#king's field the ancient city

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

the ruins of new londo are in this game too??!?

FLOODED TO SEAL THE DARK?!?!

[panda-pal]

King's Field IV (2001) Developed by FromSoftware

[lsd-dog-emulator]

This is the only thing I picked up from the Retro Expo but I am so pleased with it. I have been super into the King’s Field games - for anyone who doesn’t know they are the first games FromSoftware ever produced and was a direct inspiration to Demon Souls/Dark Souls. They play like first person fantasy rpg puzzle games. They are even explained as a metroidvania like because of it’s nature of difficulty and back tracking. They are slow, clunky, difficult as hell and I adore them.

This is the second KF game I own now 👑 ⚔️

[draculas-tits]

been listening to this for weeks now

[pooepw]

time to finish

[leirastar]

new world | prologue

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 1.6k | 7 minutes Warning: wings, weapons A/n: Hello everyone! i'm very glad to you meet you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much i loved writing it.

Beneath the vase expanse of the golden-hued sky, where the sun and moon dance in harmony, located in the heart of an endless sapphire sea lies Hala.

A chain of islands said to be molded by the hands of ancient gods, each whispering a story of creation, balance, and power.

Its skies shimmer with the iridescent glow of the Aetherion, whose bearers are gifted the ability to soar between earth and sky and serve as the stewards of the land.

At the center of the land, Kaizo Kingdom, the Heart of Hala, stood tall and unyielding, its golden spires reaching for the heavens. Its black bat-winged ruler was renowned for his keen intellect, ensuring that the kingdom remained both the center of commerce and an untouchable entity. Ruled by the sovereign Kim Clan and led by King Hongjoong, descendants of the Shadow Monarch, Kaizo was a beacon of unity and wisdom.

Kaizo city is alive with activity, its streets teeming with merchants, scholars, and travelers from every corner of the seven kingdoms. Though neutral in the wars that raged around it, Kaizo’s alliances carried weight, and Hongjoong’s choices could shift the tides of battle in an instant. Proudly safeguarding the Pact of the Eight Kingdoms, the kingdom was heavily guarded, as its borders touched all seven kingdoms. The bustling markets of Kaizo showcased goods from every corner of Hala, and its rulers, known for their impartiality, served as mediators in times of strife, making the city a beacon for those seeking opportunity—or refuge—if they could survive the journey.

To the Southeast, Leon kingdom stands proudly. Ruled by the Choi Clan, where endless golden sands meet towering forests and deep, labyrinthine caves. Its ruler rumored to possess the strength and cunning of a lion.

King Jongho, adorned with powerful wings veined in shades of earthy brown and sunlit gold, rules quietly. Known to have mastered their diverse terrain, using it as both a sanctuary and a weapon. Their castle, built high within the caves, overlooks the forest canopy and sprawling deserts, offering an impenetrable vantage point against any threat.

These landscapes are more than barriers—they are the foundation of Leon’s economy and culture, offering rare gems from the caves, unique herbs from the forests, and spices from the desert.

To the northeast, dense forrest and rolling fields mark the lands of Caius.

Presiding over this serene paradise is His Majesty King Seonghwa, whose gentle yet unwavering leadership mirrors the tranquility of his lands.

Caius flourishes as a fertile haven, where crystal-blue seas and shimmering lakes weave through lush forests and vibrant fields. The kingdom’s unique geography provides abundant resources year-round, renowned for its blooming herbs and medicinal flora, which grows in endless cycles, fed by the fertile soils and pristine water resources.

These natural gifts not only sustain its people but have made the kingdom famous across Hala for its healing remedies and restorative traditions.

Southern to this estate lived the Kingdom of Satriya. Famous for their silver-armoured knights known as the most disciplined defender in all of Hala, their fortresses carved into unyielding stone. Every path through Satriya is a calculated defense, its people prepared for any threat.

Presiding over this fortified kingdom is King Yeosang, a ruler whose strict discipline and formidable presence inspire both loyalty and fear. Known as the Demon of the Silver Wings, his piercing gaze and unrelenting expectations command respect. Tales of his terrifying battlefield strategies and unwavering enforcement of order have spread across Hala, deterring enemies and ensuring Satriya remains impenetrable.

Satriya remains as the most private of all kingdoms, its gates closed to anyone who is not born of Satriyan blood. This exclusivity fosters a deep sense of unity and loyalty among its people, but also shrouds the kingdom in mystery to outsiders. Despite his fearsome reputation, his people trust him implicitly, knowing that his rule is the cornerstone of their survival.

Satriya’s eastern border meets Kaizo, while its westernmost cliffs descend into treacherous seas. The kingdom’s trade in sturdy weapons and tools extends its influence far beyond its borders, solidifying its position as an indomitable force in Hala.

Bordering the southern of Kaizo lay a united land of Charadyn and Kian. Despite their distinct identities, the two kingdoms share a deep bond, their rulers united by friendship and a shared appreciation for life’s riches.

Charadyn Kingdom belonged to the prestige Jung Clan. Notorious for their eternal bonfires, Charadyn thrives on the never ending celebration and wealth.

From a young age, King Wooyoung embraced the lively spirit of his kingdom, forging a reputation as a leader who rules not just with authority, but with the joy and vitality that inspire his people. Festivals in Charadyn are legendary, attracting visitors from every corner of Hala, who come to revel in the kingdom’s unending celebrations.

Charadyn’s economy is built on its vibrant cultural exports. Its exotic spices, rare jungle plants, and handcrafted artifacts are sought after across the realm. The kingdom’s thriving tourism, driven by its grand festivals and fiery traditions, further fuels its prosperity. Its northern border touches Kaizo, while its southern coast provides access to maritime trade routes, strengthening its position as a cultural and economic powerhouse.

Not far from the buzzling, lively, vibrant city of Charadyn lies the Kingdom of Heritage, known as the Kingdom of Kian. Ruled by the noble Choi Clan, Kian’s people hold a deep belief that their lineage is blessed by divinity. Adorned in jewels and celestial artifacts, King San governs with pride. The kingdom flourishes through its abundant natural resources and exceptional craftsmanship. As a leading exporter of diamonds, sacred relics, and luxurious textiles, Kian’s wealth is unparalleled. Its fertile plains provide plentiful harvests, sustaining its people and fueling trade with neighboring lands.

Far to the Northeast of Kaizo, high above the clouds, nestled among breezy mountain peaks, lay the Aeros Kingdom, home to the dragon breeders. Composed of multiple floating islands suspended in the skies, Aeros is a breathtaking spectacle of nature and magic. At its heart, perched in the middle of the heavens, stands the grand palace of Aeros, a shining beacon visible from every corner of the kingdom.

King Mingi, with his tundra-like wings, presides over this aerial wonderland, where the roar of dragons harmonizes with the gentle whispers of the mountain winds. The skies are alive with the majestic flight of dragons and their caretakers, whose unbreakable bond with the creatures defines Aeros’s spirit.

The kingdom thrives on the trade of dragons and their rare, coveted scales, used for crafting armor, ornaments, and magical items of extraordinary value. In addition, Aeros exports sky-bred textiles, lightweight yet durable, imbued with the essence of the breezes that carry the kingdom’s legacy across Hala.

Bordered by the icy seas and blanketed in perpetual mist, lies the Reed Kingdom. This land is cradled by the ocean, its shores wrapped in an ethereal veil of fog that rarely lifts. Yet Reed’s true majesty lies above, connected to the lowlands by a towering, frost-covered bridge. High in the frigid mountains stands Reed’s capital, an unyielding fortress of ice and stone nestled among snow-capped peaks. Here, the cold is relentless, and the winds howl like the spirits of the mountains themselves.

King Yunho, with his indigo wings, embodies the kingdom’s cold, unwavering resolve. His strength and endurance mirror the icy resilience of his domain, and his piercing gaze leaves little room for doubt or defiance. Under his steadfast rule, the people of Reed have flourished despite the harshness of their environment, adapting and thriving where others might falter.

Reed’s economy thrives on trading its unique resources to other kingdoms. Rare ice crystals, harvested from the deepest caverns, are prized across Hala for their enchanting properties, beauty, and magical applications. Additionally, frost-forged metals, tempered by the frigid climate, are crafted into tools, weapons, and armor of unparalleled durability, making them essential for kingdoms facing harsh conditions. Reed’s expertise in producing cold-weather goods sustains its prosperity, exchanging its treasures for resources it cannot cultivate within its icy domain.

Reed is a kingdom of stark beauty and unrelenting strength, where the sea meets the mountains in a breathtaking display of nature’s extremes. To venture into its icy wilderness is to face a world that demands respect—and a king who commands it. Outsiders who dare step into Reed often find themselves frozen in more ways than one, humbled by the cold and the unyielding presence of King Yunho.

The royals held immense power over Hala for a reason. The rulers of the eight kingdoms were no ordinary beings; they bore the mark of True Aetherion, a glowing imprint on their foreheads that pulsed with celestial energy. This blue blood, shimmering with the essence of the heavens, set them apart—not just in authority, but in being. It granted them the ability to command the skies, their wings reflecting the power and pride of their Country.

You paused in your step, the vibrant hum of life around you fading as a sudden stillness overtook the air. The faint glow of the Aetherion above pulsed rhythmically, and a powerful gust swept past, bending the trees and rippling the waters in its wake. A dark silhouette descended from the clouds, cutting across the horizon like a falling star, its form too grand, too perfect, to belong to mere mortals.

Your breath caught as the figure moved with otherworldly grace, its wings glinting with hues that mirrored its domain—golden like Leon’s sands or indigo like Reed’s icy peaks. As it passed overhead, you caught a glimpse of the faint glow on their forehead, unmistakable and radiant, the mark of their celestial lineage. It was rare to see a royal so far from the cities, their presence in such remote lands a reminder of the power they carried, bound to the skies.

Though you couldn’t tell which kingdom they hailed from, you knew without a doubt it was one of the eight royals.

Since only they bore the mark of the Aetherion carried from the blue blood of the Primordials, their very existence was tied to the elements that shaped Hala.

They are Hala Core itself. 1

Taglist (OPEN):

@caratiny-latte @pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum

[itsphoenix0724]

Can You Kill A God? (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again.

Based on another fic I wrote which you can read here

Warnings: Gore, blood, the reader is a little sinister but I love it, SMUT (unprotected sex, breeding kink?, oral: m and f receiving)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been really missing Death!Az and Life!Reader recently. Also, I've had an obsession with Get In The Water from Epic the musical and this is what spawned. I did set in Ancient Greece so I did mention a Greek city. Happy New Year!!!

It started as a petty slight. Some stupid mortal king had said they feared Death more than War, so the god had raged a challenge. Your husband doesn’t normally involve himself in other matters, he had no need.

Eris was irrelevant to him.

Of all the other gods he is the only one who was inevitable, who would be permanent despite all odds. Azriel didn’t even feel the need to acknowledge the God of War, but he had started harming your creations, which was unacceptable in his eyes.

