She prayed what she heard were merely rumors. That her beloved had not been raised into undeath and instead was given the peaceful rest she deserved.  She knew if she turned around, that illusion would be shattered.  Nevertheless, her survival, and by that token the survival of the people she intended to save, demanded that she turn to face the voice.

  So she did.

 The silhouette of a cloaked figure was the first thing she noticed, with two long elven ears protruding from the slits in the drawn hood.  A moment later, she could make out the figure of a woman shrouded by the tattered garb.  This banshee was very much unlike the others.  A body completely intact and corporeal.  Hunting leathers in place of billowing robes.  Smooth lifeless skin perfectly preserved and nigh flawless.  Well, save one flaw.  A large scar planted in the center of the undead elf’s exposed abdomen.  A scar left behind by Frostmourne itself.

 It wasn’t until Jaina’s eyes came up to the face of the banshee that the dread she felt reached its climax.  There she saw a face both smooth and sharp in it’s features. High cheekbones and full lips.  Long, platinum blonde hair spilling from the hood and draping over her shoulders.  And the eyes.  Sweet merciful Tides, the eyes.  Where not long ago she saw a warm hazel gaze, it was now the coldest of blue, as it was with any slave of the Lich King.  The miasma of death did not conceal the truth as well as the mage would have hoped.  Standing before her, only a few paces away, was the Ranger-General of Silvermoon.

 “Sylvanas,” Jaina choked out.

 The elf tilted her head slightly, almost curious about being referred to by name.  “You know me,” she remarked, her voice as chilling and hollow as a moment before.

 Jaina swallowed the lump in her throat.  Sylvanas had not attacked her yet.  Was there a reason? Was this just a distraction?  She reached out further with her senses.  She detected no other undead around them.  The caravan was safe.  So why did the undead before her not attack?  What could that mean?

 “Yes,” the mage finally said, doing her best to keep the budding thoughts of hope in the back of her mind.  “Do... Do you know me?”

 “I know only what the Lich King demands me to know.  And I know that he demands your death.”  With that, Sylvanas drew a saber fastened to her waist.  It was not the finely crafted elven saber Jaina had seen countless times before.  It was rusted and poorly kept, no doubt pulled of some hapless bandit she killed.

 Proudmoore had every reason to abandon all hope that the woman she loved was anywhere to be found inside the lifeless husk, yet she persisted.  “Sylvanas please,” she beseeched. “It’s me.  It’s Jaina.”

 The banshee responded with an arcing swing of her blade.

 Jaina managed to raise her staff up to stop the strike dead. Her staff held strong against the meager sabre, but the force of the attack. nearly made her knees buckle.  Sylvanas knew not fatigue or restraint in undeath, it seemed.  This battle could not be won in close quarters.  Jaina’s fighting prowess was not terrible as far as mages went, but she was facing the ranger who taught her every fighting move she knew.  Melee combat was not an option.  

 She swung her staff over to one side, forcing the blade away from her.  The mage then leapt back as far as she could before hurling hurling a bolt of frozen power at the banshee.  She knew it would miss, but the time it took Sylvanas to dodge gave her a precious moment longer to bolster her defenses.  She reached out to the ice walls they stood between.  Chunks of the solid material began to melt and take the form of familiar elementals from before.  The summoned guardians wasted no time barraging the banshee with their aquatic strikes.

 Sylvanas evaded every attack.  Her motions familiar, yet still utterly breathtaking to Jaina.  Even now, as a slave to the Lich King, she moved with impossible precision and grace.  Before it filled Jaina with wonder and ever growing fondness for the elf.  In this context, however, it only made her more nervous. Her mana reserves were plentiful, but at this rate they would be wasted just trying to strike the banshee, which even now she didn’t want to do.

