#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

[targaryen-dynasty]

YOU’RE THE ONLY THING THAT I PRAY FOR. (3/3)

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/Targcest (uncle & niece), p in v, slight degrading kink, slight breeding kink, this is plot with a whole lot of smut at the end, Valyrian wedding, mentions blood

WORDS: 4.6 K

NOTES: So, this Valyrian wedding is somewhat different to the one in Precious Delights. I took the Daemyra wedding for inspiration, and kinda blamed it on Grandmaster Benifer not being that educated on Valyrian customs (Maegor was just keen on marrying his niece and didn't care of the formalities).

Pentos' desperate need for an alliance against the Triarchy has really played into your hands when Daemon and you first arrived in the Free City. Two full-grown dragons descending not too far away from the city's borders didn’t go unnoticed, meaning it wasn’t long after that you’ve been summoned to the flamboyant castle of Reggio Haratis, the Prince of Pentos. 

Never before have you had the chance to marvel at Pentoshi architecture – or Essosi architecture in general – and were completely in awe as the gates of the castle opened to invite you inside. 

Even now, roughly a sennight after your relocation from the prince’s castle to an equally impressive manse, it’s still as mesmerizing as before; not as monotonous and undemanding as the architecture and tapestries harbored in the Red Keep. 

Reggio Haratis is generous enough to host you and your uncle, and has very recently offered to give you permanent residence in Pentos and gift you the manse you have occupied for no less than seven days. It’s a generous deal in exchange for the intimidating presences of your dragons, considering that with the manse also comes its farms, lands, vineyards, and wood. 

And of course your uncle hasn’t hesitated any moment to accept it – not if it keeps you away from Westeros.

You know Daemon has his own way of keeping tabs and staying informed of your family’s going-ons. He’s well aware of everything that’s happening in the Red Keep since there are several people lingering in it whose favor he has earned long ago that now are working as his spies and informants. 

They are procuring enough information to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, since Daemon is attentive enough to let you in on many of the things that happen in King’s Landing. And hence you know that the court is in a state of uproar, and your father balances between anger and despair, though you’re not aware that he has made it his personal mission to bring you back to the Red Keep sooner or later. 

Unbeknownst to you, this is one of the reasons Daemon all but presses to wed you, because it will not only solidify your relationship in an official way, but it also will make it easier for him to keep you safe should the king’s mission succeed. 

You’re standing on a tuckaway terrace of the manse, overlooking the gardens and extensive fields that frame and surround it. 

Reggio has been generous enough for you to carry out the ceremony in private with not many witnesses, other than the officiant, the Prince of Pentos himself, and the two servants that always tend to your and your uncle’s needs, present.

Ancient robes hug your bodies, and a matching headpiece rests on your head. They are pale white with reddish edges similar to the blood that trickles idly out of the cut on Daemon’s bottom lip. The shard of Dragonglass is still clutched between your fingers, while your other hand holds his chin. 

A gentle smile adorns your face, and though you want to watch the blood trickle out of the cut you have just caused, you can’t seem to tear your eyes off of his. The light of the evening sun is caught in the lilac of his eyes, reflecting and making them appear even lighter. 

As you hand him the shard, you briefly glance down to where your hands meet, before your gaze is fixed with his again, and as the sharp edge pierces your lip, you’re far too lost in the comfort of his presence to wince. 

This is all you’ve ever wanted.

Some of the blood amassing at the cut is gathered by the pad of his thumb, the touch so intimate it sends a shiver down your spine and heat to your cheeks. It is used by him to draw the Valyrian glyph for blood on your forehead, and you draw the supplementary glyph for fire on his. 

Knowing the scars that scatter all over his torso, scarring his pale skin, you’re not surprised to watch him cut the palm of his hand without any sign of discomfort or pain. He has endured far worse, and this is just too easy for him. 

However, the same can’t be said about you. 

You surely have hurt yourself plenty of times before, but it has never been on purpose, and never with something as sharp as the shard of dragonglass is. But that is the last significant step that has to be made to strenghten your one bloodline, to seal your union and signify that you are bound to each other. 

Daemon must sense the slight apprehension that spreads through your veins, and tries to comfort you and calm the raging storm of your fears by gently taking your hand in his, before the coldness of the fragment nestles into your open palm. “Issa sȳz,” he hums calmly, bowing his head once in a reassuring manner. It’s alright. 