The souls had come into the underworld brutalized, they curled into your lap as you wiped their tears with the gossamer of your gown and told you that they had been sent as a message. You shed your own tears as you escorted them to eternal paradise and Death’s eyes went dark with promise as he cupped your jaw. 

Then he prepared for battle. 

You had to return to the overworld soon, the last phases of winter thawing into springtime greenery. He would sort this mess out before you leave his protection realm. Azriel gathered his allies and they outfitted themselves for combat. He took care to strap the armor to your chest, the gauntlets on your arms, and around your calves, kissing his devotion before securing every piece of metal. You did the same to him taking extra care to protect his heart.

The sight of you almost sent him to his knees.

There are still flowers wound through your hair, nightshade and belladonna make a deadly crown, and the golden glow that seems to permanently surround you bounces off the obsidian steel of your armor.

The battle had been bloody and long, it felt as if you’ve been here for days. Your dress was torn, the cloth shredded around your feet. Blood covered your entire front, caked and cracked into your skin. 

You cannot kill a god. 

But that doesn’t make the battle any less gruesome. 

Nothing would touch you thanks to Death looming over your shoulder. Every attack that may have hit you was deflected by your husband and vice-versa until the God of War catches onto this little tactic and baits Azriel by attacking you. Az had jumped in front of you, a wall of shadows blasting the God of War back a few feet at the risk of wounding him. 

But Death had fallen, red blood spilling sickly and sweet onto the fresh spring grass. It reminds you of a splitting pomegranate as the red seeps out and stains the dirt, every god in the field halts their battle and watches 

You fall to your knees in front of him, vines starting to curl around him as your magic begs to erupt from your chest to protect what’s yours. Eris gloats from his spot hovering in the air, laughing at Azriel struggling to breathe around the blood coming up his throat. The thorn vines wrap around Azriel to ward off any who might try to weaken him further as you rise to your feet. 

“Flower,” he wheezes around a cracked rattle in his throat, shaking his head and trying to sit up. You shush him gently pouring golden light into his chest that does nothing. You are not the Goddess of Healing, life will never stop death, so Az will have to heal on his own. War still mocks your shushing, your tears, calling your magic pathetic.

The earth beneath you starts to rumble. 

You are the Goddess of Life, the Goddess of the Earth, the World Shaker, and you will make every God here remember why you are Queen of the Underworld. 

Rising to your feet, the earth grumbles and shudders under the very force of your erratic heartbeat. War made a mistake waging this battle in Sparta, his arrogance will be his downfall. Your entire body shakes with rage as you stare at Eris from his spot in the air. 

“Get on the ground Eris.” Your voice rumbles in time with the splitting of the earth and War widens his eyes at the splintering ground. Yet, his overconfidence keeps him hovering out of your reach.

“Go home, Little Goddess” He drawls, “You’ve been beaten.” he spits at you with venom in his eyes—a dark, dark laugh bubbles out of your chest like molten lava. 

“If you don’t come down here I will collapse every wall in your city, and kill everyone in it.” You glare up at him, and he laughs shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t believe me?” You quirk a brow and the rise around the city starts to shake. “Tell me God, what happens when every last worshiper of yours is dead?” His eyes widen in fear then. 

Because that is how you kill a god, you force them into the darkness of being forgotten until they waste away like little more than salt in water. 

Faster than a breath thorn-covered vines shoot from the earth and surround War kicking and screaming, golden light begins to glow brightly from your eyes as your fury hauls him to the ground.

 People seem to forget that Death is the calm acceptance of something coming to an end. Life joins this realm wailing its existence to the stars, Life can be a very violent thing.

You will break him beyond repair, you can’t hear the sounds of Eris choking on his blood, the only noise in your head is the dull thumping of a war drum. He fights back with as much power as he can muster, but you’re barely trembling with the effort it takes to hold him there. The sinister in your smile reflects in his shining, terrified eyes. 

How pretty would it be if lilies sprouted from his lungs? 

Someone may be calling your name but you can’t hear anything, the tunnel vision threatening to collapse you entirely. You might not be able to kill him like this but regrowing all of his organs certainly would take some time. Feeling the golden power writhe and wrap around his heart, begging you to let it off its leash and crush, but it’s then that you feel the cooling darkness wrap around your shoulders. Death sweeps his chill gaze over War after rising to his feet. You still hold the line firm, one arm shooting out to block Azriel from any further advancement. The light in your eyes still refuses to dim, but Az wraps a hand around your jaw delicately turning your face toward him. 

“You’ve made your point My Love,” the steady weight of his hand calms the rising heat in your blood. “It’s time to let him go.” Azriel didn’t particularly care if you ripped Eris apart and scattered him to the seas, but he knew the guilt would threaten to drag you into the abyss entirely. The light dims, and you drop your hand. Eris falls to the ground like a puppet dropped from strings, coughing blood like shiny red rubies onto the grass. You’re only looking at Az, the wash of reassurance running over your body as you finally process that he’s whole–that he’s standing. 

He’s alright. 

Death doesn’t deign to even look at War as shadows come around you like dark silk, and you’re back in his realm. He finally sags into your arms as he lets the facade drop, the real pain and exhaustion catching up to him. Az thinks you might call for a medic, but it feels like someone is holding his head underwater. The silk of the sheets feels distant against his skin as your hand strokes his face, and he finally lets his eyes slip closed. 

Azriel sleeps for four days. 

He wakes in your bedroom, your presence absent, but a pitcher of water remains on the bedside table. The armor he’d donned for battle had been stripped from him, replaced by a black chiton that fell loosely around his chest and hips. He chugs half the water in one go as his power reaches out frantically for you, his heart settles when he feels like your golden aura, and he rises to set off looking. 

He finds you beneath an ever-blooming willow tree in Asphodel fields, reading animatedly to a group of children, the golden reeds bellowing in the fresh spring air. They scatter as he leans against the trunk, giggling and laughing as they chase each other into the meadow. You’re overjoyed when you see your husband, throwing his arms around him and crashing his lips to yours. 

“Are you all right?” You mutter, gently pushing back the curtain of black hair that had fallen into his eyes. You’re so delicate with him, Azriel feels his heart skip two beats in his chest. 

“I’m content,” He hums lazily dropping his nose into your hairline, the lingering smell of lilies floods his senses and calms his nerves as it always does. He nudges his nose to your pulse point before biting gently at your fluttering heartbeat. 

“Azriel,” your voice reverberates into his chest, twinning heartbeats thudding together. “You’re still injured.” he continues his exploration of your neck, nipping his displeasure at your attempt to coddle him. Your body shudders as he finds a sensitive point, and you can feel his smug smile at your jugular. 

“Let me worship my Goddess in peace,” he rumbles relishing in the feel of your skin and the golden warmth of the fresh sun. He drops to his knees in the dirt, pressing devotion into the curve of your knee as your back thumps against the bark of the willow. He smirks as flowers bloom around you in time with your bashfulness, red poppies matching the pretty flush on your cheeks. 

“The souls,” You whip your head from side to side as he runs his hands along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilts his head in contemplation, hazel eyes reflecting the warmth like molten gold.

You feel his power ripple around you and a blanket of silence covers the area. Everything goes quiet, no birds chirping or animals running through the surrounding forest, even the rustling of the grass in the wind falls silent under his command. 

“No one will bother us now,” Azriel muses, continuing his travels, you squirm under his attention as he climbs higher and higher. 

“You’ve been asleep for four days,” You barely get the words out as he runs his thumb delicately over the apex of your thighs, enjoying the feel of you under his hands. “You should really eat something,” He growls his frustration as he bites a dark mark on the sensitive skin. 

“I’m trying too, if you would stop interrupting me.” His eyes turn almost black as he focuses his attention on your core again, brushing aside the scrap of silk covering you. Az lets out a guttural moan as your scent floods his senses.  He dives in then, feasting on you like he needs it more than air.

He’s wasted precious time with you since he’s been asleep, winter is caving to the sweet spring, but it seems the cold is listening to his prayers and holding on just a little longer. He licks straight to your center, tasting the honeyed sweetness as it floods his mouth. No matter how many centuries you spend together you are always still so responsive to him, you’re twitching and squirming against the tree just about to tumble over that edge when you yank his head away to pull him to his feet. His eyes are glazed over and your slick is dripping down his chin, you haul his mouth to yours tasting yourself on his tongue. All of a sudden his back is against the tree and you sink to your knees before him, tearing at belt holding up the fabric around his waist.

It seems that you’ve missed him as well. 

You look up at him through batting lashes, and Azriel strokes his hand along your jaw in adoration. You take him in your mouth and Az feels like molten iron has been poured down his spine, white-hot pleasure blinding all of his senses. Death’s knees begin to buckle under Life’s ministrations, the smug look in her eyes adding to the crumbling of his resolve. He has always laid everything he is at your feet, intimacy is no different. You stroke the rest of won’t fit in your mouth in time with the bobbing of your head and he feels weightless. 

Your tongue strokes along a vein on the side of his cock and he explodes almost embarrassingly quickly. It appears that four days had taken more of a toll on him than anticipated. He scoops you into his arms and in a blink you’re in your bedroom. The absurdly large bed stretches across the expanse of the room, the open windows letting in the sun. Azriel tosses you on the cool silk sheets as he stalks on top of you. His lips collide with yours again as he slowly draws one hand up your thigh and draws your underwear down, throwing it somewhere behind him. He thrusts into you in one long motion, and the searing pleasure sends a rumble of power that shakes the very foundation of the palace. 

“Calm Flower,” he whispers as he hits the spot inside of you that threatens to launch you into oblivion. “You’ll bring the walls down around us.” You let out a laugh that bubbles into a moan as he continues his languid drive into you over and over. Eventually, Azriel starts to ram into you as his restraint falters like a splitting thread, toying his fingers over the apex of your thighs with musician’s grace as he bites at your neck. He flips you over at lightning speed, your ass in the air as he drives your further into the mattress, your moans muffling into the pillows as your try to keep up with the relentless tempo. You finally tip over the edge right before Az spills himself inside you, your combined release makes him let out a roar so loud the birds flee from their nests in the trees.

He watches himself spill out of you, thrusting it back inside with two of his fingers.

You whine in overstimulation as he crooks his fingers inside of you, he lets out an amused huff as he gently strokes your shaking thighs. Azriel waves a hand, and you hear the water in the bathtub start to run. You stroke a gentle path through his night-dark hair as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, spring may be coming soon. The time with your husband dwindles to sparse moments in a dying winter fire, but as Az scoops you into his arms to take you to the bath you enjoy every single moment you have left.

[katerinaaqu]

Odysseus Everywhere! (literally! XD) - A small humorous analysis on how Odysseus basically is the protagonist of the entire Epic Cycle

Don't you love it how Odysseus basically lifts on his shoulders the entire Epic Cycle? And I am not even exaggerating! XD

He is the one who came up with the Oath of Tyndareus (literally gave the tools for the start of war without wanting to.

He was responsible to fetch Achilles from Skyros and the one to uncover his disguise.