 “Sylvanas, please!” She called out to the ranger being kept at back by her guardians.  “We’ve already made it this far.  Just let me save them!  The scourge has eno-“

 Sylvanas landed against the barricade of ice and kicked off, sending herself high in the air, in that arc she had readied her bow and before landing had shot two arrows at each of the elementals. They were no ordinary arrows however.  They burnt with with black and purple magics.  Magics that caused the summoned creatures to be dispelled almost immediately.  Jaina flinched as her guardians collapsed unceremoniously into large puddles.  Her attention snapped back to the banshee quickly closing the distance between them.

 The mage raised the staff and began to gather more arcane might.  It was then that the elf made a strange, almost strangled cry and suddenly, Jaina could not feel her magic.  She was silenced.

 Her mind raced for a possible recourse, but it did not race fast enough as a heavy boot suddenly made impact with her chest.  Jaina fell hard to the ground, immediately winded by the kick. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear as Sylvanas loomed over her.  The rangers expression was nearly blank with just a hint of smugness to it for her victory.

 “My love,” Jaina rasped out, still trying to catch her breath.  “Please.”

 “Silly little mage,” Sylvanas replied coldly as she prepared her bow once more.  “Your love is gone.”

 Jaina wished, nay prayed, that she wouldn’t cry.  The burning tears threatening to fall made that difficult.  She held back a sob as she dared to meet the banshees gaze.  If this were to be her end, she would look it in the eye.

 “Prove it,” she challenged.  “Do what she never could,”

 Sylvanas drew the string of her pillaged longbow, aiming for Jaina’s face less than a meter away.  Her orders were clear.  The Lich King of the undead scourge made sure of that.  His will, his voice, rung loud in her mind without end ever since she was raised.  Commanding her to slaughter and raze in his name.  Her orders here were no different.

 “Slay the mage!” the Lich King bellowed in her mind.  “Raise her as a perfect slave to scourge.  Unmake her!  Obey!”

 “NO!”

 A second voice suddenly screamed in the banshees mind, causing her to wince.  The arrow was let loose, but shot into the ground just to the left of Jaina’s head.  The ranger staggered back a pace or two, the sudden scream of an alien voice noticeably hurting her.  After a moment, Sylvanas’ mind was silent.  Completely.  The Lich King's ever present voice was gone.  Banished from her now empty mind.  No. Not empty.  The second voice was still there.  

 Her voice.  

 It was all starting to come back to her.  Not to say that Sylvanas ever forgot who she was.  The memories were all there, but they were repressed.  Sectioned off behind a dam of will that the Lich King constructed.  With that will gone, the dam had broken and everything, her memories, her will, came flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

 She looked up from the ground.  Apparently this sudden incident had brought her down to her knees without her realizing it.  Her gaze came up to the mage she had attempted to kill not a moment ago.

 ”.... J-Jaina?”

 Jaina was stunned.  She hadn’t the slightest clue what just happened.  One second she was prepared to meet her end at the hands of her former lover.  Then the ranger stepped back and fell to her knees, missing the unmissable shot.  She had wondered if this were all just a trick before she questioned to what end that trick could possibly be.  Jaina had no hope of escape.  A deceit like this would have been pointless.

 Her shock grew ever larger as Sylvanas suddenly looked up at her.  The eyes she looked into had changed again.  Icy blue suddenly became fiery red.  The hood of her cloak fell back to reveal what shadows had hidden.  Underneath her eyes were long black streaks, looking like trails of tears.  Proudmoore reached out with her senses.  The dark aura the banshee was composed of was still present, yet.... different? It was a subtle change, but it was there.  It was more... more wild.  She was so transfixed by these small changes that she almost didn’t notice Sylvanas calling out to her.  Her voice still hollow with undeath, but much meeker and more uncertain.

 Jaina trembled.  Did she dare hope?  Could this have actually meant what she thought it meant?  She rose to her feet and cautiously approached the banshee.  “Yes,” she affirmed finally.  “Sylvanas it’s me.”  The elf’s eyes widened, slowly lifting herself from the ground but making no attempt to approach as Jaina did.  The mage stilled momentarily.  She prayed this wasn’t a trick, but she needed something to be sure.  A sign.  

