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kitkatpadywaks · 2 years ago

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Revenge As Sweet As Her

Part 8 of La Mechancete De La Vie.

Warnings: Revenge. She Talks With Calliope. It Bothers Life. Dream Asks About It And She Gives Him A Choice. Angst.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I started this chapter with no intention of making it angsty, but I've been extra depressed these last few days (I'm writing this Tuesday), so here we are. The next chapter shouldn't be as much of a downer.

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Life is very aware she's been procrastinating.

Her power has long since restored itself, and she has a plan, yet, she hesitates to leave The Dreaming to fulfil it. She knew she was tired. More tired than she had ever been, but she was free. And that, she feels, made it worth it.

Life sighs, catching the attention of Dream, who sits beside her on their room's balcony.

"What ails you, my love?"

"Revenge."

Her deadpan answer makes Dream shakes his head in amusement, "Then, perhaps, you should forget about your revenge."

"No," Life turns her head to frown at Dream, "To stop now would allow Janus and any of the others who seek to sabotage me to get away with their back-stabbing ways."

"I understand you can't allow that." Dream grabs her hand, "I only wish you would stay here with me, so I wouldn't have to miss you."

"I don't want to miss you either. Which is why I've been putting off leaving." Life sighs again and leans over to quickly kiss Dream, then pulls back, "But I can't keep putting it off- otherwise, certain beings might start getting ideas."

Dream nods, becoming sad as he watches her stand, "How long will you be gone?"

"Not long, hopefully. I don't intend to linger."

Life leaves the Dreaming, finding herself, once again, on the beaches of Greece, following the string of the God that made himself her enemy. She glares at the hunched-over figure of Janus, the glare intensifying when she notices more Gods materializing, attempting to stay hidden behind the rocks. She walks closer to Janus, stopping out of arms reach of the Roman God. "Janus."

"Life." He croaks, continuing to stare at the sea.

"Are your friends here to ambush me or witness your punishment?"

Janus gulps, the air crackling with her power, "Witness. They've been eagerly waiting for this day."

Life raises an eyebrow, humming in response. She turns to face where the Gods are hiding, "Either show yourselves or leave!"

There's some startled muttering before they start to disappear from the beach, the remaining Gods walking out from behind the rocks, their faces emotionless but their strings screaming with fear.

She eyes the Gods as they all stand a significant distance away from her and each other, understanding Izanagi, Osiris, Freyr, Wakan Tanka, and Daga's reasons for sticking around- as it seems Life is not the only one who wants revenge. Her eyes linger as there's more movement behind the rest of the Gods, seeing the appearance of Aphrodite and Calliope.

Interesting.

Aphrodite waves happily at her, Life watching in amusement as the rest of the Gods eye the Goddess strangely, previously unaware of Aphrodite's fondness for Life, being the only one who sees her authentic form, whereas everyone else sees the one they desire the most.

Life tilts her head as the Goddess's physical appearance ripples, briefly changing into a man with messy black hair and eyes that quickly switch between blue and silver. Aphrodite looks at Life with confusion, noticing the change, before the Goddess perks excitedly, understanding someone has captured Life's heart for the first time in the entirety of the existence of the universe.

She turns her head away from Aphrodite before she can say anything and looks closer at Planes, Ra, and Zeus's strings, finding the Greek God and Titan's pleasure at Janus's imminent demise, the Greek and Roman Gods still feuding to this day, and Ra's curiosity at what she's to do, the Eygptian God making a point to stand between Planes and Zeus, the animosity between the Greek powerhouses evident even if Life wasn't to have her powers. "Can't say I expected an audience."

Janus whimpers as she steps closer, her powers swelling and pulling at the Void where her prison lies. She feels it click, a door opening. The world reacts, red lightning crackling across the sky, and torrential winds knock against the immortal beings. Janus's head finally turns towards her before he vanishes from the beach, and the Void closes behind him. Life reaches inside herself, viewing the Void and smirking when she senses Janus inside the prison, panicking, much like she did when she was first trapped.

She ignores the Gods as they look between her and each other, disappointed at the lack of flair and confusion about where Janus went. Calliope stares at her, unbothered, clearly not on the beach for Janus.

"Where is he?" Zeus asks.

"Where he belongs." Life chuckles under her breath when she sees the Gods shiver. Her face shifts into a glare. "Spread the word: should anyone go against me, they will suffer the same fate. You can all leave now."

They do as she says, leaving Aphrodite and Calliope.

Aphrodite is the first to approach her, an excited bounce in her step, "Hello, darling! It's so good to see you!"

"Hello, Aphrodite." Life says, the corner of her lips twitching up in amusement. She keeps an eye on Calliope- the Muse patiently waiting for their interaction to cease.

"You know, it doesn't bother me that you don't see me anymore," Aphrodite smiles up at Life, "I just want you to tell me who you see! Who captured your heart!?"

Life's hands grab Aphrodite's wrists as the Goddess attempts to cup her face in her excitement, Life's eyes taking on a white glow in warning, "It's none of your concern who captured my heart. And I do still see you."

Aphrodite smiles sheepishly, fear flowing through her veins- but a twinkle of happiness in her eyes from Life still seeing her. "My apologies, Life."

Life lets go of Aphrodite's wrists, the Goddes clasping her hands behind her back as she steps away from Life, briefly bowing before leaving the beach, leaving only Life and Calliope.

The Muse steps forward.

Well, aren't I popular today? Life suppresses a sigh and smiles politely at her lover's ex-wife, "Calliope. We haven't met, but I see you already know who I am."

"My ex-husband's new lover."

Life hums, not bothering to reply.

Calliope shifts on the spot, Life's silence getting to her, "Oneiros couldn't hide his newfound affection even if he tried."

"But he didn't?" Life raises an eyebrow at her.

"He was honest when I asked."

Life's eyes flicker to Calliope's string, moving back to look the Muse in the eye, "You didn't come here to talk about Dream."

"No, I..."

"I can't do what you want."

Life's interruption makes Calliope frown, "You are the most powerful being in existence- and you expect me to believe you can't do it? My son may live a half-life, but he still lives. That is your power- everything in Life, is it not?"

"I cannot change Orpheus's predicament, Calliope. If you had come to me before the events transpired as they did, I could have influenced the event as it came to pass, but I cannot change the way or the condition of beings and people that live in their existence."

I'm not being entirely untruthful. Life thinks as she stares blankly at Calliope as the Muse starts shouting at her.

I don't think I'm supposed to like this.

Life tilts her head at Calliope, suddenly becoming aware of her attraction for the Muse, similar but different to the attraction she feels for Dream.

"... I think you can. I think you just won't." Calliope states, her chest heaving from all the shouting.

Life snaps out of her thoughts, sifting through Calliope's string to see what she was shouting about. Life narrows her eyes when she sees a lot of talk about jealousy and her harsh thoughts on Life's 'inability'. Her temper flares- and Life chooses to reply carefully. "He's your son, so I understand you're upset, but that's not how I work."

Calliope feels Life's power flare but swallows her fear, "Then change how you work."

She stares at Calliope as she walks away. Life's already changing purpose is being questioned by someone who knows nothing about her or her powers. Life scoffs, annoyed and confused at the guilt of lying to Calliope and, by extension, Dream, knowing full well she could help Orpheus- but choosing not to so her plans can go as she needs them to.

I'll make it up to them after.

Life leaves the beach, appearing in her and Dream's shared chambers and flopping down on the bed, staring at the room's ceiling. The Dream Lord enters soon after, having sensed her come back.

Dream pauses by the bed, "I would be right to assume Janus is taken care of?" He sits next to where she's lying.

Life nods, forcing herself out of her thoughts, "He's rotting away within the prison he helped put me in."

Dream's somehow not surprised that's what she had planned for the Roman God, "I can't say why, but I would have thought my siblings and the Kindly Ones destroyed it after they learnt of your escape." He analyses his lover, wondering what else is so clearly bothering her.

"Oh, they did. But I got the inner workings and the process of making it from Destiny's string when I visited him. And then I remade it after gaining enough power." She smiles up at Dream as he looks at her in mild surprise.

"From what I understand, that's a rather difficult process."

Life smirks smugly, "For anyone else, yes, it is. But for me. Well, I'm infinite, my love. There's nothing I can't do, given the time." The sudden weight of what she just said weighs on her, making her feel guilty about Calliope again.

Dream chuckles, "And you think I'm arrogant."

"It's not arrogance if it's true."

"I suppose not." Dream smiles warmly at Life, who sees his string overflowing with affection- for her. The guilt deepens. "How long will you keep Janus imprisoned?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Time works differently in the Void than it does in this reality." She purses her lips, "At least, it did for me. We'll have to see how it is between my time and Janus's."

"Different, how?"

"I was trapped there for over five centuries, but it didn't feel like it. My time imprisoned with you felt longer, I felt the years pass by slowly, but in the Void, maybe because I was alone, I put myself on standby while my powers worked to free me." Life frowns as she remembers, her voice becoming airy, "It went by so fast. One minute I was in the mortal world; the next, I was in the Void, and then I was in some human's basement. It felt like mere moments had passed. And yet, it was centuries. It was the most disorientating thing- I didn't know how much time had passed, but my diminished powers quickly let me know. Can you imagine? Five hundred years straight of actively using your powers. Exhausting."

Dream leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, silently offering her comfort, which she accepts, pulling him down next to her, her body relaxing against him as her arms wrap tight around his waist.

"You want to know what I hated most?" She whispers into his neck.

"What?"

"I forgot what the sun felt like. I forgot warmth and what it was like to feel comforted by the night and its endless stars." She looks into Dream's eyes, "You helped me remember."

He smiles softly, flattered, "I can't say I have ever had anyone describe me as warm."

Life chuckles, "First time for everything."

"I suppose there is." Dream adjusts the both of them so she's looking at him, "What else is on your mind?"

Life sighs, sitting up, knowing he caught onto her less than-pleased mood, "A lot of Gods came to witness Janus's punishment... including Calliope."

"What happened?" Dream slowly sits up with her, not knowing what to think.

"She was quite mad at me." Life mutters, sensing Dream's unsaid questions. She turns to face him, "Do you want me to be completely honest with you, or do you want to have a clear mind and continue developing our relationship?"

Dream frowns, not liking the sound of what she just said, "I want you to be honest with me."

"Okay. Calliope wants me to help Orpheus and return him to his former self."

Dream looks at her, shocked, his head spinning with questions and emotions he can't decipher. "Can you?"

Life stares at him, not wanting to confirm. She does so anyway. "Yes... But I won't."

"Why?" Dream frowns at her, pushing down his flaring temper.

"You heard what I said to Matthew, how I see everything." She pauses, waiting for him to confirm before continuing, "There is a certain way I need things to go and to extend my help now would disrupt everything,"

It clicks in Dream's mind, and thunder rumbles across the Dreaming in response. "You won't help my son because of this event you can't tell me about!"

Life doesn't stop him from standing from the bed, "I know, and I'm sorry. But there will come a time, one day, when you will see what I'm doing. I promise you- it will all make sense."

Dream looks at her in disbelief, "Do you think your revenge is more important than my son?"

"That isn't what this is. I'm protecting all of you! You, Orpheus and Calliope!" Life feels even that is too much information.

Dream stares at her, seeing her panic, desperation, and honesty. He shakes his head, conflicted. "I believe you, but..."

Life's eyes tear up, "I understand. He's your son."

He sighs, their relationship's quick downfall disappointing and heartbreaking for him, "I'll stay in another room."

"No." Life shakes her head, hating this will force her to get on with her plans, having previously been using her powers to push the events back, "I won't stay in the Dreaming."

"Where will you go?" Dream can't help but ask, knowing he can't change her mind about staying, though the Dream Lord is still concerned for her, despite his inability to get past her dismissal of his son's suffering in favour of her plans.

"Where I need to be."

Life hesitates but goes with what she wants to do, kissing Dream on the cheek before backing away and fading from The Dreaming, leaving a heartbroken Dream Lord.

She takes a deep breath, looking around at the darkness surrounding her, her heart heavy and burdened. Another deep breath filters through her unneeded lungs, her power swelling for the second time that day. Her powers explode from her body, making the corners of her lips turn up slightly as she watches the darkness conform to her wishes.

The Void is mine now.

Thanks for reading.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus sandman #sandman #sandman netflix #the sandman x fem!reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #lord morpheus #fanfic

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loveislattes · 3 years ago

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1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations/tips and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing�� suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.”

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

#dark/reader #primal kink #predator/prey #kink prompt #smut #fanfic

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candycityy · 3 years ago

Text

waltz

Synopsis: He'd chase her to hell itself, and beyond, if he had to. Greek mythology/PJO-inspired reincarnation AU.

[Click here to read on AO3 instead.]

The first time, Levi dies quietly, in his sleep.

He does not go out in fire and fury; it is a peaceful death, one he goes into with grey in his temples and sickness in his blood, unbecoming of humanity's strongest soldier. But Levi has never been a hero. Never wanted to.

He wakes to the gentle, rocking motion of a sailboat. It's dark, cavernous, but there is no ceiling as far as he can see, only steep walls of grey rock that stretch into the sky, lined with candle sconces that curve upwards and throw eerie blue light onto the dew-slicked surfaces.

He moves to sit up. His head spins, his consciousness threadbare and fragmented. When he glances over the edge of the boat, he sees a strange reflection in the black water.

It's him, but...different. Paler, younger, gaunter. The ghostly light casts shadows that pool in the hollows of his cheekbones and underneath his eyes, making him look almost skeletal.

Appropriate, he supposes, considering he's dead.

The figure that sits silently at the other end of the boat smiles, a flash of white, pointed teeth in a silhouetted face. "Levi Ackerman," it pronounces. Its voice is soft but grating, like its vocal cords are made of rusted iron instead of soft flesh. "I finally meet you. It's an honour."

"More than I can say for you." His voice is unnaturally loud, bouncing off the rock and echoing into the silence. "Am I supposed to know who the fuck you are?"

"I am Charon." It inclines its head, and Levi catches a flash of its eyes; they're the same strange blue-grey as the flames that light the cave. "You don't know me, but I know you. Oh, if I could count all the times I've heard that name on the lips of the newly-dead...as if you were a demon, or a god."

When Levi doesn't respond, Charon continues, its conversational tone clashing with the rasp of its voice. "But now that I see you here, as dead as any of your soldiers, I see you are no more than simply human."

The boat bumps roughly against the shore. In the distance, a city emerges, like magic, from the darkness. It glows with a warm light, delicate towers of glass rising up into the sky, which is already lightening into a soft, clear blue. As Levi watches, the grey rock of the shore metamorphoses into an endless, rolling green field, blades of grass shifting and swaying in a nonexistent breeze.

"Your fare?" Charon extends a bloodless, expectant hand. Levi stares back uncertainly.

"What?"

"There is always a price to pay, to cross over into death." Charon's withered lips curve into a smirk. "Blood, or wealth, or sorrow...and in your case, that." It nods at his clenched fist.

He uncurls his fingers, revealing a tattered soldier's patch, torn from their uniform, embroidered with the emblem of blue and white wings he thought he'd never see again. It sits among a sea of red, crescent-shaped imprints, carved into pale flesh.

Before Levi can react, the ferryman reaches over and plucks it from his open palm. In its skeletal grasp, the patch shrinks and changes, turning into a single heavy, gold coin.

Charon stands up, its spine curving into a low, mocking bow.

"Welcome to Elysium, Levi Ackerman. I wish you a pleasant death."

Levi doesn't remember much about his death.

He'd died in bed, he thinks—he remembers the sharp, acrid scent of medicine and disinfectant, the way the illness crept into his bloodstream, making his bones brittle and his lungs constrict. But already, his time on earth is becoming a distant memory, colours and textures and emotions once cast in sharp detail softening into a sighing, distant grey.

Such is the spell of Elysium, he hazily guesses. The pain of life has no place in paradise, and his life has been so little apart from pain. Some memories remain, though, either unable or unwilling to be pried from his mind—a strange, lilting lullaby in a language he doesn't recognise. The crisp aroma of fresh tea leaves. Hair the colour of a sunset, a shifting mass of reds and golds. A name.

He struggles to remember, and fails.

The ground is soft, unresisting, under the crunch of his boots, and Levi isn't sure if it's been minutes or years when he finally steps onto dry sand. When he looks up, he's engulfed by the radiance of the golden city—Elysium.

"Welcome, hero." The woman that appears before him smiles. She is undeniably beautiful, and yet not quite right; there is something unnatural, inhuman, to the curve of her mouth and the brightness in her cerulean gaze. Her white dress drapes her every curve and flows to the ground, gossamer-like and almost liquid. A closer look reveals that it is constructed entirely of tiny white flower petals, stitched together with a silky, translucent thread—spiderwebs, he realises with an inward shudder.

"I am Persephone, queen of the Underworld, goddess of spring." She lifts a hand, and a sighing, heady breeze envelopes her, making her hair and dress ripple. "Levi Ackerman—I must admit, I expected you much sooner."

"Sorry to disappoint," he says flatly. "Although, you can't really blame me for trying my damned best to avoid, you know. Dying."

"Well, no matter." She lifts an elegant shoulder, in a guise of a shrug. "You're here now. I'm delighted to welcome you into my realm."

She spreads her arms in a dramatic gesture, and the otherworldly light coming off her intensifies to an almost blinding degree. He winces wordlessly. "Could you turn that goddess thing off?"

"Hmm." Persephone casts him a thoughtful look, and then smiles, catlike. "Maybe you'd prefer this, instead, then?"

As he watches, her statuesque form shrinks until the top of her head reaches just below his eye-level. Her elaborate crown of braids, as pale gold as a wheatfield, softens and falls to her collarbone, and darkens into a honeyed copper. Her features blur and bubble over, revealing amber eyes and a too-familiar smile.

The elusive name—he forgot, how could he forget?—is torn from his throat, a ragged whisper. "Petra."

The word is a hook, tugging to the surface a lifetime of memories, and all at once, he remembers.

The first time he'd seen her, she'd been participating in a titan drill. She'd swept through the air like quicksilver, tumbling past her comrades in a graceful choreography of movement, silvered blades like deadly extensions of her slender arms. But far more arresting was the look in her eyes: her amber irises set ablaze from within, bright with ferocity and triumph.

She'd been the first person in the Survey Corps who'd ever been kind to him; who'd looked him straight in the eye and spoke honestly, defiantly. Levi doesn't know exactly when, but she'd cut a hole into his chest with that warm, reticent smile. And for the first time since he was nine years old, he'd allowed himself to be weak.

An initially uneasy truce had grown into a comfortable companionship, and after months of push-and-pull, polite banter turned into shared moments in the corridors, and evening tea sessions turned into late nights spent in his office, fingers intertwined underneath the table.

And he remembers, with startling clarity, the day he'd been walking in a Sina marketplace and found that silver ring, set with a stone the exact colour of her eyes. He remembers how it'd seemed to burn a hole in his pocket after he bought it, day after day, week after week. Impatient. Demanding.

It'd burned all the more when he'd found her that day, sprawled against the tree, her neck thrown back at a grotesque angle, empty eyes trained at the sky.

"So you do prefer this." The goddess who is not Petra smiles, cold and otherworldly, and the expression looks desperately wrong on her face. "How terribly unsurprising. Humans are all the same, in every age and time...I suppose even being humanity's strongest wouldn't change a thing."

"Is she here?" is all he manages to say. Persephone waves a slender white hand, carelessly.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," she drawls. "But we are not here to talk about your long-lost love, Levi Ackerman. We are here to talk about you, and that all the wildest desires that your fragile little soul can muster." Her lip curls. "You are in Elysium. What is your heart's desire, hero? What do you ask of paradise?"

"Isn't that your job, to figure that out?" he shoots back. She sighs.

"Well, yes, I suppose. I'd hoped you would be different, but you seem just as human as the rest." She pronounces the word in a manner similar to the ferryman, with a kind of amused scorn. "For most humans, it's either love and power—only two things satiate them."

Her ageless green eyes seem to pierce him like knives. "Which do you want, Levi Ackerman? What drives you?"

Kenny once said, everybody needs to be a slave to something. A god, a drug, something to be drunk on, to keep the air circulating through their lungs and to force them to wake up day after hellish day.

Levi doesn't agree. He'd lived years and years without anything, after all; a shell of a man driven by pure survival instinct, by the sheer virtue of a heart that refused to stop beating, all the way until it did.

But Petra had been different. She'd believed in the old stories, the ones in the countryside hymns she used to sing. Of a purpose, a meaning, something greater. Sometimes she'd close her eyes, her lips moving in a soundless prayer, and he'd close his eyes as well and wish with all his heart to believe, too.

He looks straight at the goddess. "Nothing," he replies, truthfully.

Persephone laughs, a too-perfect, bell-like sound, that is so utterly unlike Petra's that it sounds nearly obscene coming from her lips. "Oh, you are just delightful, hero. You're telling the truth, aren't you? That's adorable. And yet—this girl," she gestures down at herself, "I saw her at the top of your mind. Your biggest regret, isn't she, Levi Ackerman?"

He grits his teeth. "So what if she is?"

"She is not here, hero." Persephone smiles, her pale irises alight with an icy glee, and for a second, a wave of cold dread crashes over him—could she have ended up anywhere else? No, she was a soldier, brave to the end. She couldn't have.

"Not anymore. You're too late." An exhale of relief—she had made it here, after all. "Petra has chosen a different path, to be reborn again, and to try for the Isles of the Blessed."

"The what now?"

"It is a paradise above all," she explains airily. "To reach it, you must live and die thrice, and each time reach such heights of heroism or courage that so suffice to earn you entry into Elysium."