By etruscan accounts he was the one to lead Iphigenia to the altar for the sacrifice

By some accounts he was the first to lay foot at the beach of Troy (basically again starting the war XD) and dodged the prophecy that the first who lay foot to Troy would die first by throwing his shield on the beach and step on it so Protesilaus (former Iolaus) thought he would die and jumped second, thus becoming the first to actually lay foot on Trojan ground!

He is the one to accompany Menelaus during the negotiations with the elders of Troy trying to get Helen back without war.

He is the one to lead Chriseis back to her father and perform a sacrifice to appease Apollo with him.

He tries to keep the Achaeans in line (well...he also beats up Thersites that no one likes!)

He is part of the embassy that goes to Achilles to beg him to come back and try to negotiate with him

He is present to most battles during the Iliad actively taking part on the field

He and Diomedes are sent as spies to the Trojan side in the night

He is one of the volunteers that are to be chosen to fight Hector

He is the one to take Achilles to Lemnos and Cleanse him for the murder of Thersites when the latter makes fun of Achilles's mourning over dead Penthiselia, noting his crush on her.

On later, post-homeric and roman accounts he is the one to come and go with Philoctetes

He is the one along with Aias to retrieve and protect the body of Achilles

He wins the armor of Achilles and by some greek play writers negotiates the burial of Aias after his suicide.

He and Diomedes bring Philoctetes from Lemnos

He captures Helenus and abstracts the prophecies from them

He brings Neoptolemous from Skyros and gives him his father's armor

He and Diomedes infiltrate the city dressed as beggars and steal the Palladum of Athena

He comes up with the Trojan Horse and with the help of Athena's Epeius makes it

He is of course one of the first choices to be inside the horse

He stops the greeks from blowing their cover by holding their mouths.

He is the first to step out of the horse and scan the perimeter

He is either present or personally responsible for the death of Astyanax/Scamandrius depending on the source

He is the one to bring Polyxena to the tomb of Achilles to be offered to him as his concubine after death

He is the protagonist of the longest and only surviving of the Nostoi, the Odyssey in which he is the sole survivor after a huge arduous trip which includes the blinding of a cyclops, the meeting and facing of two goddesses, a trip to the underworld and many more including being one of the few male SA victims so clearly depicted in ancient literature

Odysseus being one of the few mortals (and probably the only one who is not a demigod directly) to get to hedes while being alive

He kills the suitors that threatened his wife and son with the help of his son and a few loyal servants.

He once more travels according to the prophecy to the mainland Greece to appease Poseidon and creates a temple in his honor.

Like without the slightest trace of exaggeration, Odysseus carries on his back the entire Epic Cycle! He is both the creator of the war indirectly plus the first one to lay foot in the land of Troy, the first to lay foot inside Troy itself not once but TWICE during the raging war and he is the last of the kings to arrive home! Without an exaggeration he starts and finishes the epic cycle if combined with all the sources from around the myths! He is also the character mostly involved in the things no one else would dare to!

He dares to be the first to lay foot on Troy

He is the one usually sent to do what others don't want to such as leading people to sacrifices or the opposite, purifying people (because no one gets their hands fucking dirty but poor Odysseus! Hahaha!)

He personally excecutes his own plans

He is the one to dare and come out first of the horse and the one to hold the others

He is the one sent to be a diplomat

etc.

Dunno about you guys but I think the true length of his contributions and involvement to the events is not talked nearly enough!

[whencyclopedia]

Yamm

Yamm (from the Semitic word yam for 'sea', also known as Yam and Yam-Nahar) was the god of the sea and storm in the pantheon of the Canaanite-Phoenicians. Depicted consistently as tyrannical, angry, violent, and harsh, Yamm was the brother of Mot, the god of death, and is associated with chaos. His story is told in the Ugaritic Baal Cycle.

This association is furthered by his identification with Lotan the Leviathan, the monster who churned the seas. As Yam-Nahar (literally 'sea' and 'river'), he personified the destructive aspects of both. He was the son of El, the supreme god of the Canaanite and Phoenician pantheon, and is also referred to as Prince Yamm and "Beloved of El" in the myths of the region.

He is best known from the Ugaritic poem known as the Baal Cycle, which tells the story of his conflict with the fertility god Baal, his defeat, and Baal's supremacy over chaos and death. The tablets containing the Baal Cycle were unearthed in the excavation of Ugarit (in modern-day Syria) following the ancient city's discovery in 1928. These tablets date to c. 1500 BCE but are thought to have been a written record of a much older story passed down by oral transmission.

The story has often been compared to the Mesopotamian epic of the Enuma Elish, but there are significant differences in that, first of all, the Enuma Elish is a cosmogony (detailing the beginnings of the world/universe) while the Baal Cycle is not, and, secondly, Yamm and Mot in the Baal Cycle are not as neatly defined as villains as Tiamat and Quingu are in the Enuma Elish.

Both stories, however, serve the purpose of explaining the world to an audience. The Enuma Elish details how order rose from chaos and how the visible and invisible worlds came to be established; the Baal Cycle describes those worlds already in operation and explains why events happen as they do. As in all ancient cultures, the gods served to explain the seemingly inexplicable and give reason to events that may seem random or mysterious. Scholars Michael D. Coogan and Mark S. Smith comment:

As a group, the gods and goddesses of the Canaanite pantheon are larger than life. They travel by giant strides – "a thousand fields, ten thousand acres at each step" – and their control over human destiny is absolute. In their personified forms, the deities embody realities beyond human understanding and control: the storms necessary for prosperity and even survival, the powerful drives of sex and violence, the final mystery of death. The gods and goddesses belong to a divine society that mirrors society on earth; for example, both share the patriarchal institution of kingship. The solutions of the problems of that "heavenly city" in their stories gave the Canaanites hope for the future.

(8)

In this, the pantheon of the Canaanites was no different than those of other ancient civilizations, and the stories the people told had the same purpose. The symbols and motifs found in the Baal Cycle are also apparent in other religious works of the Near East, and the story of the struggle between order and chaos is treated in pieces from Mesopotamia through Egypt to Greece and beyond.

An interesting aspect of the Baal Cycle, however, is how Yamm – the supposed villain of the piece along with Mot – is not guilty of usurping power (as in the tale of Set and his murder of the god-king Osiris in Egyptian mythology) nor of triumphing the cause of chaos (as the Titans in their war with Zeus in Greek mythology), but of misusing the power he was given legitimately.

Summary of the Baal Cycle

Baal, son of Dagon, is hopeful he will be chosen by El, chief of the gods, to be king, but El instead gives the crown to his son Prince Yamm. Since El is all-wise and benevolent, it is thought that his choice of Yamm would be in the best interests of all, but once Yamm has power, he becomes a tyrant and forces the other gods to labor for him. The gods cry out to their mother – El's consort, Asherah – who goes to Yamm to intercede for them. She offers him various gifts and favors, but he refuses until she offers him her body. Yamm accepts and Asherah returns to the divine court of El to tell them of the contract.

The other gods in council all seem to agree with Asherah that this is a sound plan, but Baal is disgusted by it and by the other gods who would even think of allowing it. He swears he will kill Yamm and end the tyranny himself. Some of the gods present alert Yamm to Baal's treason, and Yamm sends emissaries to the court of El demanding that Baal be surrendered for punishment.

Baal Cycle Tablets

Mbzt (GNU FDL)

All the other gods bow their heads before the emissaries except for Baal, who defies them and rebukes the other gods for their cowardice. A second set of emissaries is sent by Yamm, again demanding the gods surrender Baal. These messengers show El and the other gods no respect and refuse to participate in even the smallest rites of courtesy. Even so, instead of calling them to account or punishing them, El tells them that he will surrender Baal and that Baal will come before Yamm bearing gifts of gold.

Baal is enraged and moves to attack the emissaries but is held back by his sister Anat (the war goddess) and his consort Astarte (the goddess of love). They tell him that he cannot kill the messengers, for they are only relaying the words of their master and have no say in the matter. Baal relents and spares them but again swears he will not bow to Yamm and will not surrender himself. He cannot defeat Yamm in combat, however, because of Yamm's great strength, but at this point, Kothar-wa-Khasis, god of craftsmanship, the forge, and weapon-making, speaks up.

Kothar tells Baal he will create two clubs for him, Yagrush and Aymur, which will destroy Yamm. Kothar delivers the clubs, and Baal goes to meet Yamm in combat. He swings Yagrush down upon the king, striking him on the shoulders, but Yamm does not fall, and Baal retreats. Kothar tells him to use Aymur now and strike at Yamm's head, between his eyes. Baal does so, and Yamm falls, defeated. Baal drags him back to the council hall, proclaims himself the new king, and then casts Yamm out of the heavens. Yamm returns to his former role as god of the sea.

In the second part of the poem, Mot, the god of death, is offended by Baal and seeks to destroy him. He sends the sea creature Lotan (closely associated with Yamm as either an alter ego or a comrade) to kill Baal, but Baal kills Lotan instead. Mot swears he will not rest until Baal is dead and he, Mot, has eaten him. To escape Mot, Baal pretends he has been killed and goes into hiding. His ruse fools even the other gods and provokes his sister Anat to seek revenge. She kills Mot, but, since he is immortal – like all the gods – he returns to life. At this point, Baal returns from hiding and subdues Mot; though, of course, he cannot kill him. Mot returns to his dark realm and Baal reigns as the king of the gods.

Continue reading...

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

thinking about it it's actually kind of sad that the Moonlight Greatsword in Dark Souls 1 is just like, a dragontail-cut-drop from Seath, given how much lore significance the Moonlight Sword had in King's Field IV...

like sure, given how Dark Souls lore works it could not have been the weapon born of the forest, the combination of the light filtered through the tree leaves and the darkness filtered through the tree roots; and where a sword of sunlight would have simply strengthened the dark -- as more light simply begets more darkness -- the moonlight instead strikes the perfect balance needed to bring about peace

that just wouldn't have fit in with all the themes dark souls deals in, but it could've at least been something that mirrors these concepts, or showcases how in the world of dark souls this logic cannot apply and fails as a result...

but instead it's magic sword easter egg, attach it to the magic dragon, job done.

[sylusmistress]

Run Kitten... Run

Chapter 1: King of the Wanderers

Five days, three hours, forty-five minutes and twenty seconds. That’s how long you’ve been searching through the dense woods outside the N109 Zone looking for the man that has been dubbed as King of the Wanderers. Originally you didn’t have plans to take on this mission, especially since you are still dealing with the grief of losing your childhood friend Caleb and your Grandma Josephine, but Tara insisted that getting out and working in the field would do wonders for your mental state instead of sulking around the office and letting your mind drift off to a dark place. Now after being out in these woods with little to no rations left, a broken tent, and the burning desire to take a five-hour long bath, you have made a mental note to chew Tara out when you return home and to never take her advice ever again. 