 It was then a thought came to Jaina.  Her free hand reached under her collar and pulled free what secretly hung around her neck.  It was a pendant, carved into the shape of a dragon hawk feather.  A gift of affection made personally by Sylvanas before they last parted.  Sylvanas’ eyes fell upon the pendant, her body remained unnaturally still for a long moment before she finally responded.  The ranger reached underneath her leathers and revealed something that even she didn’t realize was there.  A blue crystal held onto by a silver chain.  The stone glowed softly with magic.

 Tears fell freely down Jaina’s face.  Sylvanas kept it.  After months of undeath and slavery, she kept it.  She was still there inside that lifeless body this whole time.  And now she was free.  “Oh Sylvanas.”  She took another step towards the elf.

 The elf took a step back.

 Sylvanas began shaking as she looked at the pendant in her hands.  Hands that were dead.  Hands that did terrible things.  Memories of what had happened to her were raging in her mind. Memories of what she had done as the Lich King’s slave raged just as hard.  Were she alive, she likely would have vomited.  As such, she just shook and backed away.

 “No, my darling.  Please.”  Jaina begged, worry crossing her features once again.  “I’m right here.  Don’t run away.”

 Sylvanas looked back at Jaina.  Her Jaina.  The girl she had met by chance in Dalaran those years ago.  The girl who’s brilliance, determination and wit won her heart soon after. The girl who fell to her knees and begged the General to sail west to Kalimdor with her before Quel'thalas fell to the scourge.  And here she was again.  Jaina came back to her, as gentle and beautiful as ever.  Even after being scuffed up from battle, she was perfect.

 But Sylvanas?  Sylvanas was a monstrosity now.  

 “Stay away,” the elf croaked.  Her hands came to cover her ears, the noise of her memories getting louder and louder.

 “My darling, it’s okay,”  Jaina assured her, despite panic beginning to rise inside her as well.  “Come- come with me.  We can get you out of here.  I can keep you safe.  I promise.”

 “I-I can’t!”  Sylvanas cried out, her face contorted in pain from the growing loudness inside her mind.

 “Sylvanas please!  Stay with me!”

 The banshee screamed.  She screamed with unbridled agony and sorrow.  Even as Jaina covered her already ringing ears, she could feel the pain Sylvanas had cried.  

Sylvanas’ body became shrouded in black smoke and unearthly tendrils, her crimson gaze and horrified visage the only indication that she was still corporeal.  In her maddening grief, she flew away.  Up over the ice wall and into the forest.  Jaina scrambled to her feet and desperately attempted to follow, but by then it was too late.  She was gone.  Out of sight and beyond her senses.  

 After a moment of silence, Jaina fell to her knees and wept.  She cried for Sylvanas, only able to imagine what horrible things were going through her mind.  She cried for herself to see her beloved come back to her only to flee.  She cried for the other undead she now knew remembered who they were.  She just cried.

 She was unaware of how much time had past before her tears had run out and her throat went hoarse.  She simply sat there in the dirt, feeling uncomfortably numb to everything.  She peaked over to the road leading to the coast when she noticed the sun nearing the western horizon.  It was bound to get dark soon and she likely had people awaiting her return.  She lifted her aching body from the ground and pressed onward.  She still had a mission to complete.

 Even in her sorrow induced numbness however, a small smile did manage to creep onto her lips.  There was one thing she knew for certain from all of this.  Sylvanas was still there, and she was free.

 And when Jaina returned.  She was going to save her.

[kraitobelisk]

Night hunt

Here’s a little something I wrote for a GW2-themed writing contest!

~2000 words, tell me what you think! No content warnings except for alcohol use, I guess.

