#her hands moving like slab of stone not belonging to her anymore

[onaperduamedee]

Your body no longer feels like your own.

[stanchett]

hello, I loved your Gwen fic! Idk if you do Lucifer requests, but I would love to request a Lucifer x Human reader where they meet on earth and the reader doesn't know Lucifer is actually the devil. She only finds out when she is already so enamoured that she doesn't care anymore. Thank you if you decide to write this! :))

Thanks so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy! :)

(This is un-beta'd, apologies for any mistakes I might've missed)

In Mourning

Lucifer Morningstar x fem!human!reader

Warnings: grief, hurt & comfort

2k+ words

Your feet dragged through the cemetery, your heart still heavy with loss. A week without your best friend felt like an eternity, and you did everything you could to distract yourself from the pit in your stomach but found yourself visiting her grave daily. Fresh flowers in hand, you approached the marble slab and dropped to your knees, the overwhelming rush of heartbreak washing over you. Despite knowing she couldn’t hear you, you told her everything that had been on your mind that day through the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. You traced your fingers over her name, elegantly embossed in the stone, and you almost wished to join her. The passing thought scared you, and you hung your head and allowed yourself to sob. Through your tears, you failed to realize that a stranger had been silently watching you from a distance. 

Wiping away the remnants of your tears at last, you begrudgingly stood to leave, placing the flowers in the cup of water in the ground. Your eye caught on someone sitting on a bench before a statue of the Virgin Mary, smiling up at her in a way that made you feel uneasy. You thought it odd, looking away to scoop up your remaining belongings before looking back up. They were standing now, and moving in your direction. You sighed to yourself, mentally unprepared to speak to anyone after your last half hour of crying. You were sure you looked terrible. As they got closer, you noticed they were beautiful; adorned in a white suit with white heels to match, light blonde hair in perfect relaxed curls, and they were tall. Very tall. Over 6 feet at least. They had a certain aura about them, and you felt strangely comforted in their presence as they approached. 

“What weighs on your heart, young one?” Their voice was even, with undertones of genuine concern. ‘Young one’? You couldn’t have been much younger than they were, although their manner of speaking made them sound timeless. You looked away with a forced smile to shield your grief. They came to a halt a few paces away, carefully processing your reaction. Anyone close to you would’ve known better than to ask what was wrong. You looked up again, willing away any stray tears at their question, and found it difficult to look them in the eye. They intimidated you.

“Oh I.. lost a friend recently. I was just visiting with her. Or trying to…” Your shoulders dropped in defeat. You knew it sounded ridiculous, visiting someone who was no longer living as if they still were. But the stranger only smiled in understanding, and you felt a small sense of relief come over you. 

“Walk with me,” was all they said, turning away from you. Slightly confused but enjoying their company, you obliged. The two of you strode together in silence for a short while, enjoying the chirping birds and gentle breeze blowing around you. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you found the cemetery to be quite peaceful despite your sadness.

“Grief is an interesting creature, is it not?” Your head jerked in surprise at their sudden words, disrupting the stillness between you. You nodded in response, your eyes grazing over the names and dates of the headstones as you passed. 

“Oh… Yeah, I guess it is,” you answered a little awkwardly, not sure what else to say. Your mind was still somewhat clouded from crying. “Have you lost anyone close to you?” You almost feel silly asking, but you needed something to distract you from thinking about your friend. You missed her dearly and knew she should be the one taking a walk with you.

A smirk plays on the stranger’s face, their hands clasping behind their back. “Yes, I suppose I have. Almost everyone, in fact.” Your heart sank for them, and you cursed yourself for asking such an imposing question. You couldn’t help but wonder what that felt like. You let the silence take hold again between you for a moment, but your curiosity quickly got the better of you.

“Does it ever get easier like they say it does?” You felt your eyes prick with fresh tears again, but you quickly blinked them away. 

“With time. I suppose it does become easier to cope with, yes,” they said definitively, glancing down at you to catch your ponderous gaze. There was something in those eyes you couldn’t quite place, but you were intrigued nonetheless. You came to a stop in front of a small pond, surrounded by beautiful flowers and a few looming statues. Leaning toward the water’s edge, you caught a glimpse of your reflection and immediately regretted it. Your eyes were still slightly swollen and your cheeks tinged pink, though the latter could be due to your encounter with this beautiful stranger. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw them reach down to pick something up. Lowering yourself onto a nearby bench, they took a step to stand beside you, and held out a pristine white rose for you to take. You looked into their eyes with a kind smile and took it blindly from their grasp, your fingers brushing in the process. You dropped your gaze to take in its beauty before bringing the seemingly-perfect flower to your nose, its sweet scent wafting into your senses. Before you could offer your thanks, their voice was in your ear.

“Those we love are closer than we think.” You turned around to ask what they meant by that, only to find yourself completely alone, your sole company being the rose in your fingertips, its petals now black as night. 

----------

Four more visits you’d had to the cemetery with no sign of your mysterious stranger. You of course told your best friend all about them, your words falling on deaf ears. You knew she would’ve been just as invested as you were in learning more about them, and the thought brought you some much needed comfort. You wondered if you kept visiting for her, or for the chance to run into them again. It was on the fifth day that you finally saw them again, walking alone among the graves, still dressed in white from head to toe. It was a stark contrast against the green of the freshly-mown grass and darkened evening sky. As you approached your usual spot beside the rectangle of stone in the ground, their head turned to you, having already paused themselves before the grave you were headed toward. They raised their palm gracefully in greeting, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. 

“I wondered when I might see you again,” you teased, their eyes sweeping over you. You noticed a hint of nervousness taking hold at the way they looked you over, your stomach filling with butterflies. “Would you like to sit with me?” you asked, half expecting them to turn you down. You wouldn’t be surprised if they did, you normally spent this time crying your eyes out to your best friend anyway. You were pleased, however, when they lowered themselves to the ground, sitting with their legs extended beside you, one crossed over the other. It was such a simple act, yet they made it seem so regal.

“I suppose I can stay for a bit,” they replied, leaning back on their hands to watch you sit. You eased down beside them facing the grave, a solemn reminder of the reason you started coming here in the first place. Keeping your tears at bay, you looked in their direction, suddenly hesitant to meet their eyes. A question arose in you and you asked it before you could stop yourself.

“Where did you go? You disappeared on me the other day.” Their brow furrowed in thought, and you regretted being so forward immediately. You hardly knew this person, you remembered. What right did you have to know what they were up to? They answered nonetheless, apparently able to look past the prying nature of your question.

“I had some business to attend to. A few other souls were in need of guidance.” Their reply only puzzled you further, making them sound like a therapist or some kind of cult leader. They were certainly dressed like one.

“What kind of business? Can I ask what it is you do?” Their eyes took on a darker glint. Suddenly you weren’t sure that you really wanted an answer to that question.

“I am in the business of life and death... And judgment,” was their response. You leaned away to gauge their expression, now an amused one. Your eyebrows raised at their words, a million more questions flooding your thoughts. You don’t ask them, just allowed their statement to hang in the air. They had their hooks in you and you desperately wanted to know everything about them. After all, you didn’t even know their name.

After a beat, they stared off into the distance, watching the sun go down. As if able to read your mind, they volunteered, “Lucifer Morningstar. That is who I am.”

You held back a laugh, immediately discrediting their confession. “Like… the fallen angel?” Their head whipped around, anger igniting in their features. Your face fell at their seriousness. You still didn’t believe them, but something in the air around you both changed, as though suddenly charged with electricity. All of your nerves were on edge, but you had a hard time feeling anything other than adoration for this stranger who had brought you so much comfort in just the couple of times you’d met. 

“As in, the Ruler of Hell.” They swiftly rose to their feet, and you clambered up to join them. With their hands interlocked at their front, you heard a noise behind them. At that moment, the sun dropped below the horizon, blanketing the sky in deep oranges and purples. They turned as if to leave and you reached for their arm, and that’s when you saw them; a set of massive black wings with horned tips, longer than you were tall. A sharp gasp left  your throat, taken aback by them. You momentarily wondered how they kept them hidden during your last meeting. You would’ve noticed that detail before as it would’ve been hard to miss. 

“Wait! Don’t go..” The pleading nature of your words embarrassed you, but you were enamored with this being, this Lucifer Morningstar. They looked at you over their shoulder with a sly smile, satisfied that you were finally convinced of their identity. You reached out to them again, your fingers ghosting over the leathery flesh of their wings, not daring to touch them. They fluttered when your fingers got too close, recoiling from your fingertips. 

“They’re so beautiful,” you whispered without thinking, lowering your hand as they turned to face you again. You felt inferior to them, and almost considered kneeling before them when they took a step toward you. Wordlessly, they reached forward and cupped your cheeks in their hands, urging you to look up at them. Their eyes glistened in the fading daylight, a thoughtful smile on their lips.

“I have been watching you for some time, and I could no longer find the will to stay away,” you felt dizzy at their admission, a strange mix of emotion overcoming you. How long had they been observing you from afar? At that moment, you didn’t care. You felt your heart clench and your stomach fill with nervousness again as they lowered themselves to be eye-level with you. 

“So don’t,” Your eyes flicked to their lips, this perfect being laying themselves bare to you filling you with a feeling you couldn’t begin to explain. Leaning in, they captured your lips in a soft kiss, more gentle than the breeze on the day you met. When you parted, you saw something in their eyes akin to sorrow; they couldn’t stay in this realm and they knew it. “Take me with you."

They smiled at your request, placing another kiss on your forehead. “Are you prepared to enter the gates of Hell?” The question caught you off guard, almost certain they wouldn’t consider for a moment letting you join them in their dominion. You only nodded in reply, thoroughly prepared to part from this realm if it meant being by their side. Taking your hand, they lead you from your place in the cemetery, and you hoped you would be seeing your best friend much sooner than you’d hoped.

[cinnamonest]

Okay, I just finished the windblume event, and my brain slapped me with this concept:

Imagine that Venti walks the streets of Monstadt as the Anemo Archon Barbatos while the festivities of Windblume takes place. Just like how Rex Lapis descend to give his predictions for the year.

Since the windblume can be anything... why not a person? So, you are chosen as the Windblume star. You're not that thrilled since the Anemo Archon reminds you of the green menace that is just a little too touchy with you, too convenient how you can easily spot him from the corner of your eye wherever you go... But it's not like you can refuse the honor! Barbatos is going to be there and personally receive this year's offering.

So the day arrives, and you are walking side by side with the Grand Acting Master Jean, about to get to the statue in front of the Cathedral. When you arrive, you expect the same stone slab they set every year for the star to lay the offering, but you are greeted by a disposition a little bit different.

The stone slab have been placed a little farther away from the statue in a more open way, enough for people to crowd around it. No kids were in sight, and everyone had this glint on their eyes as they set them on you and Jean. As you are approaching the crowd, the table rather than being rectangular is one of a circumference, covered in a white cloth and a crown of Cecilia at its foot. You frown at the different arrangement, but don't think too much about it.

Jean stops and so you do. She gives a look at the white tunic similar to the very god that's being celebrated. It was given to you earlier in the day and asked you to wear it for tonight's offering. It was a little weird, but you just shrugged it off, happy for being given the honor and haven't seen Venti in all day putted you in a good humor for argue.

The crowd parted in two when Jean's hand out reached towards the table, a clear sign for you to walk to it. You let out a sigh and clutched harder the small bouquet of Lamp grass, it's blue glow was quite comforting and worked as a beacon of light even in the most dark nights, reassuring and always guiding . That's the reason as to why you decided to offer them to the Anemo god this year.

You knew that Barbatos was going to be present, but as you enter the circle of people and walk towards the table, his awaiting form at the edge of the slab made your pulse quicken.

A soft blush coated your cheeks as you suddenly became painfully aware, when the cold wind of the night picked up and touched your exposed pussy, that they only gave you a gown to wear.

Your bare self covered by a flimsy piece of fabric, the people around you starter to whisper between them, but your blood was rushing so fast through your ears, and your heart thumping so hard in your chest made your flush deepen, your face resembling a tomato by the time you got face to face with the governor of your land.

He smiled at you, and took the bundle of flowers from your grasp, barely making an effort to take them due to you being flustered by the new discovery. Barbatos gently lied the lamp grass on the edge of the table, and grabbed your hands as he addressed the people around him:

"Citizens of Monstadt. What a beautiful night to be celebrating freedom and love" Barbatos tugged on your hand. You being somewhat listening to his words, the small gesture took you by surprise, and you had move a hand on top of Barbatos' chest to stabilise yourself. He looked at you by the corner of his eyes, he released a small laugh before looking at the crowd again.

You furrowed your eyebrows. His laugh sounded a little bit familiar, the face of a certain bard quickly flashed through your mind after recalling from where you have hear it. But just as it came, you dismissed it without a second thought. They share quite the similarities, but it's impossible for Venti to be related to the Archon himself.

"This year's star's offering is Lamp grass. A flower deep in the wilderness of Wolvendom, they shine as earthly stars for as guide they act for those who walk the night"

You smiled a little bit, happy that your God could understand the meaning behind your bouquet.

Barbatos took a moment to gaze in all of the people before settling his eyes on yours. His lips formed a smile, and you mimicked his actions without hesitation. He opened his mouth, the smile still present, and with a voice a little bit soft and deeper, added:

"But"

Your smile weaken somewhat.

"The real flower, the windblume of this year..." the Archon grasped both of your wrist, and in a quick movement that you weren't expecting, layed you down on the stone table back in first, your eyes meeting the starred night for a second before being capture by Barbatos' wind coloured eyes.

"...is something that our lovely star has within her; more precisely..." His hand pressed and tighten around your wrist before releasing them, slowly caressing his way down through your arm, softly cupping the curve of your breast when he passed on your chest, and Finally ending on the green sash around your waist used to keep the tunic closed. Your eyes widened at that.

"The purest flower a woman can give to her husband, usually at nights very similar to this one" the intensity with how Barbatos' eyes were looking at you, and how he purred the sentence, made your whole body shiver.

Not the shiver of excitement, for being part of something so important for the people of Monstadt and its culture, but the way of a prey when hunted down by a predator.

The very same feeling you always get when catching Venti watching you from the corner of your eyes.

You suddenly jolted. The Anemo Archon's word finally sinking in, you tried to sit on the table, but the sudden pressure of the God's hand on your stomach made you lose your breath. He took chance of this opening, and with a harsh yank he pulled off the sash from your body, letting the pristine white tunic fall open, leaving you bare to the eyes of the crowd.

You took a sharp intake of air, back arching towards the sky from the movement. Your nipples hardened both from the cool breeze of the night and the shame of being presented like this to the eyes of the people you have learn to know as neighbours and friends.

Whispers exploded around you. You tried your best in keeping your concentration in regaining your breath, eyes shut out of embarrassment. What you were thinking as a beautiful night transformed into a horrifying nightmare.

Barbatos' voice cutted through the cacophony, the sudden reappearance made you open your eyes and connect them with his:

"The purity of an untouched maiden, is what this year's Windblume will be"

The Anemo Archon lowered himself from his straddling position around your hips, hot breath touching the cold and reddened shell of your ear. He chuckled again, this time you couldn't pretend it was a coincidence.

Slowly, you turned your head to meet his eyes; pupils blown wide and hooded pools of dark green and blue returned your terrified ones. With the new angle, his lips were mere inches away from yours, and Venti, with a triumphant smile, whispers:

"To be the bride of a God, your whole being shall belong to me"

You did not have the force to fight anymore.

( ...AND THAT'S IT. SORRY FOR MY SHITTY ENGLISH AND PROBABLY OOC VENTI. I am going to cry if this is really long for tumblr and delete it)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No this is wonderful anon I - bless you

[casikototmblr]

The Devil’s Wish - Part 4.

Summary: Reader sets the record straight with Venable, giving her an ultimatum. A scene happens in the dining area of the Outpost and reader helps to resolve it.

A/N: Yeet, this part contains smut. don’t say i didn’t warn you, lol ;).

Word count:  2,377.

You eyed the arrogant woman up and down as she paced into the boardroom, the thin heels of her shoes click-clacking on the pristine marble floor of the cynical room. You bobbed your head in the direction of the black and outlandish seat which was situated on the opposing end of the long-drawn table; encouraging her to sit down.

"Why am I here? I need this to be quick, I have an outpost to run!" She spoke firmly as she sat down slowly in the chair opposite, her bony and frail hands clasped tightly together as she impatiently sat.

"Managing the outpost isn't your concern anymore, Ms Venable. You should have apprehended that by now as I believe Michael has made it clear enough." You scoffed as she unclasped her paws and deposited them on the slabbed table.

"I was put in charge here, tasked with the fundamental duties of leading the outpost." She asserted sharply as she watched you intensely, her anger starting to display on her face and you had only just started. 

"I know that, but matters have changed. I understand what it's like, you've gone from running an outpost your way to now having someone else do it for you." You addressed as Venable sank into her tall seat, lifting her hands from the cold, metal table to the sides of her small frame.

"But what you have to understand is that Michael isn't here to undo what you've done. He's simply here just to do his job like you are." You continued as you rose out of your seat and moved swiftly over to the repulsive woman who followed your every move.

"I've been here longer than Michael, I know this place like the back of my hand!" Venable yelled as she became more outraged by the second at the thought of her position being jeopardised.

"Look, Ms Venable...I could bring your world crashing down with a single click of my fingers if I wanted to. I know people that would be more than happy to do so, myself included. I'm just asking you to back off, for your sake..." You scolded her as you towered over her delicate frame. "So, either take what I'm saying on board or face the consequences. It's up to you." You continued as you paced back to your elegant, black seat. 

"Can I just go now?" Venable groaned as she rose from her chair, her eyes fixed to you as the woman placed her hands behind her back.

"Of course...Just think of what we've spoken about today." You returned as you moved away from the woman before you exited the large room. You left Venable there as she clutched her hands together, the whites of her knuckles started to show.

As you made your way down the hallway and back to Michael's office, you were suddenly interrupted by a Gray. You looked the pale Gray up and down as she fumbled with the hem of her long sleeves, confusion displayed on your face as you set your hands on your hips. 

"Is everything okay?" You asked as you furrowed your brows in curiosity as to why they stopped you in the hallway.

"You might want to see this, Miss." The Gray responded as she ignored your previous question. The Gray started walking down the darkly-coloured hallway as you followed her quickly, wondering where she was taking you. 

As you came closer and closer to the end of the hallway, you heard raised voices. They seemed to be coming from the dining area. Both your's and the woman's paces became quicker as the shouts became louder.

"Ugh! If I have to eat another of these fucking god-damn blocks, I'll kill myself! I can't take this shit anymore.!" The shrill voice exclaimed. You quickly caught a glimpse of who the voice belonged to as you and the Gray swiftly turned the corner, now exposed to the screaming mess that was taking place in the open dining area. It was no other than Coco, of course.

"You know what, she's right! I can't take this shit anymore." The white-haired man exclaimed, knocking his chair to the floor with a force as he rose from his chair. You studied the situation as you made your way over, everyone else in the small dining area was sat down now apart from an eccentric Gallant. 

"You're more than welcome to leave, to rot outside like the rest of the world," Michael declared firmly, not noticing your presence as you stood a couple of meters away from him. 

"Gallant, just sit down...You're making a scene!" Evie exclaimed at Gallant, a serious look on her face as Gallant scoffed at her.

"Don't tell me what to do. You never gave a shit before, so don't start now." Gallant answered back as he grabbed a plate and tossed it at the bricked wall behind Evie - just barely missing her. The shards of china spewed everywhere on the concrete flooring. 

"Get out." Michael declared raising his voice now, the sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the outpost.

"Fine!" Gallant exclaimed with a laugh, throwing his hands up in defeat as he walked out of the dining area - only to be dragged back by two tall guards and knocked out cold. You watched on in shock as his unconscious body fell to the floor with a thud. 

"Move him somewhere else," Michael barked at the guards as they quickly obeyed his command, dragging Gallant along the floor in the opposite direction of the dining room past you. 

"Where's Gallant being taken?" You asked as you walked over to Michael, anger resonating on his face as he turned around to face you, stepping out of the dining area and closing the sliding door behind him. 

"To one of the chambers," Michael answered taking a deep exhale whilst he pinched the bridge of his nose, his head to the floor. "There's always something happening here..." He added softly with a sigh. You placed the tips of your fingers underneath his chin as you lifted his head, his soft eyes now looking at you instead. 

"People are still adjusting to the change. You have to be patient, Mikey. " You cooed softly as you grabbed his rough hand in your soft one.

Michael nodded along. 

"I have to go deal with Gallant." Michael continued as you squeezed his hand in yours. 

"I'll do it, you go back to the room and get some rest." You suggested as you ungripped his hand and placed yours on his soft cheek, rubbing the skin of his cheekbone with your thumb.

"What about lunch?" Michael asked as you moved your hand away, placing it beside your sides.

"We can do that another day, go get some rest." You continued as Michael approved before turning away and stepping down the candle-lit hallway to the right of him. 