“This is fine… this is fine… When I return to Linkon City I’ll take an extravagant bubble bath and then I’ll cook myself a feast meant for a king and eat it all by myself.” In a desperate attempt to keep your sanity from slipping you mumble softly to yourself to keep your mind distracted from how alone you feel out in these woods. The comforting autumn sun is beginning to set and with your tent being on its last leg (literally) you are dreading having to spend another sleepless night outside under the moon and stars. Although you thrive in social settings, you’ve never been much of a social butterfly and under different circumstances you would relish in the idea of being alone with your thoughts and no one to distract you. But after five days of silence besides the occasional monologues you speak out loud to yourself or the shrieking whines of low-level wanderers you’ve slayed, you are in need of communicating with someone or any living creature besides yourself. 

Turning your head to the side you notice the fluttering of black crow wings as they soar through the charming blue sky and land from tree branch to tree branch until it finds a comfortable sitting position. Considering that the file you were given for this mission explicitly stated that this wooden area was desolate besides the presence of wanderers you are somewhat confused about the presence of a crow. But you aren’t someone that is willing to disregard a blessing as you scour the woodland ground in search for any fallen grains or berries you can offer to the nearby bird.

With a handful of unidentifiable berries that could possibly be poisonous if consumed by a human you carefully walk up to the birch tree that looks as if it’s been growing in the same spot for hundreds of years and hold your cupped hands up in the air like an offering to an ancient god. “Psst… Psst… hey there birdie. Would you like a snack? I’m not sure if it’s very tasty but my name is Y/N, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

After your cheerful greeting an uncomfortable silence befalls between you and the black crow that stays silent while eyeing the pitiful offering in your hands before letting out a disgruntled cawk and flying to another tree branch to sit upon. Squinting your eyes at the bird that blatantly disregarded your offering, your irritation grows as you toss the mystery berries down onto the woodland ground and wipe your hands on your pants before turning on your heels to begin your journey once more. “I swear when I get back, I’ll give Tara a piece of my mind… ‘Go on the mission,’ she says… ‘Fresh air will help get you out of this mental funk,’… blah, blah, blah. I feel worse now than when I was at home in my bed.” Another hour of you grumbling to yourself and trekking through the woods passes before you feel the Aether Core in your heart begin to rapidly thump and buzz in your chest. The sensation is unbearable and feels dangerously close to a heart attack as you let out a loud shriek and almost fall into the dry patched woodland ground before steading yourself against a nearby oak tree. 

“W-W-What is happening?” Fear and panic begin settling in as you try to do your best not freak out, but your mind is swirling with different possibilities as to what could be wrong. Quickly you begin undoing the top four buttons of your shirt to expose your sternum as your eyes try to locate what could be causing you immense distress.

“A-Am I wounded?” Narrowing your eyes with circumspectly precaution at your flesh, you ensure you haven’t somehow been struck by an invisible wanderer and when you decide you aren’t dealing with any external damage you try to focus on what you are feeling internally and attempt to give yourself a self-diagnosis. “I wish Zayne was here. He would know how to fix this... whatever it is…” You whine breathlessly to yourself before taking three big deep breaths and settle your beating heart enough to focus on other breathing techniques Zayne previously taught you before departing for your mission.

One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. Three. Inhale. Four. Exhale. Repeatedly you mentally repeat the simple mantra to yourself until you feel your heartbeat return to its normal pace. Peeling your eyes back open, you gently run the tips of your fingers over your exposed flesh and slightly wince when you press down on where your Aether Core resides. It has been years since you’ve experienced such a sharp and distressing ache around your heart, and you begin to theorize that exerting yourself during this mission in combination with losing your loved ones the week before might have been too much for your heart to handle right now.  

Regardless of what you may theorize, your inability to back down from a challenge is one of your biggest strengths as well as your biggest weakness and so far, your track record as a rookie Hunter has been spotless with no failed missions. Ignoring the logical voice screaming at you in the back of your mind to turn back around and schedule an appointment to visit Dr. Zayne, you decide to take one more deep breath before rebuttoning up your shirt and carrying on through the dense woods.  

Unlike the previous night’s trudging through the woods, it seems that luck is finally on your side as you come across a clearing where the trees aren’t as dense, and the shining moon is shining down enough light to let you see your surroundings clearly without a fire. Using your hunter watch to scan for any possible metaflux levels, you determine that even though this area is out in the open it is a relatively safe location before finding a tree stump and plopping down next to it with an fatigued sigh.

Utilizing this moment of peace, you continue using your hunter watch and reread the file that was assigned to you for this assignment. It was previously estimated that it would take around four days to complete the journey and find the King of the Wanderers, but worry is starting to set in. You’ve been out in these woods for five days and the only wanderers you have encountered so far have all been low level cases that barely pose a threat to anyone. Additionally, it states that this land is void of any life besides wanderers and your mind drifts back to the presence of that rude black crow you met earlier. “Something about this whole mission seems off… but I can’t pinpoint what it is…” While replaying the events leading up until now a thought crosses your mind that maybe Jenna made a mistake but you quickly clear that idea from your mind. As leader of the Alpha Team, it is unlikely that someone as competent as Jenna would have made a critical error that could result in you possibly dying a tragic death out in these woods. Right?

Letting out a disgruntled sigh you lean your head back against the tree stump and close your eyes momentarily as you begin thinking deeper about the mission you are currently on. At the moment you are hungry, physically and mentally exhausted, have little to no food rations left, you aren’t sure if you experienced a heart attack earlier and need to meet with Dr. Zayne as soon as possible, your tent is of no use, and above all else you are unable to sleep the night away because every time you drift off to sleep you have flashbacks to the explosion that killed Caleb and Grandma Josephine.

You are a prideful woman, but the longer you allow yourself to weigh the pros and cons of the situation you have been placed in you are beginning to feel yourself give in to defeat just this once. Dragging your hands down your face you wipe away a lone tear that seemed to have escaped your right eye before looking down at your hunter watch and hovering your finger over the communication hub. With just a click of a button you can call for backup and be extracted from this mission in less than twenty minutes. “I tried… I really did try…” With just one… simple... click…

The momentarily feeling of weakness quickly vanishes when you press the button, and nothing happens. Wiping your eyes once more you sit up with your back straightened and your senses now on high alert as you start frantically pressing down to request for backup. The more you press the button the more your hunter watch seems to glitch until it eventually fades out to an unresponsive black screen. “Fuck!” Immediately you remove the watch from your wrist and check to see if the device has died from low battery percentage. Swallowing a nervous lump in your throat when you see that the battery and inner mechanisms of the watch are all working properly. There is technically nothing wrong with the device, but you feel your skin prickling with fear knowing that there must be something or someone nearby interfering with the connection.

Because of your intense hunter training you can momentarily get a grip on your fear and pull out one of your hunter firearms from its holster before standing to your feet and getting into a defensive position. Focusing all your senses on your Evol you attempt to seek out any enemy energy that may be lingering nearby but the moment you do this you feel your heart start rapidly beating once again. Wincing at the pain that building in your chest you decide to stop trying to use your Evol before you unintentionally cause irreparable damage to your heart.

From out of the corner of your eye you spot a looming shadowy figure dressed in a black leather jacket with red and white thorns decorating the material, a black sweater, a pair of black leather pants, boots, and gloves to finish the look. If you weren’t so busy mentally planning what your next move will be, you would have appreciated how put together this mystery man’s monochromatic outfit was. Because it is now close to midnight, the moon that sits high in the sky cascades down a spotlight to show you the man approaching has a build that is larger than life. His messy silver hair flies down over his forehead allowing you to only catch a glimpse of his bright red eyes. Living in Linkon City you’ve come across various types of people with features that could be classified as ‘abnormal’, but you have never met anyone with eyes as red as two twinkling rubies. While taking in his sharp facial features for a split second you swear that you can see his right eye glowing but when you blink it seems your imagination might be playing tricks on you because of how exhausted you are. “Well, well, well… What do we have here? A scared little kitten that seems to have lost her way?”

Tightening the grip on your weapon you hold it out in front of you and glare at the man before you with a vicious intent in your eyes. Despite your stature and appearance, you are a top ranked rookie hunter for a reason and based on the information given about this mission no one should be in these woods besides –  “I am not lost and do not call me ‘kitten’. My name is Y/N, now, who are you and what business do you have out here?”

The man before you simply stares at you with his piercing red eyes before quietly chuckling to himself and in the blink of an eye positions himself in front of you while directing your firearm to point directly at his chest. “It seems that you are scared like a kitten, have claws like a kitten, and dare I say you are as feisty as a kitten. Are you sure I shouldn’t call you kitten?”

All the fear you previously possessed is now replaced with the irritation you felt earlier as you do your best to keep a poker face and not show an ounce of vulnerability in the face of a possible enemy. There was no physical description on what the King of Wanderers would look like but there was a note in the file that stated once you meet him you would know in your heart who you are dealing with. When you initially read the file, you didn’t think that you would physically be able to feel in your heart how dangerous the man standing before you is. “You did not answer my questions, and I am not fond of repeating myself. I am a skilled hunter from Linkon City, and I will ask you once more, who are you and what business do you have all the way out here?”

With an amused smile plastered on his face the stranger standing before you tightly grasps your hand that’s holding onto your firearm and hovers his finger over the same trigger you have your index placed on. Again, your emotions are all over the place as your irritation now migrates to a bottomless pit of confusion. You aren’t sure what kind of man you are dealing with, especially since it seems that he is silently telling you that he feels that you holding a gun to his chest is not at all threatening or even worth acknowledging with words. “When Mephisto told me that you lacked manners I assumed he was exaggerating.” In one swift movement the gun that was held tightly in your hands is effortlessly disarmed and tossed carelessly to the ground as red and black energy tendrils appear out of nowhere and wrap around your wrist, leaving you immobilized and in a state of shock. “I’m sure whatever profile the Hunter Association has on me lists my name as ‘King of the Wanderers’, but I prefer to go by Sylus. As for my business out here, well… This is my domain, Kitten. And you are trespassing.”

The moment the words ‘my domain’ and ‘trespassing’ leaves from his lips to your ears you feel your mouth go dry and your head starts to feel light headed. Something about all this still isn’t adding up to you and you let out a soft groan when you feel the red and black tendrils tighten uncomfortably around your wrist. “Your domain?… L-Let me go!” Wiggling around to free yourself from the energy bondage you feel another batch of tendrils wrap around your neck and your ankles, forcing you to stay completely still. “I-I said l-l-let me go! Y-you are under arrest, and I need to bring you in for questioning –”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears as Sylus stares at you with an unreadable expression and tightens the hold on your body once more. Not enough to kill you but the tightness is enough to leave a bruise in the morning... if you make it until the morning. Closing the distance between the two of you the air becomes thick enough to cut through and you watch as his face momentarily contorts to one of displeasure before returning to his stoic expression. For the second time tonight, it appears that his right eye is glowing but the intensity of it this time around is a lot more obvious, and you are sure that you aren’t just seeing things because of your exhaustion or the current predicament you find yourself in.