”It has now been nearly two weeks since the start of our journey. We had set out with one goal in our minds; we wanted to record down the rarest, most prestigious cooking recipes in Tyria. You see, cooking is not the most highly regarded pastime in the charr society. Most of our cuisine is limited to meat sliced and prepared in different ways and army rations. The dry plains around Ascalon don’t make for the best farming fields, and some older charr say that if charr were meant to eat greens, we would have teeth like a cow. I was not raised in the traditional charr way, however. My name is Ikur Ironjaw, and my parents were fishers living in the bustling coastal city of Lion’s Arch. It was there among the colorful, varied food stalls where I acquired my fascination with the different styles of preparing food that exist within Tyria.  You would be surprised how many different ways one can filet and season a sea bass! In this book I will present—”

I was jostled from my writing by my traveling companion, a bright human woman who went by the name of Lumelie. We had known eachother for years, cultivating our sparks as elementalists together. We had been traveling in the back of a hay cart for the better part of the day, and I was just getting used to the jerky movement of the dolyak-drawn cart. However rough the ride was, it was a welcome break from hiking, as we had been on our feet ever since our ship set ashore near Gendarran Fields.

”We’re soon passing into Snowden Drifts. The cart owner said that she won’t take us further than that, remember?” There was a tense edge to her voice. Our journey hadn’t been going very smoothly lately, and most of our coin had gone towards the ship journey from Lion’s Arch to Gendarran Fields, and towards the supplies for the journey from there to Hoelbrak. ”I remember.”, I replied while gathering my writing supplies into their container. It was a wooden cylinder specifically designed to hold rolls of paper or parchment, with smaller compartments for quills and inks. I had started writing my book countless times, but I just didn’t seem to get the beginning right, and my supplies were beginning to dwindle. At this rate, we would have to ask around for more paper the next time we were in town.

We packed up our supplies and slipped on the warm cloaks and gloves we had bought in the previous town. It had been a challenge finding clothes tailored for charr bodies this far from the Citadel, but eventually we lucked out. The cart came to a slow stop, and we climbed off, swiping bits of hay off our clothes while thanking our driver profusely. There was still a few hours of daylight left, and we had planned to make our way to a nearby trading outpost on foot by nightfall. It was snowing slightly, big soft flakes falling slowly from the skies.

After a few hours of hiking, the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, coloring the sky in vivid colors and stretching the shadows of the pine trees around us longer and longer. Stars were winking into view among the sparse, slowly drifting clouds. It would be dark soon, and we would have to make our camp here in the wilderness if we didn’t find shelter. Both of us were elementalists, so striking up embers to light a fire would not be a big obstacle for us, but it was the wood I was more concerned about. We did not have axes packed with us, and all the trees around us were old, sturdy pines with thick trunks. I couldn’t see any younger saplings or even fallen twigs we could have gathered into a bonfire, only these towering, ancient evergreens. I could still see somewhat clearly, but I knew that my companion’s human vision might not work so well in the growing darkness. I knew her well enough to know that she was too proud to ask, so I reached out my hand towards her, to lead her in the darkness. She stopped and was silent for a moment, but then I felt her take my hand, and we continued trekking through the snow.

The blizzard was on us quicker than anyone could have expected. The wind howled furiously and the snowflakes that had previously seemed so peaceful and soft were now flying around angrily, stinging our faces. The snow we were walking on had gotten deeper, and my heart sank when I had a sudden, dreadful realization that we had strayed from the path at some point. Doubling down on our tracks would be pointless, since they were quickly filling up with fresh snow. We were exhausted. Suddenly, Lumelie stumbled and I could feel myself being pulled down with her. We went down softly with the snow cushioning our fall. My legs felt like lead, and I couldn’t get up again. My friend wasn’t moving either. While laying on the snow, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, as I could see movement on the edges of my vision. Shadows darted to and fro amongst the trees, big dark shapes moving swiftly. I could only glimpse parts of them, a beak here, a muzzle there. I tried to conjure up a flame in the palm of my hand to hurl at them, but could not. The long journey had taken a toll on my body and mind, and I simply couldn’t summon up the concentration for it.