Levi exhales, a low hiss escaping his teeth. Of course she would have—she was always so restless, so fierce, a caged bird striving constantly for the sky. She could never stay in one place, never settle down into comfort and domesticity. Elysium would never have been enough for the girl with fire in her eyes and an unquenchable thirst for more.

"What will you do?" She surveys him with her cool, immortal gaze. It rankles him.

"I'm going, too." He straightens, fixes her with a a cold glare. Persephone cants her head to the side, her expression shifting to something akin to amusement.

"Then, will you give up Elysium to follow this girl?" She waves a hand, and the city's glow reaches almost blinding heights, forcing him to turn his gaze away.

"How much does she mean to you, hero? In this city wait so many who you know and love, who have yearned to see you. Your men, who gave up their lives for you. Your friends, who rode with you to their deaths. Your mother, your own flesh and blood.

"Petra Ral has the spirit of a warrior," she adds, almost conversationally. "Do you, Levi Ackerman? You, with your heart that has ever only wanted peace and comfort?” Her lips twist, mocking. “Or is your heroism a mere product of your circumstances? Do not expect to be blessed with Ackerman blood again, this time. And if you fail—you will never see any of your loved ones again."

Some paradise.

"Do I have to make this decision now? Don't suppose I could stop to sightsee first?" His words are gelid but his tone is raw—not that he'd fool the goddess either way, he supposes.

"Of course not. That wouldn't be any fun," she goes, with that chilling bell-like laugh that makes his hair stand on end. He hesitates.

He thinks of Isabel, that trusting, childlike gleam in her eyes. Furlan, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe with that knowing smirk ghosting over his lips. His mother, singing him lullabies in the dark of the brothel. Erwin, who he'd told, in no uncertain terms, to give up his dreams and die.

And Levi knows it isn't there—he'd slid it onto the finger of her corpse, all those years ago, and it'd be little more than tarnished metal against bleached white bone by now—but he feels the phantom heat of the ring in his pocket, scorching hot. No regrets.

He's never had a single regret, except for her.

Levi lifts his head, and meets the goddess's gaze, unfaltering. Decisive. "I'm going."

"If you wish. But know this, hero." Her voice seems to thunder through the city. "If you succeed, upon your third death you may enter the Isles and live a life of eternal bliss.

"But, if you fail to reach Elysium even a single time." Persephone's eyes gleam with a predatory eagerness, "you are doomed to spend eternity in whatever realm you are sentenced to. The light of paradise will be barred to you...forever."

Talk about dramatic.

"Get on with it, then," he almost spits. It figures, it really does, that even in death, he wouldn't get a second of fucking peace.

Persephone casts him a quelling look. He ignores it. With a roll of her eyes, she waves a hand, and immediately, the glow of the city begins to crumble away, even the sand beneath his feet, and he feels himself fall. An incredible wind rises, and he finds himself being shoved backwards, the fields and the cavern roaring in his ears.

"As a final gift to you, hero..." The goddess's teeth flash tauntingly in the fading light, like pearls set against ebony. "I grant you memory."

The last thing he sees is the glint of cruel delight in her eyes.

#rivetra #levi ackerman x petra ral #i was reading madeline miller's circe and it reminded me of this fic which never materialised #much to my FRUSTRATION #candycity writes #levi ackerman #petra ral

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 3 years ago

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Closed Mer-Verse Starter for @the-quantum-repairman

Connor has wanted to be part of their world for a long time. His curiosity burned as he watched, from a safe distance, as they lived their lives. It only intensified the day he met a human with red hair. Thomas had helped him when he needed it, despite the fear they both had for each other at their first encounter. Not only did he help, but he shared his meager rations and humored Connor’s curiosity. He wanted to learn more, experience more.

This is what led him to her den at the bottom of lake Superior. The place the sun can’t reach, where the bodies of many humans rests, faces frozen in terror or in an almost peaceful slumber, perfectly preserved in the icy waters. Connor has heard the saying about the lake and how ‘she doesn’t give up her dead’. Even Connor was effected by the frigid cold, biting his lip as he swam deeper, seeing the wrecked ship that is the sea witch’s home.

She has been expecting him. Many talk about the merman that hordes human trash. How his curiosity will be the damnation of them all. It’s an offer she has made him before, in exchange for one of his most prized possessions. He had turned her down, then, citing that he could never leave his family. However, she could see the desire burning in his eyes. He would be back.

“Ready to accept my most humble offer, Connor?” She asks, speaking in their native language, though when she speaks, a shiver runs down his spine. Even he knew the dangers of the sea witch, her voice colder than the ice waters that burned his skin. After the initial fear passes, he nods, digging into his bag that he packed with a few of his treasures, as much as it pains him to leave it all behind.

“Yes,” Connor presents the broach, an old item from the Celtic sea. Something his mother had left behind before she disappeared from his life forever, “Please. I want to be able to join the surface dwellers. To know what it’s like to be one of them.”

She smiles, her teeth sharper than any mer-creature he has seen before, lit up by the many tendrils of light the witch has upon her head that only seem brighter as she took the item into her claws, “As you wish.”

The witch reaches into her dwelling and pulls out a necklace, made with rounded stones. At the front was a rose murex shell, delicate white and soft pink giving it an almost unnatural beauty, “Should the shell break, you will return to your true form, no matter where you are,” she warns, “keep it safe.” He takes it and puts it on, holding it protectively.

The witch leaned in, murmuring words that Connor did not know. They filled him with fear, made him doubt what he was doing. His body going numb from the cold, unable to move, to swim, his breath quickening. Without realizing it, he looked down and the witch was carving into his flesh, blood running from him as she ran her tongue across it. Oh, no, she’s going to eat him. This was a trap. Everyone was right and he was doomed. Nobody knew where he was. He wanted to go home, to forget this whole thing, for this to be a nightmare and he’ll swim up to the surface and be comforted by Thomas.

She took his arm, guided with ease by her own hand. Without warning, she bit down, hard. It was as if all feeling returned in that instant as he screamed. Black ran down from between her lips before she released him with a laugh.

“Better swim fast, little fish. The surface is a long way up,” the witch mocked, pushing him upward. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back as he swam towards the surface as fast as he could, trying to get away. He was only halfway up when his lungs started to burn, breathing becoming difficult. His body throbbed in pain, but he pushed through it. He needed to get into the sun, to feel warm again. It was so cold, and even as the light reached through the clear waters, it didn’t feel any warmer. He was struggling to swim now, slowing, but he couldn’t stop, not here. She could be right behind him. He needed to reach the top. The witch does not like the sun.

He broke through the water, gasping in a breath that should have burned his lungs, but it didn’t. He didn’t have time to think on this, though. His body was still in pain, and he couldn’t move how he should. Had she poisoned him? He swam in the direction of the place he knows Thomas has been staying, hoping he would know what to do. Waves were knocking him about, making it worse. He inhaled some water and panicked as his body fought to remove it.

His only solace at this point was that the waters were pushing him towards the shore. Connor fought so hard, but he just couldn’t swim as he should. His tail felt funny, like it was split in two. He knows some merfolk in the southern seas had tails like that, but his tail didn’t even feel like it should. The cold kept him from thinking about that. He was just still so cold.

Finally, he reached the shore, the water pushing him up on the sand. He was exhausted, managing to pull himself just far enough from the water to not be pulled back in with the tide. The sun felt wonderful on his body, melting the ice in his bones. He just needed to rest for a few minutes, catch his breath, than he’ll go back in the water and swim around the coastline in search of a red-headed human. He’ll help. Connor closes his eyes and drifts off, lying there on the sand.

#The Burning Passion of Icarus and Apollo // The-Quantum-Repairman #Mer-Verse #(kinda got away from me there)#(I hope this is alright)#(Obviously I don't expect you to match length. LOL)

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dweemeister · 4 years ago

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NOTE: This is the first (and perhaps only) film released theatrically during the COVID-19 pandemic that I am reviewing – I saw Wolfwalkers at the Vineland Drive-in at the City of Industry, California. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health officials.

Wolfwalkers (2020)

In interviews prior to and after Wolfwalkers’ release, co-director Tomm Moore has described the film as the last panel of Cartoon Saloon’s Irish folklore triptych. That triptych (an informal trilogy) began with The Secret of Kells (2009) and continued with its centerpiece, Song of the Sea (2014). The global environment for animated cinema has transformed since Kells, and now – unexpectedly – Cartoon Saloon finds itself a hub for not just hand-drawn animation, but animation that rejects the crass commercialism emerging from mainstream animation studios (mostly from the United States). With the triptych completed (as well as 2017’s The Breadwinner), one can trace Cartoon Saloon’s evolution from their beginning to its present artistic maturation. While the film asserts its own uniqueness in the Cartoon Saloon filmography, there are connecting strands – aesthetic, spiritual, thematic – of the studio’s previous features apparent throughout. Upon a week’s reflection, I think Wolfwalkers is the studio’s second-best film, just behind Song of the Sea. Even at second-best, this level of artistry has rarely been seen in this young century.

It is 1650 in Kilkenny. Robyn Goodfellowe (Honor Kneafsey) is an apprentice hunter and only daughter of Bill (Sean Bean). Robyn and her father are expatriates from England, and some of their Irish neighbors will not let them forget that. Oliver Cromwell (Simon McBurney) – referred to as “The Lord Protector” throughout the film – has invaded Ireland and looks to secure his conquest over the Irish people (Cromwell is a despised figure in Ireland and lionized by some in England to this day). On an ill-advised trip outside the walls of Kilkenny, Robyn encounters and eventually befriends Mebh Óg MacTíre (Eva Whittaker in her first film role; pronounced “MABE”), a Wolfwalker. As a Wolfwalker, the animalistic Mebh can leave her physical body and take the shape of a wolf while slumbering. Mebh’s mother – who is also a Wolfwalker – has been missing for sometime while Cromwell has ordered the slaughter of all of Ireland’s wolves. Things are complicated when Bill is tasked by the Lord Protector to destroy the wolves living in the woods surrounding Kilkenny.

From the opening moments, lead background artist Ludovic Gavillet (2016’s The Secret Life of Pets, 2018’s The Grinch) sets the contrast between the scenes within and outside Kilkenny’s walls. Kilkenny is suffocatingly geometric, with squares and rectangles dominating the background and foreground. Backbreaking work defines life in Kilkenny, all devoted to the residents’ English conquerors, God, and the Lord Protector. Rarely does the average city resident venture outside the looming outer medieval walls (there are two sets of walls in the city). The structure of Kilkenny is inconceivably box-shaped when seen from a distance. It appears like a linocut. In that distance are the countryside and the forests. As one ventures further from Cromwell’s castle, expressionist swirls define the foliage that seems to enclose the living figures treading through. Green, brown, and black figures twist impossibly in this lush environment. Seemingly half-drawn or faded figures suggest a depthless, dense forest – similar in function to, but nevertheless distinct from, Tyrus Wong’s background art for Bambi (1942). In both Kilkenny and the forest scenes, selective uses of of CGI animation capture the dynamism of certain action scenes – two running scenes in particular employ these techniques (once in joy, the other in terror).

So often in modern CGI-animated films, the animators seem to grasp for heightened realism and minutiae. In such movies, too many details are packed into frames that can only be appreciated if prodigiously rewatched or paused mid-movie. It might feel like completing a visual checklist. In Wolfwalkers, the half-finished details amid breathtaking backgrounds, angular (or round) humans, and simultaneously threatening and delightful wolves almost seem to announce that, yes, humans drew this – and they did so with such artistic flare. In keeping with the references to triptychs in this review, the film itself sometimes divides the frame into thirds (a top, middle, and bottom or a left, center, and right) or halves in moments of dramatic weight. The thirds or halves are separated by dividing lines and are used for various purposes depending on the moment: to save the filmmakers from making two extra cuts, juxtapose differing if not contradicting perspectives, and intensify the emotions portrayed. Less utilized in this film but even more radical than the aforementioned techniques is the film’s use of shifting aspect ratios. Wolfwalkers is principally in 1.85:1 (the common American widescreen cinematic standard, which is slightly wider than the 16:9 widescreen TV standard), but there are notable moments which temporarily dispense of these standards. Like the division of the screen into thirds or halves, the shifts in screen aspect ratio help the audience focus and understand what is occurring on-screen. The most memorable screen aspect ratio shift appears before an eruption of violence.

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The Secret of Kells, too, was set in a city designed in a perfect, orderly shape. That film, like Wolfwalkers, evokes Christianity for narrative purposes. But where Kells celebrated God and found religion as a source of comfort, Wolfwalkers’ depiction of Christianity – specifically, Cromwell’s Anglican zealotry – is without redeeming elements. Under his breath, the Lord Protector prays to God that he will execute any providential commands by any means necessary. In public, he announces his actions as essential to rid Ireland of the lupine paganism that inhabits the wild. Without saying as much, Cromwell’s orders are nevertheless Anglican England imposing its will on Irish Catholics. Irish cinema, until the late 1990s and early 2000s, was usually deferential in its depictions of the clergy and religious practitioners (almost always Catholic). Though it is not unheard of for an Irish film to be critical in portrayals of religious belief, it remains uncommon. And though Cromwell is Anglican and not Catholic (and despite the fact he remains vilified in Ireland), Wolfwalkers’ cynical depiction in how he wields his religiosity as a cudgel is an extraordinary development in Irish cinema.

Tied to the film’s depiction of religiosity are its undercurrents of English colonialism and environmentalism. The latter will be obvious to viewers, but the former might cause confusion during a first viewing because it seems to be, at once, on the periphery and yet central to Wolfwalkers. Cromwell being referred to as “the Lord Protector” for the film’s entirety is indicative of screenwriter Will Collins’ (Song of the Sea) decision not to provide much historical context within the film. English colonial oppression usually occurs off-screen or is implied. This seems inconsistent with Cartoon Saloon’s work on The Breadwinner. That film identifies and openly describes Taliban injustices.

So what gives? As much as those who admire animated film disdain perceptions that it is solely for children (like myself), animated film is oftentimes a gateway for children to be exposed, eventually, to other corners of cinema. Can children understand Anglican-Catholic tensions in Cromwellian Ireland? Perhaps (especially British and Irish children), if presented with enough care. But the answer probably lies with the fact that the thematic goals of Wolfwalkers are more aligned with Kells and Song of the Sea than The Breadwinner. Cartoon Saloon’s Irish folklore triptych is concerned with how the Irish are inextricably, spiritually, bonded to the environment. There is a balance between humanity and nature – a mystical connection that, when disrupted, brings harm to all. The Breadwinner, though very much a part of Cartoon Saloon’s filmography, is grounded in recent history and, because of recent developments in the Taliban’s favor concerning the Afghan peace process, present-day concerns. In the film, fantastical stories are used to bring Parvana’s family together as the Taliban tighten their grip before the American invasion. This has little bearing on the folklore-centric storytelling of Wolfwalkers, but Collins, Moore, and Stewart’s editorial decision to downplay the film’s historical basis tempers any messaging they wished to convey.

Wolfwalkers meets The Breadwinner in its depiction of a young girl growing up in a male-dominated society. This film’s lead was supposed to be a young boy. But the story, to Collins, Moore, and Stewart, just did not click with the original male protagonist. As such, the trio made the decision early in the film’s production to switch the protagonist’s gender. Robyn, an English transplant to Ireland, is allowed remarkable freedom to do whatever she wants with her time in the opening stages of the film. This arrangement cannot persist as her father falls from the Lord Protector’s good graces. She is relegated to washing dishes from daybreak to dusk in the scullery – a task that she, in her heart, rejects for its gendered connotations. Robyn wears a Puritan’s frock while at the scullery, a uniform she has no desire for. While outdoors beyond the Kilkenny walls, she wears what her father wears – pants! – while out hunting wolves. Other than her father, few in the city care for Robyn’s intelligence and instincts. Most everybody ignores her protestations and truth-telling about the things she has seen in the forest. By film’s end, she is vindicated, in spite of Cromwell’s (and, to a lesser extent, her father’s) bluster and bravado.

This film also contains potentially queer subtext between Robyn and Mebh. Writers more skilled than I will provide better analysis of that subtext. Nothing explicit is shown, as the two are still children. Yet the nature of their friendship, the themes contained in Wolfwalkers, and some unspoken moments between Robyn and Mebh seem to relate a possible queerness. The film also does nothing to present either girl as heterosexual. Queer or not, Wolfwalkers shows the viewer a blossoming friendship between two girls – not without its tribulations, but rooted in their common earnestness.

Unlike previous films in Cartoon Saloon’s Irish folklore triptych, there are no notable original songs in Wolfwalkers. French composer Bruno Coulais and Irish folk music group Kíla are Cartoon Saloon regulars and return for Wolfwalkers. The musical ideas for Wolfwalkers’ score are not as apparent as the previous films in the triptych, as they are not quoting a song composed for the film. But the use of Irish instruments in their collaboration lends at atmospheric authenticity that only heaps upon the film’s sterling animation. Norwegian pop sensation AURORA has altered the lyrics and orchestration to her 2015 single “Running with the Wolves” to accompany a running scene that, by the filmmakers’ admission, was inspired by the running scene from The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013, Japan). The scene pales in comparison to the context and music from the late Isao Takahata’s final film, but Wolfwalkers is a movie more than the sum of its parts.

Production on Wolfwalkers was in its final stages as the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Republic of Ireland. When the Taoiseach, Leo Varadkar, announced a countrywide lockdown on March 12, 2020, Cartoon Saloon had already started preparing for a lockdown contingency three weeks’ prior. Clean-up was divided between Luxembourg-based Mélusine Productions and Cartoon Saloon’s headquarters in Kilkenny. After assessing the needs of the clean-up animators, both studios moved to remote work where the most pressing complication was their Internet bandwidth slowing down upload speeds.

Cartoon Saloon’s Irish folklore triptych is finished. In the last eleven years, the studio has proven itself one of the most interesting and important animation studios currently working. They have even proven they can make quality films without its primary director, as evidenced by Nora Twomey’s The Breadwinner (Twomey’s next project for Cartoon Saloon is My Father’s Dragon, slated for a 2021 release). Though just an indie studio with limited resources, their standing in animated cinema has only strengthened with this, their most ambitious film to date. It might seem like a rehash of the animation from Kells, but Wolfwalkers has improved upon its predecessor, and boasts perhaps the most beautiful artwork of any animated movie released this year. The film’s grandeur belongs on a movie screen, but, understandably, very few will have the opportunity to experience it in such an environment. This latest, ageless triumph will outlast these extraordinary times.

My rating: 8.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Wolfwalkers #Tomm Moore #Ross Stewart #Cartoon Saloon #Honor Kneafsey #Eva Whittaker #Sean Bean #Simon McBurney #Maria Doyle Kennedy #Will Collins #Bruno Coulais #Kíla #Paul Young #Nora Twomey #Ludovic Gavillet #My Movie Odyssey

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kmomof4 · 4 years ago

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Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

We’re back y’all!!! I am so glad that you enjoyed last weeks installment and I’m hoping that you’ll like this one just as much, if not even more!!! We have quite a bit throwing back to canon in this chapter and I so hope you enjoy it!!! Thank you all again for coming along on this journey with me! Words cannot express how much it truly means to me!!!

@profdanglaisstuff and @hollyethecurious both deserve every good thing and all the love I can possibly give for their invaluable assistance and input in the crafting of this story!!! I also want to express my appreciation to the ladies of the CSSNS and the CSMM discords for their encouragement and help with a title! And finally to @spartanguard for bringing this story to LIFE every single week!!! Real life got in the way this week, so the chapter art will be up tomorrow. But even so, my heart is so full, just know that I’ll never be able to adequately express how much your hard work on behalf of this story means to me! I am immensely grateful!!! Thank you all so much ladies!!! I couldn’t have done this without you!!!

Chapter summary: 19yrs after leaving Massachusetts, Emma returns to Killian.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: 8751 of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 6 Of Soulmates

19yrs later Emma Swan Fisher drove down the meandering gravel road that purported to lead to the address, and the man, written on the envelope tucked into her purse. Purported, because she had left the main road almost three minutes ago and there was still no sign of the house. She finally came around a bend and laid eyes on the… her jaw dropped, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. It was a mansion, there was no other word for it. She pulled into a courtyard in front of the most magnificent home she had ever seen. Realizing what she probably looked like, her jaw snapped shut. Being seen gaping like a fish wouldn’t exactly be the best first impression.

Climbing the stairs to the front porch, she could see into the house through the top half of the door. It was designed like a farmhouse window with wood mullions dividing the glass into smaller windows so that she could easily see in. The doorbell echoed as a tall, older gentleman came toward the door. She stepped back as she waited for him to answer.

He opened the door and a gasp left his lips. “Miss Emma?” Surprise colored his words and his face. She stepped back further in alarm at his question, nearly taking a tumble off the steps. He reached out, catching her before she could fall. He was clothed in black slacks and white shirt, open at the top with the sleeves rolled up. He was probably a little old to be sporting a mostly grey ponytail, she guessed him to be in his late 50’s, early 60’s.

“Do I know you?” she asked, regaining her balance. He still held on to her by the elbow and she had to stop herself from jerking away from him. He was only trying to help her.

He looked down and chuckled. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t expect you do, Miss. But I certainly remember you, although you were only a wee lass when last I saw you.” He looked back up at her with a broad smile. “I expect that you are here for Master Killian.”

“Uh, yes,” she agreed.