Nodding meekly, you exhale a deep breath in the exact moment the dragonglass pierces your skin. The pain is delayed, and for a brief moment all that clouds your mind is the rush of your warm blood, and the sight of it so quickly filling the hollow of your palm. 

“Hen lantoti ānogar,” the priest cites, “va sȳndroti vāedroma.” Blood of two, joined as one. 

You tilt your head back up as Daemon unites your hands in a firm grip, and do not dare to look at where your hands meet. 

The sensation of your blood trickling out of the cut has already been very adamant, but with Daemon’s blood combined, several droplets all but seep out from your joined hands, gathered in a goblet your soon-to-be-husband holds underneath. 

A ribbon in a style similar to the robes you wear is tied around your hands, binding you to one another. 

“Mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi,” is said in the background, but you’re far too distracted by Daemon bringing the goblet full of your blood up. Ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. 

He holds it out to you, allowing you to be the first to drink, and you comply. 

Capturing the goblet between your fingers, you raise it to your lips, not hesitating one moment to take a generous sip. Daemon follows suit, and though the goblet is lowered by him, you two do not move otherwise.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi.” A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. 

There is a thick tension between the two of you, and you gaze longingly into each other’s eyes. Only slowly there crawls a grin on your husband’s lips, matching the impish one that’s draped across yours.

You brush some strands of his silver hair behind his ear, before your hand comes to rest on his cheek, the pad of your thumb caressing it gently. 

Daemon’s gaze flickers between yours and your nicked lip, and he only slowly dips his head towards yours just in time with his free arm snaking around your waist. 

Despite the seriousness of the moment, there is a slight tint of amusement in the officiant’s tone as he voices the last part of the vow, clearly just as ecstatic about you being newly wed as you two are. “Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳk kīvia mazvestraksi.” The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.

It is then that Daemon’s lips finally claim yours, and the taste of copper spreads on your tongue as his swirls around yours. The kiss is shy of being gentle, yet it doesn’t lack any passion or care. You have kissed plenty of times before ever since your arrival in Pentos, but none of them has ever felt as significant as this kiss does. 

To state it in the words of the Faith, you’re one heart, one flesh, and one soul now. Each other’s from this day, until the end of your days. And you finally feel whole with that prospect, the large chasm that has clasped inside of you filled by Daemon’s undeniable love. 

Reggio Haratis has spared no expenses when it comes to the celebration of your newfound unison. There are a handful of other people present, mostly some friends and acquaintances you both have made during your brief stay at the prince’s castle. 

In Westeros, you would have celebrated your marriage with a large feast in the Throne Room with no less than three hundred people present, following the strict rules and customs the Faith of the Seven prescribes. 

But in Essos, it seems to be a bit different. 

The large dining room is lavishly and opulently adorned by tapestries and ornaments, a goldish hue pervading the entire room with the sun that’s shining through the large apertures and tied-back curtains. 

It truly is a wedding for your caliber, though there’s no royal family accompanying you two. 

Everyone gathers around the large dining table that stands in the center of the room. They are all dressed in a similar fashion to you and your husband now, having changed into more elegant clothes not long after the ceremony, but the expensive textures and patterns of yours give away that this evening solely revolves around you two. 

The dinner and customs are far less formal than the ones back home, and with none of your guests being ill-mannered or impolite, a relaxed and open atmosphere characterizes the evening. 

There’s chatter and laughter everywhere while the food is served, quite a few bottles of wine emptied already, and not one thought of a possible bedding ceremony crosses your mind – because there’s no reason for it. 

Daemon and you have been on top of each other quite regularly, the Pentoshi way of living probably one of main reasons with your insatiable hunger for each other being the other. 

And thus, you’re not afraid of the thought of bedding Daemon once supper is over for your body has had quite a few days to get thoroughly adjusted to his sheer size. 

Only as the Prince of Pentos raises his glass does your breath hitch in your throat for a moment, not knowing what to expect from him. 

The room falls silent almost immediately, and if not everyone has gathered what’s about to happen, they certainly do the moment Reggio rises to his feet. 

“Let us toast to this exceptional match,” he starts with much eloquence, his choice of words bringing a warmth to your cheeks. 

Daemon smiles at you, and clasps a hand around your thigh. As you lean closer to him to hide your blush, he chuckles and rests his forehead against the side of your face. 

“Behave,” he chastises in a teasing manner, squeezing your thigh once. “Or do I have to teach you manners first?” 