It was a 5-minute walk down a labyrinth of tunnels and hallways before you finally arrived at the chamber Gallant was placed in. You nodded your head towards the door for the guards to open it as they strolled over and opened the flap. They took a quick peek inside and unlocked the door, giving you the go-ahead to enter. 

"Gallant?" You spoke softly as you glared at the man beginning to come conscious again.

"W-Wha- Where am I?" Gallant exclaimed confused as he jolted upright, examining the strange place. The walls were stone as well as the floor with very little lighting just bright enough to see Gallant's confused face.

"You're fine, We've just placed you down here for the time-being once you calm down." You explained as you placed your hands behind your back. "Now, what happened?" You asked.

"I-I don't know..I-I think I'm going insane. This place...This place is driving me over the edge." A rather confused Gallant exclaimed. You knelt to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"You're fine, you'll be back upstairs with the others in a minute." You had more sympathy than Michael did in situations like this. Michael probably would have kept him down here for a couple of days for the way how he behaved like a wild animal, showing him the consequences of what would happen if he was to repeat himself. You decided not to and to show some compassion - compassion which was needed at a time like this.

You held a hand out for Gallant to take. He grasped your hand and leaned on you, getting himself up.

"Thank you." A now calmed Gallant mumbled to you.

"Open the door." Your voice bounced off the walls of the small room. The door quickly opened, allowing you and Gallant to walk out. You made your way back to the seating area where the rest of the residents were, you glanced as Gallant made his way to the sofa.

"Feel better, Gallant." You spoke to him softly as you flashed him a smile before turning around and walking away in the direction of your's and Michael's room. 

You unlocked the door to your shared room and glanced over to see Michael asleep on top of the silk bedsheets. You sighed softly and stepped into the room as quiet as possible, making your way over to your side of the double bed. You kicked your small boots off and set them down before drawing the silky covers back and climbing into bed next to Michael. 

"Where's Gallant now?" Michael asked sleepily as he draped an arm over your body, pulling you closer to his.

"Back with the others." You responded softly as you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

"Why? He could have hurt someone before, or even killed Evie." Michael stated, his voice slightly raised at the thought of Gallant getting away with what happened. 

"I decided to show some compassion. It's a hard time Michael, for all of us." You cooed softly to Michael as you tried your best to calm him down. 

"Compassion that he doesn't deserve. I'll  be having a word with him tomorrow." Michael declared as you turned around to face Michael.

"There's no need, I dealt with it effectively." You added as you glanced at Michael.

"Alright if you say," Michael replied with a sigh as you straddled his hips. His hands snaked their way to your hips as you connected your lips to his in a passionate kiss; your hands placing themselves on both of his cheeks as he turned over, you now on the bottom.

"You want this, huh?" Michael spoke as you palmed him whilst Michael started to undress you. 

You nodded as you bit your lip, doing the same to Michael..

"Then I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be wanting it for a bit." He started kissing your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast. 

You moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, you bucked your hips forward maximizing the pleasure.

"Fuck, Michael!" You moaned out, your hands already wrapped in his hair. Michael ran a finger up and down your wet slit, drenching himself in your juices before thrusting his finger deep inside you causing you to scream out in pleasure. He added another finger, amping up the speed of the thrusts.

"You liking that, baby?" Michael cooed as he looked up at your body, weak at his touch.

You grabbed hold of his fingers and thrust them deeper inside you, hitting your g-spot. You threw your head back and moaned. He added another finger, intensifying the pleasure again now going faster and hitting your g-spot repeatedly with the three fingers.

Your legs and body twitched at the pleasure, your hands gripped the sheets as your stomach tightened as you edged closer to your climax.

"Cum baby." Michael cooed, softly into your ear, the words pushed you over the edge.  

"Fuck! ou moaned as you reached your high, your walls clenching around his fingers. Your juices flowed out of you as your legs trembled. 

Michael slid his fingers out, you opened your mouth requesting his fingers. He placed his fingers in your mouth as you licked yourself off them. You opened your mouth, letting them go.

"Turn around and get on your hands and knees," Michael said firmly, you did as he said. You turned onto your front and got yourself up. Michael unbuckled his belt and took his pants and boxers, his cock already hard. He grabbed his hard cock and ran it up and down your wet slit, drenching the tip in your juices. He pushed himself in slowly, you moaned, throwing your head back as he buried his cock in you. He grabbed your hips to steady himself and started thrusting in and out, first at a slow pace, teasing you.

"Michael.." You moaned. This turned him on, even more, he picked up the pace now slamming in and out of you. You felt your legs start to tremble as the vibrations trickled down your legs, you placed your hands on the top of the headboard to hold yourself up.

"Fuck.." You moaned loudly. He started going faster and faster, causing your stomach to tighten up, your legs almost caving in as you edged closer to your second orgasm. Michael leaned forward and grabbed hold of your tits, still slamming in and out of you.

The pleasure was too much for you to handle. Your legs gave out, you grasped onto the headboard as you came, just managing to keep yourself in the same position.

"Michael!" You screamed out as you came, your walls clenching tightly around his cock causing him to cum too. Yours and Michael's juices mixing. Michael pulled out and grabbed your weak body, pulling you into him as he pulled back the covers and threw them over.

You nestled into his chest as he held you in his arms whilst the pair of you caught your breath as you fell asleep, wrapped in Michael's arms.

[alleycat97]

Fresh Meat

Description: Queen B, MC (Britlyn) is the new girl and hottest commodity on campus. Quickly climbing the ranks at Belvoire, she’s attracted attention from the elite and she realizes how high she can climb to the top.

Pairing: Chloe x MC (Britlyn)

This is for my special friend @harringtonishot, I hope you like it!

...

Britlyn was quickly becoming a campus sensation. An unsung hero to the hundreds of students that suffered due to the T’s ranking of them. Britlyn was lucky, she went from farm girl wannabe to Poppy’s Kyptonite. The only girl who would dare stand toe to toe with Poppy Min-Sinclair and soar to the top of the rankings and be alive to tell about it.

Poppy couldn’t tolerate this embarrassment of a girl, but she was impressed at Britlyn and her ruggedness. The girl was not stepping down and was quickly becoming a nuisance.

She tasked her right hand Chloe St. James to stick with her, wear her down and make her vulnerable so she could ruin the pig girl. The throne was Poppy’s, it’s time she reminded everyone, especially the new comers.

Chloe had her work cut out for her, she couldn’t stand Britlyn at all. She was cocky, she was tough, smart, beautiful. Beautiful? Chloe shook the latter from her mind, how could she find Britlyn beautiful, as if. She had to focus. Poppy was relying on her.

Somehow, Britlyn has managed to beat the Dancing Queens and sent the Zeta girls packing, Chloe and Trixie receiving an ear full on how big of a failure they were from Poppy.

...

Britlyn was excited, she was killing it these past few weeks with the help of her squad, Zoey, Penelope and now, Taylor. Poppy had layed low after breaking up with Carter after the kiss during the game and even Chloe was being nice to her, always being sure to check in her and how her classwork was coming outside the class they shared. That was Chloe’s favorite class ever. She was difficult to read, she showed genuine interest in Britlyn, but again, she showed interest in lots of girls.

The girls found themselves at the campus diner one evening properly celebrating their small victory of attaining Poppy’s fetcher, Taylor. It was a huge score and another Ace up Britlyn’s sleeve. The girls began plotting their next move when Veronica Lombardi walked in.

“Britlyn you’re staring.” Zoey pointed out.

“Earth to Britlyn!” Penelope giggled waving her hand in front of the woman’s face.

“Huh? What?” Britlyn replied snapping from her dream.

“Girl you’re staring down Veronica Lombardi as if she was a slab of meat. You’re drooling!” Zoey pointed out. “That’s a no fly zone B.”

“Oh I know....” Britlyn spoke quietly averting her attention to her milkshake, twirling her straw in disappointment.

“What’s wrong.” Zoey said crowding in closer to hug her friend.

“Why do they all have to be so gorgeous.” Britlyn answered taking a sip of the milkshake.

“It’s Belvoire, we’re all gorgeous.”

Before she could continue, Britlyn heard a voice from the back of the diner, it was Chloe hanging out with someone that wasn’t her and it was upsetting her.

Oh she was fuming, this girl was way too close for Britlyn’s liking. Chloe has spent the last month following her around like a puppy. Sure, Chloe was a bitch most of the time, but on a rare occasion, Britlyn got to see the real Chloe. The Chloe that makes her open up, makes her feel special, makes her feel, hope for the two. But as quickly as it appears, it’s gone just as quick.

Britlyn couldn’t stand the laughing from Chloe anymore, if she was going to get Chloe, she needed to do this.

Without a word, she stood up from the table and went straight to Veronica, who wasn’t even on her phone. Britlyn could feel Chloe staring daggers into her head, this better work.

“Hey V.” Britlyn greeted approaching the table.

“Oh hey! Oh I love your outfit! It’s supaaaa cute!” Veronica said extremely chipper.

“Thanks! Wanna take a selfie?” Britlyn asked sweetly.

“Mmmmm I shouldn’t. I do not want to be the target of Poppy’s next blow up.”

“Oh come on...let’s makes some TikToks.”

Veronica was being tested to her fullest capacity. She offered a seat to Britlyn and found herself breaking the rules, engaging with the enemy.

Britlyn was killing two birds with one stone. Piss Chloe off, making her jealous, and attaining Veronica to join her posse. And by the look on Chloe’s face, Britlyn was doing a great job.

Shit hit the fan when Poppy entered the diner, the entire scene began stale. Veronica averted her attention to the back door looking to escape. Poppy noticed her immediately and began scolding her and Britlyn.

“What are you doing in my seat farm girl?” Poppy scoffed. “And V? Why are you sitting with this low class trash?”

“Oh please allow me your majesty.” Britlyn teased as she got up and sat next to Veronica, placing her arm around the girl with a challenging look. “Please, join us.”

Veronica couldn’t help but melt in the warm sensation of Britlyn’s embrace. She was actually touching her! She was quickly pulled back into Poppy land by the girl throwing a hissy fit.

Chloe was seething, she got caught up in the feels and it was time she pulled out the ace up her sleeve. She stomped over to Poppy’s side, much to the latters relief, backup, finally.

“Britlyn? I think it’s time we had a chat. Outside, now.” The demand in Chloe’s voice was music to Britlyn’s ears.

Veronica sighed as Chloe pulled the girl away, missing her touch immediately. Poppy gave her a challenging look that she ignored and unlocked her phone.

“Ouch Chloe! Slow down, you’re hurting me!” Britlyn cried out.

Britlyn found herself being shoved up against the brick wall, Chloe firmly holding her there.

“I do not appreciate you flaunting around and flirting with my friends.” Chloe hissed.

“Well I do not appreciate you hanging with sluts.” Britlyn snapped back.

Chloe growled, “Does it make you jealous?”

“Psttt, as if. You’re the one with you panties in a twist.”

Britlyn knew exactly how to push Chloe’s buttons and it was fun.

“You’re just flirting with Veronica to piss me off. You know she likes you.”

“And? I’m a big girl Chloe. I can see and flirt with who I want. It’s not like I’m tied down.”

That struck a nerve on Chloe, Britlyn was hers, not anyone else’s.

Chloe grabbed Britlyn’s collar and pulled up on it hard, making the girl quiver, “Let’s get one thing straight, wannabe. You belong to me now. Not Poppy, not Veronica, me.”

“Awful big words for someone who won’t commit.” Britlyn challenged. “Besides, I like messing around with who I want.”

“You don’t get it. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Demanding Chloe was a serious turn on. “I’m going to need you to be my personal assistant.” Chloe cooed in Britlyn’s ear.

“Assistant? No way, I’m going for gold here toots.”

Chloe laughed and pulled her phone out, “I don’t think you have a choice.” Britlyn nearly fainted at the images of her and Ina in the library.

“How did you get these?”

“Oh I’m everywhere B, so this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to be mine and together we will overthrow Poppy and I will become the new number 1, with you by my side of course.” Chloe removed her hand from Britlyn’s collar and gently stroked her cheek.

“And if I refuse?”

Chloe giggled, “Then I turn these into The T, and you and Ina are ruined. She will never teach again and you’ll be back on the farm.”

“You’re a monster.” Britlyn gasped.

“I was taught from the best. Now how is that hoe life treating you?”

Britlyn couldn’t answer, she was caught, and Chloe was turning her on, damn hormones.

“All you have to say is you submit, and we will take out Poppy together. I need you B, everyone respects you, we can use that against Poppy and both get what we want.”

“Why do you want to take down Poppy so bad?”

“I’m tired of Poppy getting everything she wants.”

“And what does she want?” Britlyn asked.

“You.” Chloe admitted, shocking Britlyn.

“What!?”

“It’s true, she hides it well. But this time, I get something she can’t have.” Chloe said meeting Britlyn’s lustful eyes.

“So what’s it going to be B?” Chloe asked grabbing Britlyn’s collar again, pressing herself impossibly closer, lips barely touching, “Submit to me B.”

“I...I submit.”

Chloe let out a long moan, god it sounded so good, “Mmmmm, good girl.”

[jocelyn-wellson]

1 YEAR AGO (13 NOVEMBER)

She placed seven gold pieces on the counter. “Pay ya e’ery week, an’ ya be giving’ me th’ privacy. Go’ et?”

The gnome looked up from his little seat in the corner, speaking in the squeakiest voice imaginable. “I don’t do rents. I play songs. See?” He held up his string-bare lute.

“‘ow much ya make on et a day?”

“Fifty silver...”

“Play in th’ alley til I tell ya ta come back, seven gold. We split your room. Weekly, go’ et? Ya kin sleep an’ wash in th’ room durin’ th’ day. Ain’ got’a know me name.”

“Anyone know where you’re staying?”

“Aye. There is one.”

“Dangerous?”

“No’ ta you,” she said.

EARLIER THIS AFTERNOON

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. To Joci, it felt like her brain had been ensconced by cotton. Like four years ago, honestly, when those Legion demons attacked. She remembered seeing green felfire, hundreds of kilometres distant. She wouldn’t know it until later, but Broken Isles was a continent aflame. Demon fire, fæ fire, the fires of war and anger and hatred. Her intuition had never really failed her before, so she grabbed her jacket, sling bag, and entire tactical kit. Even the semi-automatic Myz had slid to her across the deck of the ship. She packed some dehydrated food, several pair of fresh underclothing, a blanket, and means to start a fire. She draped a long red rope, coiled and tied off, across her chest. She spotted her climbing chalk bag and tucked a few cams and carabiners inside before securing it to her belt.

1 YEAR AGO (EARLY DECEMBER)

“If’fn they be comin’ fer us,” she told the gnome, “take this and wear et like...”

She took a carabiner and placed the locking mechanism in her hand; a long stretch of steel ran across her fingers. She duplicated the process for the little man. “Ya got’a watch fer them Ashvane,” she said quiet.

“And D—” the gnome started.

“‘e’s go’ ‘is own deals,” she said, cutting him off. “An’ now we go’ ours.” She lowered her voice. “So ‘elp ya if’fn ya sell me ou’,” she said. “...I’ll fin’ ya ‘ventual’y.”

EARLY THIS EVENING

“I seen repor’s, bu’ I cannae tell ya more.”

“Because I’m not SI:7?” snapped Melody.

Joci turned her eyes down. “There ain’ nothin’ else ta know. Jus’ rumours, repor’s comin’ from the Northland.”

“From ... Northrend,” corrected Melody. She watched as Joci frantically packed her own belongings. “Northrend, you mean?”

“Tha’s wot I be sayin’. The Northland.”

Melody took Joci by the arm for a second. “Those aren’t the same, sweetheart.”

“Wot...?”

Melody reached under her bed. She produced a box with her dead brothers’ belongings. There was a map of Northrend inside. She unfolded it; three red dots caught the eyes’ attention: one at some dam in Dragonblight, one in Crystalsong Forest, the last off the margins with an ‘unknown’ pencilled next to it.

“Ya think et be ‘appenin’ there?” she asked. “Where them dots be?”

“The dots? My brothers died there,” said Melody, slowly shaking her head. “Is this what they were talking about? Not Arathi, but... Northrend?”

“I donnae,” she confessed. “Mebbe.”

Melody studied Joci for a good long time. She took the shoebox and tucked it away. “If your telling me...”

“I know where we can hide.”

Melody looked uneasy. “For how long?”

“Til ya know I be righ’.” She gestured toward Melody’s attire. “Go’ anythin’ fer muddin’ ‘round in?”

Melody nodded. She looked out the window, breath caught on the chill of late autumn. “It’s a safe place, yeah? No... ruffians...”

Joci nodded. “Safe ‘n’ ‘oly.” She watched as the ineffable played across Melody’s face. “An’ dry.”

1 YEAR AGO (07 DECEMBER)

She hadn’t been there for the gnome when he needed it. A whole lot of them, five or six, had roughed him up and taken the ‘rent’ he’d been collecting.

“Next time,” they told the man, “Tell us where she is, or it’ll be more than your shitty lute we break.” The gnome spoke up immediately. He had no way of knowing how deep into jeopardy he had placed his erstwhile roommate.

NOW

It had taken a bit of cajoling, but eventually Melody relented. She followed Joci into the City Sewers. They found their way to the Cathedral. Joci found a set of marks leading them to the underground safehouse from which she’d been stealing the dead woman’s wine. They executed a once over through the wine storage, coming across armour left over from years ago. Joci wondered to whom it once belonged. She never would have believed the answer.

“Ya stay ‘ere, go’ et?”

“And then what?”

“I’ll come back for you.”

“How do I — ”

“I couldn’ leave ya behin’,” she said, unrolling the thick blanket to sleep amongst the casks and bottles.

“What if you die?”

Jocelyn didn’t answer. Not at first. She couldn’t. “I won’t,” she said.

“Or hurt?”

“I be sendin’ someone to ya, ok?” She took off the locket left her about a month prior. She opened it. The two looked at the childhood faces of Joci and her Brother. Jocelyn placed the locket around Melody’s neck. “Ya ain’ gonna be ‘lone. No’ anymore.”

Melody closed her hand around the locket. “Do your duty,” she said, eyes welling. “And promise you’ll come back.”

Jocelyn smiled gently. “I’ll be back befir ya know et. Here,” — she said, tossing the small bag of dehydrated food over. “Watah’s safe ta drink from tha’ well.” She fiddled with the locket’s matching charm bracelet. “...ya go’ one ‘alf; when I ge’ back, both will be togethah again.”

“Promise me.”

“I’d move the seven hells to get back to you,” said Jocelyn. She squeezed Melody tight, moved toward the back wall, and entered the Sewers. She set a stone slab across the opening to the cellar. “I promise,” she whispered, the old stone reflected the sound:

“I promise,” the stone replied.

(( @myzariel @kat-hawke ))

[charaisgay]

Breakdown of the Adventure Time Finale Intro

 Adventure time ending has got me in a bittersweet state and I wanna contribute at least something to the commemoration of it. I’ll probably end up drawing some fan art of Shermy and Beth sooner or later because I love the short amount of stuff we get from them, but speaking of Shermy and Beth: I wanted to make an analysis/theory on everything we see in intro of “come along with me”. 

Most of this is gonna be stuff that a lot of people have already theorized and put together but not all the breakdown videos get every point I wanna make spot on, so I just wanted to get everything I believe together in one neat little post. 

So right off the bat we start in the Ice Kingdom as usual, and in the first second of the into we can see the ball that Patience St. Pim froze herself in during the elements mini series, so we know that she’s still (technically?) alive in this1000 years in the future version of Ooo. If it’s possible, maybe one day she might be unfreezed. I don’t remember if it was stated that that could happen or not. 

And in the very next shot their appears to be pink hands gripping onto the bars of an ice cage. The most obvious answer to who is in the cage is of course Princess Bubblegum. In the episode graybles 1000+, we get a glimpse of the future Ooo and what the new Candy Kingdom looks like. It isn’t much of an kingdom but more like hotel inside of a giant futuristic gumball guardian that roams the land. In this future version of Candy Kingdom Princess Bubblegum is nowhere to be found. I believe that the knew Ice King (Gunther) has took to capturing Princesses again and PB is a reoccurring hostage of his. That’s why she wasn’t seen in the gumball guardian. This future version of the Ice King is a lot more hostile (thus why his ice/snow is more apparent and has expanded a great deal from Simon’s ice kingdom)  and is competent enough to be an actual threat, and is able to keep PB for an extended period of time. So PB is still kicking around in this future version of Ooo, just not where she’s suppose to be and she doesn’t have the happiest of turn outs. 