“Please come in, lass,” he invited, “I’m Starkey, his butler.” He held the door open for her and followed her into a bright, sunny room with floor to ceiling windows opposite letting in the late morning light. She followed him through several rooms, all sporting spectacular views of green lawns sloping down to the Atlantic, before he led her out to a screened-in porch, where she could just discern the waves breaking on the beach and the salty sea air wrapped around her like a blanket. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful and peaceful in all her life. “I’ll let Master Killian know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at him as he left the room. She was still stunned at the reception she had received when he had opened the door. It made the relationship that her mother must have had with this Killian Jones much more clear. If the butler knew who she was, and remembered her after all this time, they must have been very close, indeed. But if they were so close, why had Emma never heard of him? She knew, of course, that she had been born in Boston, and that the family had moved back to her mother’s birthplace in Minnesota when she was three. She’d been so young when they left Massachusetts, it never occurred to her to ask about their years there when she was growing up. She had a feeling though, that she was soon to get a crash course about that time of her life.

She couldn’t decide if she was dreading it or excited about the prospect.

Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had come here today for one purpose. To hand deliver this letter, written by her recently deceased mother, to the closest friend she had ever had. She had been given this task just a few weeks before Ingrid died. Emma sighed. Those days had been a blur. Anna and Elsa returning home, home health nurses around the clock, being woken in the middle of the night with the news that the end was near, sobbing in her sisters’ arms after she was gone, taking care of legal affairs, it was a miracle that she remained sane. Once everything had calmed down, she knew she had to fulfill her promise. So here she was. Her past had no bearing on what she was here to do. It had no bearing on her future. She’d deliver the letter and leave, duty fulfilled.

Suddenly, Emma felt a familiar shiver race down her spine. It had been awhile since she’d felt it, but not so long that it was wholly unfamiliar. She had felt a similar shiver occasionally over the years when she’d visited Boston with her college friends on the weekends. Especially when they visited the North End. But now, the tingling she’d felt under her skin when she entered the gates of the estate, intensified into full body chills before coalescing around her heart and almost tugging her back toward the main house. She turned away from the view of the ocean back into the house, only to meet another vision in the form of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

A myriad of emotions paraded themselves across his beautiful features. Relief, joy, sadness, excitement, something else that she wouldn’t name. He looked at her as someone would look at their greatest pride and joy, and dearest love all at once.

“Emma,” he breathed.

Emma stepped toward the man slowly, trying to bring her racing heartbeat under control. Her steps faltered slightly as she approached him, trying to catalog everything about his appearance. He was young. Way too young to be a close friend to her 57 year old mother. He didn’t look to be any older than she was. His black hair was gently mussed as if he had a habit of running his hands through it, black scruff with just a hint of ginger, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen (and given the blue eyes of her mother and sisters, that was saying a lot). He was dressed casually in jeans and a gray pullover that stretched enticingly across his chest and biceps. She couldn’t help but wonder at the strength of those muscles and how they’d feel underneath her hands. A shiver of desire ran through her that she promptly squashed. Whoa! Where did that come from? She ran her tongue across her lips as her eyes met his. The tightness in her chest subsided briefly but then intensified as she approached him. Along with the tightness, a wave of dizziness overcame her so suddenly that her knees buckled and she nearly fell at his feet before he caught her in his strong arms.

“Emma,” he cried, “Are you all right?” His clear concern for her well being took the edge off the embarrassment she felt showing that kind of weakness to a virtual stranger.

“Y- yes,” she stammered, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She clutched at his forearms as she gathered her legs back under her and attempted to stand.

“Here,” He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the small table in the breakfast nook before setting her down on one of the chairs. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? See if we can’t get you feeling a bit better.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Hot chocolate would be great.”

A few minutes later, Emma watched as her host placed two hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon on the small table and sat down opposite her.

“How did you know how I liked my hot chocolate,” she asked, with a small smile.

A sad smile crossed his face as he shrugged. “Lucky guess. This was how Ingrid liked to drink hers.”

Emma took a sip of her drink. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Jones,” she apologized, with a shake of her head.

He waved away her apology. “No need to apologize, lass. I’m just glad that your color is a little better now that you have some ‘elixir of the gods’ in you, as Ingrid used to call it. And please,” his penetrating blue gaze seemed to pierce to her very soul, “call me Killian.” She nodded, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s been many years since you and your family left Massachusetts, Emma.” He looked into her eyes, hope and a shyness that she didn’t expect swirling in their depths. She couldn’t explain this unexpected draw to him, but she wanted to stick around and try to get to the bottom of the mystery connecting this man to her family. “How is your mom? Your sisters?”

Emma was brought back to the man before her with the mention of her mother. “Oh, I’d nearly forgotten,” she exclaimed, reaching into her purse with the letter. “That’s why I’m here.” She handed the envelope to him. “My mom asked me to hand deliver this to you.” She looked down and tried to swallow over the sudden lump in her throat. He gently took it from her and she heard the rip of him tearing it open.

She looked up when he’d been silent for several moments reading the letter in his hands. Sorrow sat upon his brow and his eyes were very red, as if he were trying to hold back tears. He folded it back up and laid it on the table between them.

“So Ingrid is dead,” he sighed.

“Yes.”

“When your family didn’t come back four years ago and there was no contact, I was afraid that something like this might have happened,” he murmured. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

The clear anguish and sorrow on his face nearly broke her heart anew. She couldn’t possibly refuse him this, no matter how much she wanted to question him.

“The uterine cancer won in the end,” she began, haltingly. “She was diagnosed just before Christmas of my senior year in high school, 2012. Being so close to the Mayo Clinic, she was able to be treated there.”

Killian nodded. “They’re the best at what they do. I’m glad they were able to treat her.”

“She went into remission just before Anna and I graduated. Anna got her degree in graphic design from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and was planning a fall wedding, so,” she shrugged, “perfect timing.”

“Indeed.” His blue eyes bore into hers sending even more shivers of attraction down her spine that she felt helpless to stop.

“The type of cancer it was,” she continued, “we always knew there was a good chance of it coming back. We were planning on moving back here after I graduated, I was accepted to Harvard, but we decided that she should stay close to her doctors.” Killian nodded at her to continue. “She stayed healthy all through my years at Harvard, but…” here she faltered, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed again. “It came back. She told us the day after I graduated. She was dead three months later.”

Killian bowed his head in sorrow. “It’s taken this long for the estate to get settled and all the legal proceedings to wind up. I’m sorry.”

His head snapped back up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for, lass,” he choked out. “I’m glad you were able to come and give me the news in person, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to find out any other way.”

Emma could feel the blush rising on her face. “It was nothing,” she demurred, “I promised Mom.”

A few moments passed in silence before finally, Killian spoke. “Tell me about your sisters,” he encouraged. “Is Elsa still the quiet one?”

Emma laughed heartily. “As opposed to Anna? Yes! Absolutely!”

Killian chuckled. “I’ll never forget watching Anna learn to walk. She only walked for about a week and then she ran.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “And never stopped.”

Emma laughed again. “That is still true. Anna is a bundle of energy. She surely needs it now...”

“Tell me about Elsa and Anna,” he repeated. “How are they?” Emma lightly shook her head, trying to focus on his question about her sisters instead of the obvious confusion surrounding his memory of her twenty-six year old sister.

“Elsa came home,” Emma began, “after Mom was first diagnosed. She took a job with the St. Paul Chamber of Commerce and has made such a difference in the business community since then, that she’s running for Mayor, and doing very well in the polls. She’s also dating a guy she met at some shindig last year.” She laughed as Killian’s face fell into a tight frown. He certainly had the disapproving Dad look nailed.

“Well, tell me about him,” he very nearly growled. Emma couldn’t hold back her grin. “His name is Jack Frost, owns his own, very popular, restaurant, he’s 30, and treats her like a queen.”

Killian relaxed. “As long as he treats her right, I have no objection,” he huffed. Emma couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian’s face broke into a sheepish grin as his face and ears turned red and he scratched behind his ear again. Doubtless he realized just how ridiculous he sounded. His slight bashfulness was adorable as well as the protective instincts he just displayed. “And what about Anna?”

“Anna and Kristoff welcomed their first child, Aggie, last summer. They named him after Anna’s father.” A soft smile broke over her face. “Here’s a picture of Ingrid holding him,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “He was born about a month before she died.”

His smile matched hers. “I’m glad she was able to see and hold him.”

The bittersweet moment ended when Emma put her phone back away. Killian looked back up at her. “He’s obviously taking after Anna,” she added. “He has two speeds. On and off. He just started walking.” She couldn’t stop her smile from widening as she thought about her nephew. She looked back over at Killian who sported an almost awed joy on his face. How had she been drawn in so quickly and easily to this man? A man she had grown up not even knowing of his existence, and had only finally met such a short time ago. She couldn’t believe how easy he was to talk to, to share intimate details of the lives of her family with.

“And now, what about yourself, lass? You said you attended Harvard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled, proudly. “I studied Sociology with a concentration in Family and Adoption.” She could feel her cheeks heating up. “I’m thinking about going to law school so that I could specialize in adoptions.” She shrugged and looked away from him. “Given our family history…” she trailed away.

She looked back up at him to see his face split in the widest grin she had ever seen. “I don’t think I could be more proud of you,” he murmured. “That’s wonderful, Emma.”

She could feel the blush spreading again but she maintained eye contact with him, basking in his praise. Why was she so receptive to him? So willing to accept his admiration. She barely knew him!

She fixed him with a hard, confused stare. “Okay, now it’s my turn.” Killian scratched behind his ear in what she recognized as a nervous tic. Something wasn’t right here and physical attraction aside, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. “How exactly did you know my mom? She said that you were her best friend. You tell me stories of my twenty-six year old sister as a toddler. But you don’t look any older than I am.”

Killian chuckled and his ears turned red again as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m much older than I look, lass,” he admitted.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life,” she sassed.

He chuckled again. “Not quite.”

“So how old are you?”

“I’m a lot older than I look.” He fixed her with just as hard a stare as she’d leveled at him. “Let’s just leave it at that. But believe me when I tell you, that not only was I Ingrid’s closest friend, she was also mine.”

His cerulean gaze spoke to the deepest part of her. She knew that he was telling her the truth. Emma prided herself on being able to tell when someone was lying. A sixth sense, so to speak, that was unfailingly accurate if someone was trying to feed her a load of bull. That sixth sense was eerily silent at his statements.

She nodded. “Okay.” She had no idea why she was backing down. Yes, he was telling her the truth, but he wasn’t telling her all of it. How could he be when he didn’t look as old as Anna was now, much less old enough to be such an intimate friend of her mother? She didn’t want to let him off the hook quite so easily, but the quickening of her heartbeat and the tug she felt toward him ever since seeing him for the first time only confirmed what everything else about this encounter pointed toward. The reception she had received, both from him and his butler, and his obvious love for her mother and knowledge of her sisters, all combined to tell her one thing. She was exactly where she belonged. She was home. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she could trust this man in front of her. Knowing that was one thing, acting on it however, was quite another.

“Please,” she begged. “I do trust you. I just want to know your connection with my family.” She knew that she was treading on thin ice, pushing him on this, but she couldn’t help the natural curiosity and desire to put together the puzzle that had been presented her in this man.

“Perhaps that would be a better topic of conversation at a more… neutral location.” Her brow furrowed at his words. “I will answer all your questions. You have my word. I have a lunch appointment that I must depart for soon in order to make, but may I escort you to dinner this evening?”

Emma’s eyebrows jumped nearly to her hairline. “Are you asking me on a date? You just met me!” she exclaimed.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He chuckled. “Then yes, I guess I am.” His face turned serious, his eyes burning into hers, sending her heart rate into a gallop. “Would you go out with me, Swan?”

“What did you say?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Why did you call me that?”

Killian also paled. “It’s your middle name. Anna thought you should have it because of your birthmark.” Her hand rose to her neck where her birthmark was. “Ingrid told me on the day you were born.” He rose from the table and kneeled before her, holding out his hand. “Please, Emma,” he begged, “I know it seems crazy.”

“Yes, it does,” she exclaimed, standing to her feet, her heart galloping in her chest. “Much older than you look? Telling me about the day I was born and when Anna learned to walk? Do you know what you sound like?”

Killian looked down at the floor. “Like a madman, I’m sure.” He looked back up at her, his azure eyes pleading. “And if your face is telling me anything, you’re ready to run out my door and never come back.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

His eyes grew soft as they gazed into her own. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you’re something of an open book.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her awaiting her answer. “Please give me a chance.”

She continued to stare at him, the two opposing voices in her head vying for dominance. The one telling her that it was too much, it was too soon, the mystery of the man in front of her didn’t matter. This, he, was dangerous and she would be well served to run as fast and as far away as she could. But the second voice spoke from her heart and told her what she already knew. She could trust him. She could look in his eyes and see how much he cared for her, how much he loved her. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she knew that everything he had told her today was the truth. That piece of her heart, that she never knew she had until today, responded back to his. She placed her hand in his outstretched one.

Killian’s face rivaled the sun at noon as his fingers curled around her own. He rose to his feet before her. “Thank you, Swan.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips, never taking his eyes off of hers. A gasp escaped her as her heart rate sped up even further with a flood of arousal coming over her. He turned her hand over in his own and closed his eyes as he seemed to inhale deeply, drawing his nose along the inside of her wrist. He held his breath for several seconds before slowly letting it out, his warm breath brushing along her skin and raising goosebumps in his wake. His eyes opened and met hers again. “Where may I pick you up this evening?”

Emma swallowed heavily, trying to will her heart rate to slow down. “I’m at The Harborside Inn.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he declared. “I’ll see you at 8.”

~*~*~

Emma opened the door after his knock rang through the cozy, comfortably furnished room. Her eyes widened in appreciation as her eyes landed on him standing on her threshold. He appeared to be equally speechless.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he breathed.

“I, uh…” He looked to be dressed all in black. From the dark silk shirt and waistcoat, showing just a peek of dark chest hair to the black jeans and boots on his feet. A black leather jacket completed the ensemble. The same tingling under her skin she felt earlier intensified into the full body chills and heart tug yet again as her eyes raked hungrily over him. “Thank you.”

His appearance made her doubly grateful that she had done some shopping that afternoon after leaving his estate. She had found a small boutique near her hotel and was helped by a perky blonde saleslady who helped her find the perfect dress and accessories for her date tonight. She wore a pink flowing number with cap sleeves and a v neckline paired with nude pumps while pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. If his widened eyes and shortness of breath were any indication, she did good.

He shook himself out of his apparent daze and held out his arm to her. “Shall we, milady?”

“We shall,” she replied, smiling and slipping her arm through his.

He led her downstairs and out the back toward the pier. Her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on a full sized ship that looked straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. Killian preened beside her at her reaction. “Is that yours?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“She is, indeed,” he replied, proudly. “Behold, the Jolly Roger!”

She couldn’t wipe the shock off her face if she tried. She turned to him, mouth hanging open. “The Jolly Roger? Like from Peter Pan? Are you serious?”

He led her up the gangplank and down onto the deck of the ship. A chuckle escaped his lips and a delighted grin adorned his features as his eyes danced. “Peter Pan is my favorite book of all time. Although I’m definitely partial to Captain Hook. So, of course, I had to name her the Jolly Roger.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him as he led her to the helm. “So, where are we going that it takes a ship to get there?”

Killian’s grin grew even more, if possible. “I got in touch with an old friend of mine this afternoon. He owns a restaurant on the other side of the island. Very upscale, very popular, reservation only. It’s booked solid for the next three years. Most of the menu changes daily according to what the fishermen bring in, but his lobster dishes are the best to be found in all of New England. He was very pleased to arrange an extra seating for us this evening.” Killian drew her into his side as he steered the ship away from the pier and out to the open water. “The Nautilus is right on the water and we can pull in right there and enjoy our meal.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked down at her. She couldn’t suppress the shiver his gaze engendered as she returned his scrutiny. There it was again. The bone deep certainty that she was home. That at his side was where she was supposed to be. Her gaze drifted to his lips as his tongue peeked out between them. He cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back up to his. The hunger she saw there nearly took her breath away.

He looked back out over the water as the lights of Edgartown faded behind them. But she would have none of it. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands and turned his face toward her again before drawing him into a kiss.

Killian groaned into her mouth as she opened in invitation. He gathered her to him even more tightly, her body lining up perfectly to his. Her earlier thought about how his muscles would feel under her hands came back to mind as her own hands wrapped around his biceps as their tongues tangled until she pulled away trying to catch her breath.

“That was…” Killian trailed away, his forehead resting on hers.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

~*~*~

“Killian!” an older bald man exclaimed striding towards them with his arm outstretched.

“Nemo!” Killian called out. Emma immediately mourned the loss of heat when Killian removed his hand from the small of her back to greet his friend. The men met halfway and clasped hands before pulling each other into an affectionate embrace. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them.

Killian led his friend back to where she stood. The genuine smile that lit up his features put her even more at ease at meeting someone who clearly meant a lot to him.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet Captain Nemo,” he introduced. Her face broke into a delighted grin to match his own. “Nemo, my old friend, this is Emma Fisher.” He shot her a bashful, almost apologetic look as Nemo took her hand in between his.

“It is so lovely to meet you, my dear,” he enthused, pumping her hand up and down. “When Killian called this afternoon, I was delighted to add one more seating to the evening.” He cut his eyes back toward Killian. “We’ve been friends a very long time, but it’s also been a very long time since I’ve seen him. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see this one again.”

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Captain,” she replied. “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of my favorite adventures from when I was a kid.”

Nemo beamed at her even more than he already was. “I’m so glad! It is also my favorite story. I very much identified with Captain Nemo for many, many years, before I met Killian in the course of my travels. It was his influence that turned me onto a better, nobler path.” Mirth and a bit of mischief could be seen in his eyes as he looked at Killian again.

Killian blushed and scratched behind his ear. The move was even more endearing now, in the presence of his friend, than it was earlier.

“But enough about that,” Nemo continued, “Let me show you to your table.” Killian’s hand returned to the small of her back as they followed Nemo through the large, but very intimate dining room. The low lights and ample space between tables, she could only see five, created an ambiance that sent a flutter of awareness down her spine as they followed their host into another, much smaller room. It contained a single table, set for two. Emma gasped at the loveliness of the setting. The small table was covered by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. A tall, navy blue pillar candle in a hurricane lamp with a ring of yellow buttercups around the base adorned the center of the table. Killian came around her and held her chair out for her.

“So now you’re going to be a gentleman?” She smirked at him.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he cooed, his warm breath brushing the shell of her ear as she sat down. She sent him a small smile as he removed his jacket and seated himself across from her.

Their waiter approached to fill their water glasses. “What may I bring you to drink?” Nemo asked, stepping aside to give the waiter room.

“A bottle of the Premier Cru Les Vaillons 2015, if you please, sir,” Killian decided. He leaned over to her, whispering, “An excellent vintage for the lobster that’s being served tonight.” She nodded her acknowledgement before looking up at their host again.

“Excellent choice,” Nemo agreed. “I’ll get that right out to you and your meals will be out shortly.” Nemo and their waiter disappeared and she was finally able to direct her attention to her company for the evening. She could see the flickering yellow candlelight in his eyes that sparkled in the low lighting. His pupils dilated as he watched her, whether from the lighting or desire, she couldn’t tell.

His eyes grew dark when she lightly wet her lips. She returned his obvious admiration until Nemo returned with their wine. “Your Lobster Thermidor is being prepared as we speak,” he informed them as he poured their wine. “The lobster was harvested this very afternoon after I spoke with you, Killian. It will be served with a simple green salad topped with a light herb vinaigrette and couscous.” Nemo backed away and gave a slight bow to the couple. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Emma and I hope you both enjoy your evening here at the Nautilus.”

Killian smiled. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure we will.” Nemo withdrew and left them alone.

Conversation was light as they waited for their meals. Ranging from favorite books and television shows to a quite vigorous debate on whether Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies lived up to his Lord of the Rings saga. Casual and light touches did nothing to quell the simmering desire brought up by their earlier kiss. Aware of the desire in his eyes, and sending him a sultry smile back, she knew there was only one way she wanted the evening to end. Once their meals arrived, they both dug into the succulent dish accompanied, on her part, with moans of delight as she’d never tasted anything so delicious. Killian appeared spellbound as she swirled a piece of bread in the last of the creamy sauce left behind on her plate. She looked up at him and was gratified to see the desire in his eyes as she opened her mouth and laid the piece of bread on her tongue before closing her lips around her fingers and drawing them out of her mouth.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold as to play the blatant seductress, but the connection she had felt with him, even after she had left him earlier today, plus the effect of the wine was definitely playing a part in her attempts to flirt. He ran his tongue across his lips and a different kind of hunger colored his countenance before he seemed to shake himself out from under her spell. She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment she felt when he looked down at their table.

“Before this goes any further, Emma…” he looked up and his voice trailed away. The darkness of his eyes flashed blood red and a rage that she had only read about took over his visage.

Her sharp intake of breath and her face going pale snapped him out of whatever had overtaken him. He turned conciliatory and concerned eyes upon her. “Emma, are you all right?” He reached out and grabbed her hand with his own.

“Am I alright? What about you?” she asked. “What was that?” She turned to look behind her where the back of the restaurant was a glass wall looking out on the water. She could see nothing that might have incited the drastic change in her companion. “Your eyes went red and I’ve never seen anyone so angry as what I saw on your face just now.”

He shook his head. Not in denial, but in sorrow. “I’m sorry, Emma. I…” he looked back at her. “I promised to answer all your questions. I didn’t want to do it tonight, I was hoping to postpone that just for a little while. I just wanted us to have a fun evening, as a proper first date should be. A chance to get to know each other a little bit. Enjoy each other's company. But circumstances have changed enough that I see I’m going to have to answer all your questions tonight. And I can only hope that you’ll listen, believe, and not reject me. And what is between us.” He stared earnestly into her eyes, hope and trepidation mixing in his until she couldn’t discern which was stronger.