Daemon’s words do little to help with the blush on your face, the warmth spreading from your cheeks right down to the apex of your legs, causing you to shift and squirm slightly to soothe the aching. 

Your host isn’t oblivious to what’s going on right in front of him, and merely chuckles, “I’ll try to keep this short.”

You take in a deep breath, and Daemon nods, a silent invitation for him to keep going. 

The prince speaks of your bravery to leave your House behind, of your undeniable love for each other, and how the Old Gods must have brought you together. He boasts of the strong bond you and your husband have, and how that alone is a testament to the Gods themselves. 

Everyone around you applauds as the speech ends, and Daemon raises his cup to toast with your host. “Hear, hear.” Bringing your own cup to your lips, you empty what feels like your fifth cup of the Lyseni sweet red they have procured only for you. 

You grab Daemon’s hand when the applause drowns out again, and squeeze it gently. Gazing at him lovingly, he leans in to press his lips to your temple. 

“Ivestragī īlva jikagon naejot ēdrugon, kessa īlon?” he mutters against your skin, and you sheepishly bite your bottom lip, bowing your head. Let us retire to bed, shall we?

“Nyke pendagon kesā dōrī epagon,” you reply. I thought you would never ask. 

Squeezing your hand back, you follow suit as he stands up from his seat after he has announced your departure and thanked everyone for the lovely evening. A hand of his rests at the small of your back to lead you towards your shared chambers, the lacking guests finally allowing you to catch your breath. 

He snakes his arm around your waist on your way, and pulls you tightly against his side, his hand traveling a bit lower than what’s appropriate. 

“Daemon,” you scold him, placing your hand above his to put it back on your waist. 

As you look at him, you’re greeted by a wide grin adorning his face. “I am sure you can forgive me,” he teases, his hand finding its way to your arse again, groping it roughly enough to make you yelp. “I just can not resist you, not in the prospect of us finally being able to truly celebrate our marriage.”

You shove at his chest on your way into your chambers, chuckling softly, but to no avail as his grip only lets go of you in order to close the door. 

And suddenly, there’s a thick tension hugging the two of you. 

You briefly glance around the room, noticing the many, colorful flowers the servants have placed on your bed; all of which can only be found in Essos. Everywhere stand lit candles, their flames flickering and dancing in the soft, Pentoshi gust of breeze that sweeps past the lightweight curtains concealing the floor-to-ceiling apertures. 

It seems inviting to push the silk aside and step out on the balcony, yet your husband beats you to it and pulls you against his sturdy frame by grasping your wrist, taking control over your movements. 

A soft gasp slips past your lips as you find yourself pressed against his body, the heat and his scent emanating from him driving you insane with lust already. You look up at him with half lidded eyes, your desire for him plain.

Standing on tiptoes, you tilt your head up to press your lips to his jaw in a chaste kiss, and trail some more down the curve of his throat, causing a soft hum to rumble in your husband’s chest. The gold, embroidered vest he wears is slowly pushed off his shoulders while the feeling of your lips on his skin distract him, falling to the ground and pooling around his ankles. 

“Let us not waste anymore time,” you whisper, your fingers almost eagerly fumbling with the laces in the front of his trousers. 

With every passing moment, you spot his breathing growing heavier, his body burning hot with desire. You sigh softly, “let us indulge ourselves in each other as much as we want, even if it means we will not leave our chambers in the morrow.”

His eyes peer deeply into yours when you tilt your head back, the mesmerizing lilac hue completely eclipsed by black. 

He brings a hand to the back of your head, holding it steady as the other clasps around your thigh. Your flesh is squeezed harshly under his tight grip, but you can’t bring yourself to care for there suddenly are not more than a few inches separating your lips from his. 

But instead of kissing you, Daemon bows his head down enough to press sloppy kisses to your neck, licking the side of your throat. His hand slides up to cup your clothed cunt, and you have to hold onto his broad shoulders for dear life, not risking your shaky legs to be the reason you fall onto the ground.

“My darling wife,” he rasps, and hearing him voice it aloud for the first time sends a shiver down your spine. “I should have taken you to Pentos a long time ago.”

With that, he spins you around and pushes you towards the bed. Toppling forward, you catch yourself and tightly hold onto the wooden footboard of it, crouched forwards and basically presenting him your arse. 

Daemon hums, clearly pleased by the sight, and approaches you with careful steps. 

You try to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, not meeting his lust-filled gaze for long enough since he is quick to press your head forward again. When his hands fist the neckline of your dress, goosebumps start to prickle on your skin, coaxed by the warmth and roughness of his fingers. 