The longer you are wrapped in his energy manipulation Evol and stare at his glowing right eye the more you begin to feel the Aether Core in your heart causing you agonizing pain in your chest. Compared to earlier, this pain in your torso is enough to bring tears to your eyes and you feel as if you just want to claw your heart out to rid your body of this insufferable pain.

With a curious expression Sylus tilts his head to the side and watches countless tears fall from your eyes. Because he has total control of his Evol he is one hundred percent sure he isn’t squeezing you tight enough to bring tears to your eyes and wonders why you are crying, but the moment you begin screaming loudly in pain a sudden surge of discomfort can be felt in his glowing right eye. “What the fu–” Blinking rapidly Sylus momentarily loses focus and almost drops your body down onto the woodland ground before refocusing his concentration and holding you within his energy tendrils again.

“It seems this little kitten is hiding a secret,” This time instead of holding your body tightly, Sylus ensures that his tendrils feel like a gentle caress against your skin. There is something familiar and comforting about being wrapped in his Evol energy, but you can’t place your finger on what exactly is so familiar about this. Nonetheless, you don’t have time to mentally shift through the varying theories in your mind as you start to feel yourself slip into a state of unconsciousness while your heart continuously beats as if it is going to burst out of your torso.

One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. Three. Fuck. FUCK! Cursing to yourself internally you attempt to use the methods from earlier to calm your heart back down but no matter how hard you try your heart insists on beating faster and faster. The pain at this point is too much to handle and you can no longer keep your body from drifting to a place of unconsciousness as your eyes grow heavy and your throat finally begins to feel the effects from all your blood-curdling screams.

Throughout your whole ordeal Sylus keeps his eyes on you until you are silent and breathing heavily while in a state of oblivion. Just like you, he feels there is a familiar energy about you that he is unable to pinpoint, and he wants to know the answer. He needs to know why the longer he stares at you and the longer he embraces you in his Evol you feel like… home?  

While in a temporary coma, his eyes drift from your face and down your body until they land on your covered sternum He is tempted to reach out to touch the covered area when the sound of his two minions breaks him from his trance. Staring up at Luke and Kieran, Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a disgruntled breath already mentally preparing for whatever nonsense the duo is going to put him through.

“Sorry we are late boss! Mephisto led us down the wrong path!” Luke pauses his explanation for him and his twin’s tardiness as he looks down at your body that’s comfortably laying in a tangled web of Sylus’ black and red tendrils. “Ooooo! Is this the pretty lady that useless bird told you about?”

Ignoring Lukes inquiry, Sylus looks down at you once more before lowering you down onto the woodland ground and glaring at the bubbling duo with a stern expression. “Make yourselves useful for once and carry her back to the base.”

Behind his crow mask Luke squints his eyes and places his hands on his hips. “But Boss… aren’t you the one with super cool powers?”

After tonight’s events Sylus can feel his patience growing thinner and thinner by the second and the last thing he wants to deal with are his two minions that often need to be threatened from time to time to complete simple tasks. “If either of you value your lives you will do as I say and bring this kitten back to the base.” Without another word he cast one last look at your sleeping form and one more lethal glare at Luke and Kieran before disappearing into the darkness.

“Boss sure is in a grumpy mood tonight. Oh well, come along kitty.”

“Luke, she’s not an actual kitten. And be quiet before you wake her up.”

“But look at her and how cute she is while she sleeps. Just like a kitty cat… I want to pet her.”

“Luke!”

Luke giggles as he gently picks you up and places you over his shoulder like a delicate sack of potatoes before looking over at his frustrated twin. Even though they both wear masks that conceal their faces and emotions, Luke can tell that Kieran is rolling his eyes at him while Kieran can tell that Luke has a silly grin plastered on his face. “Okayyyyyyyyy. Back home we gooooooo.” 

[panda-pal]

King's Field IV (2001) Developed by FromSoftware

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne,   Jan 15, 2014

Thank the gods you’re okay! I was so worried! When you didn’t answer, I assumed the worst, and then I saw the news and I freaked out! Seeing as you didn’t mention anything about accepting my help, I’m going to assume you don’t need it right now. The offer will remain open, however.

A lot has happened since my last letter, though you’ll forgive me for not going into detail. It’s gonna be a pain to get this to you at all, let alone if it had been filled with everything I want to say. What I can and will tell you is that my town has been put under a soft lock-in and a Media Blackout. Things and people and news can come in, but almost nothing and no one can go out. Everything is screened before it’s even considered for being able to leave the city lines. Something is here that the government doesn't want to get out to the general public. It took a lot to be able to even get this out, hence the huge amount of time between me writing it and you getting it.

I’ll keep the line open, but it might take a while for my responses to get to you.

Ancients, I hope you can come visit soon. If you need an excuse, we’ve got the only female purple-back gorilla in town! Her name’s Delilah. I can teach you how to communicate with her if you’d like!

Anyway, I gotta go.

من الجيد أن أسمع منك يا أخي.

Danyal

***

Danny was tired. He was ready to sleep for a week. He doesn’t care that he’s not gonna be allowed to because he’s gonna do it anyway. After beating Pariah Dark, Danny had laid on the floor for a solid hour before moving. When he finally got up, he moved the crown and ring to sit on the cushion of the throne. The orb he kept with him. He was gentle with it, careful to not hole it too tightly or too lightly. Then, he flew back to where Amity Park was floating.

“Where were you!” Sam demanded the second he landed in her room.

“Finding a way out of the Zone,” he said.

“And?” Tucker prompted, “Do we have a way home?”

Danny paused and then groaned. “Noooo.”

Sam inhaled deeply, frustration dripping from her voice like honey. “Then what took you so long to come back?”

Tucker finally looked up from his PDA and then startled. “Dude! You’re hurt! What the hell?”

“What?!” Sam screamed.

Danny looked down at himself. “Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

“Dude!”

“Okay, okay! So, you know that really scary Ghost King guy that Vlad decided to wake up because he’s a piss-baby who wants power?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” he looked away from them and then held up his right hand, showing them the fire orb in his hand. “This is maybe kinda all that’s left of him.”

“Danny!” They both jumped away from him. “Did you bring the fucking Ghost King into my house?!”

“I wasn’t just- I couldn’t- Leaving it where it was seemed like a bad idea!”

“So you brought it with you!”

“Yes! It seemed like a better idea than leaving him where anyone could pick him up!”

Tucker calmed himself in the corner, taking large breaths. Sam closed her eyes where she stood, doing the same thing. After a few seconds she said, “Get that thing out of my house. Then, find out a way to get us back home-”

“Technically we are home…”

“-to Earth. When you’ve done that and the sky is blue and I can see fields on the horizon, then you may come back into my house. Okay?”

He backed towards the window. “I guess this is a horrible time to mention that I don’t know a single ghost that can help me?”

“Out!”

“Okay, bye!” He was quick to leave, flying away as Phantom, the fire orb still in his hand, though now he cradled it to his chest. He was stopped a few times by his classmates, trusting Phantom more than the ghost hunters. Anytime they’d ask him what was happening, he’d tell them that he had everything under control and that he was going to get them all back to their home dimension soon.

He didn’t tell them that he was freaking out. He didn’t tell them that they’d been there for six days now because he and Vlad are the only two in Amity Park who can keep track of time in the Realms. He didn’t tell them that he was working alone because the government decided to cut off all access to help. He didn’t tell them that no one even knew they were missing because of the same government. He didn’t tell them a lot of things. 

He’d learned, from watching other heroes in the world, that smiles and reassurances were the only things to keep people calm sometimes. So, that’s what he did. He kept the freakouts internal, and smiled at his classmates as they asked him to tell them it would be okay.

He flew over the edge of the island that was now taking the space of the Amity Portal. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was hoping that he’d be able to find someone that would help him as long as he picked a direction and flew.

It took an entire day, but he found someone who could help. Probably. The island was purple, just like all of them, and the only building on it was a dark clocktower. It looked like a grandfather clock, a balcony wrapped around the building just under the clock face. There were cogs floating in the space above and around it, as well as implemented into the building itself.

He dropped his flight, landing on the ground a ways from the door. “Ḵ̴͓̈́͌̔ạ̶̍s̵̥̤͠ ̴̤̽̓͛m̵̹̠̈́̂̍å̸̢͎̜̎ ̸̫́v̶͖͙̍̀̚õ̸̠͔̀i̴̍̕͜n̸͉̪͊̾̓ ̷̝̻͊̚̚t̷̬̩͝͝ú̷͔̟͖l̵̗̖͗͛̎l̸̻̫̂̀̕á̸̜͔̥?” he asked. The door under the glass pendulum window opened. He took that as an invitation and walked forward.

Inside the body of the clocktower was plain, a stone staircase winding up behind the ticking pendulum. He walked up every step, the fiery orb cradled in both hands against his chest. It was really warm.

There was no trap door or hatch at the top of the stairs. Instead, it opened up into the room behind the clock face. The wall opposite the clock face was covered in screens with orbs floating around, each one showing different faces and events and times. There was a small seating area right next to the giant window; that’s where he found his host.

“T̴̡̫́͊͝͠ē̸̞̱͑͊̃͝r̷̩͛͒͠e̶͉̠̪̎̔͂́̅ ̴͚̤͓̬̲͊͒̔̽t̵̢͉̗̺̲̑̌̅̚u̸̬̔͌͆ḻ̷̛̫͍̜́e̵̖̰͕̰̪͝m̷̳͎̘̮̞͝͠a̶͖̬͉̤͉̒̀̋s̸͖̱͓̪̪̈́́t̷̖̿̓͊,̸̢͙̮͊̾ ̷̡̲̱͖̲͑͆̔̕ń̴̠̪̈́̊̒̃ó̸̡̺̞͕͍́̽̀͆ō̵̦̅̔r̶̠̉͆̕ ̵̞̟̣̇̈̆ḱ̴̢͕͔͈̇͛͂͋u̵̫̲̎̀̀̽ͅǹ̵̢͖͚̜ͅį̴̠͖̠̪͗̒̓̅ǹ̸̝͒͊͠g̸͎̖̗͎̈́̃ả̸̮͉̱̀́̌̉s̷̡̞̼̃̿̏͂͊.” the ghost said. They were covered by a dark purple hooded cloak, a lighter purple tunic and pants underneath. Their skin was a light teal and their eyes were bright red. A black metal cog held the cloak on their shoulder, a glass door showed black clock and a pendulum in their chest. Floating upright beside them was a black metal staff, a mint green eye-like orb resting between the three prongs on the top. “My name is A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓, but you may call me Clockwork.”

Danny bowed a little in greeting, the ghost’s very gaze pouring an intense pressure on him. “Greetings, Clockwork. My name is D̷̨̨̤̥̤́̈́͘è̷̲̟͗͒̾ë̶̩̥̪́́͠m̷͎̿̀̎ͅö̸͍̤̫̥͕́͂̓n̷̤̰̆͑͂̊ḯ̵̮̰͝ ̷̦̜̪̬̿͂̓͒̚l̶͓̬̣͚͈̉ȃ̵̰̭̮͈͐̿p̸͔̝̓̈͗̋ş̶̥̦̥͍̽͑͒̊, but you may call me Danyal.”