I felt myself being picked up by the scruff of my coat like a cub and flung over a huge, furry shoulder. The towering beasts carried us with them like this for a long while. They tossed us and our belongings between them as they ran through the snow, big paws kicking up sprays of snow. They weren’t being gentle with us, but they didn’t cause us any serious hurt, either. Among the howling and panting I could hear fragments of wild, barking laughter. I hoped my ink bottles hadn’t been shattered in the rough treatment they were getting. Craning my neck, I could see Lumelie carried in the same way as I was. I could not remember how long we were carried like this, but the blizzard had died down at some point. Eventually my eyes began to discern a faint orange glow in the distance, and after our captors’ long strides took us over a small hill, I saw that the source of the glow was a huge, roaring bonfire. There were snow-covered huts spread around it, and huge round kegs everywhere. More of these animal people were dancing, drinking or lying passed out in the snow around the fire. As we approached the fire, the ones that had been carrying us set us down almost gently, and shook off their animal forms. In a blur, their silhouettes turned humanoid, but nearly twice the height of regular humans. A tattoeed arm pushed big tankards full of drink into our hands. I was hesitant, but surely nobody who offered us drink could be our enemy? I gingerly sampled some of the liquid, holding up the heavy tankard with both hands. It was sweet with a bit of a sting to it, and had a pleasant aftertaste. I glanced at Lumelie, but she wasn’t where I last saw her, but instead she’d been whisked away to dance near the fire. She seemed to be enjoying herself, mimicking the moves of the rest of the revelers, spinning wildly and beating her feet against the ground where the snow had melted away by the fire’s heat. Our exhaustion seemed to have been burned away by the warmth radiating from the fire. I joined her, and the rest of the night was a blur to me. I can’t remember any words being exchanged during the entire evening. I mostly remember getting a good share of that sweet-tasting drink.

I woke up to the familiar sounds of cooking. My head was pounding and I was sore all over. I lay sprawled in some kind of communal tent or lodge, in a heap of snoring, tattooed giants. Lifting up on my elbows, I shoved aside a large brown arm tattooed with an intricate design in black ink. While surveying the room, I saw that our belongings were gathered into a corner near me. Despite my soreness, I quickly sprang to inspect them to check if my writing supplies and notes had been damaged. Fearing the worst, my claws fumbled on the latch of the scratched, splintered cylinder. When I finally got it to open, I saw that my notes had been ruined. My ink bottles had shattered and spilled over them, and my quills looked battered. Letting out a defeated sigh, I went through the rest of our items. All our rations had been eaten or scattered during the nightly festivities, but the rest was alright, if not a little scratched and scuffed. Wrapping myself in a heavy woven blanket, I made my way towards the sounds of cooking, to what I assumed were the kitchens.

Lumelie was already up, stirring a huge kettle with a comically large ladle. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was using both of her hands to grip the ladle. Her light hair was tied back with an embroidered ribbon. She greeted me with a wave of her hand, and halfway through the gesture used her raised hand to wipe sweat from her brow. ”Finally up? Never thought I’d see you sleep all the way through breakfast.” Last night’s drinking had had almost no lasting effect on her. I was jealous of that. She grinned at me, and I suddenly realized I was starving. Continuing to stir the steaming pot in broad circles, she added: ”Our hostess wanted to have a word with you. I was already appointed to cooking duty by her. She’s right outdoors.”. She released her grip of the ladle to point at the door leading out from the kitchens. Still kind of dazed, I started towards it, grabbing with me a bowl of porridge that I assume Lumelie had set up for me. To my empty stomach, it was hot, sweet and delicious. There were a handful of nuts and berries scattered over it. I shoveled it into my mouth in large spoonfuls while walking between the tables to a doorway at the far end of the kitchen. Walking out under the tall arch of the wide-open door, I saw the remnants of last night’s feast. The bonfire was burnt out by now, reduced to a smoldering pile of ashes and embers. There were discarded tankards lying everywhere. The bright sunlight reflected from the white snow hurt my eyes, and I had to shield them with my hand to be able to keep them open. A tall norn woman was barking orders at people sluggishly cleaning the area. Her muscled armors were crossed across her chest, and I thought I could recognize the tattoo designs snaking across them from last night. As I was observing her, she talked, her back still half turned towards me. ”I didn’t expect to find travelers during our nightly hunt. How did you like our feast?” She turned to face me, and I got a clear look at her face. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them and her mouth was drawn to a tight line. I suspected she might be suffering from the same kind of headache I was. ”I have never experienced anything quite like it.” I answered, hesitantly but truthfully. I was still cradling the bowl of porridge in my hands.