“‘Twas a mistake to wait so long,” he says, but it’s clear he’s speaking to himself. 

Then, the laces in the back of your lavish gown tear with an agonizing ripping sound, but the thrill of it doesn't allow your heart to grief the now ruined gift of your host. 

The skimpy underclothes you wear follow the Myrish lace just as quick, exposing your whole body to him faster than you could have wished for. His fingers trail slowly along your spine, and he chuckles as he watches your body tremble beneath his featherlight touch with a jolt of pleasurable excitement. 

His thick digits inch lower and lower, but never touch where you need him most. It’s agonizing, and your patience runs thinner and thinner. Your breathing is just as heavy as his own, and the tension has you moaning softly. 

And then he suddenly drags two of his deft fingers through your soaked womanhood, the ambush eliciting a shuddered breath to fall from your lips. Yet you also welcome it and eagerly buck your hips to chase the friction they grant you, which prompts him to seize your hip with one hand, the tips of his fingers digging into your flesh to keep your body still.

The lack of freedom to move feeds your impatience, and your head bows forwards with a sigh. “I-I can hardly take this any longer, husband,” you breathe, trying to make your frustration not too obvious. 

Another ambush overtakes you as Daemon connects the back of his hand with your cunt, the collusion sending a stinging pain through your body. He tsks in a manner that’s meant to scold a child, having heard it plenty of times before when he was around his nephews and nieces. 

“You can’t take it any longer? What a shame,” he teases. “If you’re feeling so overwhelmed, then perhaps I should stop?”

Remaining still for a moment, the weight of his heavy gaze pierces through your skin, and you’re glad he can’t see you rolling your eyes. You know that he has no intention of stopping, and he knows that you don’t want him to either. 

However, it seems he’s partly forgotten that you two share the same blood, and although he considers himself to be witty, you’re not lagging behind him.

“Oh, you want to stop?” you ask, a mocking edge to your otherwise strained voice. It is clear he’s taken off guard by your words, having expected you to beg and whine for more. “My, what a disappointing turn of events. I was so keen on experiencing you tonight. I–”

The rest of your protest dies on your tongue as he slides two digits inside without a warning, effectively silencing you. 

A jolt of pleasure surges through your body that has you clinging to the footboard of the bed, your knuckles blanching from the force. The moan you release is wanton, and brings a blush to your cheeks that’s intensified by the mocking scoff Daemon releases. 

Your legs are nudged further apart by his foot knocking against yours, causing you to be off-balanced for a moment in which he’s snaking his arm around your waist to support your frame. 

His chest is pressed flush against your back now, and you feel his breath fan over your ear, the heat emanating from him seeping into your skin.  

“I would not deprive you of that satisfaction tonight,” he rasps into your ear while his fingers pump into you at a pace that has your toes curling already, making it difficult to keep your composure. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking, his amusement at the little back and forth of your flirting is perfectly audible. “My darling wife is brimming with pleasure already, but I am just getting started.”

Your eyes widen at his teasing, and if anything, it only makes you want him even more. As your head lulls back against his shoulder, you release another moan, dizzy with lust. 

With every passing second that you don’t have him inside of you, you grow more and more relentless. “Don’t you dare stop now,” you moan. “If you do, I shall feed you to Silverwing.”

Daemon lets out a breathy laugh at your words. “Quit being a brat, wife, or else I truly need to punish you to stop you from being so reckless with your words.”

You slightly push yourself up against his chest, but don’t manage to do more than hum in return at his words, the jolts of your impending peak coursing through your veins like liquid fire. 

There is a brief loss of friction that doesn’t diminish the pleasure that clouds your mind, induced by Daemon’s desire to withdraw his fingers to fill you with his stiff cock instead. 

Just in time with him aligning himself with your throbbing entrance, breaching your tightness to stretch you out with one, swift thrust, you topple over the edge. 

The spasming and shaking of your body has Daemon’s breath hitch in his throat, a strained ‘seven hells’ slipping past it that you barely register with you losing a little bit of control over your body. 

Your back arches against him, and he seizes the opportunity to set up a reckless pace from the very beginning on. 

“Well, now, if that isn’t a disappointing turn of events,” Daemon mocks with an amused chuckle, using your words against yourself. “I can… can not believe that’s all you can take, my dear.” There is a strain in his voice, one that tells you his mind is just as fuzzy with pleasure as yours, amplified by the way your cunt is clenching and unclenching around his hard cock. 