The connection she felt and the trust she had placed in him prompted her to nod her head at him to continue. But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

“You wanted to know what my connection was to your family.” She nodded. “You wanted to know how old I am.” She nodded again. He swallowed heavily. “I am a 450 year old vampire.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t make sense out of what she had just heard. “W-what?” she stammered.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud again.” He shut his eyes, his anguish etched across his face. “You heard exactly what I said.”

She shook her head. “Yes,” she agreed, “I heard what you said. But…”

“I told you that I was much older than I looked,” he interrupted, “and you said you believed me.” The pleading she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“Yes, I believed you. I have a thing about lies.” She shook her head again, trying to clear it, before dropping it into her propped up hands. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. And I know you weren’t.”

“Look at me, please, Emma,” he begged her. She lifted her head and looked into his earnest, forthright eyes. “Everything I will tell you is the truth. You have to trust me,” he pled.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath, seemingly to gather himself. “In answer to your first question, my connection with your family is this. I met Ingrid when she was a child,” he began. Truth. “I saved her life when her parents were killed.” Truth. “I was a close friend and watched her grow up.” Truth. “I was there when she took custody of your sisters and when she adopted you.” Truth.

“I’m telling you all this now because the monster that made me what I am, is here. He’s here for you.” He looked at her again, pleading with her to believe him.

“Why me?”

“We are soulmates,” he asserted. “And we are prophesied to destroy him. Rumplestiltskin.”

She was speechless for a long moment.

“Rumplestiltskin?” she croaked, finally finding her voice. “As in Rumplestiltskin Rumplestiltskin? The fairy tale Rumplestiltskin?”

“All the fairy tales that you know and love, were, at one time, real. They happened to real people. Their true stories have largely been lost, but some still survive in some form. The true story of Rumplestiltskin is much more sinister than the fairy tale you know. He was the first vampire. Created by Darkness from the dawn of time. The baby from the fairy tale was my older brother, Liam. When my mother defeated him, he swore vengeance upon our family. He took that vengeance thirty years later. He murdered Liam, in front of me, and then made me what I am. It was then that I swore vengeance upon him.”

Her heart flooded with compassion for him. The pain of that loss lay plainly upon his brow. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his. He looked up at her, surprised. “I’m so sorry. It may have been hundreds of years ago, but it obviously still pains you.”

He gave her a small smile before looking down at their joined hands. “It does.” He squeezed her hand and ran his thumb along her knuckles. “But this helps.”

“Liam’s murder and my turning happened on the Jolly. In the captain's cabin. I couldn’t return home to my family, so I renamed the ship and became a pirate. In 1650, I found a prophecy in my log book. A prophecy concerning the destruction of Rumplestiltskin. The Blue Fairy, she was the fairy godmother to our family, wrote it. I found it then, but promptly forgot about it until almost sixteen years later. When I met my soulmate for the first time,” his blue eyes bored into hers, “Emma Swan.”

Emma gasped. “Me?”

“You,” he confirmed.

Emma’s head was spinning. As much as she believed him, she did, trying to wrap her mind around everything he had already told her was proving difficult. He was her soulmate. Her soulmate! Did soulmates even exist? Apparently they did, given the connection that she’d felt since she met him. She looked over at him, knowing that the trepidation she was feeling had to be written all over her face. He looked at her so earnestly, so hopeful, with so much love. As nervous as he obviously was to begin his story, none of those nerves were in evidence now. He had laid it all out for her and was waiting for her response.

“I…” she stammered.

“There’s more,” he continued.

Emma withdrew her hand from his to drop her face into them. “How much more,” she moaned.

“I can tell you more about yourself,” he admitted, “and your past, I can tell you more about what my life has been like. But if you’d rather I not, you’ve got the most important information. We can save all that for another time, if you prefer.”

She raised her head and waved her hands around. “Yeah, I think I’d appreciate that. Don’t think I’m ready at the moment for any more.”

Killian took one of her hands in his own again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that our first date took this turn, Emma.”

Captain Nemo approached their table. “How did you enjoy your meal, my friends?” he boomed.

Emma turned to him somewhat startled only to catch a look of significance pass between the two men. “It was w-wonderful,” she stammered. “What?” she questioned, looking back and forth between them. Killian looked back at her, somewhat abashed.

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he contended.

Emma felt the indignation rise underneath her breastbone. She rose from her chair and placed her hands on the table. “Don’t lie to me. I told you I could tell when someone was lying to me.”

Killian’s face immediately fell in shame. “You are absolutely correct, Emma. I apologize.” He motioned back to her chair. “Please sit back down?”

Emma took a deep breath before murmuring her acceptance of his apology and returning to her seat.

“Nemo was relaying what we already knew.” Killian looked back at his friend. “That Rumplestiltskin is outside.”

Emma’s head whipped back to their host so quickly, she heard and felt a pop in her neck. “How do you know?” she asked, astonished.

“I told you, Swan, that he was an old friend.”

Emma turned overwhelmed and incredulous eyes back upon Killian. “Just how old are we talking here?”

Killian’s focus on her face never wavered as he lay yet another truth before her. “Nemo and I have been friends since we met for the first time toward the end of the nineteenth century. Nemo is the Captain Nemo that Jules Verne made famous, in a supposed work of fiction, in the early 1860’s.”

Emma could feel the panic rising up within her, making it hard to breathe. She shook her head again and rose once more. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” She could barely look at Killian, not wanting to see the disappointment she was sure was in his eyes. “Captain, would you be so kind as to call me a cab?” She spoke to the table again. “Killian, I can’t… I just can’t right now. Please, just leave me alone.” Pushing her emotions deep down, Emma turned from the table and walked as calmly as she could toward the front of the restaurant.

~*~*~

Nemo approached Killian, still sitting utterly forlorn at the table. “You’re not just going to sit there, are you?” he asked.

Killian looked up incredulously at his friend and rose from the table. “Bloody hell, of course not! With Rumplestiltskin out there? What do you take me for?”

Nemo chuckled. “Just making sure, my friend,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Your cab will be here in moments.”

Grim determination adorned his features. “Thank you, Nemo. I’ll not let anything happen to her. Not this time.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied. “That’s why I asked for two cabs to be sent when I called. I knew you wouldn’t want to let her out of your sight.”

Killian rose from the table and placed his hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “You surmised correctly, my friend.”

“She is still in the lobby, waiting for hers. As soon as they arrive, I’ll get her on her way, and then you can come out. I don’t imagine that she’d want to see you waiting as well.”

“I’d imagine not,” Killian conceded.

Nemo left then toward the front of the restaurant. Killian turned toward the glass wall. “I know you’re there,” he growled, “and you’re not going to get her. Not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes flashed red, and he stormed out of the room.

~*~*~

Emma stood at the door to her room when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had understandably felt anxious from the moment she had left The Nautilus. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt exposed and out from under Killian’s protection. She’d had to fight with herself to not rub her arms trying to will away the fear that licked under her skin. But now that fear was intensified for no apparent reason. She opened the door and entered the darkened room, closing and locking the door behind her.

That only made the goosebumps already along her skin tighten even further. The panic from earlier was making a reappearance as she made her way to the bed to turn on the lamp at the bedside table. She drew in a stuttered breath as the lamp cast its soft glow around the room.

A sound she’d never heard the likes of in all her born days drew her attention to the corner of the room. It was a giggle. Of course, she had heard a giggle before, but this was altogether different. It was a sound that she could imagine coming from a homicidal maniac on the big screen or from a creature released from the pits of hell to do what it pleased with the inhabitants of the earth. It was full of a depraved glee that shot waves of terror down her spine.

She turned toward the sound and beheld something that she couldn’t have conceived of in her worst nightmares. Green skin shimmered in the low light, lank hair lay hopelessly tangled around its face, but it was the eyes that forced the scream out of her mouth. At the same instant, the creature waved its hand towards her and the scream was cut off as if with the sharpest knife. She was frozen in place, unable to move as the creature moved deliberately towards her.

She should never have left Killian. It was one thing to listen to what he had to say. It was another to believe and trust him. But it was altogether different to see the things he spoke of alive and in person. At the time, it was a bridge too far to stay with him. And she was going to pay the ultimate price for her folly. She was about to die at the hands of this terrifying monster. Her frozen state notwithstanding, the terror and panic were about to steal her consciousness away. Red eyes and fangs were going to be the last things she ever saw. A lone tear tracked down her cheek. I’m sorry, Killian.

~*~*~

Killian arrived at Emma’s door with the Blue Fairy only to find it locked. The fairy closed her eyes, apparently trying to ascertain if there was any danger nearby. He knocked on the door.

“Emma, it’s Killian, darling,” he said, as he rattled the door knob in his hand. “Please let me in. I don’t want to leave you alone with Rumplestiltskin still out there.”

The Blue Fairy’s eyes flew open. “He’s in there!” she cried, “He’s in the room with her.”

That was all Killian needed to hear. He backed up and kicked the door in with all his might. His beloved was standing near her bed, frozen. Just as he had been all those years ago. His sire stood several feet away from her yet, not having had enough time to execute his foul plans. Killian rushed to Emma and gathered her frozen form in his arms.

“I’ve got you, my darling,” he crooned in her ear. “I won’t let him hurt you. Blue will take care of him for the moment.” He turned to where the two magical beings were locked in a fierce struggle. Dark and light magic sparked and crackled between the adversaries as they met in the center of the room.

Killian lifted Emma in his arms and called to the Blue Fairy as he ran out of the room. An inhuman howl of rage followed them out as the fairy shrunk down to her normal size and led them out the fire exit into the night. Once they were outside the building, she waved her wand over Emma’s frozen form. The enchantment that held her dissolved and she collapsed into Killian’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry! I never should have left you!” She cried into his shoulder as he held her tightly against him.

“Shhh,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Shhhhhhh. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Turning to the fairy who hovered a short distance away, he asked, “Can you transport us to the Jolly? It’s still at The Nautilus.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she agreed. A cloud of blue smoke enveloped them and the next thing they knew they stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger. They looked into the restaurant where they had enjoyed a marvelous dinner only a short time before and saw Nemo standing at the window. His face was suffused with joy as he raised a hand to them in farewell.

~*~*~

Once they were out to sea, Emma knew they had over half an hour before they’d arrive back at Killian’s estate. She leaned on the gunwale and stared out at the moon and stars shining down on the gentle waves. The chill that pulled her toward Killian was ever present when he was near, but now, she knew he stood just behind her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

“Aye, beautiful,” he murmured.

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “Why do I have the feeling that you aren’t talking about the same thing I am?”

He mirrored her position against the gunwale and looked down at her. “Perhaps I’m not,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry for running,” she confessed, looking down at her clasped hands. “I just couldn’t…” she paused, searching for the right word, “deal… with everything you were telling me.”

“You’ve no need to apologize, Swan,” he demurred. “Laying all that on you at once, when our attachment was still so new… anyone would have reacted the same.”

“But I nearly lost you,” she began, “because of my foolishness. You almost lost me. If Rumplestiltskin had succeeded, I’d be dead right now and we wouldn’t be able to destroy him.”

Killian turned and gathered her into his arms. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered into her hair. “We are soulmates. Unbound by time. This is the fourth time you’ve lived, and if that monster had taken you again, you’d eventually be reborn again and we’d destroy him next time.” He continued to stroke her back and she could feel the last of the fear and anxiety at what had happened tonight leave her body. With a deep breath, she melted further into his embrace. He pulled back slightly until he could look into her eyes. “I’ve waited centuries for you, my love.” He pulled her back to him. “And I would wait centuries more. I’d go to the end of the world for you. Or time.”

“What if you made me a vampire?” she speculated. She looked back up at him. He was already shaking his head. “Is that possible? Do you know how to do it?” She was starting to get excited. She plowed ahead, even in the face of his reluctance. “Then he couldn’t kill me. I’d be able to stay with you, but we could take our time and formulate a foolproof plan to destroy him, and when we were ready, we could bring the battle to him, instead of always being on the defensive.” She was rambling now, she knew it, but she had to convince him that her idea had merit.

“Emma, I could never inflict on you what was forced on me,” he began.

“But you wouldn’t be inflicting it on me,” she interrupted. “I’m willingly asking for it. Think about it. Please, think about it. Promise me that you will. This will work. If you agree.”

The pleading desperation in her eyes was his undoing. Killian sighed. “I don’t need to think about it,” he acknowledged. “You’re right. Making you a vampire, like me, would give us the greatest weapon available to us, time. And protection for you that in 350 years, I’ve been unable to provide. The night you and your family left Massachusetts, he was waiting for me in my kitchen when I arrived home, holding Starkey captive. I was able to subdue him that night because actions I had taken years beforehand had finally given me the advantage in our strange, centuries long relationship. When that was over, Blue gave me a vision of how to destroy him. But that doesn’t mean that it will be easy, nor that we’d be ready to try it in the near future.” He breathed deeply and released a long, slow exhale. “When we get home, I’ll show you to your room and I want you to really think about this. To really deal with everything you’ve learned tonight. You needn’t fear him breaching our sanctuary. That night, before she left, Blue placed magical barriers around the estate and the Jolly that prevents him from entering.”

Emma rested her head back on his chest, her soul enveloped in peace. Peace only he could give. The peace that came from finding her soulmate. The one she was destined to be with. The one that she would remain with. Forever.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!

#cssns20 #of darkness vampires and soulmates #krystal writes #art by spartanguard #ch6

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sabineelectricheart · 4 years ago

Text

On The Pier, Under The Moonlight

Summary: On a sleepless night, the Farmer is out stargazing. She is soon joined by Alex.

Rating: MA - Content is only suitable for mature adults. May contain explicit language and adult themes.

Words: 1200

Notes: So, some steamy fluff, just to take the edge off. I hope you like it.

The stars were twinkling on the sky above and the moon was full, generously illuminating the valley almost as if it was still daytime. There was no snow falling tonight, as the season prepares its swift change to Spring.

Wrapped in a red wool blanket, Estella, the local jack-of-all-trades, was spending the night gazing at the celestial bodies above her that named both herself and the valley she proudly called her home on a small pier by the sea, her legs bent towards herself.

To pass the time and break the eerie silence of the Winter night, she was humming the lyrics to the latest song by some popular band in the city she never bothered to learn the name of, when she was startled by the creaking of the wooden planks behind her.

“Estella? What are you doing up at this time of night?” A grave voice asked from a few feet behind.

The brunette boy calling for her was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a sweater with the stamp of his favourite sports team. The farmer remembers when it arrived on the mail, how happy he was for being able to purchase such memorabilia that actually fit on his large figure.

“Can’t sleep.” She shrugged as a response, shifting her attention back to the heavenly display above them. “Why are you up, Alex?”

The boy sat next to her on the pier, letting his legs tangle above the water.

“Can’t sleep either.” He responded with ease. “Doctor Harvey prescribed new medication to my grandparents, and now they sleep like very, very noisy rocks. I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep from now on.”

Estella laughed softly at the implications.

A comfortable silence settled in between the two of them. A thin smile slipped on the young man's lips as she put her head on his chest. Alex took the opportunity to close the distance between them, grabbing her ankles to pull her until her legs were draped over his own.

She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, smelling the fragrance of chocolate and chamomile similar to the scent of the tiny county kitchen he had at his home.

The girl smiled and brought one hand up to the back of his head, gently brushing her fingers on the nape of his neck. Alex resisted the temptation to kiss her perfect jaw, not wanting to rush anything. He did not want her to step away from him, he liked to be close to her. It was not unusual to see the two youngsters in this position even though they never crossed the line between friendship and love.

“Are you falling asleep on me, Alex?” She whispered, a teasing smile on her delicate lips.

“You are more comfortable than my pillow.” He hummed against her throat.

“Do you want to go back to your house?” Estella asked him, shifting her head to look at the boy’s face.

Alex pouted and shook his head before pressing his forehead against her collarbone.

“No. I just want to stay with you.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against her skin that made her shiver.

She slid her calloused hand onto the side of his neck, thumb stroking the lining of his jaw. He squeezed her hips, pulling her even closer. Her heart was hammering in her chest at the idea of what was coming.

Estella never gave herself permission to fall for Alex, knowing very well his reputation with the female population and that annoyingly narcissistic personality of his. To be fair, neither did he ever believe that she would dare initiate something more than friendly with him, even though he had teased her many times about it.

His intense gaze drifted down to her enticing lips and up again to her beautiful, kind eyes.

Alex froze when her plump lips brushed against his own. A wave of relief took hold of her when he locked her lips on his. One of her hands slipped back in the hair at the back of his head while the other laid on his chest.

He tilted his head, intensifying the kiss as their lips worked in perfectly synchronized motions. One of his large hands left her hips and cupped the back of her neck, applying gentle pressure to deepen the kiss further.

They felt like they were riding a high, not like the one they always got when drinking at the saloon, so very different than the heavy sensation on the limbs through the relaxation of alcohol. No, kissing someone you loved that much was something indescribable.

Throughout the years since Estella moved to Stardew Valley, they had many opportunities, drunken and sober alike, where they could have shared kisses or even go further than the first base, but they had always resisted. To Alex, their friendship was too precious, and she was too scared of rejection.

So, she had tried to keep herself from doing it, knowing it would change something between them, but tonight he just looked so irresistible she had to seize the opportunity and she was willing to lose their friendship in a gamble for his heart.

His tongue swiped against her bottom lip and instantly felt her grip on his neck tighten. She allowed his tongue to slip into his mouth while his hand left her neck to lay on her lower back.

Alex pulled her forward until his chest was pressing against hers together and she was straddling his lap. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, stealing a low groan from him. Her lips left his, trailing kisses down his sharp jaw and onto his neck that smelled like heaven to her. His fingers gripped her hips as a moan left his lips when she sucked a dark purple mark at the base of his neck.

Yoba, had Alex dreamt about her marking him as hers many times at night. How much he waited and wished for something like that to happen, and how happy he is that she finally made the first move. That he would be able to show her the extent of his desire.

His hands wandered under the oversized shirt she wore while she left open mouth kisses along his throat.

Out of breath, he cupped her face in his hands, anchoring his gaze in hers. His thumbs grazed her reddened cheeks as she smiled shyly.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he whispered, their faces so close she could feel his warm breath against her face.

“Nothing, just... I-I don’t want to go too fast, it’s all.” She said, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

His face softened. Alex brought her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles while keeping eye contact with her.

“Believe me, Estella, I want to take this slow too.” He responded with a beaming smile. “I’m not messing this up after dreaming about it for so long.”

While they did not go that slow that night, they did not mess anything up. Life went onwards, and they remained together for many more stargazing sessions to come.

*_*_*_*_*

Stardew Valley Masterlist

#stardew valley #alex

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scenariosbutmakeitgay · 4 years ago

Note

Shibisu x Female Reader? Feel free to come up with the plot :)

it’s basically the little mermaid au, but even darker than the original fairytale

also that’s literally the longest fic on this blog lol

tw: death, violence, gore-ish theme

There once was a kingdom placed deep under the sea, where no human could reach. The kingdom was full of different creatures – starting with fish, and ending with mermaids. You happened to be the representative of the latter, one of king Jahad's many children to be more precise. Of course, the royal family wasn't the only one out there. Except from Jahad's offsprings, there were ten more names you could hear about quite frequently. The Ten Great Families, as some called them. You rarely bothered to spend time with other mermaids. Living under the sea, as beautifully poetic as it could be sometimes, became dull quite quickly. King Jahad prohibited his children from going near the surface – as if he was scared they might not want to come back. By the time you reached your eighteenth birthday, Jahad's overprotectiveness began to feel even more suffocating.

“I'm not sure what I expected to happen,” you murmured to yourself one night, when everyone was already asleep. “That he's going to change? It's ridiculous.”

Your father, as loving as he could be, was a man deeply stuck in his ways. If he said that you're not allowed to see the world above the surface, then that's it, and you shouldn't even try to argue. But the fact that despite your adulthood, he still treated you like a child, made you reach your boiling point. Tonight was the time of grunt changes, so you slipped out of your room, and checked if the hallway outside was empty. Not a single soul.

With each feet closer to the surface, the water became warmer, and the sounds of terrified screams intensified. You've finally reached your destination, and as lightning bolts pierced the sky, and cold air hit your face, everything became more alive. Suddenly, you heard a loud splash as an unconscious body of a man fell into the sea. An unknown urge overcame your senses, and before you could even notice, you caught the man into your arms. He wasn't that heavy, so carrying him to the shore didn't make much of a challenge. You placed his body on the sand, and moved long strands of dark hair out of his face.

You put your hand on his chest, and sighed in relief upon feeling a heartbeat. “That would be a dreadful night to die, wouldn't it?”

Predictably, no answer came. You looked at the man for the last time, and dived into the sea with no sense of where to go. Coming back to the castle was not an option, you would die out of boredom if you had to spend one more day at this place. That being said, there was only one option left. As a kid, your father always warned you to never wander alone outside his kingdom.

“I love spoiling you, my child, yet there are places under the sea you shall never visit,” he stated in a cold, demanding manner. “The castle and gardens surrounding it grant you safety. There are vicious creatures out there, and I cannot let them lay a finger on you.”

The kingdom was like a golden cage. It provided you with everything but freedom, which you craved the most. So you chose the path your father despised the most – the one leading to the caves where the Red Witch lived. Water there was muddy, almost impossible to see through. You swam with difficulty, determined to see the witch.

“I see you've finally found your path, daughter of Jahad.”