Clockwork nodded in return, motioning to the seats around him. “Please, join me.”

“Thank you,” Honestly, Danny had no idea where these manners were coming from, but they were here now and they seemed to be the right things to be doing and saying because he had yet to be attacked. And even when he’d gone to Pariah with the intent of a fight, they had a cordial conversation beforehand.

“There is a town from a Living Realm trapped in the In-Between Realm.” Clockwork said after Danny had sat down. “You seek a way to return them.”

Danny nodded. “Yes.”

“You walk a fine line, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤͐͗͝.” Clockwork said. “The line between the Living and Dead is a thin one, and yet you walk with perfect balance.”

A million questions were going through Danny’s head too fast for him to fully register them. He asked, “Do you know what I am?”

The older ghost nodded. “You are P̷̺̞͆̓̇ö̵̯́̄̃̃õ̶̮͕̭l̷͕̪͉̮͚͆̽͆e̶̡̢͔̝̽̈͗̑l̸̢̖̗͇̐̿̕d̶̠̻̬̂̉̓̑̕ĭ̵̝̻͋̈ ̶̳̩̯̠͋̂̈́e̵̢̳̬̖̍͠l̴͓̼͒̄u̷̢̲͖̞̦̒̎̂s̷͙̪̘͊͒͆,̶̲͕͓͌̚̚ ̵̙̩͍͊p̶̫̼̪̝͑͘o̷̭̼̰̚o̸̖̭͓͚̲̽̓̅̏̕l̸͍͙̀̑̉ȩ̴̡̣͔̃̄͋l̶̟̫̭͗̌̊d̵̛̻i̴̺͈͉̔̂͘ ̷̜̯̣̙̍̅̇ș̷̌̂͝͠ư̴̰̿r̸̡̹͚̣͑ͅn̵̙͖̅̐̅ú̴͈͛̃͑́ͅḍ̶̖̱̍; T̸̬͒̆̎̈́͠õ̷̡̰̝͖̂̐e̴͙̊ͅl̸̥̥̹͚̩̥͊̄̀̔̈́͠i̴̟̜͖͔͓̦̔n̵̢͖͓͌͂ḛ̵̡̼͍̏̒͊̂͜͝ ̸͍̱͋̑͗ẗ̴̺â̵̧̞̰̣̰̬̝̊͌͊̆́s̷̤͍̱̜͙̑͒å̸͚͔̩̇̎͆͝k̴̲̅ä̶͕́̈́͂̎̂̏a̷̠͋́̌͊͊̓͝ļ̶̯̤̍.”

“What does that mean?” he wondered.

They shook their head. “You will understand in time.”

Danny was quick to concede the point. “Can you help me return Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ to where we belong?”

“I cannot,” was the answer, “But I can tell you how to do it.”

Danny hesitated for no more than a moment before nodding. “Your help would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

Clockwork smiled. “No need to be so formal anymore, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝. You are welcome in Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ whenever you seek it.” The whole building was filled with the chime of a clock striking midnight. “To take s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to the Realm in which it belongs, you must use Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿ to open a portal. However, once you put it on, you will be announcing your claim to T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾.”

“Wait,” Danny said, worry seeping into his tone and expression, “T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾? I don’t want to be King! I just- I wanna be me.”

“And you will be, but you must first make your decision. You told T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒ that you fight to protect, so now you must choose to protect. Claim T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾ and get s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to where it belongs, or refuse and keep s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ here between the L̷͔͕͔̂̿̆̾͠õ̸̭̙̮̭̽ͅp̸͚̲͍̐̚ͅư̶̐̍ͅt̷̡̰̙̚u̷͚̖͖̐̀̿́͝ḑ̷̟̲͔̭͗́̀ ̷̘̟̦́̾̒̑̕k̸͚̃ứ̵͕̘̥̩̾̓͑n̸̘̹̗̗͙̂͂̓͗͝i̷̳͕̝͂̓n̴̪̈́̇̌g̶̩͈̺̟͖̀̐̽͒̈ŕ̶̛̜͔͠ì̸̯̈i̸̠͎̳̳̓͠g̷̪̲̈́̽̐̌̄ì̸̮͌͒̌d̶͉̻̭̀̓͑.”

“That’s hardly a choice,” Danny said. Clockwork shrugged. “How do I use the  Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿?”

Clockwork’s smile hadn’t dropped at all during the conversation, but it did seem like they had only just started smiling. “You will know when you put it on.”

“Oh.” He remembered the little ball of fire in his hands. “When I beat T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒,” he held the small orb in from of him, “he disappeared and left this behind. What is it?”

There was a twinkle in Clockwork’s pupiless eyes. “That is the very essence of his being; his T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽. To T̵̨̉̈́̉͝a̴̗͉̪̐̾́̃ͅp̷̫̔̆̉a̴̗͉͛̈́̒͘͠ a ghost, you must End them by crushing or eating their T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽.

“What?” Danny freaked out, “I don’t want to End him!”

“Then keep that with you at all times.”

“What’ll- What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“It would be within your best interest to keep T̷̢̥̟̈̎̀͆͝ÿ̴̪̍́͌r̷̯͍̹̔̎͠͠ȃ̶̮n̸̦̪̜̓́̽͑d̶͔͚̿͗́͘ȋ̸̢̪͉̕ ̵̩̎͐̒k̵̥̬͐̌u̷̢̎n̵̻̾̊i̶̧͖̳̅̽ņ̷̞̫̹̀̿̔̈͘ͅg̶͖̻̈̋̎͌͜͜͝a̵͔̱͍̺̓͝ ̵̰̲̤̈́̏̏t̸̺̫͙͐̽̔͐̎ú̵͖̗̪̠͊ụ̸̥̖̈̀̆̚̕m̷͇͕̮͖͑̀͝ with you at all times.”

Danny gulped and nodded, standing from his place. “Thank you for helping me, A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓”

“It was my pleasure, K̸̡̧͕̇̑́̐̚͝o̸̧̰͕̯̿̐͠s̶͔͇͇̱̲͔̩̓̽͗̀͊̈m̶͉͇̟͆̄͆͆̈̉͘͝o̶̹̬̤̟̥̣̅͒́̇̇̆s̴̗͇̰̫͆͑e̴̪͕̲̪͎͓̾̚m̶̢͈̰̳̙̻̜̩̱̀̒ẹ̵̖̟͔́̃̒͑i̸̭̩̙͉̮͚̻̰̰̇̎̈́͊͘͠s̸̛̛͚̤̳̭͋̊́͒̔́̚̕t̴͍̮̱͈̹̞͊̋͂ḛ̸̢͙̺̼͍̬̙͍̣̽̎̊͘̚r̵̤̜̲̱̦̕.”

Danny left through the clock face, flying back towards Pariah’s Keep. It had been just under a day since he’d been there. Amity Park had been in the Infinite Realms for seven days now. Any attention drawn by them disappearing for a week could either be really good or really bad. Regardless, they’d all find out about their lost time as soon as they got back to their Living Realm and Danny was not looking forward to that.

He arrived at the Keep much as he had earlier. Though, instead of walking up the steps, he flew straight into the throne room. It was just as he’d left it. Before he went to the dais, he tried to calm his nerves by picking up the weapons from his battle. The daggers were re-hidden, the rapier re-sheathed. He picked up Pariah’s long sword and strapped it to his back, just under his tanto using the two halves of the former King’s cape.

With a deep breath, Danny finally approached the Throne, Crown, and Ring. He touched only the Ring, fearing what might happen if he even breathed on the other two, and slipped it onto the middle finger on his left hand. He felt a pulse of fury rush through him before it settled deep in his gut. The Ring itself changed from a simple black band to an obsidian ring encrusted with ice. It wasn’t cold on his finger, and was hardly noticeable.

Once again, he flew back to where Amity Park had been dropped. Once he was floating over the town, he reached for the power inside the Ring. It came easily to him, as though he knew exactly what he needed to do. He lifted his left hand, ripping it down in a quick motion. The green and black sky ripped open, blue calling the attention of everyone in Amity Park. He ignored them, pulling the rip bigger and bigger before pushing it down onto the town. He ignored the screams as the rip engulfed them. Then, once the last of the purple island was through, he zipped the rip up. In its place was the reactivated Fenton Portal. He used it to go home.

No one was in the lab when he got there, but he turned invisible anyway, making his way to his room to put Pariah Dark’s Core somewhere safe until he could get something to turn it into a necklace or something. He texted Sam and Tucker, telling them he was fine and that he was going to sleep before he texted Jazz the same thing. He told all three of them to wake him next week.

*

Danny woke up the next day because his parents had invited the G.I.W. over to study the Portal. He groaned and flipped over, shoving the pillow over his face. When that didn’t work, he sighed and got up. May as well be productive if he couldn’t sleep, right?

He was still so tired.

Sluggishly, he dragged himself around his room to get ready for the day. Then, with the fire orb that was the former Ghost King in his hand, he left his room and knocked on Jazz’s door. She answered immediately.

“I thought you were gonna sleep for a week?” Her answer was an explosion in the lab. She winced. “Right. What did you need?”

“Do you have-” He yawned. “Do you have, like, a chain or something? I gotta turn this into a necklace.”

She looked at the orb in his hand, slightly larger than a marble and seemingly made of fire. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not until I’m awake enough to explain.”

“Riight.” She turned and nodded for him to come in. “Let me check real quick, but I can’t promise I have something.”

“That’s-” He yawned again. “That’s okay.” He sat down on the armchair in the corner of her room, pulling the light pink throw blanket on the back on himself. It was really soft. His eyes drooped.

There was some shuffling for a few minutes, the quiet noise lulling Danny further to sleep. He startled when she shouted, “Here it is!” She turned to him, holding up two chains, one thrice as long as the other. “This should work- Danny? Are you asleep?”

He rubbed his eyes. “No.”

She smiled softly. “Why are you so tired?”

“No reason.”

“I’m sure,” she hummed. “Let me see that, okay? I’ll make a necklace for you real fast.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

Again, the quiet noise of Jazz working started to lull Danny back to sleep. He shifted to get comfortable, closing his eyes for a minute. A minute that turned into a day and a half.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jazz snarked when he left her room to eat breakfast.

He yawned, much more awake than before. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about crashing in your room.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off, “I crashed in yours, so we’re even.”

He reached up and touched the fire orb amulet that was now resting against his chest, fiddling with it as he watched Jazz make pancakes. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, “Just a let-” He froze. “The letter!” Quickly, he flew up the stairs and into his room. On the desk was the sealed envelope he’d meant to send when he got home the day Amity Park was pulled into the Infinite Realms. He found his way back down stairs, not stopping by the kitchen before going outside to have it delivered. He stopped short, however, when he registered where he was.