Daemon has both hands on your hips now, pulling you back halfway to meet the mercilessness of his thrusts. Each time the heavy sac of his stones slaps against your sensitive cunt, you feel it spasm again, bolts of pain and pleasure alike piercing your flesh. 

“I thought you would last longer, my sweet wife,” he groans, the term of endearment emphasized by a thrust harsh enough to coax a breathy gasp from your throat. “A sore disappointment.” 

At this point he’s all but assaulting your body, using you for his own pleasure like you’re not more than one of Flea Bottom’s common whores, pounding you hard enough that your vision whitens. 

Incoherent words and sentences are falling past your lips like a prayer, occasionally interrupted by his name, chanting it as if you’re praying to the Seven.

His grip on your hips is bruising, squeezing your flesh so tight you’re not sure if it brings you more pain or pleasure. But it’s something in his words that makes it all so exhilarating, reigniting the fire inside of you. 

Daemon is chasing his own peak with the will to fill you up with his seed, marking you as his and making his claim on you visible to everyone. But his stamina doesn’t seem to be able to handle the tightness of your cunt for any longer, running thin and threatening to burst at any given moment. 

It takes all your strength to hold onto the foodboard to keep yourself steady and upright, not wanting to topple over with the weight and intensity of his thrusts. But your slowly approaching high doesn’t make it too easy for you. 

Your second peak takes its time, but Daemon can tell it’s on its way, the clenching of your walls and trembling of your legs a telltale sign for him. One of his deft fingers comes to your pearl, and he proceeds to rub the bud with frantic movements that make sure to push you over the edge just in time. 

Your mouth hangs open, and there are no other sounds than breathy whines and hiccuped gasps slipping past your lips, the ability to speak completely taken by his cock repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you. 

“I will not last any longer,” the man behind you grunts, the damp strands of his silver hair falling in front of his face. He buries the hand that’s not between your legs in your hair, pulling you upright against him. 

His hips are angled, allowing him to snap them into yours deeper and more precisely. “Peak for me again… now,” he all but commands, and it’s the sharpness and determination of his voice that eventually has you doing just that. 

Your arousal oozes out of your spasming cunt, coating the palm of his hand, the length of his cock and the sac of his stones altogether. 

Your head tips back in bliss, and hot streams of pleasure obscure your senses. The way your cunt is choking his cock makes it difficult for him to help you through it all, struggling to keep it together just a few moments longer. He’s brought you to such heights of pleasure that your mind temporarily blanks.

“Please,” you find your voice again, though it’s strained and resembles a whimper. “Put a babe in me. Fill me up with your seed… please.”

It might have been him being on the brink of his release already, or the meaning and significance of your words, but it is the trigger for Daemon to spend himself inside of you with a loud groan. 

“Gods be good,” he grunts, connecting his lips with the curve where your shoulder meets your neck as he works himself through the blissful high. Even as it subsides, he doesn’t stop and bites through the overstimulation, determined to fuck his seed as deep as possible and put a child into your belly. 

You’ve grown incredibly sensitive and overstimulated by now, and can’t fight against your body’s reaction to squirm out of his grasp to escape the uncomfortable feeling. But he doesn’t allow you to, keeping you flush against his firm chest. 

The soft whines you release, however, humor him, and he tilts his head to rest his forehead against the side of your face. 

“Let your foolish father come for you. I shall slay every man that even dares to look at you,” he rasps. “I possess you, you belong to none other than me.”

A blush spreads on your cheeks as his words sink into your mind, and you turn your head to meet his eyes for the first time ever since you’ve entered your chambers. The meeting of your gazes is intense, and you swear you can feel his flaccid member grow hard again.

You take his hand and bring it in front of you, placing it on your stomach. Without further encouragement, he starts to rub his palm over your skin as if his seed has already borne fruit.

“Let him come,” you whisper, licking your lips. “I have waited years to be with you alone, and to have you all by myself. And now that I have gotten my will, I will not give it up without a fight.”

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[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.