At first, you couldn't find the source of the voice. The woman was dressed in black and red, making her almost indistinguishable from the colored alike corals. One of her eyes, equally crimson to her hair, was hidden under an eye patch. Throughout your whole life you have heard different stories about the Red Witch and her appearance. Most of them described her as an old, ugly woman, which didn't hold much truth to it. There was one consistency in each and every story – the Red Witch was supposed to grant wishes.

“I've heard you can fulfill the deepest desires one dreams of. Is it true, witch?” you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible, while remaining to stay aware of your surroundings. As your father said, the kingdom meant safety. And you were outside it.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she replied with a barely noticeable smirk on her face. “But that craving of yours, little mermaid, comes with a price to pay.”

“I'll pay every price!” you exclaimed without much thinking, which only made the Red Witch snicker.

“Quite an eager one, aren't you?” she mocked. “With each royal generation that comes there's always someone like you. Incredibly foolish, and a little too curious for their own good. It makes everything even more entertaining, though.” The smile on her face widened, as she came up with an exciting idea. “We shall make a deal, princess. Your kind prides itself for their angelic voices, isn't that so? With each tongue you rip out of a mermaid's mouth, you will receive a human body for a day. When the slaughter ends, you shall fall asleep on the shore. I will grant you a pair of legs, princess. There is one more condition to our deal, I must say. When the pendulum of your human time stops swinging, and no man, woman, or any other human being loves you madly, your whole existence shall perish, and become a mere foam. Are you still interested in making your desires come true, Jahad's child?”

Your eyes widened in shock at the Red Witch's offer. It was violent, it was deadly, it was simply wrong! But you craved a pair of legs so madly, deeply, beyond any rational sense.

“I accept your conditions, Red Witch. Expect a silent morning, for I will rip out the tongue of each and every mermaid daring to sing in my presence.”

And your promise was kept. The witch gave you a silver dagger, with blade so sharp it could cut through flesh with almost no resistance. When the morning came, the whole kingdom remained deadly silent. You brought your gift to the Red Witch, and a bloody trail marked the path of your choice.

“I've done what I was compelled to do, witch. What now?” you asked, observing as the woman in front of you carefully counted the tongues. When she made sure what was the number of them, a wide grin appeared on her face.

“Your viciousness granted you a month as a human,” the Red Witch replied. She reached to grab a bottle of scarlet liquid, previously hidden behind one of the corals. “Swim to the shore, and drink it up. Beware, daughter of Jahad. The potion might give you legs, but they will come with great pain.”

Not caring about the warning, you grabbed the bottle from her hand, and swam away as quickly as possible. The shore wasn't that far away – with your current speed it took you barely a quarter of an hour to get there. You sat on the shore, feeling the warmth of the sand on your skin. It was way more pleasant than even the clearest waters in the sea. You opened up the bottle, and drank up the liquid without much hesitance. With the last drop of scarlet, the whole world went dark. A throbbing pain filled your whole body as you desperately grasped for air. You saw them... You saw their faces... They were twisted, convulsions filling their last moves as you ripped their tongues out. The disdainful glances they sent you... You weren't really surprised. Mutilating plenty innocent beings of your own kind was one of the worst crimes to commit – it made you understand the true price of your wish. The curse of the little mermaid shall make you feel the pain of your victims, with each tongue that you ripped out feeling as your own.

Suddenly, the darkness began to fade. The ground underneath your body didn't feel familiar – it was too silky for the sand you previously passed out on. The fabric felt quite similar like bedsheets in your room in the castle. How appalling. The chamber you were in was decorated with wooden furniture, full of ornaments, and quite pleasant to the eye. As you admired the interior design, the mahogany door moved with a creak. A tall man with short hair walked in.

“Oh, I see you're already awake. How are you feeling?” he asked, and placed a beverage on the cupboard next to the bed. It looked like some kind of tea, though you couldn't be sure.

“I-” you tried to reply, but a wave of intense pain hit your throat as you spoke. It felt as if someone was ripping your tongue out. “I'm f-fine,” you finally managed to blurt out. It was excruciating, numbing, and absolutely well-deserved.

The man smiled. “I'm glad. I will explain everything once you rest properly,” he said, and passed the beverage to your hands. It was hot, but not burning. Perfect.

“Oh, also, the prince wanted to talk to you. It has something to do with the place we found you at.”

The prince?

You assumed one of the members of the royal entourage must have found you on the shore. Apparently a princess can never escape from the palace.

Suddenly, a look of realization showed on the man's face, as if he remembered something important. “Please excuse me now, I must attend the rest of my duties. If you ever need any help or simply someone to talk to, ask the guards for Shibisu. They'll certainly find me.”

You nodded, and gave him a thankful smile. When Shibisu, or whatever his name was, left the room, you decided to try out your legs for the very first time. It was a weird feeling for someone who spent their whole life with a fishtail, but not weird enough to be uncomfortable. After all, humans were bizarre creatures – their anatomy had to be on an equal level of eeriness.

A deep breath, and there we go. Your right leg carefully slid off the bed to touch the floor. It was cold. The left one followed right after. Okay, it shouldn't be hard. One leg, two legs, and up!

Your posture was everything but graceful, but at least you didn't stumble. Sole standing won't do, though. You had to learn how to walk. Using the same method – one foot, two feet, and go – your legs made a few small steps. Swimming was way easier, and you felt as if your body was heavier now. As you walked from one corner of the room to another, you noticed a small piece of paper left on the table near the door. It was a note, and whoever put it there, had an incredibly neat handwriting.

“Hello,

I'd like to apologize for contacting you in such an indirect manner, but it was quite hard to guess when you would wake up. There are some spare cloths left by the maids in the closet, so feel free to change into whatever's to your liking. I'd appreciate if we could have a little chat.

Sincerely, Jue Viole Grace.”

That must be the prince the man from before talked about. Maybe he'll clear everything up, and tell you who exactly brought you to the palace. It was a little naive to judge him based on a few sentences, but the prince seemed like a generally kind person, which you considered a rarity among the nobles.

You opened the closet, and picked out a simple dress. It was pretty, but nothing extraordinary. The next step was fixing your appearance to look presentable, because let's be real – passing out, and being unconscious for who knows how long didn't do your face any justice.

One step, two steps, open the door, and walk out. It was simple. You saw the guards as soon as you left the room.

“Prince Viole is waiting for you, miss. Follow me.”

You didn't ask any questions – it was awfully painful to speak, after all. The guard walked through some hallways, corridors, and different rooms to finally get outside the palace. You were in the royal gardens. They didn't look like those king Jahad owned. The gardens above the surface were more colorful, and you could almost feel their liveliness filling your soul with happiness. The prince was sitting on a chair, sipping a cup of tea. He placed his drink on the glass table in front of him as he saw you. Suddenly, you widened your eyes in bewilderment. Prince Viole was the exact same man you saved from drowning just a while ago. You tried to regain your composure, and walked over to him, greeting the nobleman with the kindest smile you could muster.

“It's nice to see you're finally awake. Please take a seat,” the prince said, and patted on the chair next to him. “Are you feeling any better now? You've slept for quite some time.”

You sat down, and cleared your throat. “Yes, I think I'm certainly better now. Thank you for helping me, Your Highness.” It was smarter to play it polite – despite seemingly friendly behavior of the prince, you didn't know what kind of person he was.

“Just Viole is fine, believe me,” he reassured you. “I'm not the right person to thank, though. It was Shibisu who found you on the shore. Surely you two must have already met.”

You nodded, and made a mental note to bring up the topic when you see the man again. The prin... no, not prince. Just Viole took another sip of tea, and looked you straight in the eyes.

“Do you have any family? I don't want to keep you here against your will if someone's waiting for you to come back.”

The memories of your father and siblings sent shivers down your spine. You wanted them to scream at you for your selfishness, or even yell how disgusting you were. But they couldn't. No matter how many times you tried, they wouldn't answer your prayers. The sea remained deadly silent.

“N-no, I don't have anyone,” you stuttered, trying to sound as convincing as you could.

Viole gave you an understanding smile. “Feel free to stay at the palace as long as you like, then.”

A nod. That's exactly what you did. When your little chat with Viole came to an end, you decided to come back to your room. The palace was surprisingly quiet, even though you could swear you saw plenty of people there earlier. As you walked into another hallway, you felt someone bumping into you. Not hard enough to make you fall, but equally unpleasant.

“Sorry, didn't notice you!” a quick apology left the lips of a man you were already familiar with. Shibisu.

“No, it's my fault. I should have been more careful.” Getting used to the pain took less time than expected, yet the urge to cry in agony with every word spoken didn't disappear.

“Were you heading anywhere in particular? It's quite easy to lose a sense of direction in such a big place.”

“Actually, I planned to go back to my room. Could you show me the right way? I admit I'm a little lost,” you replied.

“Sure thing, miss. You're the lucky one today, because I know the castle better than anyone else,” he said with a cheeky grin. How charming.

With each passing day the clock's clicking became louder, and louder. Your days were numbered, and you were painfully aware of it.

When the pendulum of your human time stops swinging, and no man, woman, or any other human being loves you madly, your whole existence shall perish, and become a mere foam. Are you still interested in making your desires come true, Jahad's child?

The Red Witch was right about one thing – you were incredibly foolish. It was supposed to be a fairytale! A mermaid princess falls in love with a human prince, so she exchanges her tail for legs to be with him, and they live happily ever after. But you? You had no interest in the prince. The person you grew attached to was the man who found you on the shore, and has been taking care of you ever since. An excuse of a princess fell in love with a dorky servant, who doesn't even know the crime that stains her past. What a pitiful fairytale that would be. Not only you were sure that your feelings were one-sided, but your human body wasn't meant to last much longer.

Since your life was close to its end you took one more selfish choice – to spend more time with Shibisu. You shared meals, breaks, and sometimes went on walks together. He was quite a storyteller. You knew that he served the Grace family for over ten years now, and Viole himself considered him a close friend. Shibisu, despite his usual jokerish behavior, was actually a really intelligent person. He also had a sweet tooth, cared deeply for his friends, and liked saying that his favorite color was the one of your eyes.

Tick. Tack.

Your last day was about to end.

“Please, it can't be like this,” you whispered a quiet prayer that no god could ever hear. It was an ironically similar scenario to the one that began your journey.

“I'm not sure what I expected to happen,” you murmured to yourself one night, when everyone was already asleep. “That he's going to change? It's ridiculous.”

A bitter smile formed on your lips as tears began to fall. The palace was deadly silent – just like the morning after the slaughter. You slipped out of your room once more, and tip toed to the kitchen to find a knife. It was sharp, and made of silver – just like the dagger the Red Witch gave you a month ago. All you needed was just a few hours more, maybe even minutes!

Tick. Tack.

Cold breeze hit your face as you came to the shore. The shore that let you fulfill your curse, and the shore that Shibisu found you at.

With each tongue you rip out of a mermaid's mouth, you will receive a human body for a day.

Even with human body, you still possessed the blood of a mermaid, right? Right?! The knife was cold against your skin, slowly coming near your face. The shore was empty. None but you could see the viciousness of the act that was about to happen.

One cut, two cuts, blood filling everything. It was an atrocious sight. You ripped out the piece of flesh like the tongues before, and threw it into the sea. The shore was silent. Just one more day, please.

Suddenly, you heard a scream. It was Shibisu.

“What are you even doing?!”

The shore was neither empty, nor silent now. You wanted to speak, you wanted to yell, you wanted to confess your love for the man in front of you. But the only sound that left your mouth was a cough as blood started to stream down your throat to choke you.

“Y-you...” he stuttered. “You're bleeding.”

You fell down to your knees convulsing. With the last amount of strength left in your body, you started writing on the sand with your finger. The message was simple.

I love you.

His eyes widened both in shock and horror. Your state was getting worse with each second. Shibisu leant over your body, clearly panicking.

“I love you, too! You can't leave me, you heard me?! You can't!”

The night was a stormy one, but no lightning could be louder than your heartbeat. The Red Witch was right once again. Your body didn't perish, because only a madman could break the curse. As your lips touched his, the world around you fell silent. Blood staining both bodies, as if it was an agreement to never mention the crime that caused it all. The night was a stormy one. And not a single soul noticed as the wild waves of the sea consumed both of the lovers, staining the water with crimson foam. Maybe not every fairytale had to end happily.

#tower of god #tog #kami no tou #ship leesoo #shibisu #fairytale au #the little mermaid #death #violence #gore #angst

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artdaily7 · 4 years ago

Photo

Albert Bierstadt 1871-1873 Sierra Nevada, oil on canvas, Reynolda House Museum of American Art

The Defeat Of Youth by Aldous Huxley I. UNDER THE TREES. There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes Of this and this occasion, sisterly In their resemblances, each effigy Crowned with the same bright hair above the nape's White rounded firmness, and each body alert With such swift loveliness, that very rest Seemed a poised movement: ... phantoms that impressed But a faint influence and could bless or hurt No more than dreams. And these ghost things were she; For formless still, without identity, Not one she seemed, not clear, but many and dim. One face among the legions of the street, Indifferent mystery, she was for him Something still uncreated, incomplete. II. Bright windy sunshine and the shadow of cloud Quicken the heavy summer to new birth Of life and motion on the drowsing earth; The huge elms stir, till all the air is loud With their awakening from the muffled sleep Of long hot days. And on the wavering line That marks the alternate ebb of shade and shine, Under the trees, a little group is deep In laughing talk. The shadow as it flows Across them dims the lustre of a rose, Quenches the bright clear gold of hair, the green Of a girl's dress, and life seems faint. The light Swings back, and in the rose a fire is seen, Gold hair's aflame and green grows emerald bright. III. She leans, and there is laughter in the face She turns towards him; and it seems a door Suddenly opened on some desolate place With a burst of light and music. What before Was hidden shines in loveliness revealed. Now first he sees her beautiful, and knows That he must love her; and the doom is sealed Of all his happiness and all the woes That shall be born of pregnant years hereafter. The swift poise of a head, a flutter of laughter— And love flows in on him, its vastness pent Within his narrow life: the pain it brings, Boundless; for love is infinite discontent With the poor lonely life of transient things. IV. Men see their god, an immanence divine, Smile through the curve of flesh or moulded clay, In bare ploughed lands that go sloping away To meet the sky in one clean exquisite line. Out of the short-seen dawns of ecstasy They draw new beauty, whence new thoughts are born And in their turn conceive, as grains of corn Germ and create new life and endlessly Shall live creating. Out of earthly seeds Springs the aerial flower. One spirit proceeds Through change, the same in body and in soul— The spirit of life and love that triumphs still In its slow struggle towards some far-off goal Through lust and death and the bitterness of will. V. One spirit it is that stirs the fathomless deep Of human minds, that shakes the elms in storm, That sings in passionate music, or on warm Still evenings bosoms forth the tufted sleep Of thistle-seeds that wait a travelling wind. One spirit shapes the subtle rhythms of thought And the long thundering seas; the soul is wrought Of one stuff with the body—matter and mind Woven together in so close a mesh That flowers may blossom into a song, that flesh May strangely teach the loveliest holiest things To watching spirits. Truth is brought to birth Not in some vacant heaven: its beauty springs From the dear bosom of material earth. VI. IN THE HAY-LOFT. The darkness in the loft is sweet and warm With the stored hay ... darkness intensified By one bright shaft that enters through the wide Tall doors from under fringes of a storm Which makes the doomed sun brighter. On the hay, Perched mountain-high they sit, and silently Watch the motes dance and look at the dark sky And mark how heartbreakingly far away And yet how close and clear the distance seems, While all at hand is cloud—brightness of dreams Unrealisable, yet seen so clear, So only just beyond the dark. They wait, Scarce knowing what they wait for, half in fear; Expectance draws the curtain from their fate. VII. The silence of the storm weighs heavily On their strained spirits: sometimes one will say Some trivial thing as though to ward away Mysterious powers, that imminently lie In wait, with the strong exorcising grace Of everyday's futility. Desire Becomes upon a sudden a crystal fire, Defined and hard:—If he could kiss her face, Could kiss her hair! As if by chance, her hand Brushes on his ... Ah, can she understand? Or is she pedestalled above the touch Of his desire? He wonders: dare he seek From her that little, that infinitely much? And suddenly she kissed him on the cheek. VIII. MOUNTAINS. A stronger gust catches the cloud and twists A spindle of rifted darkness through its heart, A gash in the damp grey, which, thrust apart, Reveals black depths a moment. Then the mists Shut down again; a white uneasy sea Heaves round the climbers and beneath their feet. He strains on upwards through the wind and sleet, Poised, or swift moving, or laboriously Lifting his weight. And if he should let go, What would he find down there, down there below The curtain of the mist? What would he find Beyond the dim and stifling now and here, Beneath the unsettled turmoil of his mind? Oh, there were nameless depths: he shrank with fear. IX. The hills more glorious in their coat of snow Rise all around him, in the valleys run Bright streams, and there are lakes that catch the sun, And sunlit fields of emerald far below That seem alive with inward light. In smoke The far horizons fade; and there is peace On everything, a sense of blessed release From wilful strife. Like some prophetic cloak The spirit of the mountains has descended On all the world, and its unrest is ended. Even the sea, glimpsed far away, seems still, Hushed to a silver peace its storm and strife. Mountains of vision, calm above fate and will, You hold the promise of the freer life. X. IN THE LITTLE ROOM. London unfurls its incense-coloured dusk Before the panes, rich but a while ago With the charred gold and the red ember-glow Of dying sunset. Houses quit the husk Of secrecy, which, through the day, returns A blank to all enquiry: but at nights The cheerfulness of fire and lamp invites The darkness inward, curious of what burns With such a coloured life when all is dead— The daylight world outside, with overhead White clouds, and where we walk, the blaze Of wet and sunlit streets, shops and the stream Of glittering traffic—all that the nights erase, Colour and speed, surviving but in dream. XI. Outside the dusk, but in the little room All is alive with light, which brightly glints On curving cup or the stiff folds of chintz, Evoking its own whiteness. Shadows loom, Bulging and black, upon the walls, where hang Rich coloured plates of beauties that appeal Less to the sense of sight than to the feel, So moistly satin are their breasts. A pang, Almost of pain, runs through him when he sees Hanging, a homeless marvel, next to these, The silken breastplate of a mandarin, Centuries dead, which he had given her. Exquisite miracle, when men could spin Jay's wing and belly of the kingfisher! XII. In silence and as though expectantly She crouches at his feet, while he caresses His light-drawn fingers with the touch of tresses Sleeked round her head, close-banded lustrously, Save where at nape and temple the smooth brown Sleaves out into a pale transparent mist Of hair and tangled light. So to exist, Poised 'twixt the deep of thought where spirits drown Life in a void impalpable nothingness, And, on the other side, the pain and stress Of clamorous action and the gnawing fire Of will, focal upon a point of earth—even thus To sit, eternally without desire And yet self-known, were happiness for us. XIII. She turns her head and in a flash of laughter Looks up at him: and helplessly he feels That life has circled with returning wheels Back to a starting-point. Before and after Merge in this instant, momently the same: For it was thus she leaned and laughing turned When, manifest, the spirit of beauty burned In her young body with an inward flame, And first he knew and loved her. In full tide Life halts within him, suddenly stupefied. Sight blackness, lightning-struck; but blindly tender He draws her up to meet him, and she lies Close folded by his arms in glad surrender, Smiling, and with drooped head and half closed eyes. XIV. 'I give you all; would that I might give more.' He sees the colour dawn across her cheeks And die again to white; marks as she speaks The trembling of her lips, as though she bore Some sudden pain and hardly mastered it. Within his arms he feels her shuddering, Piteously trembling like some wild wood-thing Caught unawares. Compassion infinite Mounts up within him. Thus to hold and keep And comfort her distressed, lull her to sleep And gently kiss her brow and hair and eyes Seems love perfected—templed high and white Against the calm of golden autumn skies, And shining quenchlessly with vestal light. XV. But passion ambushed by the aerial shrine Comes forth to dance, a hoofed obscenity, His satyr's dance, with laughter in his eye, And cruelty along the scarlet line Of his bright smiling mouth. All uncontrolled, Love's rebel servant, he delights to beat The maddening quick dry rhythm of goatish feet Even in the sanctuary, and makes bold To mime himself the godhead of the place. He turns in terror from her trance-calmed face, From the white-lidded languor of her eyes, From lips that passion never shook before, But glad in the promise of her sacrifice: 'I give you all; would that I might give more.' XVI. He is afraid, seeing her lie so still, So utterly his own; afraid lest she Should open wide her eyes and let him see The passionate conquest of her virgin will Shine there in triumph, starry-bright with tears. He thrusts her from him: face and hair and breast, Hands he had touched, lips that his lips had pressed, Seem things deadly to be desired. He fears Lest she should body forth in palpable shame Those dreams and longings that his blood, aflame Through the hot dark of summer nights, had dreamed And longed. Must all his love, then, turn to this? Was lust the end of what so pure had seemed? He must escape, ah God! her touch, her kiss. XVII. IN THE PARK. Laughing, 'To-night,' I said to him, 'the Park Has turned the garden of a symbolist. Those old great trees that rise above the mist, Gold with the light of evening, and the dark Still water, where the dying sun evokes An echoed glory—here I recognize Those ancient gardens mirrored by the eyes Of poets that hate the world of common folks, Like you and me and that thin pious crowd, Which yonder sings its hymns, so humbly proud Of holiness. The garden of escape Lies here; a small green world, and still the bride Of quietness, although an imminent rape Roars ceaselessly about on every side.' XVIII. I had forgotten what I had lightly said, And without speech, without a thought I went, Steeped in that golden quiet, all content To drink the transient beauty as it sped Out of eternal darkness into time To light and burn and know itself a fire; Yet doomed—ah, fate of the fulfilled desire!— To fade, a meteor, paying for the crime Of living glorious in the denser air Of our material earth. A strange despair, An agony, yet strangely, subtly sweet And tender as an unpassionate caress, Filled me ... Oh laughter! youth's conceit Grown almost conscious of youth's feebleness! XIX. He spoke abrupt across my dream: 'Dear Garden, A stranger to your magic peace, I stand Beyond your walls, lost in a fevered land Of stones and fire. Would that the gods would harden My soul against its torment, or would blind Those yearning glimpses of a life at rest In perfect beauty—glimpses at the best Through unpassed bars. And here, without, the wind Of scattering passion blows: and women pass Glitter-eyed down putrid alleys where the glass Of some grimed window suddenly parades— Ah, sickening heart-beat of desire!—the grace Of bare and milk-warm flesh: the vision fades, And at the pane shows a blind tortured face.' XX. SELF-TORMENT. The days pass by, empty of thought and will: His thought grows stagnant at its very springs, With every channel on the world of things Dammed up, and thus, by its long standing still, Poisons itself and sickens to decay. All his high love for her, his fair desire, Loses its light; and a dull rancorous fire, Burning darkness and bitterness that prey Upon his heart are left. His spirit burns Sometimes with hatred, or the hatred turns To a fierce lust for her, more cruel than hate, Till he is weary wrestling with its force: And evermore she haunts him, early and late, As pitilessly as an old remorse. XXI. Streets and the solitude of country places Were once his friends. But as a man born blind, Opening his eyes from lovely dreams, might find The world a desert and men's larval faces So hateful, he would wish to seek again The darkness and his old chimeric sight Of beauties inward—so, that fresh delight, Vision of bright fields and angelic men, That love which made him all the world, is gone. Hating and hated now, he stands alone, An island-point, measureless gulfs apart From other lives, from the old happiness Of being more than self, when heart to heart Gave all, yet grew the greater, not the less. XXII. THE QUARRY IN THE WOOD. Swiftly deliberate, he seeks the place. A small wind stirs, the copse is bright in the sun: Like quicksilver the shine and shadow run Across the leaves. A bramble whips his face, The tears spring fast, and through the rainbow mist He sees a world that wavers like the flame Of a blown candle. Tears of pain and shame, And lips that once had laughed and sung and kissed Trembling in the passion of his sobbing breath! The world a candle shuddering to its death, And life a darkness, blind and utterly void Of any love or goodness: all deceit, This friendship and this God: all shams destroyed, And truth seen now. Earth fails beneath his feet.