 PB always being captured by the Ice King leads me to believe that this unknown person riding atop the stone duck with a telescope in the ice kingdom, is in fact Marceline. A lot of people believe that this could be a far descendant of one of the humans from the islands after they came back to Ooo, or Simon because of the shape of the backpack is similar to his: but i’m sticking with this being Marcy. My evidence towards this person being Marcy is the stone duck being present. If you remember, the stone duck’s first (or only, I can’t remember it being in any other episode?) appearance is in he episode where Marcy makes her first appearance, during the house searching song. It just seems like too much of a deliberate choice to be a coincidence. And the reason the gear looks so similar to Simon's is because after Simon died: Marcy started using his gear to travel. Or maybe it’s not his, but his influence in her life is still present so she wanted her gear to look like his. Either way, it’s Marcy. And the reason that Marcy is traveling and why she is in the Ice Kingdom is due to her searching for PB. After the Ice King started capturing PB again, Marcy was the one to start saving her after Finn died. (Kind of like history repeating itself) And it’s just a continuous never ending loop of the Ice King capturing PB, Marcy saving PB, and then the Ice King capturing her again, hiding her in a different spot every time to delay Marcy’s search. And at a certain point Marcy just decided to leave home for good and become a nomad seeing as how busy she is with always looking for PB. The two of them can’t stay in one fixed location thus allowing for Shermy and Beth to move into Marcy’s house. 

This is of course the Gunther version of Ice king who we got a glimpse of in the graybles 1000t episode. In concept art, he was called the ice thing. And he looks noticeably different from what he looked like in the finale, the main difference being that he no longer has a body. My theory is that he just evolved to become like this over time, but I also like to believe that after his wife, Turtle Princess died (because she’s mortal) he went mad and become a much more prominent monster and threat to the land of Ooo, and he ventures across the land and interacts with everything a lot more than the Ice King we knew did. Maybe he was the main reason and the cause of the land of Ooo being in the decrepit state it’s in. 

As the Ice King flies off we get a distant look as what’s believed to be the Pup kingdom. Probably one of the last standing kingdoms. Theirs truck transport road that seems to be taking supplies in, so while the land of Ooo does look pretty barren: their seems to be enough peeps around for jobs like this to still exist.

And as we zoom into the kingdom we get a glance at what Pups look like. Pups are the obvious descendants of Jake and Rainicorn. Jake and Rainicorn did essentially create a new race of beings, and with how fast Rainicorns grow, it would make sense that they would be able to develop into a new civilization and culture in the span of 1000 years.  

And it seems like the Pup race has been doing well for themselves seeing as they have a means of space travel. My theory is that some time while the Pup civilization was being created, some of it’s members split off and decided to venture in space. So half of the Pup Kingdom is on earth while the other half is in space. This rocket ship is just a way for them to communicate and send supplies to each other. 

And again, referring back to graybles 1000t episode: we can see some of these space Pups having a wedding. When I first watched this episode a while back I didn’t even put together that these guys were Pups. But the evidence is obvious. They had the eyes and signature jowls of Jake, and they all speak Korean like Rainicorn. So yeah, the Pups are doing good. 

Going back to the intro, we can even see some of these space Pups floating on a platform in the sky with another Pup trying to attack Ice King. Which is more evidence towards my theory that Ice King is a wanted criminal and a top priority in this state. But wait, that’s not just any Pup firing at Ice King. It’s Gibbon! Charlie’s son.

He’s still alive after all these years. With being so old, his fur turned white and he grew a super long mustache/beard. But you can still tell it’s him. As for how he is still alive after all this time: it’s because he has one of ice crown’s jewels in his eye, thus granting him some kind of immortality. We saw one of the ice crown’s jewels fall out and be used as a wedding ring in the finale, as for how Gibbon got a hold of this jewel: we will never know. But he got it somehow. Either way it’s cool that he’s still around. With being so old, maybe he’s some kind of respected high up authority in the Pup kingdom. 

Now for the part in the intro that everyone has been pointing out the most, the Finn and Jake giant stone statues. It’s obvious that these two stone colossus are suppose to be Finn and Jake. The most apparent theory is that Finn and Jake were regarded as such great heroes that they became historical figures and these statues where built of them as monuments. That or maybe it was their grave stones, such brave heroes do deserve a send off as great as they where.  

And it seems as if the flame guy (who I will be getting to in a second) has decided to take refugee inside of Jake’s statue. Although, some people don’t believe that this monument is actually Jake but instead Jermaine because of this: 

Theirs a slab of stone next to the flame guy that looks like it use to say Finn and Jermaine as opposed to Jake before it got broken. Now theirs two answers I've come up with for this. One: maybe there where three monuments: Finn, Jake, and Jermaine’s, but Jake or Jermaine’s monument got destroyed somehow and only one remains. The one we see could be Jake or Jermaine’s. Or two: later in his life Jermaine become an adventure like Finn, Jake, and their parents, and claimed a great title as a hero reviled only to Finn. And while Jake was still greatly remembered and respected, Jermaine just began to outshine him in the public eye. Jake was kinda lazy and was never really the adventurer type anyways, he just kinda followed behind Finn. Jermaine must’ve created his own identity and did something as great as Finn’s accomplishments. Personally I like to believe a mix between the two options happened. All three of them did have monuments but one got destroyed, and Jermaine did become a great hero thus why he also has a statue in remembrance.

Also, behind the flame guy you can see a shovel and some covered dirt which makes me further believe that those statues where grave stones, and this patch of dirt is one of the brother’s grave. As for the Flame guy, it’s pretty easy to connect that he is a reincarnation of the flame elemental. And the slime guy that he’s firing at is most likely a reincarnation of the slime elemental. Maybe the two elements are at some kind of war. Sadly, this means that FB and less sadly Slime Princess, are not alive anymore like PB, and died some time in the 1000 years after the finale. 

And in this shot you can see what’s most likely a descendant of the two headed duck that use to be outside of Finn and Jake’s tree house, and a space Pup spying on Marceline’s old house that now belongs to Shermy and Beth. Maybe he’s just trying to make sure Beth is safe, it make sense: she is a princess after all, and an important leader figure, they wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. This is their way of giving her freedom to do her own thing while also protecting her. 

 And finally we get to see Shermy and Beth residing in Marceline’s house. It’s interesting that the Pups let their Princess stay away from home, but it’s nice to see them being so non lenient on her. Another interesting bit is that you can see Bubblegum’s greatest uncle cup: which probably means before PB started getting captured again, she lived with or visited Marceline a lot at some point. Maybe it happened after the fall of the old Candy Kingdom.

In the next shot we can see remnants of the old candy kingdom, and what looks like a resident from Lumpy space. So Lumpy Space is still around. But unfortunately, Neddy most likely isn’t, seeing that the giant tree in the candy kingdom has lost it’s foliage and is probably dead, thus not giving Neddy any sustenance to survive off of. Maybe the lack of Neddy’s juice after the tree and himself died is what caused the Candy citizens to relocate, and on they’re search to find a energy to sustain candy life. And PB built the great gumball guardian to protect the Candy people from the threat of the Ice King (or what ever has brought devastation to the land of Ooo) while they travel. On the upside it looks like the Candy Kingdom did survive fairly a long time after the finale, maybe it became abandoned only few hundred years before Shermy and Beth’s time. I say this because of how much the Candy Kingdom has expanded and developed into a more metropolis like city before it’s fall, that would take a lot of time. Maybe the humans from the islands started living in the Candy Kingdom when they came to Ooo and helped the Princess expand.  

Oppose to a traveling Finn sitting on top of a stretched out Jake, we see Shermy and Beth traveling on top of grown Sweet Pea. So he’s still alive and seems to be as friendly as he was as a kid. Or at least friendly enough to give Shermy and Beth a ride. In the finale you can see him walking the land with a giant sword, maybe he’s become the exact opposite of the Lich: an immortal being who will forever protect the citizens of Ooo. He seems like the gentle giant type but won’t hesitate to put a stop to evil doers and exhibit his inner strength.

And with that intro ends with Shermy: a reincarnation of the Hero comet, like Finn and Shoko, and Beth: a far far down the line descendant of Jake, and princess of the Pup civilization, fishing just outside of the cave where their house resides. I would love it if these two had some kind of short ten episode mini spin off series or a comic line, I liked their personalities and it would be great to explore them and the future land of Ooo more.

God I love how this show can cram so much information into just 24 seconds. 

EDIT: Recently Steve Wolfhard updated us with some more information about this 1000t years Ooo and it turns out that I was pretty much right about my theory that PB was the person in the ice cage. He stated the PB is present in the intro, and I sure as heck didn’t see her anywhere else. The theory that Marcy is the one riding the Stone Duck is still up for grabs though, but i’m pretty sure it’s true. He also stated that the fire and slime guy are indeed reincarnations of the flame and slime elementals,he said the crew wanted to put them in as a way to tell the audience that PB is the only elemental we knew that’s still around now (except Patient St Pim but I don’t think she really counts). 

He also gave us some interesting Pup lore on how every Pup is born with a power, but as of late Pups are having their powers taken away at birth. Seemingly the old version of Gibbon is the one taking their powers away. Turns out I was completely off about the Pups giving Beth space to be her own person by letting her stay away from home, in all actuality she’s an exiled Princess who was usurped by Gibbon and that’s why she isn’t at home anymore. She’s basically on the run. So I was right about Gibbon being an high up authority but I didn’t expect him to be evil in a way.  

But it’s interesting and it makes some sense: apparently Gibbons powers we’re stolen and it does seem like the crown’s jewel affectd him in a way similar to how the ice crown makes it’s user go insane. 

My theory is that after his power was stolen he fell into a depressed state and searched for a way to get it back or something that would give him special abilities again until he found the Ice crown’s jewel. The combination of the ice crowns affect it has on people and his depression was enough to drive him over the edge. So he decided that if he couldn’t have his powers no Pup could, and started stealing their powers (presumably he uses the magic staff he has to do it)

Must’ve took him along time to work his way up the ranks since he didn’t actually become the Pup king until Beth’s time. I say this because Beth does know of her heritage and that she’s suppose to be the rightful leader of the Pup kingdom, so her parents must’ve been in power at some point in her life or else how would she know that? My guess is that Gibbon took over around the time Beth was a little kid (i’m just assuming that in the finale Beth is a teenager around the ages of 14-17) but Beth escaped before Gibbon was able to take her power. We see her parents nowhere and it looks like it’s just her and Shermy, so they most likely didn’t make it out. 

Or maybe Gibbon isn’t that vile and he allowed Beth’s parents to continue ruling but appointed himself as their over see-er, he let them stay in charge of the kingdom but they had to have their powers removed. Beth, not wanting to give up her powers: was exiled or ran away. Thus why she still has her powers. It seems as if the Pups do know of her current location (because of the space spy pup) but aren’t really seeking to take her out. Gibbon doesn’t see her as a threat and just lets her do her own thing while keeping tabs on her. 

God it’s all so interesting, I wanna know so much about Beth. She seems like such a cool character. 

[greetingfromthedead]

AU Bucky Barnes aka The Winter Soldier - A Kiss of Life

MASSIVE ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Reader gender: neutral

Summary: A special person with special purpose whose only family are the heroes and who’s in love with Bucky gets stuck in the middle of the events of Infinity War and Endgame.

Author’s note: So I think we can all agree that Endgame isn’t cannon and I can do whatever I want because this is my very own pocket dimension.

With just a flick of his arm, Thanos flings you into a tree nearly knocking you out. Vines tie you up as you walk the line of consciousness and darkness. Your ears are ringing as you look at the very last stand the Avengers can make. You see Steve standing his ground, holding back the titan, as you turn your head you see Bucky’s motionless body on the ground. You want to run to him, but you can’t move. From the corner of your eye you see Wanda, trying to destroy the last of the Stones. As Cap falls, she is the only hope, the last thing standing between Thanos and his goal. A shock wave knocks you again against the tree as the Infinity Stone is shattered. This time the darkness takes you. 

You can’t tell how long it has been as you open your eyes again, but the vines around you loosen and fall off. As you look around you see the Avengers gather up again. Their faces reflect only horror and shock.

“Where did he go? Thor?” you hear Cap as you stand up. 

You see Bucky walk towards you and feel relief to see that he’s still alive. You stumble forward to  take his outstretched hand.

“Darling,” the man says to you, but you hear a hint of something in his voice not understanding what it is.

“Where did he go?” you hear Steve ask again.

“Steve?” Bucky asks and you see his arm turn to dust just a moment before he falls to the ground and his whole body disappears.

You gasp in shock and horror. You too fall to the ground right next to the ashes. As your hands touch the ground the dust clings to your bloodied skin. And you look up. First your eyes meet Steve’s who has knelt down next to you, but then you look around. In the distance you see airships crash, you hear some shouts coming from the battle field. You see T’Challa helping up Okoye. They became your family when you spent your time here in Wakanda while Bucky was recovering. Okoye’s face reflects yours as the man disintegrates in front of her.

You hear more voices, the talking raccoon’s, the tree’s, Rhodey’s... You are paralysed as Steve offers you his hand to help you up. You look at the dust and blood on your hands.

“Bucky...” you whisper, tears in your eyes.

Steve realises that you don’t even notice him so he stumbles forward, towards Vision’s body. Everyone gathers around him and the realisation comes as a tidal wave - you had lost.

You sit on one of the fold up chairs on the balcony of the vacant home. Is it yours or does it still belong to the family who had lived here before? It doesn’t really matter at this point. It hadn’t mattered for a while because all hope of a home, of a family had turned to dust five years ago.

You hear a creak coming from inside the house, but you don’t bother to look who it is, you already know there is just one person who could find you.

“Hello, Steve,” you greet him as he sits down next to you.

“You weren’t easy to track down,” he says quietly as to not disturb the silence of the evening.

“Well I tried my best. Figured it would be easiest to just disappear like everyone else or maybe not quite like everyone else,” you say and tighten the blanket around you. “Why did you come here?”

“I came to tell you that there might be hope. Hope of bringing them all back and we could use all the help we can get.”

“Hope? It’s been five years,” you turn to look at him teary eyed, “Five years... but every day feels like a lifetime, even so, every time I close my eyes, I see them. It haunts my dreams, but I know I don’t have to tell you that. I would have given my life for his, but there was nothing left of him. I lost half of my family to a snap of the fingers. Bucky, Sam, Wanda, T’Challa, Shuri, Peter... And I just... I couldn’t bare the idea of losing any more of it so I left. I tried to find purpose, every day I tried, but I just couldn't see the light anymore. I live on borrowed time and I know it’s not mine to waste, but I can’t find a path. I already died once before, but They brought me back for a reason. I was just a kid when he gave his life for mine.”

“Who?” Steve wonders as he has never heard that story.

“I never did find out, but I remember seeing him in the Beyond just before his soul was reaped,” you look at your hands, “So tell me, what is this hope.”

You listen to him as he explains the plan. All this sounds insane to you, but at this point you’ve already had a giant purple man turn your happiness to ashes with a snap of his fingers so who is to say that time travel is the craziest plan out there.

“So then what? You get all the Stones, you build a new Gauntlet and then bring us all back to 2018?” you ask.

“No, we’ll bring everyone who was dusted back to today,” Steve clarifies.

“What about those who lost everything? What about those who took their lives, those who fell into depression and addiction?  What about the five years you’ll take from those who will have to come back to this messed up world?”

“We can’t save everybody, we never could. There are many people who have found a new life in this crazy world, who have moved on, who have families now, we would be taking that away from them.”

You nod silently, this is an impossible choice, one you don’t want to make so you just fall silent. Could this be your purpose? Or is this just empty promises? What could you possibly do to make a difference?

“Will you come with me? We could bring him back, we could bring everyone back,” Steve says insistently as he leans forward to look at you.

“I want them back. Whatever it takes,” you meet his gaze.

You are back at the compound. You are greeted by familiar faces, knowing nods. Everyone is focused and ready for what’s to come. This is it. The all or nothing time heist. You agreed to be left behind to watch over the machinery, to make sure everyone gets back. You watch out the massive window, or rather the glass wall. You overlook the grounds and see Tony. A little girl sprints into his arms and he picks her up. Pepper walks closer and Tony gives his girls a big long hug. At that moment you realise what’s at stake. 

You had hoped to get your happiness back, to give others their happiness back, but now you see that some people truly did find their happiness in the darkness. If the mission failed, if something went wrong, all the rest of joy would die with it.

“Are you ready?” Steve asks and you turn around to give him a nod.

“This has to work.”

“It will.” he says with determination.

Everything that follows seems almost a blur. The last preparations before they go to retrieve the Stones, for you their mission only takes a couple seconds, but when they return, Natasha has been lost, she had sacrificed herself for the grater good. That gives you a new blow, but you do have all of the Infinity Stones. Without a body to mourn the rest of the Avengers seem lost and so do you. With a heavy heart you sit by the little dock, commemorating what she gave up, but no funeral, not now, not like this. You glide along, mourning for the friend you lost, but hopeful as you are so close of possibly getting everyone else back. 

You watch the others work as they build the new gauntlet. They had brought the old and charred one with them, they studied it and also Thor’s weapons to be able to recreate the glove, but now it is ready. It feels like the world has gone silent. You see the others talking, but you know not of what, you only stare at the glove until Banner buts it on and snaps his fingers again. You just stand there, not being able to comprehend what is happening, not being sure what to expect, but all things considered, you did not guess that the building would collapse in on itself and bury you and the rest of the Avengers with it.

You fight for your life in the rubble, your communication device lost, all alone you call out for help, but know that you can’t be heard over the sounds of explosions coming from somewhere outside. You push aside the rubble, still coughing and choking. It takes you a long time to make your way forward, but eventually you find yourself face to face with a big concrete slab that you are not able to move. You look for another way out with no success, but then the rubble shifts and you are lucky enough to not get crushed by it, but instead you see light and you climb out to overlook the huge battlefield. You see golden sparkling portals all around you with soldiers and heroes walking out of them, you realise those are the people who were dusted and now they’ve returned. You see Thanos’ forces and are filled with new hope as the odds seem to be on your side. You look around hoping to see the one face you’ve missed the most, but it is impossible in this massive crowd.

You fight with all you have cutting trough the brutal creatures the titan sent your way. You get deeper and deeper into the battle field being surrounded by both enemies and friends. As is starts to rain down fire you find yourself under a golden shield. You keep fighting until you find your Bucky. You lock eyes and he smiles. Back to back you fight off the outriders. Everything will be alright now, you can feel it in your bones even though it gets harder and harder by the second. The dead creatures start to pile up and the savages leap towards you in greater and greater numbers. As it feels like you’re being overrun by the creatures they suddenly turn to ashes all around you. The fighting is over.

You turn to face Bucky and jump up to hug him he lets his gun fall to the ground as he wraps his arms around you tight. You can feel his relief and you almost start to cry. You have him back. Your happiness. You pull away and he gives you a heated kiss on the lips.

“We won,” you whisper and look around you. Then you notice the people standing together, heads lowered. You see Steve’s face, you see only one half of it, but it is enough to realise he’s crying. You take Bucky’s hand and hurry towards them. He follows you until you stop right next to Rhodey. You see Pepper crying over Tony’s dead body and your insides knot up. You remember so vividly him picking up his little girl, the love he had for them, for the world. “Earth’s best defender” Steve had called him. You see your purpose now, it never was about your happiness, it’s about the greater good, Tony knew it.

You turn to face Bucky again. This isn’t fair. You look at him, you imagine the life you always dreamed of, with him. A home, a family of your own, something Tony already had, something he gave up for everyone else. The true ultimate sacrifice. 

“I love you,” you give the man a deep kiss, “I’ll always love you, remember that. And please forgive me.”

Bucky looks confused and concerned as you let go of his hand and step away. You kneel next to the dead hero and take his hand.

“You deserve to live, the world needs you,” you squeeze his fingers and place a light kiss on his forehead.

You feel the strength go out of your body and everything fades to black. From the darkness stars emerge, you recognise this place - the Beyond. All around you is the vast emptiness of space and millions upon millions of stars. 

“Why did you do that?” you hear an almost accusing voice.

“I had to. You need to go back to your girls,” you smile a sad smile at Tony.

“What about Barnes?”

“I hope he’ll be alright, I hope he can forgive me,” you feel like you would cry, but not here, not with these being your last conscious moments.

“The universe will be a darker place without you,” he says right as your soul is reaped and carried off into a new life.

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[words-writ-in-starlight]

Lisa, I'm killing our boy... Okokokokokokokok please tell me Trevor comes to visit every month or so to make sure Broody Mc. Blondie doesn't get too bored and that he enters the estate by loudly insulting him because it's the only kind of interaction trevor is any good at let's be honest. Alucard shouts right back at him and tosses him some tools and planks to help him rebuild the Belmont estate. That's how it goes right

See, you say “happy ending” but I say “I have some things toget OFF MY CHEST” and, well, you came to me, so…no.  That is nothow it goes.  Also this racked up to like 4k pretty quick so here, also on AO3.

Adrian is restoring the castle.

Both castles, he supposes—he’s strong, and he has all thetime in the world.  He pays for materialsout of Dracula’s vault and does not seek help. No one dares approach the strange and twisted castle above ground, andso below, like Belmont said.  Adrian hasa shrewd suspicion, when he bothers to think about it, that the incineratedruins of the Belmont manor grounds have been left untouched out of a fear thatthey might be cursed.

He’s glad, in a grim and distant way, that he pushed Belmontand Sypha to leave.  This is…this is tooraw, too aching, to have anyone near him while he faces what used to be hishome.