[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 ̴͚̤͓̬̲͊͒̔̽t̵̢͉̗̺̲̑̌̅̚u̸̬̔͌͆ḻ̷̛̫͍̜́e̵̖̰͕̰̪͝m̷̳͎̘̮̞͝͠a̶͖̬͉̤��̒̀̋s̸͖̱͓̪̪̈́́t̷̖̿̓͊,̸̢͙̮͊̾ ̷̡̲̱͖̲͑͆̔̕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 L̷͔͕͔̂̿̆��͠õ̸̭̙̮̭̽ͅp̸͚̲͍̐̚ͅư̶̐̍ͅt̷̡̰̙̚u̷͚̖͖̐̀̿́͝ḑ̷̟̲͔̭͗́̀ ̷̘̟̦́̾̒̑̕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

[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.” 

[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.

[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!

[panda-pal]

King's Field IV (2001) Developed by FromSoftware

[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

[tanadrin]

"The United States exists" is a psyop to trick Germans into supporting additional military bases on their soil under the guise that these belong to a ""foreign ally.""

"Ich bin ein Amerikaner" ← a statement by the utterly deranged, a madness, an unspeakable paradox.

By claiming to be an American you are merely replicating the ancient national origin migration myth. The fabled homeland of your dreams is a fiction, like Mu, Eden, and Aztlán.

And when the King asked Columbine, ‘what do you want to become?’ Columbine would say, ‘I do not want to become anything. I am something. I am Columbine.’

The King said, ‘but you must become something,’ and Columbine said, ‘What can one become?’

And the King said, ‘Look at that man there, with the beard and the brown, leathery face. He is a sailor. He wanted to become a sailor, and he did, and he sailed across the sea and discovered new countries for his king.’

‘If you want, my king,’ said Columbine, ‘I’ll become a sailor.’ At that, the whole court burst out laughing. Columbine ran out of the hall shouting, ‘I will discover a country, I will discover a country!’

Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads, and Columbine ran out of the castle, through the city, and across the fields, and when the farmers who were in the fields greeted him, he called out to them, too: ‘I will discover a country, I will discover a country!’

And so he came to the forest and hid for weeks in the bushes and brambles, and for weeks no one heard a word about Columbine. The King was sorry and blamed himself, and the courtiers were ashamed for laughing. Finally, after weeks and weeks had passed, the watchmen on the tower blew a fanfare and the court rejoiced, for across the fields, through the city, and up to the gate came Columbine, and he went before the King and said, ‘my king, Columbine has discovered a country!’

And because the courtiers did not want to laugh at him, they tried their best to look serious and asked, ‘what is it called and where is it?’ ‘It does not have a name yet, because I have just discovered it, and it is far out to sea,’ said Columbine.

One of the grizzled sailors stood up and said, ‘well, Columbine, I, Amerigo Vespucci, will go and look at this country of yours. Tell me how I get there.’ ‘You go into the sea, and then go straight, and you have to keep going straight and not give up until you come to the country.’ Columbine was terrified, of course, because he knew that what he said was a lie, and that there was no such country. So off went Amerigo Vespucci, and for days and days Columbine could not sleep.

No one knows where Amerigo went. Perhaps he, too, hid in the forest.

Then the trumpets blew, and Amerigo came back.

Columbine was red in the face and dared not to look at the great sailor. Vespucci stood before the King, and said loud and clear, so that all could hear: ‘Your Majesty, O King, the land is there.’

Columbine was so glad that Vespucci had not betrayed him that he ran up to him, hugged him, and cried, ‘Amerigo, my dear Amerigo!’

And the people believed that this was the name of the country, and they called this land that did not exist, ‘America.’

‘You are truly a man,’ the King said to Columbine, ‘and henceforth you shall be called Columbus.’

And Columbus was famous, and all marveled at him and whispered as he walked past, ‘there he is! The man who discovered America!’

And they all believed that there is such a place. Only Columbus was not sure, and doubted it his whole life, but never dared to ask the sailors for the truth about where they had gone. Soon enough, other people went to America, and then, a great many people. And those who came back all said, ‘America is there!’

‘I,’ said the man who told me this story, ‘I have never been to America. I do not know if America exists. Perhaps people only say that it does, so as not to disappoint Columbus. After all, when you see two people talking about America these days, they wink at each other, and hardly ever say “America”. Instead, they say something vague about “the States” or “over the pond”, or whatever.’ Perhaps when someone gets on a plane or a ship to go to America, they are told the story of Columbus, and hide away somewhere, and come back later to talk about cowboys and skyscrapers, about Niagara Falls and the Mississippi, and cities called ‘New York’ and ‘San Francisco’.

In any case, they all say the same things, and talk about things that they already knew before they left, and that is very suspicious.

And people are always arguing about who Columbus really was.

I know it.