#Albert Bierstadt #Sierra Nevada #Bierstadt #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Poems #Painting #Landscape #The Defeat Of Youth #Aldous Huxley #Huxley

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yandere-romanticaa · 5 years ago

Text

Flames of passion.

Pirate! AU

Yandere! APH Spain.

The salty air of the sea was almost entierly blocked thanks to the disgusting smell of smoke. The once clear blue sky was now filled with terrible smoke, and the usually merry townsfolk were now all running and screaming for their lives. Wicked laughter and cries of terror ran through the thick air as the (h/c)ette ran from her house, her family. She cried and cried, feeling so angry at herself for leaving her own mother in the fire. Even now, the voice of her mother rang through her mind as she screamed at her to run, to run far, far away and to never come back.

"They are pirates (y/n), they show no mercy! I beg of you, just go! Live out your life my darling!!"

A loud sob left her mouth as she continued to run, all the while looking at the place she used to call home. Her friends and neighbours were all being slaughtered and there was nothing that she could do. The once wounderful and colourful shops that stood by the end of her street were nothing more but mere ashes now. Her mind was in a daze, she just couldn't believe that this was happening. What did these pirates want?! This town had nothing to offer! Almost no nobles lived here, and the town wasn't very rich either. The pirates just appeared out of thin air, swords and guns ready. "Find the treasure!" they shouted.

"Find the most beautiful treasure in all of the seven seas!!"

The young maiden had no clue about what treasure they were talking about. These pirates were clearly delusional-! She continued to run as fast as her legs would carry her, but before she knew she had collided on to a firm back. Her vision was blurry due to the tears that ran down her cheeks, but the only thing she was able to make out was red.

The man in front of her turned his back, and the moment his green gaze had landed on (y/n), he shouted at his men to stop. With his hand raised high in the air, the men stopped whatever they were doing and stared at their captain, eagerly waiting for his next order. His gaze softened when he saw that the (h/c) beauty was shaking beneath him. A small but hungry smile framed his sun kissed skin as he lowered himself down to her level. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, he had finally found her! His sweet love, she was right in front of him! Oh this was so perfect, he felt as though he was in a dream. He lost count of how many sleepless nights he had because of his angel but he knew that it would all be worth it in the end. He could hardly contain himself as he gingerly took a lock of her soft (h/c) hair. Antonio lightly traced it with his gloved fingers, completely ingulfed in his own little fantasy. He didn't even notice that (y/n)'s eyes were now open and they contained nothing more then pure and utter rage.

Almost by instinct, the girl screamed at him, sharply bitting his hand in the process. Antonio pulled away quickly, slightly taken by surprise. His men grew wary as they approached the enraged girl, all of their weapons in hand. Antonio took off his black leather glove off his fingers, lightly tracing the fresh wound. Crimson blood stained his smooth skin, but his reaction wasn't the one she expected it to be. She thought that the pirate captain would be furious with her, that he was just going to just shoot her in the head and be done with it. Instead, he slightly tilted his chin upwards and he started to laugh.

His entire crew was dumbfounded, (y/n) even more so. Her eyes never once broke eye contact with his though, but by now she was beyond terrified.

What was this man going to do with her...?

Still laughing, his bloody fingers traced small circles against her soft cheeks, almost as he was toying with her. His green gaze shone with determination, hunger. The wolfish grin on his face was too much for (y/n) to handle, all she wanted to do was to run, scream, anything! But no matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn't. She was frozen in her tracks, stuck in the embrace of this pirate. He moved closer to her, his lips now brushing against her ear. He blew right beside it, sending shivers down her spine. She kept on shaking as the pirate spoke:

"Mi corazón, do you know what I am searching for right at this very moment...?"

His voice was soft, too soft to belong to a benevolent pirate like him. Furrowing her brow, (y/n) simply answered "Treasure." He let out a half hearted laugh, amused by her answer.

"Not all that glimmers is gold my dear..."

...what on Earth was he talking about? This man was clearly out of his mind! The pirate's grip tightened around the girl, his lips locking on to hers in to a deep, needy kiss. She could sense the raw passion the Spaniard was putting in to the kiss, so much so that it was completely suffocating. She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to wake up from his hellish nightmare. She cried and prayed the the mighty Lord to just end this torture already. But alas, her prayers went unheard as she was still in the Spaniards embrace. He had the look of an obsessed, lovestruck fool that was far too gone in his own desires. He kissed her once more, gently licking a single tear on her left cheek in the process.

"(y/n), you are the treasure I was seeking! You have enchanted me the moment we met and ever since that day I could never forget you. My mind and heart would not allow me to rest, not until we were reunited once again. I kept calling you my treasure and it somehow turned in to a fullblown rumour! Even that British bastard is looking for my treasure now, completely unaware that my treasure is a person and not a mere object...!"

The flames around the pair seemed to intensify with each passing second, but those were the least of (y/n)'s worries now. Her mind was a mess and she had no idea what to even think of this situation. At the moment, the temptation of throwing herself in to the fire was pretty high, but she was most likely just going to drown in the flames of his own passion anyway...

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #aph spain #aph pirate spain #yandere aph #yandrere aph x reader #aph spain x reader #yandere spain x reader #yandere spain #yandere antonio fernandez carrierdo #antonio fernandez carrierdo #yandere pirate spain

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: I Love You Two {1}*

Captain America Vs. Superman Sequel

Chris Evans X Reader X Henry Cavill

Warning: Fluff, Plot, MFM Coupling, Lite Smut

Word Count: 3.7K

Note: Guyyyyyyyyys! So, I have not been able to get this out my head. I really wanted it to be one and done but, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I had a “hypothetical” convo with some friends and my brain said hol’ up, hol’ up, hol’ up. 😊 Hope ya’ll can rock with this.

Summary: It was meant to be a one-time thing maybe twice so you could get it out your system, but seven months later and things are still going strong and have transitioned into something much more than any of you could have expected. In a world so hell bent on conventional how can you maneuver this unconventional love you’ve stumbled upon?

Previous Parts:

Captain America Vs Superman 1 | Captain America Vs. Superman 2***

**Loosely edited**

**Loosely Proofread**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was insane to think what a difference a few months could make and how drastically our lives could change in such a short period of time. You could be down on your luck one day and completely lost unable to find a way out and bam the next you’re in a completely different situation, one you never imagined. Or one day you could be single only thinking about work and your next step professionally and then the next you’re completely swept up and in love with no care in the world but seeing the source of your affection. Life was unpredictable. That was where you found yourself now, rocking with the unpredictability of life.

You moaned and stretched. Your joints cracked and muscles elongated. It felt as if you’d been in one position for hours. You moaned again and slowly rolled around in the soft coverings that you were wrapped in. You opened your eyes slowly, and the sun was the first thing you saw. You closed your eyes again and slightly shifted before you opened them again. When you did, the sun was obscured by the wood and palm leaf roof that was above your head. You could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the birds squawking overhead. You took a deep breath in and sighed, loving the scent of coconut, flowers, sea salt, and sunshine. You stretched again and finally sat up. The sheer linen blanket that was wrapped around you pooled around your waist, allowing the cool, dewy glow of the sun to caress your bare breasts.

You slid to the edge of the bed and stood on the wooden planked floor and walked to toward the sheer curtains that encompassed the bed. Standing there you could see to the private beach and the sea it was beautiful. The setting sun illuminated the sea and cast an ethereal beauty in the sky. It looked like a breathtaking painting. You hadn’t taken a real vacation in almost three years, so this was a long-overdue pause from reality. You stood there for several more moments, just enjoying the slow setting sun and the warm breeze.

With a soft, satisfied sigh, you took up the linen blanket and loosely wrapped your naked body. You followed the wooden floors from the outdoor bed you preferred to sleep in on the nights the sky was clear and made it to the main house. As you walked inside, you heard the mellow music and smelled the delicious scents wafting through the air. You followed your nose and the smells to the doorway of the gourmet kitchen and leaned on the door frame and watched the two perfect male specimens move about the kitchen.

They spoke about some soccer game and debated over who scored the best goal. Like always they couldn’t agree. You were surprised they’d lasted this long as friends without some major dispute threatening their bond. They both stood with their backs to you completely unaware of your presence. Chris wore a men’s tank and a pair of swim trunks, and Henry wore a polo shirt and some cargo shorts. You slowly walked into the kitchen, taking effort to ensure your bare feet made no sound at all. As you approached the kitchen island, you zeroed in on the bowl of freshly prepared salad and snuck a ripe, red cherry tomato and popped it into your mouth. You leaned onto the island and continued to watch the only entertainment you’d ever need.

Your eyes slowly traveled down Henry’s body, taking in his full stature. He was built for pleasure; from his broad shoulders and bulging biceps and his trim waist down to his defined but taut ass and not to mention his amazing thighs that looked like they could both give you life and take it all at once. As you continued to snack your eyes turned to Chris. He was built for sin. His tall frame and equally broad shoulders always made you go googly eye. His strong back and impossibly built arms complimented his slim waist and toned ass.

You thought you had a type before both of them and that type was tall, black and fine, but they proved it wrong, now your type was them and none other. You walked around the island to the side they were on and quietly hopped onto it. After a few moments, Chris looked back and was the first to see you. He smiled and turned to give you his full attention. His turn prompted Henry to notice and look back also. When he saw you he smiled and turned to face you as he continued to mix something in a bowl.

“Well look who finally woke up,” Henry stated.

“Finally, how long’s it been? Four hours?”

You snorted at Chris’ exaggeration.

“No, I counted close to five,” Henry responded with his crisp British accent.

“Ha, ha you both are really funny. It was barely three hours.”

They smiled, and both their eyes longingly looked over your barely covered body.

“Who can blame you for being wiped out. Must be hard keeping up with two stallions,” Chris piped. You couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped your lips.

“Stallions? Oh my god, yes stallions indeed, my two white stallions.”

As you continued to laugh, they both approached you. Henry put the bowl he held to the side and touched the top of your knee while Chris softly grazed your arm. Your laughter slowly died down until you were looking at both of them just openly gawking at your body. Henry toyed with the edges of the linin blanket that rested at your inner upper thigh. His fingers every so often lightly teased your skin sending goosebumps up and down your leg.

Chris trailed his finger up to your collar and flicked the blanket you loosely held over your breasts. You looked to Chris and saw amusement in his cornflower eyes. He slowly licked his lips before he lowered them to your collarbone. You took a deep breath in and looked to henry. He smiled and leaned into you, connecting your lips. He kissed you softly. It wasn’t a kiss of urgency or one meant to lead anywhere; it was a teasing one, a gentle one, one meant to make you show him how much you wanted him. Chris’ lips moved to the space where your neck and shoulder met. You moaned bit down on Henry’s bottom lip forcing a moan from him before he intensified the kiss.

Chris then moved his lips up your neck to your ear where he nibbled, licked and sucked it. God, it felt good. As your tongue danced with Henry’s and Chris’ lips teased your arousal higher. You felt Chris’ fingers trail down your exposed spine awaking new goosebumps and a new desire. His lips moved to your cheek, then your jaw. Sensing his movements, Henry broke the kiss and Chris took over as Henry attached his lips to your neck. He sucked your skin into his mouth and bit down. You groaned loudly and arched your back, feeling an overwhelming need for more. You groaned again and took the lead kissing Chris. In response, he gripped the exposed flesh of your buttock and pulled you closer to the edge of the island. Henry moved his hand from your thigh further up and under the blanket until you felt his soft fingers skim your sex. You moaned again. Henry’s thumb connected with your already pulsating bud then moved it in a circular motion. You bit Chris’ lip and sucked on his tongue. You heard him moan on you right before you felt Henry slip one of his thick digits inside you. You tore your lips from Chris’ and moaned loudly.

“Mmm, wow. This escalated quickly.”

You pulled away from both their touch and hopped off the island. Your knees were weak, and you were wanting.

“Mmm.”

“Where ya’ goin’?” Chris asked, leaning on the counter with a smirk.

“Uh, well ya’ know–,” you trailed off.

Henry sucked the finger that was just inside you and moaned before he spoke.

“Tasty.”

You almost dropped the blanket and bent over the counter, but you knew this was a game of who could seduce who. You crossed your legs and swallowed. They both smiled and walked to you. You leaped back and scurried behind to the other side of the island.

“Running now? Interesting,” Chris began.

“It is isn’t it. Never the mind I like to chase.”

They both made a move to the side of the island you stood. You moved to the opposite side again and around you went once more ending in the same place you began.

“Do you remember those words I said to you when we first got here?”

You pinched your lips because you remembered quite well.

“Nope.”

“Let me refresh your memory. I said be careful, before the end of this vacation you will be running for space,” Henry said. You smiled widely and held firm to the blanket.

“I am not running for space.”

Henry and Chris looked to each other before they both went in opposite directions around the island. You backed away giggling like a child. As they approached, you backed to the doorway holding your hands out in front of you.

“Wait, wait. Hold on.”

“I’m hungry now,” Chris responded.

The butterflies in your gut took flight and made your core clench.

“Jesus. I need a shower. I’m covered in sand, salt, and various other fluids.”

They both looked at each other again. You rolled your eyes; you were getting tired of how they’d gotten so good at nonverbal communication.

“Okay.”

“Ha, I wasn’t asking. You forget I run this,” you cockily informed. Again they glanced at each other and advanced for you. You slinked back and laughed.

“Nope. Shower. You two can stay here and continue cooking for me.”

You winked and turned, making sure to allow the blanket to fall from your body to reveal your skin to them. You felt the heat of their gaze on you as you disappeared down the hall. The last three weeks had been amazing. Paradise was an understatement for this place, and what made it all that more perfect was it was one hundred percent secluded. The three of you’d taken a private jet to the tarmac, then a separate helicopter to get to the charter that brought you to the shore.

After your hedonistic night together, it happened again and again for the entire weekend. Then you all went back to reality. You went to your typical seven to seven, and they each flew out to other work obligations. While you kept in touch, all of you felt that things were different. You didn’t know what and neither of you could put your finger on it, but something was different. They were gone for a month, and during that time you worked, spent time with your family and friends and even went on a date or two. Still, none of them felt like before. The men were attractive, yes, and the conversations were enriching, and everything seemed to go well, but you couldn’t connect. Your mind often wandered to them and what they were doing if they’d met anyone, if they were working themselves raw or if they were hooking up with set assistants or fans, your imagination went wild, and you usually wouldn’t care either way, but now, you cared. None of you talked about it though.

When they came back, everything fell into place. You spent time together as usual, dinner here and there, lunch, movie nights, nothing was forced, and nothing felt weird. It was as if your night of fun was just that. Then one month, when they were away and happened to be in the same city for press, you surprised them. One accidental hello kiss to the both of them sparked the fire you’d felt that night and before any of you could stop you were naked, sweaty, and completely breathless on the bed several hours later with not a care for anything besides round two, three and four. When they came back to town a few weeks later, they didn’t expect to see you on a date. Neither of them looked happy about it, but they didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t until three months after the first night you spent together that tensions flared for Chris after he showed up to your office unannounced to find you in a very flirtatious situation with one of the guys who worked with you. You could tell he was pissed, but when your office door shut, he let it slip that he didn’t like seeing you flirt with other guys. You were shocked and speechless, so you didn’t speak, and that pissed him off more because he stormed out of your office and left that night to some comic convention.

When you showed up to the convention on the second day you were ready to apologize although you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Before you could, you were accosted by an actor you’d worked with in the past where he permitted to proposition you for a night of fun. You didn’t know Henry and Chris were both in earshot of the entire conversation and that they’d heard you not shut down the invitation. That night the three of you argued, and they confessed they didn’t like the idea of you flirting with other men and didn’t like knowing that you were dating. You didn’t know what to say because you didn’t like knowing you were dating. Hell, you didn’t even like thinking they were dating. You laughed and laughed long and hard. They didn’t like it and looked even angrier, but when you stopped, you expressed your feelings, feelings they echoed. That was the easy part. You then had figure out what it meant and how you’d maneuver it.

In the beginning, it was easy. You’d established that you had more than platonic feelings for them and they also had those same feelings for you, but not for each other. You’d confirmed you enjoyed spending time together no matter what you were doing and really enjoyed spending time in bed together and all the delicious things you found out about each other’s bodies. There was nothing complicated about your friendship/relationship.

You quickly developed a routine, during the week you worked, and when you got off, you went home. Usually, by ten, they would both make it over where they stayed the night, and you did the same thing again the next day. On weekends you spent one night at Chris’ house and the other night at Henry’s where you enjoyed staying inside away from the stress of the world or the press. When they weren’t in town your life was again back to normal, you worked during the day and times you could you met on facetime and talked about your days and watched some tv show together. It was perfect.

After several months of this routine, the times you spent apart increased, and their schedules got busier and busier. You missed them, and they missed you, but you each knew what your lives entailed. So, when Chris suggested a vacation, you jumped at it and so did Henry. You turned off the water and wrapped in your towel. You walked to the mirror and stared at your reflection. You loved this bathroom it really brought the tropical vibes of outside in. You began your beauty and hair care routine, opting to just do the main steps to your hair as the entire process would take hours and you had much better plans than doing your hair the whole night.

So, you took the time to painstakingly put it into a cute but protective style. Once finished, you inspected and nodded your satisfaction and went to the bedroom to complete your routine of lathering your skin with your own newly concocted body butter mix. You took your time with this because over the last few months you’d noted a few things about your two new paramours. Chris seemed to really love delicate floral scents while Henry liked spicer, more exotic scents. So, before you left, you made a new recipe that consisted of jasmine, gardenia, and rose for Chris and added in a touch of patchouli, vanilla, and sandalwood. When you finished, it smelled like a tropical smoothie and a botanical garden all in once, and the first night you wore it the response was much more than you’d anticipated.

Once you’d finished lathering your skin and setting up the bedroom just the way you wanted you threw on a cute but sexy top and a maxi skirt and went in search of the two people you’d come to seriously not see your life without. As you approached the kitchen, the smells wrapped around you and your stomach growled from hunger. You hadn’t eaten in hours–well food at least. You’d ingested plenty of other things for the day. You peeked into the kitchen, but it was empty. You looked around you wondering where they’d disappeared to. You walked in the opposite direction to the living room expecting to see them sitting watching some soccer game deep in conversation or argument over who was the most valuable player. They rarely agreed on anything which made it a miracle their friendship lasted at all.

When you rounded the corner the living room was empty as well.

“What the hell?”

You went through the rooms of the luxury villa the three of you rented for the last few weeks, and each one you went in you were disappointed when you didn’t find them. When you’d first gotten here you marveled at how spacy it was and didn’t see the spread-out floorplan would be a problem; you stood corrected. You spent the next few minutes roaming through each room on the first floor before you thought about the back patio. As you stepped out, you saw rose petals scattered on the floor. You smirked and followed the path. The soft petals softly crunched underneath your bare feet, and each step the scent of roses wafted more into the air. Once you reached the edge of the patio, you saw more petals leading out across a lantern-lit path across the sand to where you saw both of them standing at the end of the trail. You smiled and walked down the steps onto the sand and to them. As you walked the soft breeze flirted with the hem of your dress and carried it up into the air.