Adrian starts with the bare minimum.  The doors of both castle and hold have to berepaired, to prevent the elements from doing the work of destruction in amatter of weeks.  He can’t restore the Enochiansigil on the trapdoor of the hold—he would need a magician for that, and forall that Adrian is a linguist and a polymath the likes of which most humanscould never hope to match, his natural gift for magic is middling at best andlargely untrained—but a large granite slab does almost as well.  He hefts it into place and fits it over theopening, seals it with wax so that it will hold out wind and rain while hedeals with Dracula’s castle.

Adrian repairs the door of the castle.

Then he walks into the great library and stands in themiddle of the room, looking at the wreck, for seven hours.

Some of the books knocked from their shelves have been putback in place.  He did that, the very nextnight after they took the castle and he killed—

It had been something mindless and small, familiar from alifetime of loving the tidy order of alphabetized authors.  Adrian had picked up the books that hadfallen with the great impact of his back hitting the shelves, when he wasthrown into them, and slipped them back between their neighbors where they belonged.  Where the shelves were fragmented beyond use,he had stacked the books among the rubble on the floor, neat piles with thespines facing outward.  He had notbothered to move the broken glass or the splintered wood, nor done anything todeal with the scorched and melted hole in the wall.  Only the books.  

Adrian realizes, dimly, that the sun is setting through thewindow, the near-painful white light of day fading to something softer, lesslikely to make his eyes burn and his head ache.

Adrian leaves the library untouched.

Adrian—Alucard, hetells himself, murmurs it under his breath when he’s working, whispers it untilit loses all meaning, tries to carve it into his tongue and burn it into hisblood like silver, like holy water, like a ward—Alucard doesn’t have to hunt. He needs blood, but Dracula’s stores do more than pay for repairs.  He drinks from the preserved supply of bloodkept against a disaster, or a long period away from people, and eats from thefood stores that remain untouched by the vampires who lived here.  Some, the fresh fruit and vegetables, arelargely spoiled.  Most of the rest isfine.  There’s even flour, and yeast, ifAlucard had it in himself to spend the effort on bread.

If anyone else were here, someone else who needed food, ahuman or two, maybe, he might try.  

Alucard does not make bread.

The library and much of the other areas ruined in the finalbattle—the observatory, the laboratory, the wing of living quarters—are toohaunted for Alucard to bear.  He choosesthe deeper reaches of the castle instead, where the work is simple and directand miserably straight-forward.  He tearsout bloodied carpeting in the entrance hall and pulls down the throne roomalmost entirely, excises the forgemasters’ workshops like a gangrenous limb,dismantles guest quarters and burns a bonfire behind the castle taller than heis, for days on end.  

He destroys the night creatures still caged in the castleand burns their bones, burns the beds used by Dracula’s allies and the tablesused for their war councils, cracks open the Belmont Hold and burns the bodiesthere, burns bloodied carpet and broken wood. Alucard considers burning the books he finds there that are too damagedto be legible, but he sets them aside to evaluate later.  Perhaps he can decipher what is left andtranscribe them.  Perhaps Belmont knowswhat was inside.  Perhaps—

Alucard runs out of things to burn, eventually.   There was little to rebuild in the lowerreaches of the castle in the first place, and now he has reduced what there wasto empty rooms, a labyrinth of gutted dungeons and bare stone.  He scrubs the floor with his own hands andwith telekinesis and with lye so pure it makes him retch until he cannotjustify it anymore.  He retreats to theentrance hall, and then outside of the castle, where the ground is scarred andblack from the bonfire, and sits down with his back to the castle and his kneespulled up to his chest.

It’s dark out—he’s been working night and day without muchregard for what time it is.  He’s notsure how long it’s been since—since, but the air has gone cold and bitterrather than the sweet crisp bite of autumn he remembers from Gresit.  There’s snow on the ground.  He observes these things and forgets to allowthem to affect him, because vampires, even half-human vampires, do not sufferfrom the cold the way a mortal would.  Hesits behind Dracula’s castle—his castle, now, Alucard’s castle—in shirtsleevesand lets frost accumulate in his hair.

Alucard can’t sleep. There’s irony there, he thinks, in his moments where things like ironyand humor are achievable.  He slept for ayear and was more than ready to sleep again, to escape this world that Draculahad made and sleep until he was found, until he was needed, until Gresit felldown and destroyed his vault and everything inside.  Whatever came first.

Now he can’t sleep at all.

Where would he sleep, anyway?  He’s avoided thinking about this questionsince he sat in his father’s study—in Dracula’s study and cried until hecouldn’t anymore, curled up in the sturdy oak chair that he had hiddenunderneath as a child.  He had set someof the room to rights before he broke down, steadied the chair and set hismother’s portrait on the mantle, but he had fled as soon as he could trust hislegs to carry him.  Once, his father’s—Dracula, damn him, Dracula’s study hadbeen a place of warmth and comfort.  Itmeant that his family was together, when there was a fire in the hearth and thesoft sound of a quill tip writing, and Alucard had slept there often when hewas restless as a boy.

He hasn’t been back to the study since he fled the ghoststhat lingered there.  Nor the ruinedlibrary, where he used to creep after his mother put him to bed, so that hecould read late into the night.  Hehasn’t dared the observatory, nor her laboratory.  Dracula’s private library was in nearly aspoor repair as the main one, with the distance mirror shattered on the floor,but even if it had been pristine, it made the scar on Alucard’s chestache.  

His parents’ rooms, he didn’t enter even to check theircondition.  His own—

And he couldn’t feel at ease closing his eyes in the lowerreaches, where the burning taste of forgemaster magic lingered and his mindwhispered dark warnings about the dangers that lurked in the corners.  Now, of course, he’s rendered them more orless unlivable for a vampire until the astringent, insistent reek of the lyeairs out.

So.  Where does hesleep?

Alucard sits on the ground, back pressed to the wall of thecastle behind him, and lets the question chase itself around in his mind untilthe sky lightens.  When he finally stirs,snow drifts from his shoulders and hair.

He holds his hand out, palm up, and watches flakesaccumulate in his palm. They melt more slowly on his skin than on humanskin—than on his mother’s.  She loved thesnow, had taken him out on a balcony the first winter after he was born andcuddled him close, her warm cheek pressed to his and his hand, small andchildish, wrapped around the end of her braid as they watched the snow fall onthe mountains.

“Water is the only material in the world that naturallyoccurs as a solid, a liquid, and a gas, Adrian,” she had whispered, like shewas sharing a secret.  “Here, lupul mic, like this,” she said, andtipped her head back, sticking her tongue out. Alucard had done the same, turning his face up toward the grey cloudsoverhead, and had laughed, stretching his hands up toward the sky as the coldflakes landed on his tongue.  His motherhad laughed too, spinning the two of them around on the balcony until she wasdizzy and he was clinging to her jacket, and then…

And then his father had come to find them, had found themsitting on the balcony with Alucard in his mother’s lap, both of them rumpledand flushed and grinning.  He hadlaughed, had crouched down to ask what they were doing, and his mother hadcaught the fearsome master vampire Vlad Dracula Tepes by the collar and draggedhim down by main force to kiss him with her cold lips.  They had gone inside, finally, when hismother’s ears and fingertips were so cold she swore they had gone numb, and shehad put a cup of warm spiced milk in Alucard’s hands to match her own and theyhad sipped at it while his father read to them beside the fire, and it had beenso good—

Something hot strikes Alucard’s skin, shocking, almostscalding.  He may not feel the cold likea mortal would, but his skin has grown chill, almost deathly so, and the waterburns.  He raises his fingers to his face,presses his hand over his eyes as if to force the tears back, and a high, thinsound escapes through his teeth, like the whine of a wolf wounded by an arrow.  He feels a little like it, like there’ssomething barbed and terrible lodged in his chest that he’s been trying tooutpace, and sitting here has finally let it dig through his bones to tear opena lung.  That’s what Alucard imaginesthis feels like—gasping airlessly while tears fall down his face, as if he’sdrowning in his own lungs, grief filling the empty spaces like blood.

This is the third time Alucard has cried for his family.  

The first was when he returned to his mother’s home in apanic—he missed her by a matter of hours, because Alucard is too human toteleport any respectable distance and had to run home on foot when he heardrumors of a witch from Lupu.  He had pacedthrough the ruins of his mother’s home, marking the rooms and doors in his mindto prove to himself that it had really been hers.  Here, his mother’s kitchen; here, his parents’bedroom; here, his own room; here, her laboratory.  He had dashed the tears away without athought and run, flat out, toward Targoviste, and arrived just in time to seehis mother die.

Then he hadn’t allowed himself to shed another tear untilDracula was dead.

Now, crying hurts,makes his ribs ache, makes his head spin. Alucard closes a fist into his shirt, over the sharpest point of pain inhis chest, where a child is calling hopelessly for his parents to come back tohim, and lets his hair fall forward to hide his face.

Eventually, Alucard runs out of tears.  No one can cry forever.

Alucard wipes his eyes. Alucard stands up.

There are still repairs to be done.

The hold is less damaged than the castle—Belmont killed mostof the invaders in the first chamber, kept them from reaching the holdproper.  But the damage to the entrance shaftis extensive, the stairs smashed to kindling in places and ripped whole fromtheir moorings in others.

Alucard solves the first and most obvious problem by thesimple expedient of affixing a strong pulley to the top of the open column.  He can get himself in and out without trouble,but he’s not interested in testing the exact limits of his telekinesis in sucha high-stakes manner as lowering heavy construction materials down a hundredfoot shaft with him at the bottom.  

Then Alucard tries his hand at carpentry.

All things being equal, he’s not bad at it.  He dares the ghosts in the castle to findbooks in his mother’s study, her endless curiosity teaching him new things evennow as he repairs the shattered staircase. The stairs aren’t as fine as their predecessors, but they’re smooth andclean and sturdy, and he figures that the Belmonts would probably be all rightwith it.  Even if they wouldn’t—well, it’shis hold now, isn’t it?  If he decidesthat it needs pretty stairs, he’ll redo them.

The thought is equal parts encouraging and deeplyterrifying.  Encouraging, because in themoments where Alucard is still, trying to close his eyes for a moment, hedreads finishing the restoration of the Belmont Hold.  When he finishes here, there will be nothing leftbut his family’s own wing of the castle, no excuse not to repair the libraryand the laboratory, nothing keeping him away from his parents’ chambers and thelittle room where he grew up and killed—

Terrifying, because for the first time in his life, Alucardlooks forward at eternity and sees a long and lonely blank.  There is no one here.  Even if his mother hadlived a human life and died of old age—unlikely, in Alucard’s opinion, Draculawould never have allowed it—he would have had company.  Family. His father, who lovedhim.  Now he has an empty, hauntedcastle, and the last legacy of a family wiped out of history.  If Alucard rebuilds the stairs of the BelmontHold twenty times, at least it will be something to do to fill that endlesstime.

Alucard tries not to think about it too much.

When he finishes the stairs, Alucard turns to the rest ofthe hold.  He sets the painting of theBelmont ancestor back on the wall.  Hepulls rubble out of the places where the walls are damaged.  He returns the books they pulled down intheir frantic research back to their shelves, and begins trying to transcribethe ones that have been damaged.  Helearns the index inside out, expands it. He grins a little, for the first time in…a while, at the memory ofBelmont’s affront over his criticism of it.

It’s been—months, probably, since Belmont and Sypha left.  Alucard isn’t sure.  It’s even harder to track time in the holdthan in the depths of the castle.  Hedoes know that he hasn’t talked to anyone in almost as long, except for a fewpassing exchanges with the merchants who sold him the stores of wood and stone thathe needed.  He doesn’t talk much now,except for the occasional flood of cursing when something goes wrong in therepairs.  He doesn’t even murmur his own nameanymore.  Alucard comes easily now.

His mother would be so disappointed.

Alucard is restoring the Belmont Hold, and he is notthinking about his mother, or his father, or his eternity.  

He is not.

The hold is beautiful, and deep, and quiet, and kind—even toAlucard, who is trespassing on the legacy of those who might have hunted him,given the chance.  He sleeps a littlemore, here, an hour or two of restless dozing at a time snatched while he’slying on the floor or the top of a shelf or on a table, filled with uneasydreams.  He thinks he could be at peacehere, if the world left him alone.

He understands, a little bit, the world Dracula craved.  The silence. There is nothing that Alucard wants more than to close his eyes andsleep forever, and the hold, sometimes, seems like it would let him.

Alucard comes to the end of the restorations in the hold.  It takes longer than he’d first expected—he’sbeen doing makework, he can admit it, restitching old pages back into bindingand moving books that have been misplaced back to their proper shelves just todraw it out—but not as long as he’d hoped.

The last step is the granite slab.  It’s the same size and weight as the previousone, as best as Alucard can estimate, and smooth on top, ready to be engravedwith the Enochian seal.  Alucard hasseveral diagrams of the seal, drawn from his memory and checked against whatbooks he could find on the subject, and in theory, he should be able to engraveit and be done.

Alucard doesn’t engrave the seal.  He’s still not a magician, he tellshimself.  If there’s another step hedoesn’t know of, something left out of the books or lost over time, he couldcarve the seal and render the stone useless. He’ll look into it later.

Besides, no one comes near the castle.  The hold is as protected as it’s likely toget.

Some part of Alucard wonders if he can find a way to contactSypha.  She would know how to seal thehold.  Belmont might be with her—would heapprove of Alucard’s repairs?  He’s thelast of his line, it’s only right that he know what’s happened to his family’shold.  Maybe the two of them—

Alucard breaks off the thought as crisply as snapping a neck,and leaves the granite slab over the entrance.

It is spring.  Heknows this because the weeds taking over the ruin of Belmont Manor are greenand lively, putting out flowers.  Thesunlight is bright and cheerful, the air sweet with the promise of rain, warmenough that Alucard’s plain dress of shirt and breeches wouldn’t mark him asstrange.  It’s…beautiful.

Alucard stands in front of the castle, hands spread and facetipped up to the sun, eyes closed to against the brilliance, for a long time.  He has always loved sunlight, even though it’soften too bright for his eyes, he remembers, and the memory is strange and alittle foreign, as if remembering a story told to him by someone else a longtime ago.  But it’s his, his own story,his own memory, and as he stands there in the sunlight, feeling the warmth sinkinto his bones like so little sinks into a vampire’s bones, it clicks back intoplace, a stone pressed back into a wall he’d thought was mostly torn down.

He is—so glad to be half human, Alucard thinks abruptly, asa breeze whips around him and vanishes into the ruins.  He would hate to have never felt sunlight onhis face.  

The sun begins to set, and Alucard goes back into thecastle.

It’s time to face the upper rooms.

Over the last uncertain number of months, Alucard has done morework than a team of humans could have achieved in years, but when he steps intothe ruins of Dracula’s private library, the enormity of the work he has aheadof him hits him like a tidal wave.  Itleaves him breathless—there’s so much to do here, even just in this room, whichis less damaged than some.  He had thoughtthat starting here might be easier, the way it was easier to tear apart the lowerreaches, where there was more evidence of the monster Dracula than there was ofAlucard’s father.

This room is ruined, but in the way of a room willfullywrecked by someone in a rage, or a haze of grief, rather than the collateraldestruction the main library or the observatory faced.  The smashed distance mirror is far from theonly thing scattered in pieces—books and quills, glass beakers and vials, evena writing desk, have all faced Dracula and failed to withstand his wrath.  The icosahedron that used to govern thecastle’s movement is as shattered as the engine, planes melted together at oddangles and lying on the floor.  Alucardhasn’t even bothered to try and repair the engine yet, hasn’t even reallydecided if it’s worth repairing.  There’snowhere he wants to go, after all.

Alucard lights the lamps and looks around the room,breathing slow and careful, as if inhaling too sharply might send his fragile controlof himself spinning.  The shelves aremostly intact, at least, and he can probably repair the damaged ones easilyenough.  The desk is a lost cause, he’llhave to build up a bonfire again.  Mostof the books are more or less intact, and—

And there’s a spray of blood, smeared across the wall besidethe door as if someone had tried to scrub it away while it was drying but hadn’tcleaned it properly.  It smells old, morethan a year, and it has a distinct signature to it.  Unique, even. Neither the sweet promise of human blood nor the electric crackle ofvampire blood—somewhere in between.

Alucard retches, and it’s probably for the best that he hasn’teaten anything more substantial than donated blood in a while.  There’s nothing to bring up.  

He locks Dracula’s library behind him.

It’s a bad start and sets a bad precedent for hisprogress.  These rooms are haunted, true,by the memory of better times, but Alucard drifts from one chamber to anotherlike he’s the only ghost in this castle. He remembers this feeling from that first day, a sort of perfect numbhelplessness as he rights chairs and straightens pictures, lingering over them,but doesn’t move a finger to take steps toward real repairs.  He trails his fingers over his mother’s books,over Dracula’s telescope, over the door to his parents’ room.  He still hasn’t dared to go inside.  

Alucard passes through the halls of the castle with lessimpact than a strong breeze and—and he’s tired,a sort of soul-deep exhaustion that drives him on instinct to the door he leastwants to see.

At the end of all this, of Dracula’s war on the world, ofhistory’s longest and most disastrous suicide, Alucard is a little boy alone ina vast castle, and all he wants is to sleep, and so here he is, sitting on hischildhood bed without much memory of having walked there.

The room has suffered for the winter with a shattered window,but not as much as Alucard might have expected. The eave, and the fact that the broken window is one of those set intothe wall, have conspired to protect it from most of the elements.  The wallpaper is peeling, and many of thedrawings tacked to the desk and wall have been shredded or suffered waterdamage, but the portrait of the three of them is unharmed, and other than theblack and ashy stain on the carpet and the broken bedpost, there’s little else disturbed.

The ceiling is still painted with constellations—it’s full darkoutside, probably even getting on toward morning a bit, but Alucard can stillsee them when he leans back to lie down on the bed.  He’s too tall for it now, lying at an anglewith his legs bent at the knee and his feet on the floor.  His father had painted the stars for him, asa surprise for his first naming day, a mishmash of constellations that Alucardliked best arranged without concern for the reality of the night sky.

“If it’s the stars you wish to see,” Alucard says to theceiling, remembering what his father said, “look out your window.”  Art isfor us, Dracula had murmured, and Alucard had rested his head against hisfather’s shoulder, so that he could better hear the rumble of the deep voice inhis chest, like distant thunder.

It’s been some time since Alucard slept here regularly—firsthe stayed in Lupu, then he traveled, and then, of course, he fled to Gresit.  Still, though, the bed is made up with softsheets and a warm blanket, the pillow placed as if he might come back to it atany moment, and it smells familiar and soothing, the smell that meant love andcomfort for most of his life.

He is so tired, Alucard thinks as he stares up at theceiling.  The painted stars swim beforehis eyes, the periphery feathered with grey, and focusing his vision makes asharp, subtle pain lance through his temples. He hasn’t slept well in so long. Today was probably his least productive day in months, idled away in thesunlight and the night spent wandering the dark halls of the castle, but theexhaustion is hitting him hard and fast, like he’s been in free fall all thistime repairing the castle and hold and now he’s finally reaching the bottom.

The thought comes to him like it’s being whispered bysomeone else—maybe he can sleep here. Maybe, if he closes his eyes here, he can sleep until he wakes up better, without the ache in his chestand the weight in his bones.  Maybe he cansleep until he wakes up to his mother’s face, his father’s affection.

Maybe he can sleep until he wakes up in a world wherevampires don’t exist.

It’s a hopeless wish, but Alucard shuts his eyes anyway.

As the sky begins to turn grey, Adrian Tepes fallsasleep.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Twenty-Six: Reyna

Salvation by Wet Ones

             The blood was thick and only grew thicker the further they swam downward. Reyna had to keep reminding herself that they were, in fact, swimming, and not thrashing, which is how she felt—a victim on the border of drowning.

           In their current condition, Reyna couldn’t truly swim. She had one hand enlaced with Axel’s and the other clasping Calex’s quiver, which she hoped was attached to a person. The occasional pull of it might have been from a monster instead of her comrade, and she reminded herself that she might need to retaliate at any moment.

           All she could do was kick downward, further into this nightmare river. There didn’t seem to be a bottom and the pressure around them kept building. Above, there was certain death by being shredded by tiny teeth, then rendered apart by larger ones. Down here…

            Axel’s kiss, that he stole as the boat flipped, told her a horrifying piece of information: he didn’t think this plan was going to work and he was scared they were going to die without getting to talk things out. He’d run out of ideas or—from what she gathered about the fight with the ahuitzotl and what she’d felt of him when she lent him her bravery—he felt overwhelmed by childhood fears. The recent shattering of his confidence took away his reserves.

           Calex surprised her. While near panic when she first lent him her courage, he’d calmed in this vicious dive. Away from the bats, he seemed confident this Let’s Dive into the Mysterious Blood River and Hope for the Best plan would work.

           Thalia was similar, desperate and determined. Exactly what Reyna would expect out of the Lieutenant of Artemis.