--Peter Bischel, Kindergeschichten

[pooepw]

you literally cannot get this game anymore btw

[romerona]

Stellar Veil

In which a star falls in Westeros.

Cregan Stark x reader????

Words 1.7k

The night draped Westeros in its customary shroud, stars flickering like cold diamonds against the dark tapestry of the sky. And yet, amidst this celestial dance, a singular brilliance unfolded—a comet, resplendent in its fiery tail, streaked boldly across the heavens.

In King's Landing, where ambition and conspiracy brewed as thick as the city's smog, the Red Keep stood sentinel against the cosmic display. Nobles and commoners alike were drawn to its battlements and gardens, their faces upturned in wonder and trepidation. The comet's golden glow suffused the city, casting shadows that danced across cobblestones and whispered secrets into the night.

Far to the west, where the Iron Islands gripped the tempestuous seas, sailors paused in their dance with the waves. From the deck of every longship, weathered faces turned skyward, witnessing the comet's passage mirrored in the restless waters below. Above them, the ancient castle of Pyke seemed to hold its breath, its jagged silhouette outlined against the blaze.

Across the tumultuous waters of the Narrow Sea, the comet's brilliance reflected off the prow of Braavosi merchant ships and the galleys of the Free Cities. Sailors, traders and slaves hardened by salt and sea, paused in their endless voyages to witness this divine occurrence.

In the Reach, where the verdant fields of Highgarden stretched beneath a canopy of stars, peasants and nobles alike paused. They gazed heavenward, their hearts filled with awe and mistrust, as tales danced upon their lips.

And in the North, where the night was as black as obsidian and the stars burned with an icy intensity, the comet blazed its final path. Its light pierced the veil of mist hanging over the haunted forest and the desolate lands beyond. There, amidst the sentinel trees and the solemn silence of the far North, the comet's radiance flared brightly before vanishing beyond the horizon.

South of the Wall, in the desolate expanse known as the Gift, the comet's descent shattered the silence of the frozen wilderness with fierce force. A blinding flash of light, brighter than the pale moon above, rent the night asunder. The ground trembled violently beneath the celestial impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the thick crust of snow that covered the ancient land.

As the earth ceased its violent tremors, silence descended upon the northern wilderness like a heavy cloak. The Night's Watch, vigilant guardians of the Wall and the realms of men, stood amidst the aftermath of the comet's impact, their faces etched with awe and apprehension.

Commander Ulric Rivers, a grizzled veteran of many winters, surveyed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern. His voice cut through the lingering echoes of the crash, commanding attention from the assembled rangers.

"Brothers," he intoned, his words carrying the weight of authority earned through years of service beyond the Wall. "Gather your gear. We must survey the impact site."

The rangers, seasoned men clad in black with weapons and fur-trimmed cloaks, exchanged glances of determination. Among them, Harald Snow, a knight of the Watch known for his keen eye and steady hand, stepped forward.

"Commander," Ser Harald spoke, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air, "We will go. We'll bring back word of what we find, true as steel."

Commander Ulric nodded in approval, his expression grim but resolute. "Go swiftly, and return with all haste. The hour is late."

With that, the rangers set forth, the horses steps crunch on the icy ground as they ventured towards the crater that marked the comet's violent descent. Behind them, the rest of the Night's Watch remained vigilant, their eyes trained upon the northern horizon where the comet's trail still lingered faintly in the night sky.

The rangers approached the crater cautiously, their breath visible in the frigid air as they navigated the transformed landscape. The snow around the impact site had melted into a steaming morass, revealing scorched earth and jagged fragments of rock still glowing faintly with residual heat. The air hummed with a strange, palpable energy, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, led the way with Harald Snow close behind. Their sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, taking in every detail with the precision of a seasoned watchman. Beside them, Alexio Stone, a stoic figure with weathered features and a keen intellect, knelt to examine a particularly large fragment of rock that jutted from the ground like a blackened tooth.

"Careful now," Harald Snow cautioned, his voice a low murmur that carried on the wind. "We don't know what this rock may hold. Keep your wits about you."

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, ever vigilant, was the first to notice the form inside the crater—a woman.

"Ser Harald, come, there's a woman..." Jaremy called out quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe and uncertainty.

Harald Snow hurried to his side, his eyes narrowing as he beheld the scene before him. Nestled amidst the charred remnants of the comet's impact lay a figure unlike any he had seen in his years ranging away from the Wall. A woman, an ethereal woman. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a faint glow, casting gentle reflections upon the jagged rocks that surrounded her.