She suddenly looked apologetic. ”I am sorry about your belongings. I fear we were too rough with them while bringing you into the homestead. If there’s anything we can do to replace them, just say the word. Anything at all.”. I contemplated on this silently for a moment. ”Actually, there IS something you could help me with.” We spent a handful of days with these norn, helping them clean up the feast’s aftermath. When it came time for us to continue our journey, they supplied us with ample rations to replace the ones we had lost, and one of them left with us to escort us to their capital city of Hoelbrak.

”…our first recipe is the well-guarded secret of brewing norn mead. This sweet drink is highly valued among the norn, and consumed in large quantities during feasts. For the first time, the methods used in its brewing are recorded down in writing for all to read, thanks to a wild night of revelry after me and my companion were rescued from a blizzard. Read on for a list of the ingredients you will need…”

                               Excerpt from the travel journals of Ikur Ironjaw, 1325 AE.

[savior-of-humanity]

since ive been kinda working on some verses as of late for chief, heres my current list of verses for chiefo! they’re under the cut; also i actually have a blog dedicated to just verses for my muses but right now all i have verses for is chief so..yeah

HALO

Light of the Covenant - After being captured by Covenant forces, the Chief has been brutally brain-washed and corrupted into becoming one of their strongest and most terrifying agents. An Arbiter of sorts, meant to be disposable and yet serve as a shining beacon for the Great Journey.

Metal Over Flesh - After a horrific accident, the Chief’s life could only be saved by using a drastic measure that hadn’t even been properly tested on humans yet - by transferring his brain and consciousness into a new body, one of metal and wires instead of flesh and blood.

Code Over Flesh - After a horrific accident, the Chief’s life could only be saved by using a drastic measure that hadn’t even been properly tested on humans yet - by transferring his consciousness into an Artificial Intelligence.

A Monument to All Your Sins - Chief has been infested by the Flood. But for reasons unknown, he has survived the infection and hasn’t been converted into a Combat Form - but he still hears whispers of the Gravemind trying to manipulate him.

Moonblood - Chief has been bitten by a unusual furred creature. However, the bite isn’t without its’ own terrifying side effects.. such as him occasionally turning into a werewolf.

Wrath of the Colossus - After being successfully captured alongside Blue Team by Cortana in the Cryptum, the corrupted AI (assuming it is even Cortana at all in the first place) decides to implant Chief into a Forerunner war-machine reminiscent of a Guardian so that he may witness first-hand of her actions to help bring “peace” to the galaxy - starting with Earth. However, he manages to overthrow her actions and effectively eject her out of the systems, but with a terrible side-effect. Now wracked with intense agony due to having no AI to aid in controlling the machine, he goes on a almost mindless rampage, trapped within layers upon layers of Forerunner alloy and machinery.

Infinite Horizons (Post-Halo 5/Halo Infinite) - Any series of events that occur after the events of Halo 5: Guardians. Will be updated in the future as accordingly to suit whatever plot Halo: Infinite will have.

In Absentia (Halo 5: Guardians) - The Chief and Blue Team have gone AWOL in search of Cortana. Any series of events that occur during the events of Halo 5: Guardians.