           Reyna wanted to know how Thalia found out that Reyna could lend her strength to troops. Few people knew of that, and she doubted Nico or Axel would have shared the information. The huntresses, however, knew the Amazons. Could Reyna’s sister, Hylla, have betrayed that information?

           Unfortunately, Reyna might never find out. Her lungs burned. The pressure inside her head and along her body was splitting. Although her eyes were closed, white spots began to fleck her vision.

           Similar to how she felt when transporting the Athena Parthenos back to Camp Half-Blood, she could accept her own death on a quest. But, she couldn’t accept letting her troops down in the upper world.

           When she felt the strength ebbing from her kicks, the world lost all orientation. The blood grew cold. Reyna couldn’t be sure she was swimming down anymore. The heaviness of the blood alleviated, like they were propelling upwards. She wondered, foolishly, if she accidentally breathed the blood into her lungs, would she contract any blood born diseases. That shouldn’t be the concern, considering all the open injuries they sustained from the bats. All she could do was fight for survival and consciousness, and pray the Mayan gods had really good infrastructure to keep their rivers from getting polluted.

           The disorientation and nausea felt familiar. Less like drowning and losing oxygen, and more like—

           Someone coughed and gasped.

           Another gagged.

           Reyna thought these must be auditory hallucinations, or tricks of Xibalba. They were still swimming—weren’t they? They had never broken the surface. Though, the liquid no longer felt as thick as blood. More like…

           Gravity had flipped. Reyna felt something wonderful scrap her knee: solid land.

           Thoughts failed her. With how weak her limbs were, and the blurriness of her vision, pure survival instinct took over. She kicked off and onto what she assumed was shore, though the heavy thickness around her didn’t dissipate.

           Reyna’s willpower let out: she gasped and anticipated an irony liquid to flood into her mouth.

           The air she inhaled was heavy, thick, and cold. Not warm blood. No bats swarmed her.

           “Did we just shadow travel?” Thalia asked. She sounded like she had swallowed a live miniature faun and was regretting her decision.

           “None of us should be able to shadow travel,” Calex said between rugged coughs.

           A moment of panic squeezed Reyna’s chest, in a way it hadn’t since they’d arrived in Xibalba.  Not everyone was accounted for. During her thrash to get to land, she’d released Axel’s hand and Calex’s quiver. She sat up, feeling for her knife so one of them was armed. It was still there.

           Reyna opened her eyes to search beside her, but was blinded when the blood dripped from her forehead and eyebrows into her eyes. They stung. She fumbled with her cape to wipe her face, forgetting momentarily she was completely covered from the swim.

           “Praetor?” Axel’s voice came tight and concerned from somewhere beside her. She could hear him sniff, then gag at the metallic reek. “Reyna?” he called again.

           “I’m here,” she said. Her breath and pulse slowed to a regular rhythm. She couldn’t let herself indicate that she was worried or let them process what had just happened. “Is your true sight back?” she asked.

           “I can’t see to tell. There’s too much blood.”

           “Here,” Thalia said.

           After a moment, someone—Reyna assumed the huntress—pressed something cold and wet into her hands.

           Thalia said, “Use these. It’ll sting. But… uh…”

           Reyna gratefully pressed the cloth to her face to clean the vicious liquid from her skin. After a few moments, she could blink enough to look around. Her eyes stung, yes, but she could make out her environment. Or, thought she could. It was dark.

           Flint struck stone.

           Axel held up his lighter.

           The flame was small, and looked even smaller in the massive blackness.

           Reyna’s eyes finally adjusted.

           As far as the light extended, in all but one direction, there was nothingness, a barren wasteland. The ground had black, rocky crags sticking out of a stony floor like a giant witch had died and been buried up to the fingertips. The rock slabs were perfect vantage points for an ambush and Reyna wondered how many new enemies were in this land.

           Behind them was a rocky wall of sorts, reaching up out of the light’s radius.

           When her eyes fully adjusted, Reyna saw there was some natural lighting, but it took a moment to process, like her mind knew processing this world all at once would be like taking a full spoon of pure salt: immediate aftereffects of regret and prolonged discomfort afterwards.[1]

           The ground extended eternally out of sight one direction. In the other one, it ended into abrupt darkness. These spikes of rock jutted out at various points, making it impossible to set up a defendable location without threat of a surprise attack.

           “This looks a bit like a section of Tartarus that Percy and Annabeth described. The one outside of Nyx’s place, where they met the goddess of poison,” Calex whispered.

           When she glanced at her friends, she frowned.

           Despite Calex’s comment, he stared at his hands. They were shaking.

           Thalia held a container of Wet Ones and was desperately trying to clean the blood off her bow.

           Axel crouched low. His ears were down. His reflective eyes looked demonic as he held the lighter like the cheesiest of tour guides on a graveyard tour.

           Reyna needed to keep everyone moving, to distract them before they realized they were covered in blood. Someone or something’s blood. Reyna wondered if the blood only came from violent deaths, and if some of it belonged to her father.

           She shook her head.

           “Thank you for the cloth, Thalia,” Reyna said.

           Thalia gave her a shaky grin and shook her huntress backpack. “It’s waterproof. Like, deep-river waterproof. So, it can handle a dip in another liquid.”

           She seemed to regret it as the words came out. Instead of dwelling on it, Thalia went to handing out the clothing people had given her, giving Axel his shirt and Calex his scarf. She slipped on her parka, which calmed Reyna. Although it wasn’t as obvious on Calex’s ebony skin, or Axel’s deep bronze tan, the smeared blood made swirls along Thalia’s arms, where she’d tried to remove it.

           Calex reached out, but hesitated about his beanie. “I don’t want to get it dirty. It’s the last thing I have left from Mum.”

           Thalia shoved it back into her bag without a word.

           Calex wrapped the scarf around his neck and pressed it close to his mouth. His breath came out in miniature bursts of fog.

           “I’ve read about this place,” Reyna said. “The home of Nox.”

           “Nyx,” the other three reflexively corrected.

           “Graeci,” Reyna muttered.[2] “This is where her Palace of Night is, where her children reside. We should be close to Chaos.”

           After a pause, Axel cleared his throat. “My true vision is back. I think we were too deep in Xibalba to end up in the rivers of Hades. Having Thalia lead must have really changed which Underworld we were in. We’re just lucky we didn’t crawl out of the River Acheron.”

           “Yea, Cat Breath, but how did that whole thing work? Think Bugs had a lucky foot?” Thalia asked.

           “You’re asking me to explain the physics behind trans-underworld travel? I’m a strategist, not a theologist. That’s Dr. Claymore’s department.” Axel said. Reyna could hear the fragile humor in his voice. He handed Reyna his lighter for a moment, his fingers unnecessarily brushing against hers. He slipped his shirt back on.

           Axel took the lighter back.

           “You’re giving away our location, mate,” Calex said.

           Reyna wanted to be proud of him, but she also didn’t want them to lose their main source of light.

           “Trust me, if something is waiting to kill us here, it already knows where we are,” Thalia said and frowned. “I wish I hadn’t lost my lantern in the river. It fell into the river when the boat flipped.”

           Reyna frowned. Her spear had also disappeared into the depth when the boat flipped and was probably close friends with Thalia’s lantern at that moment.

           “Where does your true vision lead us?” Reyna asked, trying to keep them on track. They’d had enough time to catch their breath. They needed to move. She dared not ask Axel what time it was on the outside world.

           Axel pointed towards a bend in the cliff side beside them, one leading in the direction of sudden blackness. Wouldn’t be a quest without walking towards the Danger Here signs. “There.”

           “At least we know we’re in the right spot,” Calex said, “Euna’s been here.”

           Reyna followed his gaze behind her. Almost outside of their bubble of light, along the cliff face, there was a massive hole in the wall. This could have been a natural formation, except stairs, almost identical to the ones that breached Camp Half-Blood, lead upwards. Vines with beautiful white flowers bloomed along the outside, like decoration to trick children into an old woman’s house that was secretly a cannibal. Children’s stories were weird.

           “It’s like a horror movie,” Thalia said.

           “A very pretty horror movie,” Calex agreed.

           They formed a quick grid, archers in back, Axel and Reyna in the front. Once their eyes adjusted, Axel clicked away his lighter. The uncomfortable, dim grey glow of the world was enough to dodge the occasional pools of muck or smaller rocks jutting up. There was no way to see around the claw-like structures that Axel lead them through.

           Thalia’s silver bow and Calex’s golden one glowed softly behind them, casting a ghostly mixture of light onto their immediate path. Reyna fingered her knife, wishing her spear hadn’t ended up somewhere in the blood river.

           “I’m sorry, praetor. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have been carrying plenty of weapons from which you could have chosen,” Axel said without making eye contact.

           She didn’t like him sensing her discomfort so easily. Though, any warrior might have known she would dislike the lack of range.

           “This is strange,” Calex said, making it so she didn’t need to answer. “Euna and that mad bloke, Jack, must have caused a ruckus getting down here. Percy and Annabeth’s accounts made it sound like this was a popular spot for monsters. They said Nyx was a tad protective.”

           “So where are the monsters and the Goddess of Night?” Reyna said.

           For whatever reason, Reyna got the feeling Nyx wasn’t in. This place felt empty. Queasiness hit her stomach. What if they were too late and the sun had already set? Plus, the lack of aggression down here made Reyna feel like they were about to be ambushed.

           “What time is it?” Thalia asked aloud for everyone.

           “On the outside world? Roughly noon,” Axel said.

           That made Reyna’s head whirl. It felt like they’d been gone for days.

           Axel shot a hand out and crouched. Reyna froze and crouched beside him, hoping the others did the same. She didn’t see anything, but she assumed that Axel’s cat-slit eyes gave him better night vision.

           “I think it’s a body,” he said, “On the ground, up ahead. Partially behind a rocky crag, twelve o’clock, about 30 feet.”

           “You don’t think it’s Euna?” Calex asked, his voice tight with concern.  

           “Too hard to say,” Axel said.

           “Could be a trap,” Reyna pointed out.

           “Let’s proceed with caution, since every step takes us closer to getting out of this creepfest,” Thalia said.

           Each step probably took them closer to the heart of Tartarus, but Reyna knew it wasn’t the time to point that out.

           They advanced slowly, cautiously, keeping low to the floor. If this was an ambush, there was no way to defend against it. The light from Thalia and Calex’s bows was too strong. Axel and she could let them go forward alone, and flank around the sides, or scout, but a monster with better sight could easily outmaneuver Reyna in this dimness. Splitting up would only leave them more vulnerable.

           Her heartbeat thudded in her head, and she thought about the first time her cohort was pinned down by Saturn’s army. When a feline, skeletal monster led an ambush that took her troops by surprise and gave her a vicious scar across her thigh.

           She shook her head, promising herself to figure that out after this was over.

           As they got closer, Reyna could see something peeking out from behind the rock: the silhouette of a hand and head, with some covering over the head. Neither moved.

           Something about this didn’t feel right. They were in Tartarus, yes, but Reyna didn’t remember this enlisted in the Fields of Punishment’s Guide to Hospitality.            

           A few more steps—the patter of which was silenced by the sheer thickness of the air—and she could discern more details: the delicate, ghostly-white hand was feminine. Its nails were stuck in the dirt, like it had tried to crawl away. Red splayed out around the head in a halo: the person’s hair.

           Ropes tied its head, facedown, into a pool of muck.

           Something made a clipped, throaty noise.

           The hand twitched to life. It violently clawed once at the ground.

           Then, it went slack.

           “Oh gods,” Calex whispered.

           Another throaty, choked noise.

           Behind the first body, there was a second.

           This one was tied to another black rock jutting out of the floor. It was a girl—or Reyna thought it was a girl. Her lower-half was completely wrapped against the rock, up to her chest. Her hands were free, repeatedly and absently, touching where her ears should have been.

           Reyna felt nauseous to realize the redness wasn’t just the natural color of her hair.

           The remains of this girl’s ear were at her feet. Her hands were covered in blood.

           The soft, throaty sound erupted from her open mouth again.

           “Oh my gods,” Thalia said, “Are those demigods? We have to help them. They’re still alive.”

           “They’re empousa,” Axel said. “But we are going to help them.”

           “Are you for real?!” Thalia demanded. She sounded offended by his calm.

           “Calex, Thalia, stay a few feet further behind us,” Reyna said. If someone was waiting behind the empousa’s rock, she wanted to make sure Calex and Thalia would have enough time to react. If nothing else, she wanted Thalia to be able to shock everything in front of her, accepting Reyna and Axel as collateral damage.

           A few more feet, and Reyna could see the empousa features. The earless one’s eyes were red, matching the stains on her arms. There were fangs in her gaping mouth. The donkey and brass legs weren’t visible under the binding.

           The empousa’s eyes didn’t follow their movement as they got close. Reyna was so used to seeing this monsters snarling with a sadistic grin. The blank expression was disturbing.

           “Why would Tartarus punish its own?” Reyna asked. She tightened her grip on her knife, glancing around for any potential torturers. “I thought monsters came down here to respawn.”

           “They do,” Axel said. They paused a few feet away from the bodies. Axel frowned and knelt down beside the one twitching in the puddle. “Monster-on-monster violence does happen, but I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.”

           His claws reached for the ropes around the grounded body.

           “Don’t touch those,” Calex hissed.

           Axel froze.

           Reyna, Axel, and Thalia glanced at him.

           Calex looked pale. His grey eyes were wide and glistened a silvery hue in the bows’ illumination. “That’s poisonous. In Alnwick Castle, back at home, they had this poison garden. Gretchen and Tom used to make me take them there with their mates. That stuff was in the poison garden.”

           “He’s right,” Thalia said. She stepped past Reyna to kneel down beside Axel. “This is a poisonous vine. It’s one of the first things we’re taught to avoid as huntresses.

           Reyna gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to say it, but someone had to. “This is the work of a child of Demeter.”

           “Why didn’t she just kill them?” Thalia asked, baffled and, maybe, scared. “I’ve killed a lot of monsters, but, I mean, I just kill them. That empousa looks like she ripped out her own freaking ears.”

           Axel’s frown deepened. “That must have been Jack’s doing. He never liked the empousa, but they were under Alabaster and Hecate’s protection at camp.” He stood from his crouch and walked to the mutilated monster tied to the rock.

           “I’m sorry, Kelli,” he said, and thrust his gladius into her throat.

           “’Ey!” Calex said, his voice quivering. “I thought you wanted to help them! You even know their names and—”

           The throaty noises stopped. For a split second, those blood-red eyes focused on Axel. The empousa’s expression eased and her body scattered into dust.

           “I am,” Axel said. He puffed up his cheeks, then slowly popped them. The pop felt like it should echo in this vast space; it died in the cold. “They’re tied up and dismembered. They can’t starve. If they die, they at least have the chance to come back fully formed, instead of prolonging this state.”

           Part of Reyna knew it wisest to leave them like this. That way, the empousa couldn’t come to the top world, to attack them. They’d be trapped here, withering. But, if she did that, she felt like she’d be no different than the monsters.    

           She stepped over to the empousa whose face was permanently half-drowning in a puddle of muck. With a calculated thrust, she stabbed into the empousa’s exposed temple, the area with least resistance from the skull.

           The claws scratching at the dirt stopped moving.

           The empousa crumbled into the muck.

           Axel gave her an appreciative nod and she had to wonder how many of his own troops he’d had to dispatch as an act of “mercy.”

           “We need to keep moving,” Reyna said, rubbing her blade with the ends of her cloak, before realizing she was smearing crusted blood from the cloak onto the blade. If they survived this, she would be cleaning her armor for weeks. And probably take bathes neurotically for the next month.

           Axel nodded.  He wiped his gladius off on his shirt. “I get the feeling we’re close.”

           Reyna glanced at Calex and Thalia. Their bows were lowered, completely unprepared for an ambush. At least Thalia still had her fingers on the bowstring from where she was crouching.

           She looked mad.

           Calex seemed terrified. “I don’t think Euna did this,” he said.

           Reyna had seen that look of distress on new recruits before: the disbelief at an act of horror or violence.

           “Debating whether she did or didn’t isn’t going to do anything,” Thalia snapped, “Let’s find her and she’ll tell us that she didn’t.” The huntress rose to her feet. “Which way, Cat’s Breath? I wanna get Euna and get out of here.”

           Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. Slowly, he continued past the rocks. “Remember that Euna killed Santiago and his men by making saplings burst from their insides. Not that I think it was the wrong decision; it was the only decision to get rid of an evil.”

           “What’s your point, mate?” Calex asked. They took up the grid formation again, with Calex and Thalia in the back.

           A division felt like it was forming between them, and Reyna realized her presence might not just be to keep Axel from betraying them. “He means to say that Euna isn’t well and might not be the same person you started traveling with. She’s been through a lot, and hasn’t received proper—”

           “Shut up. She’s going to be fine,” Thalia snapped. The gleam of Thalia’s silver bow flickered violently. From what Reyna could tell, the huntress was scanning around them erratically. “We’ll just get her away from Backbiter, get that creepy talking head away from her, and she’ll be fine.”

           Axel paused. He turned his head, frowning again. “Thalia—”

           “Shut up,” she snapped.

           “Lieutenant of Artemis—” Reyna began, but another noise cut her off.

           A metallic squeak came from behind.

           Axel collapsed to one knee, grunting.

           Everyone else whirled to look back. There was nothing there. Just the darkness.

           Another metallic squeak from behind their new position.

           Thalia jumped forward. “It’s on my back!” she said, her hand fumbling at her backpack.

           “It’s the Leonis Caput helm,” Calex said, grabbing Thalia to steady her. He untethered the helm from her backpack, careful to only touch the ties and not the helm itself.

           Sure enough, the helm itself made a soft squeak of… it sounded like panic. Its fierce jaws and feline features glinted wickedly in the dim lighting.

           Axel clutched his head, stumbling back to his feet.

           Reyna gripped her knife. “Axel?” Although she accepted it as a real possibility, Reyna didn’t want him losing control down here.

           He shook his head. Despite the cold, sweat intermixed with the blood on his brow and dripped off, onto his shirt. “It says… something is wrong in the upstairs world. One of my brethren is in danger…” Axel’s voice took on a gravely quality towards the end. He quivered. “Something happened to Alabaster or Ajax. I think the attack started.”

           The helm made another creaking noise.

           Reyna felt her heart thud louder. Axel had said it was noon. Had he lied about the time? More likely, the goddess of Chaos had lied about when she would attack.

           “Uh, could you kindly shut this thing up?” Calex asked, holding it away from him, understandably, like a bag of legionnaires’ used socks.

           Axel reached for the helm, looking queasy.

           “No,” Reyna started to say, but Calex already moved it away.

           “I meant from a bit of a respectable distance,” Calex said.

           “Sh,” Thalia muttered. Her eyes focused ahead.

           Calex gave her an incredulous look.

           Reyna understood though. Thalia’s tone had been different from her prior rage. She crouched and held a hand for silence. Then she pointed in the direction they had been traveling.

           The creak of the helm must have covered the secondary, sharper sound. Reyna could hear it clearly now, like someone made an orchestra of tortured, squealing animals, likely tormenting them with Apollo’s haikus.

           The squeals jointed together to make a horrific voice.

           “What was that? Euna, oh Euna, thou, my beautiful, terrifying Euna.

           Does thy heart not quiver at the whispers of this eve, forever glistening?

           Why does this dismembered fool even bother, you’re not even listening.”

           They crept forward. Reyna had a hand on Axel’s arm to steady him. He shivered violently under her touch. Calex tied the quieting Leonis Caput helm to his belt. He and Thalia kept their fingers on their bowstrings.

           “Didn’t really think this far ahead,

           Fuck up now, and we’ll wind up dead.

           Here: a lazy couplet,

           From your poetic pet.”

           They crept around a few more rock spires and halted abruptly.

           There was Euna, standing maybe fifteen feet away.

           Calex and Thalia both gasped, and Reyna understood why.

           What Reyna had mistaken for blackness was the edge of a cliff. Euna stood at the edge, quarter turned towards them, gazing into the void before her. One hand balanced a giant sickle beside her, more like touching the shoulder of a fellow soldier than steadying a weapon. Her other hand fingered something small and glistening, likely Persephone’s box. Along her belt, there was a flash of red hair—the Plague Bringer’s decapitated head, chattering away.

           Her clothing was in tatters. Her black hair wiped violently about in an updraft from the cliff. It looked longer then Reyna remembered. She’d only met this girl a few times, but she didn’t remember Euna’s hair alternating between shoulder-length with strands that went down her back—vines and flowers, Reyna realized. A gash split open one of her sleeves, and the material fluttered in the gusts of air, exposing the curve of one of her breasts. Euna didn’t seem to notice or care.

           Her tan skin had its own glow. She looked beautiful, powerful, and indifferent to her surroundings.

           For a horrified moment, Reyna knew that Euna looked like a goddess.

           An awful, scraping sound, that must have been laughter, came from the head hanging off her belt. “Oh, hello quartet, bienvenue. Are you pleased to hear, we’ve been waiting for you?”