The closer you got you paid attention to the butterflies in your stomach. This was something new for you, something you’d noticed the last few weeks, something you were beginning to understand. You took a few breathes, hoping to calm your raising anxieties. Once you stopped in front of them, your smile grew to the size of Texas.

“What in the world is this?

“Well, we’re officially in countdown mode. We thought why not make tonight a special night,” Henry began.

“As opposed to the other sixteen nights?”

He nodded, grasping the sarcasm in your voice. They’d made you feel special every night of the last near three weeks. They stepped aside to reveal the square dinner table propped into the shallow waters at the shore. It was decked out with candles, flowers and three steel dome covered plates. You smiled again and looked at them in awe. They were perfect, so perfect you felt the prickle of the tears as they stung your eyes. You cleared your throat and stepped to them.

“This is amazing; thank you.”

You kissed Henry’s lips, and what was to be a soft kiss deepened upon contact. You moaned and placed your hand on his chest, loving his warmth. You slowly pulled away and turned to Chris and kissed him as well. His lips were soft and warm and tasted like caramel. You smiled on them and moaned.

“Caramel, huh. I take it caramel is for dessert. Or is it the bedtime snack?”

Chris smiled and kissed you again before he steered you to your waiting seat.

“Play your cards right it could be both,” he said before he kissed your neck and moved to his seat on your right and Henry to your left.

“So what’s for dinner?”

Henry lifted the metal dome to reveal your favorites. You smiled again and looked between them wondering how much more incredible they could get.

“Bon appetite,” you said before you began eating.

Dinner was delicious; you’d always known they were great cooks you’d sampled their food time and time before. As time stretched, you fell deeper in love with your surroundings. You loved the beach, and they knew it; this was the perfect vacation, and it was made even more perfect because you were there with both of them. You loved the warm water, your feet were dipped into and loved it, even more, when your toes dug into the wet sand. Every time you looked at Chris, he was already looking at you with a soft smile and a glint in his eye that made a warm heat brush against your spine. Then when you looked at Henry that heat traveled further down and around to a completely different body part.

By the time dessert finished, the three of you were sitting at the table laughing, sipping bourbon and holding hands. You toyed with their fingers while their free hands roamed the skin of your arms, elbows, shoulders, and knees. When their hands met your thigh the bottle of bourbon was gone, and so were any pretenses that you weren’t going to bust it wide open for them. You finished your final glass and stood from the table and looked at both of them. Their eyes were glossed but clear as the night sky. You held out your hands to them, and without hesitation, they took what you offered. You walked through the water holding firmly to their hands. You led them back across the sand to the house. As you made it to the bedroom door, you turned to them and smiled.

“I’m not running now.”

They both looked to each other and smiled. You walked ahead into the bedroom and patiently waited for them to join you. It was going to be a long night.

***I tagged everyone who was tagged in Captain Vs. Superman. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Tag List:

@sarahboseman @texasbama @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites @hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh @lunaerly @theoutereffect @twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism @maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere @laketaj24 @taint3dvirgin @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne @loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711 @geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829 @chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http @madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn @dolphinpink310 @wonderbell @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97 @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @sweettea-and-honeybutter @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger @amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu

#I love you two fic #chris evans #henry cavill #chris evans fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader x henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill smut #fluff fanfiction

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 4 years ago

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If You’re Good At Something, Never Do It For Free Chapter One: In Need Of Some Assistance

I figured I’d post the first chapter of my WIP on here! TDK Joker x Original Female Character. It is currently at 17 out of ? (Where it stops, nobody knows!) chapters on AO3!

**Warnings for full fic include: Graphic violence, explicit language, blood and gore, smut smut smut, graphic depiction of corpses, murder, aaaand recreational drug use!**

Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! I might eventually put all of the chapters up on here or check it out on AO3!

Meet Nora Hawthorne. She spent her time like most Gotham residents. Go to work, go home, keep up with the news. That changed one night. Her life becomes even more interesting after Gotham's own Clown Prince of Crime comes crashing in with a life-threatening injury, leaving her questioning her morals as well as her romantic desires

Jesus, it’s been a long day. A woman with brunette hair above her shoulders, wearing a pair of loose teal green scrubs stands from her desk chair to twist her torso until a satisfying *crack* is heard, followed by a deep sigh. The noise of her tired spine popping into alignment is heard only by her as she stands alone in the treatment area of the now empty veterinary hospital. The brick structure sits between an apartment building and a law firm in West Harlow, the Gotham City neighborhood west of downtown, adjacent to The Narrows. This location makes Dr. Nora Hawthorne one busy veterinarian. On a daily basis she tends to anything from impatient businessmen toting in their wives’ teacup Yorkies with a little cough to large Rottweilers with deep neck wounds. To say she’s gained a variety of experience is an understatement.

She doesn’t own the place, though. Two years out of school and 30 years old means she has some hefty bills to pay. Dr. Moore owns the clinic. Taking this job meant long hours and a busy schedule with not much sympathy from David Moore. “Your generation expects everything handed to them, don’t you? I had to work harder than this to get where I am,” as he just loved to remind her of every time she requested time off for a little… what is it called again? Oh right, work-life balance. Sure, Moore. Enjoy your mini mansion in Uptown since it seems you have no problem balancing the weight of your business on a pair of younger shoulders. Even if it means those shoulders are constantly wound up in to deep knots that no amount of morning yoga can seem to unravel. But she can’t quit. Those bills to pay threaten to pile higher and she’s afraid of heights. Plus, job security in Gotham is hard to come by. Especially since the Joker escaped from Arkham two months ago.

That was in May. Everyone in the city has been on edge since then and the Summer heat is not helping. The days go by but not a peep has been heard in regard to the Clown Prince of Crime’s whereabouts. Same for the Batman. The eerie silence has only been making it worse. The traffic congesting the city streets increases in intensity every evening as Gotham’s citizens rush home in an effort to avoid getting caught up in whatever devastating scheme the Joker has been cooking up during his involuntary vacation. But the threat never comes, leaving the city’s inhabitants to nervously watch and wait. Maybe it won’t come. Maybe he left Gotham for good. Left to terrorize a new city. Wishful thinking is what gets us all through the day. But the tension still weighs on everyone’s nerves, making Nora’s day that much harder when she gets an earful from her clients on a regular basis for things that are out of her control. “Sir, you don’t need to speak to me like that. I did not give your cat a urinary tract infection,” is not something she thought she’d ever find herself saying.

It is what it is. All she can do is keep her head on her shoulders and do her job, care for Gotham’s only truly innocent citizens. Animals don’t dwell in the past, they only live in the present. In that regard, they’re smarter than the majority of Gotham’s inhabitants. She made it her job to advocate for their health and well-being, since they can’t do it themselves. Nora was staying late to finish medical records for the sea of patients the clinic took in that day and she wanted it all recorded while it was fresh in her brain. If you don’t write it down, it didn’t happen. She told her assistant, “You go on home, I’ll just be here finishing notes. Get some rest.” The heavy set women expressed her concern for Dr. Hawthorne being here by herself but the job has gotten her used to being out well after dark. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the door locked,” was the response her assistant, Jen, would always get in return. She didn’t want to argue so she would leave Nora to her work within the off-white walls of the dimly lit hospital in silence.

Nora stretched once more and shifted a glance to the clock on the wall. 9:58pm. Had it been fourteen hours already? Her stomach responded with a growl as if to answer in the affirmative. The hard-working staff finished cleaning the treatment room a couple of hours ago leaving the two metal tables in the center of the room shiny and ready for whatever tomorrow brings. The room wasn’t very large but the open design left ample room for patient care. The treatment tables against the walls opposite from each other extended toward the center of the room, leaving a four foot space between them, and had ceiling-mounted exam lights above them. Along the walls there were shelves of neatly organized equipment and tools. Essentials. White medical tape, boxes of gloves, bandage scissors, IV catheters in a variety of sizes, thermometers, bottles of isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, jars with gauze soaked in chlorhexidine scrub, sterile lubricant, needles and syringes, and bandage material being among the most heavily utilized items. Along the back wall is a bank of cages and kennels for patients spending the day in the clinic (any patients in need of continued care were transferred to a nearby twenty four-hour hospital) flanked by drawers full of IV fluids and sterilized tools. The back right corner of the room opened into a short hallway leading to the area that housed a small surgical suite, devoid of any light this time of night, where a cart with monitors and a gas anesthesia circuit sat in wait for its next use. Just beyond this suite is a small door marked “Radiology” indicating the digital X-ray equipment kept inside, keeping radiation exposure to the rest of the place at a minimum. Nora’s desk is in the back left corner of the treatment room, a shelf full of medical reference books sitting above her head. Also that “World’s Greatest Dog-tor” certificate Jen gave her last Spring. Nora didn’t have the heart to tell her she found it kind of insulting.

With the last medical record completed, details of the day’s procedures noted in succinct but thorough language, it was time for the doctor to make her way back to her nearby apartment for some much needed rest. She left her seldom-worn long white lab coat on the back of her chair where it always was and removed the black stethoscope from around her neck to place it on her desk. Walking toward the red-lit exit sign above the side door leading to the alley, she flicked the switch to turn the remaining lights off. She usually had a small can of pepper spray readied in her hand when she left alone at a late hour. But Nora had been practically beaten into the ground with exhaustion at this point and her thoughts were instead centered around a hot shower and her soft bed.

She opened the door to receive a gust of warm night air to her face, intensifying her sleepy feelings. Letting out a rather large yawn, she turned to put her keys in the door to lock it. As she removed the key from the lock, she felt a strange sensation on the back her neck. Like a crawling of her skin, a feeling of dread. Before she could turn around in search of the source of her body’s sudden danger signal, a purple glove slammed onto the door next to her head. Her eyes snapped to the glove and she froze, unable to breathe, while her heart jumped into her throat.

“Evening, doc,” a nasally, raspy voice said. She slowly turned her head to find herself face to face with the Joker himself, leaning with his gloved hand against the door. His makeup was smudged wildly and he was wearing his signature purple overcoat and suit. All color drained from Nora’s face as her breathing quickened to a practically panting rate, the idea of sleep drowned in a surge of adrenaline. Before she could make a sound his other gloved hand clapped over her mouth, a knife tucked between his thumb and index finger, the blade laying flat across the top of his hand.

“Ahh tah tah, no screamin’, doc. Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors, would we?” he said, his dark eyes staring straight into hers. Nora struggled to regain her composure, it did her no good to panic. She knew begging and crying would get her nowhere with the Joker. Better to have as clear a head as possible. She took a sharp inhale through her nose. The wave of gasoline and extinguished matches that met her nostrils was overwhelming. It almost made her dizzy. But she slowly let the breath back out through her nose. Their gaze into each other’s eyes, hers wide with fear, his black and hooded, had not been broken since his zeroed in on hers. It was like magnets were keeping her eyes on his, no matter how hard she tried to look away, she couldn’t do it.

“Now. I’m going to move my hand and youuu are not gonna scream. Got it?” his voice getting slightly higher as he spoke. Without thinking Nora nodded slowly, still not breaking their stare, as he slid his hand from over her mouth.

She allowed herself to blink. Then, trying not to let her voice crack, she quietly said, “H-How did you know I’m a doctor?” Stupid stupid stupid. You are an idiot Nora Hawthorne.

Joker let out a breathy giggle and Nora’s gaze then fixated on his mouth. His scars. They were even more striking up close. Nora was no stranger to stitching up wounds and these must have been awful. She didn’t want him to see her eyeing them so she shifted her eyes back up to his.

“Who else would be here this la-te, hm?” Nora couldn’t do anything but open her mouth and shake her head, her eyebrows knitted together with anxiety.

Still bracing himself against the building on his left hand planted on top of the door he said, “Enough with the formalities doc. I am in need for some, uh, assistance, you see.” It was then that the doctor noticed the Joker’s breathing. It was shallow and rather fast. Like he couldn’t catch his breath but was trying to. Oh shit, what does he mean by that. She wasn’t sure how she didn’t notice his labored breathing until now. She supposed being paralyzed with fear would do that to a person. Nora watched as the Joker then lifted the flap of his coat from his right side, revealing a two inch wide piece of glass sticking out from between his ribs. There was blood trailing from it, down his green vest. She gasped. He dropped the fabric and grabbed her by the chin, jerking her head so her eyes met his yet again.

“So, my little doctor, youuu are going to provide said assistance-ah,” he growled. Nora’s eyes grew even wider.

“Wait wait, what? No no I’m a veterinarian, I’m not a human doctor,” she said in a panicked voice. Yeah, nice one, Hawthorne.

“I can read, doc,” the Joker said, gesturing to the painted door that read Gotham City Veterinary Urgent Care. “I know you’ve got what I need in that pretty little head of yours.” He tried to stifle a gasping sound from his throat as he attempted to inhale before speaking again. “I am an animal after all aren’t I, hm?” he said, leaning his head forward and bouncing his eyebrows suggestively. Nora was stunned.

“Why me? Why did you come here for help?”

“Can’t quite go to the emergency room, can I doc? Besides, you take care of little doggies and kitties all day. Just think of meee as a lost little, uh, puppy,” he said, shifting his weight to put his knife-wielding right hand against the door on the other side of her head so Nora was trapped beneath him, their noses inches apart.

Fear bubbled its way up into her head again. She couldn’t think straight. How did Gotham’s most notorious criminal end up here, in front of her, with a life-threatening injury? It didn’t matter how, it only mattered that now it was happening. But, how could she justify helping the Joker? He caused so much death and destruction to this city, her city. She could do her best to fight, she might stand a chance against him in this weakened state. But he was the Joker. He’d probably still be able to slit her throat faster than she could get out from under him. He was the Joker but he also was a person. A person in what she was sure was a significant amount of pain. Another gasping sound made its way out of Joker’s mouth.

“Haven’t got all night, doc.”

Nora’s expression softened. What the fuck am I getting myself into?

“Ok,” she said, lifting her keys and turning to unlock the door.

#joker fanfiction #tdk joker #heath ledger joker #joker x oc #fanfiction

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kindledspiritsbooks · 5 years ago

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My Month in Books: December 2019

The Queen of Nothing - Holly Black

Power is much easier to acquire than it is to hold onto. Jude learned this lesson when she released her control over the wicked king, Cardan, in exchange for immeasurable power. Now as the exiled mortal Queen of Faerie, Jude is powerless and left reeling from Cardan’s betrayal. She bides her time determined to reclaim everything he took from her. Opportunity arrives in the form of her deceptive twin sister, Taryn, whose mortal life is in peril. Jude must risk venturing back into the treacherous Faerie Court, and confront her lingering feelings for Cardan, if she wishes to save her sister. But Elfhame is not as she left it. War is brewing. As Jude slips deep within enemy lines she becomes ensnared in the conflict’s bloody politics. And, when a dormant yet powerful curse is unleashed, panic spreads throughout the land, forcing her to choose between her ambition and her humanity…

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson

Moving forward and backward in time, Jacqueline Woodson's taut and powerful new novel uncovers the role that history and community have played in the experiences, decisions, and relationships of these families, and in the life of the new child. As the book opens in 2001, it is the evening of sixteen-year-old Melody's coming of age ceremony in her grandparents' Brooklyn brownstone. Watched lovingly by her relatives and friends, making her entrance to the music of Prince, she wears a special custom-made dress. But the event is not without poignancy. Sixteen years earlier, that very dress was measured and sewn for a different wearer: Melody's mother, for her own ceremony-- a celebration that ultimately never took place. Unfurling the history of Melody's parents and grandparents to show how they all arrived at this moment, Woodson considers not just their ambitions and successes but also the costs, the tolls they've paid for striving to overcome expectations and escape the pull of history. As it explores sexual desire and identity, ambition, gentrification, education, class and status, and the life-altering facts of parenthood, Red at the Bone most strikingly looks at the ways in which young people must so often make long-lasting decisions about their lives--even before they have begun to figure out who they are and what they want to be.

Katherine by Anya Seton

This classic romance novel tells the true story of the love affair that changed history—that of Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the ancestors of most of the British royal family. Set in the vibrant 14th century of Chaucer and the Black Death, the story features knights fighting in battle, serfs struggling in poverty, and the magnificent Plantagenets—Edward III, the Black Prince, and Richard II—who ruled despotically over a court rotten with intrigue. Within this era of danger and romance, John of Gaunt, the king’s son, falls passionately in love with the already married Katherine. Their well-documented affair and love persist through decades of war, adultery, murder, loneliness, and redemption. This epic novel of conflict, cruelty, and untamable love has become a classic since its first publication in 1954.

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

Libby Day was seven when her mother and two sisters were murdered in “The Satan Sacrifice" of Kinnakee, Kansas. She survived—and famously testified that her fifteen-year-old brother, Ben, was the killer. Twenty-five years later, the Kill Club—a secret secret society obsessed with notorious crimes—locates Libby and pumps her for details. They hope to discover proof that may free Ben. Libby hopes to turn a profit off her tragic history: She’ll reconnect with the players from that night and report her findings to the club—for a fee. As Libby’s search takes her from shabby Missouri strip clubs to abandoned Oklahoma tourist towns, the unimaginable truth emerges, and Libby finds herself right back where she started—on the run from a killer.

House of Salt and Sorrow by Erin A. Craig

Annaleigh lives a sheltered life at Highmoor, a manor by the sea, with her sisters, their father, and stepmother. Once they were twelve, but loneliness fills the grand halls now that four of the girls' lives have been cut short. Each death was more tragic than the last—the plague, a plummeting fall, a drowning, a slippery plunge—and there are whispers throughout the surrounding villages that the family is cursed by the gods. Disturbed by a series of ghostly visions, Annaleigh becomes increasingly suspicious that the deaths were no accidents. Her sisters have been sneaking out every night to attend glittering balls, dancing until dawn in silk gowns and shimmering slippers, and Annaleigh isn't sure whether to try to stop them or to join their forbidden trysts. Because who—or what—are they really dancing with? When Annaleigh's involvement with a mysterious stranger who has secrets of his own intensifies, it's a race to unravel the darkness that has fallen over her family—before it claims her next.

Ask Again, Yes by Mary Beth Keane

A profoundly moving novel about two neighboring families in a suburban town, the bond between their children, a tragedy that reverberates over four decades, the daily intimacies of marriage, and the power of forgiveness. Francis Gleeson and Brian Stanhope, two rookie cops in the NYPD, live next door to each other outside the city. What happens behind closed doors in both houses—the loneliness of Francis’s wife, Lena, and the instability of Brian’s wife, Anne—sets the stage for the explosive events to come. Ask Again, Yes is a deeply affecting exploration of the lifelong friendship and love that blossoms between Francis and Lena’s daughter, Kate, and Brian and Anne’s son, Peter. Luminous, heartbreaking, and redemptive, Ask Again, Yes reveals the way childhood memories change when viewed from the distance of adulthood—villains lose their menace and those who appeared innocent seem less so. Kate and Peter’s love story, while tested by echoes from the past, is marked by tenderness, generosity, and grace.

Well Met by Jen DeLuca

All's faire in love and war for two sworn enemies who indulge in a harmless flirtation in a laugh-out-loud rom-com from debut author, Jen DeLuca. Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him? The faire is Simon's family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn't have time for Emily's lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she's in her revealing wench's costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they're portraying? This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can't seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon, or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.

Oh My God, What a Complete Aisling by Emer McLysaght and Sarah Breen

Aisling is twenty-eight and she’s a complete ... Aisling. She lives at home in Ballygobbard (or Ballygobackwards, as some gas tickets call it) with her parents and commutes to her good job at PensionsPlus in Dublin.

Aisling goes out every Saturday night with her best friend Majella, who is a bit of a hames (she’s lost two phones already this year – Aisling has never lost a phone).

Aisling spends two nights a week at her boyfriend John’s. He’s from down home and was kiss number seventeen at her twenty-first.

But Aisling wants more. She wants the ring on her finger. She wants the hen with the willy straws. She wants out of her parents’ house, although she’d miss Mammy turning on the electric blanket like clockwork and Daddy taking her car 'out for a spin' and bringing it back full of petrol.

When a week in Tenerife with John doesn’t end with the expected engagement, Aisling calls a halt to things and soon she has surprised herself and everyone else by agreeing to move into a three-bed in Portobello with stylish Sadhbh from HR and her friend, the mysterious Elaine.

Newly single and relocated to the big city, life is about to change utterly for this wonderful, strong, surprising and funny girl, who just happens to be a complete Aisling.

Emer McLysaght and Sarah Breen, the creators of the much-loved Aisling character and the popular Facebook page 'Oh My God, What a Complete Aisling', bring Aisling to life in their novel about the quintessential country girl in the big smoke.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Far beneath the surface of the earth, upon the shores of the Starless Sea, there is a labyrinthine collection of tunnels and rooms filled with stories. The entryways that lead to this sanctuary are often hidden, sometimes on forest floors, sometimes in private homes, sometimes in plain sight. But those who seek will find. Their doors have been waiting for them. Zachary Ezra Rawlins is searching for his door, though he does not know it. He follows a silent siren song, an inexplicable knowledge that he is meant for another place. When he discovers a mysterious book in the stacks of his campus library he begins to read, entranced by tales of lovelorn prisoners, lost cities, and nameless acolytes. Suddenly a turn of the page brings Zachary to a story from his own childhood impossibly written in this book that is older than he is. A bee, a key, and a sword emblazoned on the book lead Zachary to two people who will change the course of his life: Mirabel, a fierce, pink-haired painter, and Dorian, a handsome, barefoot man with shifting alliances. These strangers guide Zachary through masquerade party dances and whispered back room stories to the headquarters of a secret society where doorknobs hang from ribbons, and finally through a door conjured from paint to the place he has always yearned for. Amid twisting tunnels filled with books, gilded ballrooms, and wine-dark shores Zachary falls into an intoxicating world soaked in romance and mystery. But a battle is raging over the fate of this place and though there are those who would willingly sacrifice everything to protect it, there are just as many intent on its destruction. As Zachary, Mirabel, and Dorian venture deeper into the space and its histories and myths, searching for answers and each other, a timeless love story unspools, casting a spell of pirates, painters, lovers, liars, and ships that sail upon a Starless Sea.