"Gods be good," Harald muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. "What in the name of the Seven Kingdoms...?"

Alexio Stone slowly made his way down and knelt beside the woman, his weathered hands hovering uncertainly above her prone form. "She... she's glowing,"

The woman lay still, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that seemed out of place amidst the chaos of the impact site. Her hair, a cascade that shimmered like moonlight, framed a face that could have graced the halls of the most illustrious castles in Westeros. Despite the harshness of her surroundings, an air of tranquility radiated from her presence, as if she were untouched by the violence that had torn through the night.

"She does not seem a threat. We'll take her back to Castle Black,” Harald decided finally, his gaze lingering upon the woman's enigmatic form. "Ser Jaremy, help me carry her."

With careful hands, the ranger lifted the unconscious woman from the heart of the crater, cradling her as gently as if she were made of glass. Her ethereal glow seemed to pulse faintly in response to the touch, but as they traveled, the ethereal glow that had surrounded her began to dim, fading like the dying embers of a once brilliant fire. Her radiant presence dwindled until she appeared as any ordinary woman, though her beauty still held a haunting quality that spoke of otherworldly origins.

Harald Snow glanced at her intermittently, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Keep an eye on her," he instructed the rangers quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of uncertainty. "We know not what we carry."

The journey back to Castle Black was fraught with quiet tension, each step echoing with the weight of their extraordinary discovery. The woman remained unconscious, her features peaceful yet arcane as if she carried secrets woven into the very fabric of her being.

As the gates of Castle Black creaked open to admit the weary party, all eyes turned towards the mysterious woman cradled in the arms of Ser Jaremy Woodbear and his fellow rangers. The men of the Night's Watch gathered in hushed clusters, their faces etched with curiosity and apprehension as they beheld the ethereal beauty now brought within their walls. Commander Ulric Rivers stepped forward to greet them, his brow furrowed in stern inquiry. His gaze locked onto the woman.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ulric Rivers demanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the assembled ranks. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, though beneath the stern exterior, there flickered a hint of curiosity and perhaps even concern.

Harald Snow, unwavering in the face of his superior's scrutiny, stepped forward with measured resolve. "We found her at the site of the comet's impact," he explained evenly, his tone betraying none of the awe he felt at the mysterious woman's presence thought he hesitated to continue. "She… appeared to be glowing.”

The courtyard fell silent as the gravity of their discovery settled over the assembled brothers. Whispers filled the air, mingling with the chill wind that swept down from the Wall, most not believing, saying it was a wildling woman, others whispering about sorcery.

Ulric Rivers approached the woman with cautious steps, his gaze assessing her with a mixture of scepticism and a begrudging acknowledgement of the inexplicable. Her ethereal beauty was undeniable—a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings of the ancient stronghold. Her hair, a shade that shimmered iridescently in the torchlight, cascaded around her like a flowing waterfall of sapphire strands. It was a hue unlike any he had seen before.

Her attire was equally unusual—a gown of fine fabric that seemed to shift and shimmer with every movement, as if woven from threads spun by the stars themselves. Its design was intricate, with patterns that hinted at craftsmanship far beyond the skills known to the realms of Westeros.

Ulric Rivers frowned, his thoughts racing with speculation. "This is no wildling," he muttered under his breath, his voice a gruff murmur that carried a note of wonder. "Nor any woman of our lands."

Beside Ulric, Harald Snow exchanged a meaningful glance with Ser Jaremy Woodbear and Alexio Stone. They had seen many things in their years on the Wall, but none quite like this.

"Should we remove her gown?" Harald asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. That statement earn a hum of agreement from the men around them.

However, Ulric shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the woman. "No, leave her be for now, we'll keep her under watch until we have answers. Lord Stark will need to hear of this. Prepare quarters for her," he instructed, his tone firm despite the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of his command. "And summon the Maester. We'll need his counsel."

With practiced efficiency, ser Jaremy Woodbear carried the woman to a chamber within Castle Black, where torchlight flickered against the ancient stone walls and cast long shadows across the floor. And above them, the stars continued their eternal dance, oblivious to the upheaval their celestial sibling had wrought upon the realm of men.

Part 2?????

A/N: The story is inspired by Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

I’m still unsure who is the main LI will be but Cregan is top 3.

And while it's an Xreader I will be describing the hair colour and eyes. But just that.