Eh, I’m sure Euna is just fine >>’’’’

I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :D

Footnotes:

[1] So, Jack may have done a lot of those “chug a gallon of milk under an hour,” and other challenges growing up.  

[2] Greeks.

[subcorax]

fic: you can follow

Fandom: Dishonored Rating: T Pairing(s): Corvo Attano/The Outsider Characters: The Outsider, Billie Lurk, Corvo Attano Tags: post-doto, second person pov Word Count:  1378

Summary: from a boy to a god to a man with too many memories, the outsider learns to live. 

Read on Ao3

you breathe.

it hurts.

.

together the two of you begin to stumble down the mountain and you are silent.

where, then, lies the human soul? a natural philosopher had written once, his fingernails stained with a dead man’s blood, his heart neatly dissected on a tray in search of his very being.

it was of no matter; you know, now. a soul lies in a name and yours echoes in your ears, speaks with every beat of a pulse against your neck, your wrist, your chest.

.

billie says she hopes she won’t have to teach you how to piss. you hope so as well. it has been four thousand years and you have forgotten so very much but the difference between humility and humiliation that you once thought so insignificant has been shown into sharp relief once more, and you do not want this woman to have to teach you that which most children manage by four.

eventually, on shaking colt’s legs, you relieve yourself against a low brick wall.

.

as you are so often wont to do, you think of corvo.

you had watched him in the days after coldridge with some interest – watched as he retched and threw up miniscule mouthfuls of food, watched as small creaks and wooden groans kept him up long nights, watched him stalk the grounds of the hound pits, bewildered, like he couldn’t believe there was so much space in the world.

it was like, you had thought at the time, he had forgotten how to be human.

.

perhaps you have been… arrogant. you have been accused of as much before, but now you put some weight to the argument. perhaps corvo, all scars and bruises and deep-set loss, was far more human than most the day he left coldridge prison.

you have been freed in the most extravagant jailbreak in an eon and a half and you’ve got nothing to show for it but the razor thin scars to show where your shackles were, long since faded to slivers of white against the pink of your skin.

you barely know how to sleep.

.

huddled over a fire in the batista district you tell billie you want to go to dunwall. she laughs humourlessly, calls him a crazy bastard, says daud was right, but she’s got the keys to a ship the next afternoon, which startles you. you had thought she would jump at the chance to part ways with you, to relieve herself of the burden you are posing.

billie lurk has vowed once, twice, thrice, over and over across the years to never return to dunwall, and when the two of you leave karnaca’s docks she is smiling at the sun dipping below the horizon.

.

she has given you food and clothes and vowed to help you reach dunwall tower, and you find yourself thinking of corvo yet again, of the odd little parallels. perhaps, you think sardonically, you should be watching billie for ulterior motives, hidden plots. but there is no future in which billie will stab you in the back to watch you bleed out like any other man, send you floating up the river, and–

and you remember that you cannot see much of anyone’s future, anymore, and yet you are certain of this nonetheless. trust, you think, with some measure of surprise, you trust her and isn’t that another small piece of irony when you had faulted corvo for this exact thing, his thoughtless, easy belief in the men who had saved him.

you wonder if billie will teach you how to apologise, in the weeks to come.

.

you are watching the waves roll from the deck when she wraps the coat around your shoulders, the long, heavy one she’s been wearing more days than not, and you are assaulted by the harsh smell of tobacco and stale smoke.

you remember watching her rifle through her belongings on the dreadful wale, deciding what parts of daud to keep, what she could afford to keep and carry with her, travelling on foot. a few journals, letters, his sword, and the coat, and you had thought, idly, she has a warmer coat, why keep wearing– and only now does sentiment invade you like weeds through cracks in a stone slab because billie lurk grew up tugging at the sleeves of a man who smelled like old smoke and whiskey and you have, as of late, found yourself unerringly, wretchedly attached to anything you can remember of being alive.

you keep the coat on long after the residual heat of billie’s body has faded from it, held captive by a deep longing for memories that are not your own.

.

strange – how many thousands of men have begged you for power, screams clamouring to be heard above the void’s rushing winds, and to corvo it is a gift you will give not once, but twice.

thrice, if you count emily, though corvo does not, still rankles at the danger it poses her when the abbey has long been sniffing at their heels.  

still, still, he had run fingers across the bare skin where the mark had been and when you had offered it to him again he had received it like a benediction.

you had warned him against rooftop escapades at his age, knowing full well that he would retire in one short year to cullero, and you would not live to see it.

.

billie’s face is painted across every street in karnaca, but most of the posters were stripped down in dunwall, and they dock at the wrenhaven port without much trouble, despite the long look billie gives you when you introduce yourself to the inspector as aramis.

.

you both rent a room at a pub to sleep off your sealegs, eat breakfast downstairs the next morning. billie catches you staring across the room to where a sharp-dressed girl is whispering in a busboy’s ear and you find yourself explaining, that those two have whispered like this since they were children, that you have heard every piece of love and loss and intrigue to pass between them, and your voice is half a semblance of the gravity it once held but twice as wistful and you mourn, now i cannot hear anything at all.

billie has been in an odd mood this morning, on-edge and eager like she was when she was a girl, perched precariously on a rooftop and waiting for a signal, for a scream. she smiles, wryly, says, tell me something else you know, and you pause, think, before lamenting that you’d been watching a girl in morley, a bastard child of the king cast out into the streets by his queen.

interesting enough to mark? and there are hooks and barbs in that question that you are unsure how to avoid, so you just shrug, say, no, but if she reaches twenty she will make a bid for her father’s throne. a smile, and, it will cause lady emily no end of problems.

billie is smiling as well when she reminds you that you will still live to see it happen, if you don’t do something stupid.

you wonder what it will be like to be a spectator from here, looking at one corner of a painting and unable to see the whole picture. interesting, you hope.

.

corvo presses two fingers to the pulse on your neck, eyes wide and searching and he is, for a moment, young and desperate, filled with fear and awe and questions and looking to you for answers.

a trick, an illusion? he asks, and you reach up for the hand that has come to cup your cheek. your finger traces your name into dark fabric where you know new scar tissue lies underneath.

you have watched him train since he was a boy, the little crow from the batista district who would love an empress, who would come to love somuch, you have watched every blister and callus form on his hands and it is another thing entirely to feel them moving on the soft skin of your face, down your jaw, to rest across your neck and–

the scar.

.

you breathe, and he breathes with you.

it hurts, and that is what makes a human soul.

[queen-of-the-merry-men]

Oblivion

For Day 3 of @oqfixitweek​. The quest to bring Robin back.

Taking a deep breath, Regina lifted herself onto the stone slab in her vault. As she laid down and felt the cool stone against her back, it suddenly hit her that this would be her final resting place should she fail. It was a thought that sent a chill down her spine. Gritting her teeth she pushed away her doubts. This was going to work. It had to… for his sake.

----------- She’d dreamt of Robin every night since he’d died. It didn’t matter when she slept or how. Everytime she closed her eyes she’d see him.

But it was strange.

When Daniel died she’d dream of him often but not like this. When she’d dreamt of Daniel it would be of memories of him, hopes that she’d had, even the occasional guilty nightmares but with Robin it was different. Every dream was the same. It was him, shrouded in a dark storm so violent she couldn’t see the ground or the sky. She’d always see him sitting there in the middle of nothing, curled into himself, looking down with his hands over his head like he’s trying to shield himself from the storm.

Everytime she’d call his name, he’d look up at her, catch her eyes and then… she’d wake up. It was eerie.

And it wasn’t long before she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

---------- Belle leaned over her with a cautiously optimistic look in her eyes and an open spell book in her hands.  

“Is everything ready?” asked Regina.

Belle nodded. “We have everything we need.” She pressed her lips together, nervously. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

-----------

As she walked around the kitchen, Regina anxiously rocked the baby girl in her arms trying to get her to sleep. It had been four days since Zelena’s death and she still couldn’t believe that her sister was dead. She’d warned Zelena not to go after that damn fairy alone but of course she hadn’t listened. Even weeks later Regina was still shocked that her sister had chosen to sacrifice her magic, and consequently her life, in order to give them their best chance.

At least she had one good story to tell this baby about her mother.

Her pacing came to a stop when she heard someone knock at the door. She opened it to find Belle standing on her doorstep with a massive tome in hand. Once invited inside, she started to explain.

“About three weeks ago Zelena came to me for help with some research,” she said, hesitantly shifting from foot to foot. “She said she wanted to start righting some of her wrongs.”

Regina’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as she placed the baby back into her crib. She suddenly realized that three weeks ago she’d declared that she’d never forgive Zelena for what she’d done. A memory that causes more than a little guilt to rise up in her chest.

“What was she researching?”

Belle silently passed over the book. It felt heavy in Regina’s arms and she curiously raised an eyebrow as she looked over the cover. She didn’t recognize it. Flipping to a thick bookmark in the center she softly gasped when she saw the page’s illustration. She’d recognize that object anywhere.

“The Olympian Crystal?” she whispered, looking up at Belle with wide eyes.

She nodded, biting her lips before speaking. “Regina… we were pretty sure Robin’s soul wasn’t obliterated. And… we might’ve found a way to bring him back.”

-----------------------

Regina felt sorry for Belle as she watched her move around the vault trying to place everything they needed in its proper place. No easy task considering the room was far more crowded than normal. The Charmings were here along with Emma and Hook. She told them that they didn’t have to come but with one look she knew there was no stopping them.

She heard soft footsteps coming from her right and she looked up to see Henry standing over her, somehow managing to give her fearless smile.

“Good luck mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss cheek.

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing his hand. Softly she whispers so that only he can hear, “Look after the baby while I’m gone, okay?”

A flicker of fear passes over his eyes but he nods. “Of course.”

He steps away and Emma takes his place. It’s clear that if their son inherited a poker face it certainly didn’t come from her. She can’t hide the worry that runs across her face as she looks down at Regina and to the slab next to her where Robin’s body’s lies.

“I have to ask just one more time… are you sure you want to do this?”

Regina nods. “Emma… I have to try. At least once.”

------------------------ “I’m sorry… you want me to do what?!”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Regina takes a deep breath and repeats her request. “I want you to rip out my soul.”

Again her request is greeted with a heavy silence that quickly feels the room. She’d decided to tell everyone about her plans at once when they came together for dinner at Snow and Charming’s new farm. As she looks around the table into their eyes she sees exactly what she expected. Shock, fear and of course… pity.

Snow is the first to speak. “Regina… are you even sure it could work? This is…”

“It’s insane is what it is,” says Emma, disbelief still coloring her tone.

“No more insane than a stroll down to hell,” quips Hook, ignoring the tension in the room when Emma turns to glare at him.

“It could work,” Belle quickly pipes up. “I’ve done my research and the spell is clear. It makes sense, it’s doable. It’s just…”

“Never been done before,” finishes Charming, skepticism still on his face.

Regina’s eyes drop to the floor and she shakes her head. “No it hasn’t been done before… but there’s a first time for everything. If Zelena can open a time portal then I can do this.”

No one responds but uncertainty is still thick in the air. Regina sighs, standing from her seat. “Look…I have to try.”

Snow sighs, crossing her arms in defeat. It’s clear that her stepmother won’t back down on this. “How would it even work?”

“Well Robin’s soul is in Oblivion,” says Belle. “It’s a realm even harsher than the Underworld. According to the book, he can’t see where he is, he can’t feel anything… he’s just lost. But if we send out a strong enough beacon he might be able to follow it back home.” “And the beacon would be your soul?” asks Hook.

Regina nods. “We’re soulmates and it’s the strongest magical connection there is, one built by the gods. I can bring him home.”

“But what if you can’t?” Emma urges her to think of the consequences. “What happens if you fail?”

Regina hesitates before answering. “If I can’t get him out… then I’ll be stuck in Oblivion… indefinitely.”

Everyone at the table goes silent. This time they can’t even look her in the eyes. The weight of what she’d be attempting hits them all. And they know the cost of its failure is one they’d never want to live with.

“I think you should do it.”

Regina’s eyes whip toward her son. He’d been sitting at the table the whole time, not speaking a word just silently listening to his mother’s plea of support. What she’s suggesting is possibly the most dangerous thing he’s ever heard but deep down he knows that it’s something she has to try. She’ll never find peace if she doesn’t.

“Mom, if Robin is where you say he is… then you have to go get him.”

---------------------

Once everything’s in place they get started. Everyone steps out of the way as Emma lifts the Olympian crystal into her hands, replacing the concern in her eyes with fierce look of determination. Next to her Snow places her hand on top of the lid of Pandora’s box, ready to catch Regina’s soul when it escapes her body.

Emma nods her head. “Ready?”

“Do it.”

Emma sends a blast of energy through the crystal toward Regina’s body. She feels a white hot pain rip through her chest and travel from her head to her toes as her soul is separated from her body. And then… the pain stops.

-------------------- The first thing she feels is the sharp wind whipping across her face. It hits her at full force, knocking her off her feet. She falls to her knees, unable to see, unable to hear anything but her harsh whistling wind and the terrifying screams coming from all sides. She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know what she’s here for. She’s afraid.

She lowers her head and can’t see the ground beneath her. Yet, when she tries to crawl, sharp pins dig into her skin like she’s pressing into a bed of glass. A tear falls down her cheek as she curls into herself. She doesn’t want to move, she doesn’t want to fight. She just wishes that someone would save her.

And then…

From the corner of her eye something flickers. Something glowing, blue and small. A man.

She sees him and whispers, “Robin.”

It’s him! It’s his soul! The reason she’s here! She remembers!

Robin!

She screaming his name but he doesn’t hear it. Hell, she can’t even hear it over the whistling. It’s like she’s yelling with nothing coming out.

Gritting her teeth she bears through the pain of standing on her hands and knees and crawls over to him. Every move she makes stings. It’s as if a dozen burning pins are thrown at her every time she so much as shifts an inch. But she doesn’t stop. Her eyes are trained on him as she crawls in his direction, never losing focus and never giving up.

She doesn’t know how long it takes for her to reach him. It feels like years.

Finally she’s only inches away, screaming his name against the wind.

Robin! Robin!

Still she can’t be heard.

The storm picks up and mounting pressure weighs down on her back as she reaches out toward him. It feels like she’s fighting the entire realm just to get close.

But then her hand falls onto his knee… and everything stops.

The winds stop blowing.

The screams cease. And she can finally see him. He’s huddled, afraid and trembling against her touch.

Tears fill her eyes as she whispers, “Robin…”

Hesitantly he lifts his head, a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes when he sees her face. “Regina?”

She nods her head, offering him a smile. He immediately reaches down to grab her hand, squeezing it so tight she knows that’s he’s making sure that she’s real. She raises her hand to gently touch his face, feeling warmth seep into the previously aching corner of her heart that belonged to him.

Resting her forehead against his, she whispers, “It’s time to come home.”

[seasaltmemories]

Demons Chapter 11

Rating: T

Summary: There's nothing broken about you. We just need to allow ourselves the privilege to exist.

When Petra woke up, her head was pounding like a drum. It felt as if she had to carry concrete slabs with her pinky toe just to lift her eyelids. The closest thing to a coherent thought she could muster was regret over drinking whatever beverage it was that could cause a killer hang-over like this. Still as she slowly came to her senses, she realized this felt nothing like that. Whatever this was, it was worse, as if Life itself had picked her up and wrung every drop of energy from her body.

Then a set of bars came into focus, and immediately it was like none of that pain matter anymore. Petra sat up not only to find herself locked in a cell, but a blonde girl sitting across from her.

She looked to be no older than her mid-teens and even smaller than Petra herself, but that did nothing to ease her nerves. There was a dangerous aura to her, one of a soldier, someone trained in discipline. Despite this, she didn't even seem to regard Petra as more threatening than a fly. Somehow that was most frightening thing about the situation, someone holding so much power yet regarding it as nothing.

"Where am I..." As slurred and mumbled her words came out, the girl instantly turned to face her, cool blue eyes glaring at her. For a moment, Petra truly feared for her life, but slowly the girl answered her question.

"You have been detained and arrested by the Holy Legion."

At the sounds of those words, Petra's heart sank like a stone. Memories of Captain's last words came to the forefront of her mind.

Don't trust anyone or anything related to the Holy Legion, if you hear that name, run

And here she had gone and gotten herself captured by them instead.

After the jump, Captain had wanted to sleep for a week. Jumping from one created dimension to the next was nothing like he was used to. Even with his additional training, it still felt like running marathon in an hour. Usually he tried to take a break for a few days just to recharge his batteries.

But then one worry kept tugging at his mind from time to time, keeping him from relaxing fully. He knew Petra wasn't the type to look fondly on him getting a bit overprotective, but it felt wrong to leave her out there without a clue of what was going on. They had been doing this for decades while she was still so green behind the ears.

She could deck you in the face for this kind of behavior you know

And maybe he really deserved it. There was no no explanation for visiting her dorm at this hour that wouldn't paint him as a creep. Still at the very least he needed to rest his nerves. He'd be able to heal a lot faster without having to worry about her on top of everything else.

It was difficult getting into an area so densely populated by humans who had no sense when it came to their sleep schedules. Still stealth was his specialty, and he found himself inside soon enough. At first it seemed as if no one was there, but suddenly he heard a voice.

Quickly he hid as he tried to distinguish the source. It sounded like that girl he had seen hanging around Petra few times. Captain began to listen closely to the individual words she was saying.

"Hey Ian, Petra texted me saying she was gonna stay over with you. Apparently she had something going on today that was located near you and didn't want to make the trip here late at night."

Hearing that news was like having a weight lifted off his chest. He didn't think he had the right to thank God or anything else holy, but the desire to was raw and real. In his relief he almost didn't hear the last part of the conversation.

"What?! You're saying she didn't make it over there!?"

The worst part about being captured was the silence. Her jailer wasn't the chatty type, which left her alone to think about her failure over and over again. Her subconscious replayed the moments right before she was captured. Each time she remembered the it, it was like getting punched in the gut. No matter what she did it seemed her efforts were always useless.

At some point she was taken out of her cell to be read her "charges" for all her crimes by a mysterious

figure cloaked in white. As nice as it was to stretch her legs, it left her more confused than anything else.

"You are charged with collaborating with demonic forces." The figure announced. "Depending on how long and how far this relationship has gone, your sentence will be extended."

"So what does that mean from you weirdos? Do I get a time-out for not living up to whatever cult you run?"

"I suggest you not take the Holy Legion so lightly." Their voice took on a dangerous tone. "We're the only thing that stands between humanity and its destruction. Having infidels like you work together with such monsters makes it even harder to cleanse the world. If I were you I'd show some repentance. Those who don't beg for forgiveness are treated the same as a demon."

Something about those words set off a switch in Petra. Maybe she would have taken this better if she had already cut off contact with Captain and the gang and would have thought before she spoke. Maybe is she wasn't tired and scared out of her wits she would have tried to act pragmatically. Maybe if for a year now it hadn't felt like her life was being run by everyone but herself she would have known not to piss off those who held her life in their hands. Even so, she had grown already sick of whatever freakshow this was.

"Where were you my entire life then?" Her words were as sharp as a knife. "I spent my childhood convinced I was out of my fucking mind. Demons haunted my every move, but apparently they weren't important until I finally found some peace, and now you want to take it away?" Without thinking she raised her fist to strike them, when suddenly she was slammed to the floor by the blonde guard from before.

"Thank you, Ariel." The clocked figure bowed as she dug her heel deeper into Petra's back.

And so her brief stint out of the cell was ended. Looking back she would have taken more of those cryptic threats over this silence. She was still without a clue of what exactly this Holy Legion was up to. All she knew for sure was that she had damned herself in their eyes, and their road to redemption was unlikely to be one she'd like.

With a sigh, Petra raked a hand down her face. This is what she gets for trying to make sense of her madness, to try and find a purpose in her life.

What am I going to do?

At this point she wasn't even sure she could pray to anyone for help.

Faster and faster, Captain teleported himself through the streets of Sina. It was a crazy plan, one even Girly wouldn't have ever suggested. Still the Holy Legion would have to be blind not to notice him this way. Eventually, they'd come to attack him and that's when his search for Petra would really begin.

He knew Commander and Four-Eyes would never allow this sort of behavior to happen. He could practically hear their more logical arguments with each jump. How do you expect to take on the Holy Legion yourself? Do you expect to be able to fight demon hunters after exhausting yourself out? Who knows if they really have Petra. For all he knows she could already be dea-

Captain bit his tongue hard. No, he would not accept that. She was his partner for a good reason, brave as hell and even fiercer. If any human could survive them it was her. It had to be her. Even so he couldn't sit around just twiddling his thumbs while she was in danger.

"Wait for me Petra, I'm coming," He whispered to himself. He'd rescue her no matter what stood in the way.

It was hard to keep track of time. Even if Petra hadn't been busy wallowing her own self-pity, there was no windows or any other signs that could have helped her. So when she found a plate of food and a glass of water set before her, she couldn't help but look up in surprise.

"Eat." It was the first time her guard had spoken to her, making the situation all the more surreal.