This was definitely Amity Park, and they were definitely back in their Realm, but everything had a strange tint to it. He didn’t think anyone noticed, though. The sky was slightly more green than blue, same with the sun and clouds, and it was slightly dimmer and colors were more vibrant, like during a solar eclipse. The ground and buildings all had a slight purple tint that made the shadows darker. Every plant, animal, insect, and person he saw had a barely-there glow to them.

He stumbled. What the hell? Was this a consequence of being in the In-Between Realm for so long? What did this mean for the people and animals living here? What did this mean for him?

“Are you alright, D?” Jazz asked from the door behind him. She must not see it, then.

“Um, yeah, just, um…Forgot my glasses.”

“Tsk. You need to get better at remembering them, Danny.”

“I know, I’m just…still not used to them!”

“It’s been a year.”

“It’s actually only been three months since I got them.”

“Just go mail your letter. Breakfast will be done soon.”

He waved behind him, going to stand in front of the mailbox. He was quick to put the letter in and close the door, flipping the little red flag up. He hesitated before going back into the house, though. He shook his head and moved before he could chicken out. Damian had reached out after two years and Danny wasn’t about to make him wait that long for a response. It would be childish.

The anticipation of waiting for a response was bubbling up in his stomach again. It was just like when he’d sent that first letter. This time, though, he knew he’d get a reply.

*

Damian was worried. He’d sent Danyal a response, but he’d yet to get anything back. He couldn’t blame his little brother, though. After all, he’d waited two years before finally answering. He wouldn’t fault him for not even opening the thing. However, he did worry if something had happened. When he’d looked up Amity Park again, he found that the whole town was on lockdown; Nothing was going in and nothing was coming out. That was lifted a day ago, though, and there was still no response.

His Father and his siblings all remained none the wiser to his communications. At least, he liked to believe that. Father was aware of Danyal, but he doesn’t know that he and Damian are - were? - in contact with one another. He would like to keep it that way.

He wanted to go visit Danyal soon, or maybe have him come to Gotham. There was so much to tell him, but only so much room on some paper. He wanted to know things, too! Ask questions and get more than a few words for an answer. He wanted to be able to see his brother’s face for the first time since they were six years old.

But he might’ve fucked it all up because he was a coward.

There was a Media Block on Amity Park, Illinois. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but it was glaringly in the face of anyone looking into the town. He hadn’t managed to get much before he was found and kicked from the servers, but he did find news on two hero-like figures in the town; one of which was being debated as a hero or a villain. Damian thought it should be obvious if someone is a hero or a villain, but that’s just him and the rest of the world’s opinion versus this tiny little city in the middle of nowhere.

Father had caught onto his distracted state of mind and threatened to bench him if he couldn’t pull himself together. He tried, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering back to Danyal and how he was doing.

He refused to answer anyone when they inquired about why he kept spacing out. He knew it wasn’t like him, but there was a lot on his mind at the moment!

The very next day, a letter from Danyal arrived for him. Like the last one, this one had no return address, but he recognised the handwriting. His family - minus Alfred - were all suspicious of the letter because of the lack of information on the front, but Damian batted them all away and took the letter to his room, locking himself inside.

As soon as he finished reading it, he got a piece of paper and wrote out a reply. He was not going to make his brother wait any longer than he already had to.

Was Danyal this anxious about getting letters from him? He hoped so.

***

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 26, 2014

I am fine, as are all of the others. Thank you for your concern. Though, are you alright? I found the Media Block when I tried to access any information from inside Amity Park.

Your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated. Does it matter what I ask for? If not, then I have an idea that would require me to call upon you. If you are willing, that is. My family, though I am glad everyone is back together and tolerating each other, are stifling. Especially since I have taken up the Robin Mantle.

The Media Block is very concerning. What is the government hiding and why does it require them to soft-lock the town? Would you like me to contact the Justice League? This is something they will be able to help with.

I would be beyond delighted to come meet Delilah. If you are willing to teach me how to communicate with her, I am willing to learn. عسى أن تقود النجوم مسارك دائمًا. Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic: Good to hear from you, brother

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo - May I come in?

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Greetings, young King �� Master of Time

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Demon

Translation 5 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Half Living, Half Dead; A True Balance

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: My home

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars … My home … your home … Ring of Rage … The Throne

Translation 9 - Estonian & Zalgo: The Throne

Translation 10 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King … The throne … your home … your home … Infinite Realms … Ring of Rage

Translation 11 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Translation 12 - Estonian & Zalgo: Core … Kill … Core

Translation 13 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King’s Core

Translation 14 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Time

Translation 15 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Space

Translation 16 - Arabic: May the stars always lead your course.

Part 9 Storyboard

[noir-renard]

My second submission for Haunting Heroes' Guess That Artist game. This is my "if DPxDC were BotW while not, in fact, being a zelda game, exactly".

Here are a couple of other outfits:

The Atlanteans aren't exactly the Zora, but they're not not the Zora.

Danny in full Yeti gear with a shield he found in a field and an ice blade from the Yetis.

World building details beneath the cut

Details are in bullet points because I'm still working on various details

Maddie and Jack are Ancient Sheikah tech researchers (more like Jerrin than Purah or Robbie; they aren't Sheikah themselves, but Vlad is)

The shrines are portals/rifts to the Spirit Realm; every region has a few but they went inactive a while back (but recently became active again while still locked)

They became inactive because a demon king is sealed in the Spirit Realm; supposedly, heroes guarding the rifts disappeared to close the portal form the other side, locking themselves in the Spirit Realm with no way back

How to open the portals is a closely guarded secret and no one knows how to do it anymore exactly, but they know it involves ceremonial garments

Danny figures out how to open the one his parents are researching by accident and stumbles into the Spirit Realm

The general plot revolves around going back and forth between the Mortal Realm and the Spirit Realm, finding heroes of yore and the heroes who stepped up to replace them and figuring out how to stop the demon king from returning

Demon King is Pariah, BTW, and the ones trying to revive him are the League of Assassins

Gotham is a city in the Spirit Realm

This is gonna be a demon twins au

The Fentons live close to the Lost Woods/kokiri forest; they found Danny sitting on the shrine just outside the woods because "he was too old to stay with the kokiri anymore". They said "it's free baby" and took him in. He doesn't remember much from that time

Only someone born in the spirit realm can open the rifts. Danny finds out the fun way that he was born there (mid game boss fight ig)

Part of the game play revolves around catching ghosts and returning them to the Spirit Realm...but you can also release them during fights or puzzle solving or adventuring to produce certain effects

Basically, you work with the teen titans/young justice/etc in the Mortal realm and you work with the justice league in the spirit realm, but you also have to catch ghosts, and most importantly of all, collect outfits

Idk what the conclusion is but I'll probably write this someday

This au is inspired by botw, totk, oot, tp, mm, and other Zelda stories, but it's really a LoZ flavored story and not a LoZ crossover, so I'm not sure there's going to be a Zelda or a Link or a Ganon

I'll add more to this someday but I'll call the au Heroes of the Realm au if you want to find the tag later

[pooepw]

you literally cannot get this game anymore btw

[marshmellin]

✨ Star and Stone or, The Fall of King Gil-galad

Elaniel, a stonemason fleeing the fall of Eregion, makes her way to Lindon. When she meets Gil-galad, something unexpected occurs. Amid the chaos of preparing for a war against Sauron, their growing love is tested by the weight of duty: his to lead armies into peril, hers to rebuild what darkness has destroyed. The pull of two fëa is strong for the Eldar. But is duty stronger?

-> COMPLETE! 70K words; F FOR FIX IT: Explicit for rare smut (🔥) between consenting partners. All other content is Mature for language and canon-typical descriptions of angst/violence. Gil-galad x female OC Sindarin elf, Occurs between the Fall of Ost-in-Edhel in Eregion and the Battle of the Last Alliance. Contains references to other Tolkien lore and the Silmarillion with author notes for full explanations.

Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I try to be as canon-compliant as possible except for the whole 'keeping Gil-galad alive part.' No beta, we die like Mirdania.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile. Chapter list under the cut. We made it! This is the concluding chapter of their story....for now. 👀

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

You Are Here -> Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

// Star and Stone or, The Fall of King Gil-galad

The Fall of King Gil-galad Gil-galad was an elven-king. Of him the harpers sadly sing; the last whose realm was fair and free between the Mountains and the Sea. His sword was long, his lance was keen. His shining helm afar was seen; the countless stars of heaven's field were mirrored in his silver shield. But long ago he rode away, and where he dwelleth none can say; for into darkness fell his star in Mordor where the shadows are

//

For days, survivors trickled westward along narrow paths toward Lindon, carrying few possessions but heavily burdened by the memories of what they had seen. Of who they had lost. 

Soldiers from Lindon supplied waypoints to help protect the survivors from straggling orc groups, with mounted soldiers ferrying civilians between waypoints from Ost-in-Edhil. Gil-galad’s scouts had reported the arrival of each new group, describing not only weariness but a grim determination in their eyes, a will to endure that hadn’t been crushed by the growing darkness.

The elves of Eregion were strong.

//

The road was long, winding through the remnants of ancient forests. Elaniel trudged along the rough path, flanked by the silent company of her fellow survivors. It had been days since they fled the city’s shattered walls, and the journey to Lindon was slow. She was with one of the last groups of survivors on the trail — an assortment of warriors, tradespeople, and elflings without their parents. 

Two handfuls of us at most. This week has made many orphans.

They stopped at the next the rough outpost built of half-finished wooden barricades, lashed together quickly and supplied with the barest essentials. There were no formal fortifications or armaments here, just hastily constructed barriers and watchfires burning low. This place had no room for rest, only vigilance. Around her, other survivors from Eregion huddled near the fires, speaking in hushed tones.

She watched as a small group of Lindon’s soldiers gathered around the central fire, speaking in low murmurs. Their faces were steady, their voices calm. 

Are they calm because they are so familiar with the horrors of war? 

Or are they calm because they are not?

Her gaze lingered on one of the warriors—a tall, lean elf with silvered hair braided down his back. There was a steady rhythm in his movements as he collected bundles of lembas bread to hand out at the campfires. His smile was soft as he came to the orphaned younglings, giving them a few sweets to share in addition to the bread. 

Elaniel felt a pang at the look of compassion on his face. She waited for feelings to flood her, but none came. 

Standing in silence, she watched the fires flicker in the clearing, the light casting warm shadows across the faces of her fellow refugees. 

They were strong. They would rebuild.

//

Twilight settled over the sky. Elaniel reached a rise in the path and paused to take in the scenery around her. In better times, she might have found beauty in the rugged landscape, the mossy rocks, the towering oaks and golden aspens reaching high into the sky. The wind bit at her cheeks and she pulled her cloak up tighter against the chill, wisps of hair peeking out of her hood. They would make the city by nightfall.

Lindon was the elven kingdom furthest west in Middle Earth. It clung to a strip of land between the mountains and the sea, the rebuilt remnants of a near-fallen kingdom. 

This realm would be her new home. For now. 

She kept moving.