Awakening (Halo 4) - The Chief has awoken from cryosleep, only to find that the ruins of the Forward Unto Dawn are in orbit of a mysterious Forerunner world. Any series of events that occur during or after Halo 4.

Behold a Pale Horse (Halo 3) - The Chief must stop the Covenant’s goal of activating every Halo installation in the galaxy. Any series of events that occur during Halo 3.

Impend (Halo 2) - The Chief must fight the Covenant directly on Earth, and foil their plans to activate another Halo installation. Any series of events that occur during or before Halo 2.

Dust and Echoes (Halo: Combat Evolved) - After landing on a mysterious ring-world, the Chief must stop the Covenant from activating the ring and potentially killing all life in the universe. Any series of events that occur during Halo: Combat Evolved.

Forward Unto Dawn (Pre-Halo: Combat Evolved) - Any series of events that occur before Halo: Combat Evolved.

OVERWATCH

The World Needs Heroes - Chief has ended up in the Overwatch universe, somewhere around the year of 2076 after the collapse of Overwatch (or before that time). He is likely to join or help Overwatch/the remnants of Overwatch in some way.

Project: HADES - Chief has ended up in the Overwatch universe, somewhere around the year of 2076 - but Talon has found him. They converted him into one of their most powerful and terrifying agents known to Overwatch - a monster known only as HADES.

EVOLVE

Monster Hunter - Chief has been deployed to the outer colony world known as Shear, to deal with a problem of Insurrectionists attacking and destroying various colonies and towns on the planet. Except it’s not Insurrectionists killing people… but giant, inter-dimensional creatures hellbent on killing and devouring everything in their path.

Goliath Among Men - After a nearly fatal encounter with one of the inter-dimensional creatures attacking Shear, the Chief is infected with some of the monster’s DNA, causing him to gradually mutate over time…and become more monster than man.

ALIENS

Emperor - After an encounter with some sort of parasitic, spidery alien, the Chief has just narrowly survived the rather explosive emergence of a horrifying parasite living inside of his body. But now there’s monsters on the loose, and apparently the parasite did more to his body than just tear its way out of him..

DOOM

Hell’s Champion - Chief has been dragged into the very bowels of Hell itself. But instead of doing something as simple as taking his soul, the daemonic forces decided to turn him into one of their greatest champions and pawns, to serve their eternal campaign to assimilate all worlds and dimensions.

Feet First - Chief has been sent to retrieve a Forerunner artifact from Storm-Covenant forces known simply as the ‘Ring of Armok.’ However, it turns out that this artifact is actually a gate holding Hell itself back - and they’ve just opened it…

STARCRAFT

Ultimate Evolution - After an encounter with a terrifying biological hivemind-entity known only as the Zerg, the Chief has been infested - made into a terrifying warrior to serve the Swarm.

UNDERTALE

Fallen Down - Through unknown means - whether it be falling into a great chasm at the top of a mountain or being ripped through time and space - Chief has ended up in the Underground, a civilization where Monsters have been trapped and living for a unknown length of time.

Photon Readings Negative - The timeline of this strange world apparently has not taken kindly to the Chief’s presence. His body, mind and SOUL are at risk of being thrown into flux by the timeline - forced to either ‘conform’ to the energies of the timeline, be ejected…or destroyed entirely.

Darker, Darker, Yet Darker - The timeline has destabilized the Chief to the point where his body has melted, becoming an horrifying amalgamate..of himself and the dark memories and nightmares lingering in his mind, threatening to pierce the veil of his sanity. Though he is no longer at risk of being destroyed or ejected into the void.

GODZILLA/MONSTERVERSE

Clash of the Titans - After being exposed to intense radiation from the resulting conflict between Rodan, Mothra, Godzilla, and King Ghidorah in Boston on Earth, the Chief’s DNA begins to mutate rapidly - resulting in him transforming into a 50-meter monstrosity code-named by the sub-division of ONI known as Monarch, “Titanus Maledict.”