Without even thinking, Petra said, "Thank you, Ariel..."

For some reason that made her freeze up. It was another first of hers, showing some emotion besides bland neutrality.

"Is that not what the other dude called you?"

"It is..." She brushed a few strands of hair behind her eye. "But it's not a name I expected to hear from a prisoner of all people."

"A name's a name. why does it matter who says it?" Petra pretended to be occupied with tearing a loaf of bread into smaller pieces. This might be her only opportunity to fish for information. The worst thing she could do would be to ruin it all because she got too eager.

"It's less a name and more a title. Your kind knows very well the power names have." There was a slight quirk to her lips that could be mistaken for a smirk.

Damn it, so she wasn't as subtle as she'd have prefer. Oh well at least Ariel seemed entertained by her antics.

"Did you get to choose it yourself? Because if it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is remind me of the redhead mermaid from that one movie."

"The reference is more academic than that." She approached Petra's cell to sit across from her, movements effortless graceful as if belonging to a dancer. "The protagonist of Shakespeare's The Tempest, has two slaves: Ariel and Caliban. The former was obedient and well-loved, earning his freedom at the end for his good deeds. The latter was unruly and regarded as inhuman. While he does receive forgiveness in the end, his fate is unclear. The Holy Legion mirrors such behavior for sinners like us. If you act as an Ariel, you're one step closer to earning redemption. On the other hands, Calibans fates are more ambiguous." Even without having observed her quiet nature before, it was obvious that Ariel was not used to speaking this much. Her words came out stilted and awkward, like she was reading a script in a foreign language.

"So am I a Caliban in your eyes?" Petra leaned forward, no longer hiding her interest.

"Everyone starts out as Caliban before the Holy Legion recruits them. Very few are strong enough to dedicated themselves fully to eradicating demons from this world. However a Caliban can always change into an Ariel if they wish to. Your choice is simple. If the Holy Legion runs out of patience though, then soon your disobedience will be punished."

"What happened to that forgiveness?"

"It is always granted at first, but if it is not accepted by the recipient, judgment must be dealt."

"Why tell me this, though?"

"Because I'm tired of unnecessary violence." She gave a long sigh that sounded centuries old. "You seem smart enough to know when to fold your hand." While she tried to remain impersonal and detached, one ghost of an emotion still tainted her words. She seemed lonely, but that wasn't even the most surprising thing she found about her.

The more she looked at Ariel, the more she reminded reminded Petra of herself as a teen, someone who felt so alone and alien in her own world.

All this purple prose and odd behavior was making her head spin. So far what she knew about this Holy Legion was not adding up. Their job was to destroy demons and ones who associated with them like her, yet that was where they tried to recruit their workforce. They named their workers in a very demonic fashion based on if they earned redemption for some unknown sin or-

A thought came to Petra that was shocking, she had to keep from yelping at the revelation. Dear lord, if she was right...

"You're right. I'm not stupid. If that's the only way I can survive, then I'll join y'all." She waited for the right moment, when Ariel's body seemed to loosen up ever so slightly and her guard was let down for a half-second, and then she reached through the bars of her cell to grip her as fiercely as possible.

She fought and bit and screamed to get Petra off her, but her grip was unshakeable. It had to be here. She couldn't be wrong. Then suddenly it flashed before her eyes.

The key.

The crowd seemed to roar louder than any beast alive. One name kept getting chanted over and over again. Annie. Annie. However one quiet voice managed to impact her more than they ever could.

"You have to win this, Annie. You've come so far to make it to the championship. I will not accept failure from you. Do not let her beat you."

With that, Annie stepped into the ring to face her opponent. Already she felt a fraction of her resolve wavering. She looked hardly like a teen her age, more as if Athena herself had come down to Earth and had decided to take up boxing. Even so she tried to stay strong. Dad wouldn't accept failure.

Once the match started, it felt like it would go one forever. Again and again the two weaved around each other, not giving the other an inch. Ugh, they couldn't play this game forever. She had to strike now.

With all her strength, Annie lunged forward with a left hook; however, as she stepped forward, she found herself slipping in a puddle of sweat and hitting her head against her opponent's chair.

Then there was only darkness.

When Petra came back to the real world, she found the demon glowering at her. She looked like a feral animal, and somehow Petra knew if she didn't save her, Annie would decide to kill her.

"You're life has always been this way, Annie. Instead of making your own decisions, someone else has told you what you needed to do, and if you didn't live up to their expectations they beat you into the ground for it."

"You fucking bitch!" She snarled, pulling out a key from her pocket. "I'll-"

"To be honest I've suffered in the same way. First I tried living up to the expectations of human society and simply denying a part of myself, and then I started only valuing the part of me that could live in demon society."

She plunged the key to the lock and all but ripped open the door. This was it, there was no escape if Petra didn't act now.

"Things aren't going to get better for either of us, if we stop trying to be the person others want to be and just choose to be ourselves! It doesn't matter that you're a demon, Annie. There's nothing broken about you. We just need to allow ourselves the privilege to exist!"

Petra closed her eyes, waiting for a fist to connect with her face, but it never happened. When she dared to open her eyes again, she found Annie fading away right before her. For some reason she found her mouth trying to speak, to say something, anything about the situation, but the words wouldn't come. Even so, as she disappeared, a ghost of a whisper passed by Petra's ear.

"Thank you..."

For a beat, all Petra could do was shiver from the chills it sent down her spine. Had that all been intention on her part? Had Annie really wanted to be saved instead of a slave to those who condemned her? Whatever it didn't matter. She could think about such matters once she got out of here. Of course then there was that matter of Petra didn't know where exactly she was...

It was right then she heard a noise coming from the door. Someone was on their way to this room and were coming fast. Despite her lack of weapons or anything really to defend herself, Petra immediately fell into a fighting stance. If she were to die here, then she would go down with a fight.

The door flew open, but instead of eerie figures in white clocks, only one familiar person stood.

It was Captain.

A thousand emotions seemed to run counter to each other in Petra: relief, confusion, joy, fear. Captain though just stared and stared, like she was a miracle just for taking a breath. A part of herself screamed to shoved that inside the deepest dark vault inside her mind, to not let anything dangerous spill out.

Petra said screw that, and leaped into his arms with no regrets.

"Petra," He whispered her name like a prayer. His face was buried in her shoulder, his grip around her frame almost vicelike. All the adrenaline from before began to drain from her body, and suddenly all she wanted to do was collapse and just sob her heart out until there were no tears left. Instead of flinching from such display of vulnerability, Captain simply rubbed his hand in soothing circles and murmured gentle sounds.

"Come on, Girly. Let's get you home."

When Captain came to see her after she had settled down, she felt his presence more than anything else. Her attention had been fully occupied by a Greek shoreline, but at the familiar zap of teleportation, she knew he had returned. Without even turning her head, Petra greeted him.

"Anything you need."

"Just wanting to make sure you're ok after that phone call." He moved to sit next to her. Four Eyes had been the one to deal with most of the details of relocating. At this point it was just tying up the loose ends so she could disappear effectively. Who knew that would be so painful though?

"I'm not sure Dad was processing it. All the money just blew his mind, but then to hear about that witness protection story, it might have been just too much."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." His words were awkward, but it was the intent that mattered.

"I appreciate it. Still I hope I don't have to leave Sina forever. Even if it's only for a little while I want to see Rico and Dad at least one more time."

"This isn't the first time we've had to move shop because of the Holy Legion. If they see your face in town, they'd jump you right away."

"And you think that would stop me?" She raised an eyebrow and shot him a cocky grin.

Captain smiled back. "No it wouldn't." For a beat the two of them just sat there, enjoying the other's company. But unfortunately nothing can last forever. It wasn't long before he was asking her another question.

"So what are your plans now? You want out?"

Petra licked her lips, trying to find the right words. "Not exactly. I think I'm going to start studying the connection between demons and history, specifically in portrayals of mythology. I told you I loved Greek mythology, didn't I? This is the perfect way to put that and my demon knowledge to use."

"But does that mean we're still partners?"

Hazel eyes met silver, so sharp and piercing and a million other things that made her inside do flips.

"Not necessarily. I may not be staying in the demon taming business, but things don't have to change that much."

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. In. Out. Then slowly she laced their fingers together. "What exactly are we?" It was impossible to say who kissed who first, but it wasn't long before they were drinking each other completely in. As the two of them pulled back for air, a content sigh passed from her lips.

"...I have no idea how relationships like this even go, but do you want to give it a try?" It was strange seeing Captain bashful of all people. The tips of his ears were flushed red, and he seemed determined to look anywhere but her eyes.

Petra thought on the past year's trials and tribulations, of her revelation when captured by the Holy Legion, and all the other anxieties that had been gnawing at her core.

"I want you," she finally said. "I want to everything and anything my heart desires from now on."

Captain grinned. "Then let's get started."

A.N. After way longer than this story should have taken, it's done. It kinda feels unreal. On one hand this story is almost from a different time period in my life. I was 15 when I started this and still figuring out a lot about myself and now three years later and I'm heading for college in less than a week. I've changed so much as a person, I wondered if I was even telling the same story I started out as. Even so I glad to be able to finish this project once and for all. Thank you so much for your support. I love all my readers~

[istrys]

The Vinterblot Pt 7

Rethandus shambled through the Western Plaguelands, too weak to walk by himself without leaning against every tree he approached. The cut in his chest had begun to fester and blister, almost hissing audibly while agony tore his body in half. Simply getting his legs to move without locking up took all of his focus, as each step felt like it took an eternity to reach. In his feverish daze he managed to recognize the Bloodsworn Vanguard banners poking out of the forest canopy, stirring him to hasten his struggle to reach them.

 He never expected to make it to the gates. Whatever disease Whitstan infected him with surpassed anything he witnessed in the Scourge; despite his best efforts to halt or even slow the debilitating disease by freezing his chest solid, without any adequate runes there was little he could do to stop it. The guards along the wall recognized him and opened the gate, but otherwise did nothing to assist him. Rethandus’ plan was to reach the blacksmith and quickly forge another frost rune before he succumbed to this blight that are away at his sanity.

“WHOOOAAA!” a familiar and obnoxious voice called out, causing the Death Knight to clench his teeth while he glanced over to confirm his suspicions; sure enough, it was Zeth’romas, Ijiro’s youngest son. The boy stared wide-eyed at him, in shock and amazed at all of his grievous injuries. “Syrhis! Come look at this!”

 “Wicked…!” Another child appeared on his other side. “Look at his chest! It’s all… broken and bubbly…!” He reached out to poke at him, but Rethandus violently slapped his hand away.

 “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Rethandus barked, stumbling forward; his black coagulated blood dripped from every orifice from his head, causing the two boys to shuffle back from him. “You s-stay back! This could be con….c-contagious…!”

 “Zeth, Syrhis! Leave him alo-!” Nairi paused mid-sentence once her gaze met the wounded Death Knight. “Oh Gods…! Stay right there I’m getting Syrahn!” Rethandus choked on his words, as his lungs were filled with cysts. The older girl grabbed Syrhis and her brother Zeth’s ears and pulled them away, but the Death Knight couldn’t afford dealing with the Priestess; no doubt she would try to use the bane of his existence to try and heal him, the Holy Light.

 He collapsed to his hands and knees the moment they disappeared around the corner, no longer capable of walking in his worsening condition. He could barely think through the agony overflowing through his body, hopelessly dragging his now useless legs behind him. Rethandus clutched his blistering chest with one hand, while using the last ounces of his strength to pull him forward; the plague coursing through his veins robbed him of his sight, and his sense of direction vanished with it. He shuddered while blood poured out of his clenched teeth, too weak to even move anymore. Paralysis was around the corner, and death would surely follow. Rethandus lay face down in the muddy snow, focusing only on his suffering and wishing for the sweet release of death.

 “There he is!” He could barely hear the muffled voice as his hearing began to wane, but he recognized Syrahn’s voice all the same. “Carry him into the blacksmith- and don’t you dare touch his chest! That plague is highly unstable!”

 “He is heavier than he looks.” A gruff voice huffed near his head, as two giant hands clamped around his arms to pull him off the ground. At this point Rethandus was completely paralyzed, unable to move, speak, or think. His pain began to reluctantly fade, numbing him of anything and everything. “I am setting him here. We must act quickly or we will lose him.”

 Agony was reignited in his body like hungering flame. His senses dragged him out of the dark, forcing the Death Knight to cry out in pain. “Hold him down!” Syrahn commanded, hovering her hands over his chest. The Holy Light flared from her fingertips and lashed out at his skin, coursing through his body like a jolt of lightning. Despite the burning pain, his sight returned to one of his glazed eyes, allowing him to see the crowd of people surrounding him. Most of them were barely familiar, but he had little time to identify everyone before the terrible pain continued.

 “He is stronger than he looks too.” A Tauren furrowed his brow while he pinned the Death Knight’s arms down against the metal slab. “Is there any way we can numb this pain? He is suffering.”

 “Death Knights can’t be sedated. Focus on cleansing him Ehalu.” The Priestess huffed. Rethandus couldn’t help but thrash against the Druid’s constraints now that he regained control of his arms.

 “Rethandus-!” Zion soothed, forcing him to look up into her eyes by holding his head steady. “Just look at me, okay? Do your best to ignore the pain!” The Holy Light devoured the festering plague that desecrated his already hollow corpse, but it did not leave him unharmed; his internal organs were seared black, exposed to the open air. The few ribs still intact were scorched from the Light as well, but the blisters and sores were eradicated. Rethandus opened his mouth as wide as he could to scream, but with what little remained of his lungs, not a single sound escaped his throat. “Stay with me. Don't you look away from me. Don't you dare close your eyes.” Zion continued to speak to him, doing her best to distract him from the pain; but the Holy Light purged his body of Whitstan’s virulent disease by setting him aflame, and it demanded a heavy toll on his accursed husk.

 “There… I got all of it.” Syrahn took a step back, covering her mouth while she stared at his charred remains. “I… I'm so sorry…!”

 “There is barely any of him left…” Ehalu finally released his arms, letting him freely tremble and twitch on the stone slab. Most of his internal organs were destroyed by the Holy Light and its vengeful pursuit of the disease. His spine was visible and laid bare for all to witness. “He will never walk again. Earth Mother have mercy on you.” The Druid bowed his head in remorse, knowing there was nothing he could do to repair such brutal damage. Moving him could risk his spine snapping, leaving his lower half to stick to the slab. Out of options, Ehalu waved his hand over the Death Knight's body, gesturing for his soul to find peace once death reclaimed him.

 “He can't be healed with the Light’s blessing, or the earth’s bounty.” Zion broke her stare with him to smile weakly at the others. “But Shadow Magic may yet spare him. I will see to his recovery… thank you both for cleansing him.”

 “We should inform the Commander of this.” Syrahn shot Ehalu a weary glance. “If you need anything, we'll be here to help.” Rethandus continued to stare blankly up at Zion as the Priestess and Druid headed for the door. The burning heat that gnawed at his remains was unbearable, but there was little he could do about it.

 “Rethandus…” she spoke softly, stroking a stiff locke of hair away from his distorted face. “I don't know if you'll last much longer like this… but I'm going to do my very best to make your passing as clean as I can.” The woman began to tremble, releasing his head to inspect his wounds a little closer; the hopeless grimace that spread across her face wasn't inspiring him with much hope. “I'm so sorry I can't help you…!”

Zion picked up a small dagger from a nearby table. She approached the Death Knight reluctantly, clutching the dull blade tightly in her grasp. “I…” she paused, touching his face again. “I have to end your suffering… o-okay…? I'm not going to… to let you slowly fade away…”

 Rethandus was ready. The agony he endured for so many hours had permanently scarred his psyche. The grievous wounds both from Whitstan’s devouring plague and Syrahn’s attempt to cleanse it were too severe to recover from. He lower half lay still and useless, nearly burned off from the Holy Light; his upper half was in a state of relentless torment, twitching uncontrollably from the pain. The Death Knight nodded at her, prepared to face judgment for his sins. He was ready to see his family in the afterlife, and spend an eternity in the Void where he belonged. Zion held the blade against his chin, prepared to ram it into his brain for a quick and near painless death. “Be at peace, my closest-"

 The door of the blacksmith slammed open, startling Zion and nearly making her stab Rethandus through the throat. “What exactly do you think you're doing?” Zerethel hissed through clenched teeth, as two unfamiliar faces followed closely behind.

 “C-councilor!” Zion squeaked, stiffening into attention. “I was…! He is…! Rethandus is in terrible pain…!”

 “Pain is an excellent teacher.” the Pyromancer waved his hand dismissively at the two accompanying him, causing them to gently place the heavy bag they were hauling onto an adjacent slab. “He has surely learned a valuable lesson today.”

 “Sir, please! He's not going to last much longer! Let me… e-end his suffering!”

 “And flush all of my hard work down the drain?” Zerethel let out a coarse wheeze while he clutched at his chest. “No, he will survive this.” The Pyromancer snapped his fingers, causing one of the strangers to start opening the bag, while the other secured the only entrance. “You must be this Zion girl I’ve heard so much about. Tell me; can you keep a secret?”

 “What? I-I…” She stuttered, glancing down at Rethandus before returning her gaze to the Councilor.

 “Let me rephrase… will you do anything to save Rethandus?” The Death Knight stared at Zerethel with dread, fearing he would do something terrible to her, and he would be powerless to stop him.

 “Yes.” She quickly answered, with both fear and determination sparking in her eyes. A cruel laugh slipped through the Pyromancer’s dry lips, before he clapped his hands together.

 “Excellent.” Zerethel gestured toward the now open bag, revealing an undead elven corpse covered in runes and surging with unholy power. His eyes were devoid of the eerie blue glow of unlife, signifying he was truly just an empty husk now; but he was far more muscular than he should be. Gazing upon it made Zion understandably uneasy. “How adept are you with necromancy?”

 “I-I can raise corpses and bind them to my will… but that’s all I know.” The woman remained at Rethandus’ side, while the Councilor and his two henchmen prepared the body.

 “Rethandus will fade at any moment. Thanks to Syrahn and her accursed magic, his body is beyond repair.” Zerethel turned to glare down at the Death Knight, grabbing his attention. “We must transplant his head onto this body.”

 “What?! But that’s-!” Zion stuttered, briefly covering her mouth.

 “We don’t have time for this. Get ready or get out of my way.” His two henchmen pulled the slab Rethandus was seared onto toward the body, unintentionally inflicting more agony on him. Zerethel pulled a large cleaver from one of his goon’s pockets, causing Rethandus’ eyes to widen. “His soul will no doubt leave his body on its way to the Twisting Nether once I decapitate him. We’re counting on you to prevent his soul from leaving. Do you understand, Zion?”

 “I understand.” The woman declared, shooting Rethandus a worried glance. The Death Knight did his best to protest, but he couldn’t conjure a single sound from his damaged throat and eradicated lungs. Zerethel held the cleaver tightly, heating it with his fingers until the blade was glowing a bright white. With one quick strike he lopped off the head of the soulless corpse, tugging it away to toss dismissively onto the floor.

 “Be still, Rethandus. If I don’t get this right, you will die.” He held Rethandus’ chin, preventing him from opening his mouth. “Are you ready?” Zion gave the Death Knight one last worried glance before nodding, as the two henchmen remained steadfast near the headless corpse. Rethandus tightly closed his eyes to brace himself, refusing to open his eyes until it was finished, or until he was dead.

Searing heat struck him in the throat, beneath his Adam’s Apple but before his collar; he felt unimaginable pain for a brief instant, hearing his arms flail violently before falling limp against the stone slab. The familiar chill of Unholy Magic caressed his face while his hair was pulled, lifting him up into the air. He wanted to open his eyes, but his fear of what he would see kept his curiosity in check. He couldn’t afford to panic at what he could be seeing. His desire to return to the living remained, and he couldn’t risk flubbing this twisted operation if he could help it. He felt the meat slap against the bottom of his neck; it was cold and wet, almost soggy against his dry and charred skin. Magic washed over his face like he was face up underwater, and as he felt Zerethel release his chin, he couldn’t help but open his eyes.

 He looked up to see Zerethel staring down at him in silence. He tried to look around, but his neck didn’t obey his command. The unholy magic radiating from his skin coursed through the body like a jolt of lightning. He felt his hands and feet connecting, and despite not being able to move them, a surge of hope and excitement sparked in the back of his head. “It is done.” The Pyromancer slowly released Rethandus’ head and took a few steps back. “Rethandus… can you hear us? Can you speak?”

 “Hhhuuugh…” His own vocal cords survived the ordeal, but the muscles bound to them felt unfamiliar.

 “You will have to learn how to use your body all over again. But at least this was a complete success.” Zerethel turned toward the woman who rushed to Rethandus’ side, seemingly trembling with worry. “Well done, Zion. You’ve proven most useful.”

 “Thank you, Councilor! Thank you thank you!” Zion huffed, almost dancing with excitement. “I thought he was going to leave me- ahh… this world, forever!”

 “Not yet.” He clutched his chest as another wheeze rocked his body.