As their small band approached the end of the trail, the city gates opened, revealing stone walls that curved gracefully into archways and towers, glimmering like silver branches in the dusk. Her eyes lingered on the architecture, the skill of the stonework. She reached out to touch a foundation wall as she walked by, feeling the solid rock beneath her hand.

She was a stonemason with centuries of experience in her craft, but Lindon’s walls were unlike anything she had seen in all of Eregion or even Khazad-dûm. The skill in the curves, the way the stone flowed as if the walls grew from the earth itself. The old masons of Lindon leveraged the beauty of natural stone to craft protective walls. The masons of Eregion sought to tame the woods and rock around them. 

The thought stirred something in her, a memory of Eregion’s walls and those who had fallen to defend them. Now was not the time to mourn. She would have an Age to weep.

Or I will weep for an Age, she thought. Or perhaps both.

As the group entered the city, they were guided to a large courtyard where guards moved through the crowd, offering food, blankets, and kind words to each group. The survivors clustered together, many calling across the courtyard, begging for information of their families and friends who may have already arrived — and of those who had not. 

A ripple passed through the crowd, and Elaniel glanced up, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. At the head of the courtyard, a broad figure stood, wearing an unadorned, simple gray-blue and golden robe – if “simple” and “golden” were terms that could be used together. A circlet of gold leaves added to his already imposing height. 

Ah. This must be our welcome committee, then. High King, it looks like, unless everyone in this realm wears golden crowns. Wouldn't surprise me if they did. 

Annoyance twitched through her. She wanted to see a hot meal and a clean bed, not a politician offering platitudes. 

“Elves of Eregion,” he began, his rich baritone carrying across the courtyard. His tone was soft, yet he commanded a respect that quieted the crowd. “I welcome you all to Lindon, and invite you to stay with us as if this were your own home. You are safe within our borders, and your lives here will be as peaceful as the stars allow. Come; rest in safety with us.”

Gil-galad finished his speech and began moving through the crowd, greeting each cluster of survivors in turn, calling for healers or sleeping accommodations. Elaniel watched him draw nearer, noting his unhurried steps. 

I am exhausted, hungry and covered in dirt – perfect time to meet a king. 

She also noted he was quite handsome. Up close, his chest was broader and his build more muscular than he appeared from across the courtyard. Strong jaw. Soft brown eyes. His long, dark hair was drawn back into a half braid, a few gray strands at his temple. 

She reminded herself that she had seen many handsome faces over the centuries. His face was no different. And it was rude to stare. 

She was too tired to focus on not focusing. Her eyes started to flutter close. 

Finally, he reached her in the corner of the courtyard. “It is my honor to welcome you to Lindon, my lady.”

“High King Gil-galad,” she replied with a similar, if slightly sleepy, formality, blinking herself awake. “It is my honor to be welcomed. I am Elaniel, a master stonemason from Eregion.”

His eyebrows lifted in polite interest. “A stonemason? A skill of great importance for our people. Did you practice your craft in Ost-in-Edhil, I wonder?”

A red flush rose to her cheeks, and her tiredness waned for a moment. “Yes, I did, under Chief Mason Carasta,” she replied, a note of pride creeping into her voice despite her– admittedly unenthusiastic– attempts to squash it. “I designed and oversaw the construction of the eastern walls and watchtower fortifications.”

They were strong. 

A shadow passed over her face, a reminder of the destruction that had claimed her city. Of crumbled walls that she once marveled at, thick and sturdy.

But not thick enough. 

“Fine work, indeed, and no small task,” Gil-galad said solemnly, his eyes filled with sadness. He dipped his head to catch her gaze. “Elaniel of Eregion, you have my respect and gratitude for your service to our people. Many are alive today because of your work.” Reaching out, he clasped her hand between his in a simple gesture of thanks. 

And then, the world shifted. 

She looked up at him, curiosity blooming into open surprise. She sensed his fëa, a deep knowing she had never experienced with another being in her two thousand years of existence. His soul contained a fierce tenderness she hadn’t expected, a warmth that softened the sharpness of his mind. And a pull towards duty, to do better – be better, stronger, wiser – for his people that bordered on frustration. Impatience simmered at the edges of him, held back by wisdom and weariness. Her eyes went wide with wonder.  

And Gil-galad stared back at her, shock etched into every line of his face. His eyes flicked down at their clasped hands, before he held her gaze again.  

Elaniel felt known in return. Her stubbornness, the defiance and wit she used to hide her more vulnerable emotions. The compassion for others that hammered in her heart, louder than anything else. The anger she wrapped in layers and buried beneath a pressure to work, to do more, to earn her place. The sadness that sometimes filled her when she looked at the stars, a stirring she never named. 

He had not let go of her hands. She did not want him to.

They could stay here for an Age. No, they would stay. Like Melian and Thingol, they would stay rooted to this spot, bathed in moonlight, unable to leave each other. The courtyard would crumble and overgrow. The trees would reclaim the land. Tilion would chase Arien’s flame across the morning sky and finally hold her sunfire in his arms. 

And Eleniel and Gil-galad would still stand here. Knowing and known. The string between their chests tying them together. 

“High King, Herald Elrond requests your presence as soon as possible. The Commanders have gathered to present an urgent report,” came a strong voice over Gil-galad’s shoulder. The voice could have come from the wind or the mountains – Elaniel did not see who spoke. She did not care. 

But the message seemed to shake Gil-galad awake. He nodded over his shoulder in response, his eyes never leaving Elaniel’s.

“The walls here are different from Eregion,” she whispered tightly, groping for something else to say, anything to say to keep him here. “Living stone. Beautiful.” She was not sure she was speaking in full sentences. Again, she did not care. 

A deep noise came from his chest, a rumbling agreement only she could hear, his voice low. “Yes. We treat beauty with reverence here.” His thumb brushed softly against her knuckles. A flicker of hesitation – burden and responsibility fighting curiosity and desire – played across his face. She thought she saw his jaw twitch. She knew she saw him hold back a sigh.

And she saw the exact moment that responsibility won. 

“Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo,” he whispered. A star shines on the hour of our meeting. 

Gil-galad pressed her hands between his once more before letting go, and she instantly missed his warmth. Then, as if a door had shut in front of her, his face smoothed into one of a politician. “Welcome, Elaniel of Eregion.”

And without a glance back, he moved on, leaving her standing among her fellow survivors. She watched him until he disappeared from the courtyard into the palace. Seeing the last glimpse of his robe as he walked out of the courtyard caused a tugging at her heart. A new, unfamiliar type of….sadness? Yearning? A pulling at this new knot in her chest. 

She blinked, confusion on her brow.

What was that? 

By the time she fell asleep that night, face down in a hastily set up cot, she wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not.

//

Elaniel wound her way from the low, humble building that served as the gathering place for Lindon’s refugees to the city center. Her quarters—if they could be called that—were modest, one of many small, shared rooms in the main hall set aside for those who had fled.

Elaniel often shared the space with two other women from Eregion, each bearing their own wounds from the city’s fall. Every evening, they sat together in silence, staring at the flickering candlelight, each lost in her own thoughts.

But she would not let herself be idle with her thoughts for long. She busied herself helping where she could, assisting with basic repairs, offering an extra pair of hands for craftsman work. 

Herald Elrond put out a call for skilled craftsmen to volunteer their skills to prepare for the upcoming conflict, and she had answered. She was glad for the distraction it provided, even if she often lingered on the fringes, an outsider looking in. 

Today, as she entered the small council chamber for the stonemasons’ meeting, a hush seemed to fall over the craftsmen gathered there.

At the end of the table sat Halion, one of the oldest and most influential masons in Lindon, known for his meticulous designs and proud, exacting standards. He barely acknowledged her presence, instead choosing to ignore her altogether.

Today was no different. As the council discussed the defensive measures for Lindon’s outer gates, Elaniel waited for a pause to interject. She cleared her throat when there was a lull.

"I would like to share this concept," she replied, her tone upbeat and respectful as she pulled a drawing from the stack of papers in front of her. "I have experience with fortifications—"

Halion interrupted with a scoff, his arms crossing over his chest. “Experience with fortifications? In Ost-in-Edhil?”

Elaniel held his gaze, determined not to be shaken. Her tone flattened slightly. A warning.  “Yes, in Ost-in-Edhil. I was part of the team that oversaw the building of city fortifications and the eastern wall. I know where we fell short and where we succeeded after four weeks of continuous siege. I believe Lindon could benefit from these insights.” 

She paused for a moment before pushing on, clamping down the anger in her voice. 

“During the fortifications of Eregion, we strengthened the ramparts with reinforced stone blocks with chains attached to anchor points in the rock,” she began again. “A similar approach here could add to the strength of—”

Halion’s hawkish face was hard and unforgiving. “Had the walls of Eregion held but moments longer, perhaps more of our kin would be with us.” He spoke as though each word were calculated to cut deeper. “I am unsure your counsel is needed here, stonemason.”

A murmur of agreement moved around the table, some of the others nodding or casting her brief, condescending glances. 

The accusation stung. She had fought so hard to tame the memories of that day—the crashing of stones, the cries of her elves around her, bodies amid the rubble. But here it was, brought to the surface casually by a man who had not been there. Had not seen. 

She dug inward for a measured, appropriate reply. 

And all she found was anger. 

She dug again. 

Rage. 

“If we’re assigning blame for the loss of Eregion, perhaps you ought to consult the enemy,” her cheeks heated, scathing words flowing quickly now. “Do you not allow for growth in Lindon? Or is it your intent to personally cast out every stonemason here should their work fail once? I did not recognize we all stood in the presence of perfection.”

“That’s enough,” Halion started, standing up. 

No, it’s not.

“Oh, I understand, Master Halion,” her voice lowered, a false softness. Poison and mockery filled every syllable. “Perhaps if you had been in Ost-in-Edhil with a bucket of mortar and a trowel, they would all still be alive. I know you would have single-handedly turned the tide of the battle with a stack of bricks if you were. but. there. 

“But you were not there, Master Halion, so I suppose we must disregard your thoughts on the matter.” She could see outrage and embarrassment flash across Halion’s face, and a twisted satisfaction blossomed in her chest at his discomfort. The other craftsmen around them began murmuring louder, and she knew she was not winning over hearts or minds.

Anger does not serve me now.

Anger does not…

Anger…

Be angry later. 

She let out a slow, steadying breath, willing her muscles to unclench. Weariness crept into the lines of her shoulders, her body sagging slightly. “Forgive me,” she continued, “But I share my failures to ensure that none of you must face it in the future. You may not welcome my insights, but Herald Elrond has asked all capable stonemasons to contribute to this council. And until he says otherwise, I intend to.”

The room fell silent. Halion glared at her, but something in her tone must have touched a nerve, for he gave a grudging nod.

“We present our recommendations for fortification improvements to the High King in two weeks,” he said finally. “We will allow you to share your council if it is requested.”

Elaniel nodded, her jaw set. “I look forward to your questions.”

With that, she turned and took a seat among the gathered stonemasons, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, determined to carve out her place here, no matter how many skeptical gazes she had to face.

//

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

You Are Here -> Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West