 “Whaaat… h-haavvee…?” Rethandus struggled to form the simplest of words, staring wildly at the Pyromancer before using every ounce of his strength to move his head around. The two henchmen were on the floor, lifeless and drained of substance. The Death Knight glanced over at the other slab to see his old body and his previous wounds; seeing his headless corpse laying there with a gaping hole that started in the center of his chest and ended with his charred pelvis filled him with dread.

 “I’ve saved your life.” Zerethel answered, turning his back on Rethandus. “What did you think all of those artifacts I had you fetch were for? You needed a stronger, better body. One that could outclass Whitstan in agility, raw strength and endurance. I was planning on simply transferring your soul- it would have been much safer… but this tragedy turned out in our favor.”

 Anger boiled in his new chest, filling Rethandus with a maddening hatred. He struggled to clench his fist and lift it off the slab to strike Zerethel in the back, but all he could do was cause his thumb to twitch. The Councilor extended his hand toward his corpse, his corpse, setting it aflame. Rethandus watched his body burn, as helpless as ever before. He tried to reach out to put the fires out with some frost magic, but his hand remained still, and the runes along his palm did not respond to his command.

 “This goes without saying, but…” Zerethel turned to the woman, grabbing Rethandus’ attention. “You mustn’t tell anyone of this. It would be easier to just set you aflame like that corpse and do away with the last remaining witness… but I need Rethandus to comply with my demands once he’s fully recovered. Consider yourself fortunate, Zion, but do not mistake my mercy for weakness. There isn’t a hole big enough for you to crawl and hide in should you betray my trust.”

 “I understand.” She quickly retorted, bowing before him. “My lips will be sealed. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

 “Then I will be on my way then.” Zerethel turned to look down at Rethandus one last time before taking his leave. “You were a fool to think you could best Whitstan by yourself. You would be an even bigger fool to think you could finish him now. Do not risk your existence doing something reckless like that again, Rethandus. I have spent far too many hours and far too much resources to have you throw your life away.”

[yourfriendlyneiborhoodneerdowell]

Soft - A Ceajose oneshot

Joesph kneeled on the cold stone floor with his head in his hands. He wanted to stop screaming for Ceasar but it seemed like every time he exhaled his breath pulled the name with it. Lisa Lisa was standing calmly, ice cold stare fixated on whammu. Joseph could sense just the tiniest quake in her breath. No wonder the stone of Aja was placed in her possession. That woman had absolutely no fear, Joseph thought.

His Hamon wasn’t of much use now, he was heaving much too quickly. He shouldn’t have said anything, he should have gone with him. Poor Ceasar had lost his father to those wretched pillar men and Joseph was insensitive enough to tell him that he shouldn’t care about fighting them so much. He didn’t mean to hurt Ceasar, he was just so scared that he would try to fight them himself. Joseph couldn’t have known what he was saying was as hurtful as it was.

Wammu turned and waved a dismissive hand in their direction. “I admire his spirit, for now I’ll leave you to collect what’s left of Ceasar’s Hamon. I will honor our agreement JoJo, we will fight in two day’s time.” With that the man walked out of the room, his silhouette fading like some massive gollum into the shadows up the stairs. Lisa Lisa dropped to the ground as soon as the goliath disappeared. “JoJo,” she hiccuped, “ we need to move Ceasar. I won’t allow him to be buried is this god awful place. So please take your scarf and use it as a blindfold while we remove the body. I don’t want you to see him.” Joseph complied, wrapping the gaudy purple and blue striped garment about his head. It wouldn’t have made the slightest difference either way, his eyes were so puffy and sore he couldn’t keep them open for very long. A dainty hand wrapped itself around his wrist and tugged him forward. If he hadn’t trusted Lisa so much the act would have been a little worrisome but as it was his sensei knew exactly how to guide him, boosting his courage slightly as he edged in her direction. Joseph’s hand was lowered downward onto a cold slab of stone before she released her grip on him. “ I need you to lift this for me, Steady your breathing and think of nothing else but concentrating your hamon. This isn’t the time to feel upset you must concentrate. that’s an order!” Her tone was confident but the minuscule waiver in Lisa’s voice let Joseph know she was trying very hard to keep calm. Although he couldn’t see if he had wanted to, JoJo squinted his eyes shut and drew a long, deep breath from his stomach. As he exhaled a warm tingling sensation began to envelop his fingertips and cling to the rough surface of the stone like a magnet. With surprisingly little effort Joseph raised his hands above his head creating a booming crackle as the slab of bricks was moved. His sensei let out a quiet gasp, Joseph’s Harmon waivered for only a minute as he felt the full weight of the stone suddenly squash him. Luckily it wasn’t enough to disturb him completely and the object became rather light very quickly. “JoJo…” Lisa Lisa breathed,” set down the stone and remove your blindfold.” Joseph did as he was bid, walking a ways and throwing the object down with a massive thud. He wasn’t about to disobey his master, but thinking of the idea of witnessing Ceasar’s corpse didn’t exactly thrill him. When he didn’t respond Lisa came to his aid and cupped his face in her hands. “ it’s ok, Just trust me. I’d never let you see this in any other circumstance, I’m not that cruel.” He cracked a small smirk, “ you were going to leave me to die in a pit of oil once. I’d say that counts as cruel.” Jojo could hear the resignation in Lisa’s voice. “And look what that did for you. You ungrateful brat. You were strong enough to defeat Asidisi.” She tugged the scarf off with a short but not painful jerk to illustrate her point. Joseph didn’t want to look, not in the slightest. But Lisa assured him it was ok. He braced himself and grimly lowered his eyes to the body of his companion. He looked old, like he had aged eighty years within a few minutes. This must have been the effect of giving up so much energy. Ceasar looked so tranquil, as if sleeping. His once blonde hair now strewn over his face as a grey-white tangle. His legs were bent at an angle that made Joseph sick to his stomach and the places he was bleeding from were immeasurable. Jojo couldn’t help it, he felt the blood drain from his face and he was staring to feel dizzy when Lisa spoke up. “Look harder, don’t you notice anything odd?” Snapping back to reality Joseph knelt beside his former companion and placed a hand in front of his mouth. Come to think of it there was a tiny dip in the floor of the old building where Ceasar had fallen. It was faint… so very faint, but he could feel the movement of air. For a second he didn’t make the connection. “LISA CALL THE SPEEDWAGON FOUNDATION IMMEDIATELY!” **** Joseph stood with his hands in a vice grip on the front desk. The attendant behind the desk began to look increasingly nervous as the huge man’s complaints turned into berating shouts. “Listen? I have been waiting ten months! Ten fucking months for you bastards to let me see him! I don’t give a shit about visiting hours and you assholes are going to bring him here right now!” The worker shrunk in his seat and picked up the hospital phone fumbling ridiculously long. “I’m sorry, yes we’ll schedule a meeting right away!” It took nearly half an hour of bargaining but finally the frazzled worker set down the phone. “ He’s outside in the foundation’s private park, they’re having him walk on his own this week. Apparently his physical therapy has made an incredible difference. I’ll arrange for someone to take you out to meet him.” Joseph was already half way to the door by the time the man at the front desk was done talking. He didn’t need a damn escort, he just wanted to see Ceasar. **** The park wasn’t so much a park as it was a nature preserve. Thick grass lined the dirt path and large deciduous trees blockaded the light from the sun leaving a patchwork of shadow on the ground. JoJo was flinging dust behind him as he sprinted around for what felt like forever. “Fuck this!” He heaved, sliding to a stop that threatened to topple him. Why hadn’t he just taken the damn escort instead of running off like some buffoon?

“Jo…JoJo…” The words were so faint that it could have easily been just his imagination. But the tiny noise struck Joseph harder than any blows delt by the pillar men. There in a small clearing sat Ceasar. Legs stretched out in the warm sunlight as he rested comfortably next to a well worn wheelchair. His hair was distinctly lighter blonde than before and on his face was set a smile that looked like it belonged to someone fifty years older than he. Nevertheless he was beaming.

Joseph felt heat rising to his face in an uncontrollable wave, he was sobbing before he even reached his friend. “Ceasar! Oh Ceasar I’m so sorry! I was such an asshole, and I thought…” JoJo swallowed hard and wiped his face on his arm, “ I couldn’t stop thinking of how cruel the last thing I said to you was. If I had known what was going to happen I would have stopped. Please forgive me.”

Ceasar patted the ground next to him, brows furrowed in concern. “Please, sit with me JoJo.” Joseph complied, trying not to look the other man in the eyes. “ You know, since the fight my lungs haven’t been well. It’s hard to speak some days, but I count myself lucky that I can speak at all. Of course I don’t think I’ll ever be able to use my hamon again. But now I guess I don’t really need to.” The two sat in silence for a moment, just that much had caused Ceasar to breathe heavily. His voice was quiet and threatened to fail him a few times throughout their conversation.

“I’m not angry JoJo, not anymore. My father had always been a closely guarded secret between Lisa and I.”

“That’s not the point!” his words came out much more angrily than he had expected.

Joseph felt a cold shock run up his body, for a hospitalized man Ceasar was still surprisingly strong. “ you’ve been crying this whole time, this isn’t like you at all. Where’s the Joseph that beat the hell out of Asidisi?” It wasn’t a matter of choice, he was locked in a bear hug. But really JoJo wouldn’t have wanted to escape the embrace anyway. He returned the contact being careful to leave his friend room to breathe properly. There was a tiny quake in Ceasar’s body making him seem impossibly fragile for a man of his size. He was crying. Unlike Joseph it was a quiet affair with nothing but his shivering to indicate the occurrence.

Time froze, neither the breeze nor surrounding ambiance could touch this moment. The air was light and carried thoughts easily from the heart to spoken words. No force on earth could have moved either of them.

“I missed you idiot.” he smiled, placing the most tender of kisses to Joseph’s forehead. In return JoJo stared dumbly into Ceasar’s eyes and his grip tightened, “ Never leave me again you asshole.”

And like every unspoken word their kiss was soft.

[dragonandtiger]

Digimon 00 - Fragments - 23

“So what’s your family back home like, Keiko?”

Keiko’s hands stilled from their work of weaving a lean-to from vines and wood. She didn’t turn around to look at Ken, who was only innocently trying to start a conversation while cutting up vegetables with Ryo’s army knife. The half-formed camp was fairly empty with just the two Chosen Children and their partners, and the silence eventually became too much for Ken.

Unfortunately, the pregnant pause after his question served to make Ken feel little at ease.

“Good,” Keiko said as she went back to tying knots. “Narakumon is grumpy because everyone expects him to be a jerk, and Tenraimon is really nice, and they make out all the time.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t mean them,” Ken said awkwardly. “I meant back in the real world…?”

Another pause followed, this one even heavier than before. “I don’t have any family on Earth.”

Ken stared at Keiko in shock before he grimaced, rather shamefaced. “S-sorry, I… I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t be mad at Ken-chan!” Wormmon said, immediately growing frantic seeing how wounded Ken looked. “He didn’t know your human family is dead for good. He just worries about his mom and dad and big brother a lot, and he worries about Ryo’s mom and dad, so he was worrying about yours too. Ken-chan is very, very kind like that.”

Keiko let out a huff of air, her tense shoulders slumping back a bit as she turned her gaze to the sky, though her back still faced the two working on dinner. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for her.” The words came out in a caustic growl that could burn away stone. “That woman doesn’t deserve you or anyone else feeling sorry her. She’s rotting in Hell where she belongs!”

Ken stared at Keiko, shock quickly taking over his guilt on his face. “Huh?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Keiko saw Nyamon’s concerned expression, but she was in no mood for comfort. “The woman who gave birth to me…” Her mouth twisted in an ugly sneer and her red eyes blazed like fire as she finally glanced back towards Ken. “She was the most vile human to ever live. She deserved to die.”

Ken could do nothing but continue to stare at Keiko, stunned completely silent. He didn’t know how to react to what Keiko was saying, let alone how to respond to it, so he instead simply stared at the Chosen of Darkness.

“Who deserved to die?” Ryo asked with an armload of fruit as he led the rest of group. His demeanor was tense, not really wanting to hear the answer, but when the first thing upon his return to camp was such a statement and Ken’s horrified expression, he instinctively felt the protective urge to draw attention away from his young friend.

FlaWizarmon looked at Keiko, whose guarded expression actually told him everything he needed to know. He turned to give Ryo a bright grin as he hefted up the firewood he had gathered. “Don’t you worry ‘bout that none, Lord Ryo!” He then focused on Ken, who instinctively turned to meet his gaze. “An’ the same to you, Ken-chan. Put it outta yer mind~!”

“Huh? Oh, um,” Ken faltered, glancing over to Keiko before returning his attention to the scarecrow. “O-okay…”

Witchmon had her ghostly little feline familiar set down the huge slab of meat that was bigger than she was by the fire and Ken as she floated over to Keiko. “It’s okay, hon,” she said softly by the young girl’s ear. “Take a deep breath and remember you’re safe. That woman can’t hurt you or anyone you care about anymore.”

Keiko turned her jagged ruby gaze to the crowd of people staring at her before focusing it sharply on the lean-to. She tugged on vines with excessive force, but although she said nothing in response, she did her best to breathe deep and even her racing pulse.

A phantom touch brushed against Keiko’s shoulder, opposite Witchmon. The Chosen of Darkness knew who it belonged to without even having to look. After all, it would only draw attention to something that none of the others could see - the ephemeral shape of Narakumon as he reached to touch her shoulder.

The sensation made Keiko’s eyes sting, but she shut them, refusing to break down further than she had already. The turmoil of emotions swirling blackly inside her heart threatened to overwhelm her in spite of her resentment towards it.

“Darkness always has the worst cross to bear, the path filled with the most trials,” Narakumon said, softly. “But you are not walking it alone. Just as you have joined me in my journey, I have joined you in yours. We will not be broken by these worlds, or anything in them.”

Keiko nodded ever so slightly and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes with unneeded harshness. “St… stop looking at me like that. I’m fine. I’m past this.”

Nyamon’s ears canted back before she wordlessly moved to wrap her paws around Keiko’s waist, hugging her with surprising gentleness despite her large gauntlets.

FlaWizarmon and Witchmon shared a glance before they turned their attention to keeping the others occupied, turning their backs to the Chosen of Darkness.

Narakumon was quiet for a moment before he looked away, though he didn’t remove his hand from her shoulder. “Yes, you are. You are strong.”

A tear escaped in spite of Keiko’s desperate attempts to fight the urge to cry, but it didn’t last long before she wiped it away.

----

A heavy cloud hung over Keiko for the next several days that left her speaking in short sentences to everyone and Ken agonizing with guilt. He kept apologizing until eventually Keiko snapped at him to stop and left for the woods with Nyamon for an entire day under the pretense of scouting the area around their current camp. When the two returned, an unpleasant quiet hung thick like fog that lasted well until the next day when they resumed traveling.

Ryo tried everything he could to lighten the mood, but his attempts were no match for his social awkwardness.

“So, uh, Keiko, think it’ll rain today?” he asked with what he hoped wasn’t too strained a smile.

Keiko merely let out a grunt and shrugged, not bothering to take her eyes away from the foliage in front of them as Nyamon hacked away at the branches to carve a path for them.

Ryo couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him before he glanced back at Ken trailing behind him. “I hope not, since I’m not ready for another cold shower after we had to get a bath in that freezing river last night, right Ken?”

Ken glanced over at Keiko before he looked away, hugging Wormmon to his chest. “R-right…”

FlaWizarmon watched the exchange before he glanced at Witchmon, who returned the look. He then glanced upward, lacing his fingers behind his head. “So! Who wants to take bets on who we’ll be fightin’ at ye ominous fortress in the middle of nowhere this time… Millie or yet another minion?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Keiko said with a sharpness to her voice to rival Nyamon’s claws.

FlaWizarmon paused at that before he smiled crookedly. “True ‘nuff, Lady Darkness.”

“Eeeeeh, scary, so scary…” Neemon whined as his whole body drooped, from his sagging shoulders to his canting ears. “Bokomoooon, who’s scarier? Millenniumon or Keiko?”

“I-idiot!” Bokomon snapped as he reached up to grab Neemon’s ear, giving it a twist. “Do you have anything going on in that empty head of yours!?”

Mystimon watched as Neemon failed about as Bokomon punished him for his comments, before wordlessly turning to fix a stare on Keiko as she pointedly ignored both the antics and the comment that lead up to them.

Ryo let out a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He didn’t think he could stand the tension for much longer, especially not if they reached Millenniumon. He racked his brain for some sort of topic until the first thought to pop into his head came spilling out of his mouth. “I think I’ve figured out what kind of Digimon Millenniumon is.”

It didn’t even take a second for Ryo to regret saying anything, as everyone stopped to stare directly at him with curious, eager eyes that he could see were expecting some brilliant epiphany that would end this mess once and for all. He tried to mutter out a, “Never mind,” but it came out as a loose assortment of noises from a suddenly dry throat.

Witchmon suddenly came up behind Ryo and leaned against him, forcing him to take notice of her large chest pressed against the back of his head, turning his face a brighter shade of red. “Don’t be shy, hon. What kind of Digimon is he?”

Ryo swallowed hard a few times to clear his throat from a sandy desert to merely a parched tundra. “A cockroach.”

The word came out squashed the second it left Ryo’s mouth like verbal roadkill as he could practically feel the disapproval of the others for attempting such a weak joke. Instinctively, he scrunched in on himself, wanting to disappear, when he was startled again by Witchmon as she let out a laugh like the tinkling of bells.

“Well, there is at least one cockroach Digimon out there,” Witchmon said jovially. “It’d just figure if that Millie-peed was just a bug all along, wouldn’t it?”

“A bug beggin’ to be squashed!” FlaWizarmon agreed, chuckling as he pulled up the brim of his hat.

Ken let out an awkward laugh, more for Ryo’s benefit than any humor at the joke. He could tell right away that his friend was mortified at how badly his joke had failed, and neither FlaWizarmon nor Witchmon were making the situation any better.

Keiko flexed her fingers into fists then stretched her hands with unpleasant popping sounds. “They’re all cockroaches - him and his followers.”

Ryo cringed, a shiver running through him from Keiko’s chilling words. “Y… yeah. I… I guess so. But we’ll stop them.” He flinched at how weakly his voice came out. “…Sooner or later.”

Nyamon glanced between Ryo and Keiko, her suppression neutral, before she paused. Her ear gave a small flick before her eyes narrowed. Without warning, Nyamon whipped about to swing her gauntlets towards Ken, startling everyone out of their conversation - even Keiko.

The guitar let out a discordant belt of music as it landed hard against Nyamon’s gauntlets, inches from Ken’s stunned face. Wormmon cried out his partner’s name in pure panic from his partner’s arms as the Chosen of Kindness stepped back instinctively. Nyamon’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Kyoumon, who struggled to push down on the guitar without much success.

“You’re starting to annoy me,” Nyamon said, glaring at the puppet.

“Rudemon annoys Kyoumon already!” Kyoumon retorted.

“Him again?” FlaWizarmon asked rhetorically as he scratched at the back of his head. “I guess it has been a while since his last attack, hasn’t it?”

Nyamon threw her arms forward, flinging Kyoumon back so that the puppet landed with a squeal a sizeable distance away. “If you want to keep swinging at me, fine. But if you take another swing at Ken, so help me…”

“I’ll fight you!” Wormmon shouted as he held up two of his digits. “If you try to hurt Ken-chan again, I’ll fight you and stop you!”

Kyoumon stumbled up and dusted himself off, then turned to fix Nyamon with a glare of his own. “Rudemon and Rude Humanmon are a matching set!”

“Kyoumon.”

The strange Digimon jerked back and whirled to stare at Keiko, who fixed him with a frosty gaze that pierced his plush body to its very core. He stared at the Chosen of Darkness with wide eyes, his tail puffing up as his ears canted back.

“If you come after Ken again, I’ll destroy you myself.” Keiko said, her voice cutting him like a razor. “Do you understand?”

Kyoumon gawked at Keiko in stunned silence before he burst into tears, the liquid flowing from his eyes like a burst water main. “R-Rude Humanmons! You’re all Rude Humanmons!” He whipped about and took off as fast as his little wings could carry him, disappearing in to the woods where he had abruptly come from.

Wormmon drooped a at seeing Kyoumon retreat in tears, lowering his digits that had only a moment ago been ready to smack the other Digimon in the face. “Now I feel a little sorry for him.”

“You should not,” Leomon said with a shake of his head. “His actions made such words necessary. He needs to reflect on his behavior.”

Ken stared after the fleeing Digimon before he turned to Keiko. “You… you didn’t really mean that, did you? I mean, I don’t think he means any harm...”

“You’re kind, Ken.” Keiko said, with a shake of her head. “Sometimes too kind.”

Ken paused at that before he furrowed his brow, frowning.

“Well, he is Kindness,” FlaWizarmon said as he tapped his chin. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“It’s easy to forget, especially with so little kindness in the world as it is,” Witchmon agreed. “We need people like Ken-chan to remind us now and then~!”

Keiko’s hard expression softened around the edges. “True enough.”