The Swallows by Lisa Lutz

What do you love? What do you hate? What do you want? It starts with this simple writing prompt from Alex Witt, Stonebridge Academy's new creative writing teacher. When the students' answers raise disturbing questions of their own, Ms. Witt knows there's more going on the school than the faculty wants to see. She soon learns about The Ten--the students at the top of the school's social hierarchy--as well as their connection to something called The Darkroom. Ms. Witt can't remain a passive observer. She finds the few girls who've started to question the school's "boys will be boys" attitude and incites a resistance that quickly becomes a movement. But just as it gains momentum, she also attracts the attention of an unknown enemy who knows a little too much about her--including what brought her to Stonebridge in the first place. Meanwhile, Gemma, a defiant senior, has been plotting her attack for years, waiting for the right moment. Shy loner Norman hates his role in the Darkroom, but can't find the courage to fight back until he makes an unlikely alliance. And then there's Finn Ford, an English teacher with a shady reputation who keeps one eye on his literary ambitions and one on Ms. Witt. As the school's secrets begin to trickle out, a boys-versus-girls skirmish turns into an all-out war, with deeply personal--and potentially fatal--consequences for everyone involved. Lisa Lutz's blistering, timely tale shows us what can happen when silence wins out over decency for too long--and why the scariest threat of all might be the idea that sooner or later, girls will be girls.

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valnune · 5 years ago

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Obey Me! OC - Wine Mom Chapter 8-8

This is Wine Mom’s chapter for the dance. Oh. Both Wine Mom and Marshmallow have an added dance with Diavolo ;) Enjoy. Word Count: 6707 Within the golden illustrious palace of the Demon King, the residents of Purgatory Hall, exchange students Simeon, Luke, and Solomon, were joined with the denizens of the House of Lamentation, the demon brothers, accompanied by the final exchange student, Althea. It was a retreat designed to celebrate the exchange program and how smoothly it was running. Smoothly was not the word she’d use for it however. While the situation itself was one of jovial merriment, a banquet before them prepared by the Demon Lord’s Butler Barbatos and the unseen staff that lurk in the shadows, Althea had been having the antithesis of amusement. “...Well then, I suppose it’s about that time.” Diavolo, a man who seemed surprisingly pleasant given the fact he was supposed to be, according to all she knew about Hell prior to arriving in the Devildom, had risen from the table that everyone had been seated at for the meal. As he rose, so did everyone else, more or less, rise with him in time as you would expectantly do for someone of such high royal status. Yet he also looked off to the side and waved a hand to the staff who were only visible from the reflections on the golden floor. The table glittered before them and disappeared before her very eyes through means of magic, much to Beelzebub’s displeasure, mumbling and groaning about how he wasn’t finished eating. “Ignore him, Diavolo. Go ahead.” Lucifer had distanced himself, and so did the other brothers. She had known that there were more festivities to be had, and while she enjoyed the tour and perhaps the scavenger hunt itself for its intellectual and cultural insights, this was a surprise for her whatever it was. Fun fact: Althea did not like surprises. You can’t prepare for surprises. That, and most surprises were disappointing. This one time however, was the exception to the rule. This was something the heiress was a bit more used to. “All right then, here we go…”

As the lights went dark over the entire area, her vision became obscured so that not even a shine from the floor or chandelier was able to gleam through. This was a spell, it had to be. Though she was unfamiliar with sorcery, she had been around it enough to feel the charged particles linger in the air. If she had arm hair, surely the hairs would be standing up as she felt static prickle along her skin. Althea felt a weight against her neck, and the texture of other fabrics. As the lights went on, all was revealed as the room they were in was transformed to a grand dance hall. Each demon was within their natural form, and the students, herself included, were adorned with fanciful formal attire.

This is the sort of thing that could tempt mortals to fall. All those stories about grandiose, larger than life scenarios. Oh, how the Devil could tempt you with whatever it is your heart desired. Indeed. Decadence and Sin was mired throughout this place. She had been raised Catholic, went to an all girls, Private Catholic School, and although she had enough skeletons in her closet to fill a graveyard, was still faithful to God.

“Magic really does come in hand sometimes, huh?” Solomon passed by her, his cloak bearing a mantle now for his formal robes his smirk remained the same no matter what he wore.

“We were the only ones here just a bit ago, but now look at all these people…” Luke’s formal attire suited his diminutive appearance, rather looking like a flower boy at a wedding. Though that wasn’t much better than a chihuahua.

“They’re all guests from across the Devildom, and there certainly are a lot of them.” Simeon was the other angel, dark skinned, dark haired, with eyes like the Caribbean Sea. Yet, she was expecting to see that the angels had wings, apparently neither manifested them or were able to.

Yet all of the individuals here, those she knew, those she didn’t, were in their demon forms. Wings, tails, and horns of all shapes and sizes were visible. Yet it seemed, from what she could see, that only Lucifer retained feathery wings. The rest had wings like that of a bat if they had them. Satan and Leviathan only had tails and horns- and despite Satan’s questionable fashion sense, it was Diavolo who truly caught the eye. The man had already been enough to catch the eye before; broad of shoulder and frame, tall of statue, clearly the largest demon she had seen but in his true form it was something else.

His bare chest was adorned with golden accents and a few tattoos that accentuated his muscled form. Triangles bore upon his forearm and his attire on his lower half of black and white was still draped with gold chains and just the same as his torso. His neck held a black and gold collar that went all the way up, yet it didn’t look like it was difficult to turn his head in. All the while, a mantle of black fur curled over his arms behind his shoulder blades like a runway model. His hair turned a blood red and his skin deepend in colour. The future King of the Devildom truly looked like royalty in this moment for even his horns and four bat wings were tipped with gold. Yet he wasn’t the only one who was striking.

“...Yo, Al… ah… ah…” Mammon seemed stunned for a bit at her appearance, and as Althea took a glance over what she wore, it seemed that it was the gala gown. It seems that it was replicated perfectly- and she didn’t have to pay the hefty price again for it either.

With a thigh high slit, the gown was practically entirely gold, the leaves, vines, and flowers upon the skirt gold, the bodice and interior, all shades of gold in various ways that had a satin reflection as much as the room around her. Yet that wasn’t all, it also appeared her jewelry was replicated as well, bejeweled bracelets and the cascading necklace upon her bare neck and collarbones. Glancing to the side, she saw Barbatos give a nod. It seemed that he had done his research to make the gown as faithful to her own as possible.

“I- Ah- Al- Althea! Um, like… you know… uh, I mean, like… uh… L-Like, you’ve gotta have weird tastes to ask a human like you to dance. I’m guessin’ no on here’s gonna do that, huh? Ahahahah!” Mammon then mumbled something under his breath, looking away from her gaze, the blush upon his cheeks was expected by now.

His demon form, as this was the first she had a chance to see it, was what she assumed he thought looked cool. A leather half cropped jacket that came nowhere close to being able to close was studded and had gold dangling decorations on the popped collar with belts that crossed his chest with two strips of leather that clutched the X. His bat wings were angled downwards and held white markings on them, just as his chest bore markings almost reminiscent of tribal war paint.

“My oh my, Mammon… this look is more suited for the bedroom than the ballroom, don’t you think?” Althea closed the distance and brought her hand towards his chest, ever so slowly dragging a finger across one of the white markings. Mammon seemed to freeze a second and take a half step back as his blush intensified.

“Mm? Y- yeah? W- wait- I mean! Y- what are ya doin’?! Y- ya can’t go sayin’ that here-” He even smacked at her hand, however light the trailing of her nail had been across his chest. Though, Althea’s reaction as a smug, mused grin at how flustered her had become.

“Oh, I know- I know. I just like to see you blush. It’s terribly entertaining, darling.” Placing a hand on her hip, she canted them to the side as Althea couldn’t help but laugh in the most amused of ways. Teasing Mammon was probably her favorite thing to do in all the Devildom, which honestly was saying something because she lied. There were a few things that she did find enjoyable since being here.

“Stop it-! Would ya? Geeze. Now I don’t even know if I wanna pair up with ya for a li’l bit!”

“Mammon, why not just admit that you want to dance with Althea?”

“You’re such a loser! And a total tsundere! Looooool People are sick of characters like that!... Didn’t you get the memo? Lololol Those characters are so yesterday! LMAO.”

Satan and Leviathan mocked the already wounded Mammon, pouring a bit of lemon and salt into the cut Althea made. The both of them had been a curiosity to her. While certainly she did get along with Satan as he tended to with others, she was used to people faking their smiles and demeanor and found it tiresome to guess their motives. Levi was easy to read, just like Mammon, in that he wore his emotions on his sleeve and he had quite a bit of emotions as well. A bit of a smile formed upon her lips again and as she was about to offer a head-pat to comfort the second oldest brother, he burst out in frustration to number 3 and 4.

“GRRRRR! Get outta here, both of you! Shoo! Shoo!” Mammon smacked the hand away again to avoid being head-pat but also waved his hands frantically at Satan and Levi.

“Althea, come dance with me. Now.” A voice came from the side, deep and commanding.

“Lucifer, surely you can ask a lady more politely than that.” A bemused chuckle slipped from her lips as her eyes leveled upon the mighty first born in his prideful glory. Accepting the hand that was extended towards her, she could tell just from the shadows nestled in his gaze that this was not a frivolous encounter.

“Wh…!”

“See, you should’ve just come out and asked Althea to dance.” Satan let out an audible sigh.

“The loser was rejected! Haha, awesome! Loool!”

“SHUT UP YOU TWO!”

A hand remained delicately rested within Lucifer’s, another hand pinching the corner of her dress as the pair made their way further onto the dance floor. Her eyes glanced over, lingered upon his facade as he seemed to be watching her from the corner of his eyes as well. As soon as they were appropriately distanced enough from others, her hands went in position and remained there without a shred of doubt in herself.

“It would surprise me if you didn’t know how to dance.”

“You would be correct to assume that I know. However, the question is, can you keep up with me?”

“Is that a challenge?” These words could have been spoken by either of them, as both held a certain tension that charged between the both like electricity about to go off. Yet it was Lucifer who stared down with a foreboding gaze as if to question the human who dare challenge his pride.

“No. Not yet anyway.” Althea was taking full advantage of them being in a public location and while she would contest him while not surrounded by others as well, she was all the more confident in just how many people were around them.

Lucifer was savvy on the pickup, and as the music started, took careful stride. Long, graceful movements were made upon the dance floor, something that she could easily pair her steps with. Needless to say, she was not one to fall behind with every pivot, twist, and for the longest of whiles, the two would not speak, merely stare intensely at each other as if to try and make the other person become unnerved and miss a step. Of course, she didn’t expect to be able to stare down Lucifer, however, she made certain not to lose any of her own ground. Finally, the dancing slowed enough for the discussion to begin.

“You might be able to charm Mammon, but I will not be so easy. I will cut directly to the point as you already know this is not a dance out of politeness or interest.”

Althea certainly expected him to be dramatic, yet as he pulled her body in close, pressing snugly so that it made it difficult to breath, she knew that it was best to dispense with the games, lest she make any following interaction with him sour. It was quite clear that with how tightly he was squeezing her hand, that he was demonstrating his force, able to easily break every one in her hand should he feel like it. With his lips whispering next to her ear, the heat of his breath chilled at the back of her neck.

“I know you’re plotting something with Asmo...”

His words remained cold, and for a moment, she wasn’t certain if she could even breath, let alone feel her hand with just how tightly she was squeezed and yet that moment passed. He eased up and a slow, more basic dance resumed. Step, step, step, glide. Step, step, turn, step glide…. Just a bit to be able to get a bit of air in her lungs as he continued.

“Let me make one thing clear: I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to either Diavolo or us… then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

There were any number of approaches she could take here. Should she simply take his warning and be done with it, should she try to reach out with attempted understanding, perhaps threaten back and put pressure on him to show she wasn’t going to be pushed around or controlled? Certainly any number of them could backfire and while accepting it seemed the safest option and be done with it, she was in Hell and if she was going to be stuck down here for the year, she was determined to make them suffer just as much as they were making her suffer.

“Oh, I understand. However you need to understand something yourself, Lucifer. You’ve taken someone away from their home, away from everything they’ve known to be real and then forced them to adapt- and I don’t like surprises. I don’t like change- and like you, I like to be in control of everything around me. Perhaps all of this is just a fleeting moment in your ancient life, but it’s not to me. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about Solomon. He actually has the power to change things here in the Devildom and he might just have the mind to. A warning you gave me on the first day.”

There was no point in mincing words and while she really could take the most advantage of her time here, and while Althea could manipulate and con others, she’d much rather not put in the effort to deal with demons. The only reason after all as for why she was making these pacts to help Belphegor was because that damned voice in her head wouldn’t let her sleep. Making pacts with the demon brothers, while amusing in hindsight for the look on Mother Superior’s face at the next alumni reunion will be precious, was never something she particularly cared for. It was a means to an end. He should be thankful she wasn’t more malicious.

“Oh, I have my eye on Solomon as well. However, he is a figure we’ve had our eye on for quite some time and understand his motivations. You are an unknown. And while you are forced to be here, you would be wise to keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.” There was an abrupt turn with those words as his hands remained tightly gripped within her own, a jerking pull to one direction as the dance was nearing its end.

“Where it doesn’t belong? Or where I don’t belong? It seems to me that you don’t entirely trust Lord Diavolo. My my, how scandalous, Lucifer. Do you doubt his wis-”

“Watch it, Human.” Once more Lucifer abruptly pulled upon her hands but at this point, it was because the dance was at an end, and so was his patience.

“...Pardon me. Well, looks like a new song has started. I’d love the chance to dance with Althea. Might I cut in?” Speak of the Devil. It was almost too perfect his timing as Solomon approached. There was an unassuming smile upon his features as if he knew this was exactly the perfect moment to approach.

“...Fine. I get the feeling that you’ve gotten the message and you understand what I’m telling you, Althea. I’m glad we got to have this little talk.” Inclining his head ever so briefly as she placed her hands within Solomon’s for the dance, Lucifer shot a glare that threatened to freeze the entire Devildom.

“... What was that all about?” Solomon gave a side glance to Lucifer who was now on the hunt for Mammon, seeing as he was no longer visible on the dance floor, it likely meant that he was attempting to steal something.

“It was exactly what it looked like.” Her words were evasive as was her dancing, for it seemed that Solomon as well was a graceful dancer. With her heels, she was even able to remain at eye level with him instead of having to look up.

“Oh? I see. So you were flirting then.” A fake laugh erupted from him, one that was obvious enough to her just how fake it was. Though he continued to speak as a delicate little dance proceeded.

“You certainly aren’t meek, are you? When I heard that the other human they selected wasn’t a witch or sorcerer, I half expected them to be eaten alive and had their soul taken within a week. However, while you may have made pacts with demons, you still lack the power to command them.”

Of all the humans that they could select, it was Solomon. Of course she knew who Solomon was, she was Catholic. Yet, that he looked so very different from the portrayals still was a bit of a surprise. Then again, there were many things that were coming to a surprise as her. Once more. She did not like surprises, even if this one did come in the form of an attractive young man.

“Lack the power to control them? Perhaps I don’t have magic like you, but I certainly can still command them. I daresay my method is more fun.” With an aloof shrug of her shoulder, Althea turned her head off to the side with a bit of a hmph. Though, she knew that Solomon still had something up his sleeve. He wouldn’t bring that up for no reason.

“Well, everyone has some amount of magical power by nature. However, there are some people in which it actually manifests itself, and some people in which it doesn’t. And even among those in which it does, some have more of it than others. It varies based on the individual. Seeing how it doesn’t even manifest itself in you to begin with, even though you’ve made pacts with demons, you can’t take command of their powers.”

“This has been made clear enough to me as is, Solomon. What is your point?”

Althea kept her gaze turned to the side, dancing around him and dancing around the subject just as he was. Solomon was obviously building to some point, bringing up and reminding her that she couldn’t use magic. In truth, she had been researching to see if there was a way to get around that. While it was still unknown all of what magic could do, the amount of benefits you could apply it to in the human world would be quite advantageous. But just what was he getting at?

“How would you like me to lend you my power?” Solomon gave a side eye, clearly trying to tempt Althea with the thought and to get her to read into it more and more. He was having quite a bit of amusement with this, wasn’t he?

“Depends on what your price is… But. I am more concerned about your motivations in this. What do you get out of this?” Althea’s eyes narrowed all the same, sliding her body closer towards his own, fingers on his shoulders sliding a bit down his arm.

“A price? What sort of person do you think I am? I am but an innocent la-”

“An innocent lamb. Yes yes, if you’re an innocent lamb, then I’m a fairy princess.”

“Well, glad to meet you, your Highness… Hmm. Well. Let’s just say I’m curious to know what would happen if I did. You’re a destabilizing element here in this world. I can’t say what might happen if I do this, which is exactly what makes it interesting. We are on a retreat after all. Why waste this opportunity?”

From what she had known of Solomon, he didn’t lie. However, he wasn’t one to tell the whole truth either, or he would avoid answering the questions all together if he didn’t wish to say the full truth either. While she was confident enough that he wished just to see what would happen, Althea was not one to enjoy being used for entertainment of others and there was no guarantee what would happen or what effects would linger, if any. She needed assurances before accepting and just how he would do this.

“You have me intrigued, however. I do have conditions. First, how do you intend to share this power and for how long?”

“For six hours, I can allow you access to my abilities. This should allow you to command the demons you’ve made a pact with. As for conditions, you don’t need to be so wary of me. After all, us humans need to look out for the other.” Solomon kept his words aloof and lofty, offering words of grandeur as a gesture to try and make her more accepting of his proposition. However, she was not one to just simply accept something without knowing the full details.

“You may know demons and you may know magic, but it is precisely because you are human that I am wary of you. I make no assumptions about the world around me, for the rules I know do not apply, yet the one thing I have the utmost confidence in, is a fellow human, for I know the evils we are capable of. I also know enough to not believe in all of the legends about you.”

Althea picked up the pace of the dance, sliding her leg up and inward against his own as she then kicked her heel around his own. Dropping her weight, she forced Solomon into a dip for dramatic effect so that the weight of her words would add pressure and assurance to what she was about to say. Yet it was the piercing, stern nature of her eyes that would contest the shrewd gaze of his own. Perhaps she couldn’t stare someone like Lucifer down, but with Solomon, she had the utmost confidence in this.

“I will accept your offer, but know that if I find any lingering effects or if you attempt to do anything else of a similar nature without informing me…” Althea then leaned in to whisper against his ear, much like what was done to her earlier.

“...You will find out why Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… and I would oh so hate to get your blood on my hands, as pretty as the colour would be…”

Pulling him upwards now, Althea then proceeded to dance with him again, holding his hand firmly within her own , the other upon his back again. Yet for all what was said and done, Solomon just smiled. Althea hadn’t been able to threaten him enough or perhaps it was effective but not in the way she wanted exactly. Though the way he remained smug annoyed her, she couldn’t let her expression show any of it.

“Hahaha. And they say I act like a demon. Hmm. Very well. You have nothing to fear from me. Just a moment… and… There.”

Solomon had stopped the dancing between them, just as the song ended as well so it didn’t look so suspicious. He made a subtle hand gesture, but did not even speak words and around them, it almost seemed as if there was a bit of glitter floating in the air. A chill ran down her spine as the tips of her fingers felt almost faster… and then the feeling faded, going numb and returned to feeling the way it had before.

“For the next six hours, you’ll have access to my abilities. You are quite a curiosity, Althea. I’m excited to see what will happen…”

A smug side glance was sent her way, and in return, she shot a narrowed one of scrutiny. It was hard to tell exactly who had won that battle, but unfortunately, she felt like she was in the red two for two tonight. This was not what she wanted. To be put under pressure from Lucifer because he was afraid of losing control, and accepting the temporary use of magic from humanity’s (theorized) most powerful sorcerer. She needed a drink.

Walking past a waiter, Althea plucked a glass of demonus off of the tray. This truly was Hell. She hadn’t had a glass of wine in ages and demonus didn’t seem to affect humans. Still, it had a similar taste which was at least a slight benefit. Making her way to Asmodeus, who, for one time in this night wasn’t surrounded by the group of scantily clad incubi and succubi, was speaking with Satan over something. It was a good opportunity to see where she could get something that could numb her a bit.

“Ooh ooh! Look! Althea made it back in one piece.” Asmodeus actually noticed her and skipped over a bit. His demon form had four smaller bat wings upon his back, a sleeveless blouse with roses imprinted upon it, and what appeared to be a centipede in gold that wrapped around his torso.

“Dancing with Lucifer and Solomon. Aren’t you the popular one tonight. Whatever they wanted, it couldn’t be good.” Satan was obviously watching, he seemed to know as much stuff as Lucifer when it came to people watching. Of course he would have seen that they were speaking. It made her question if any demons could read minds.

“Lucifer threatened me and Solomon is looking for entertainment. So. Just a regular night in the Devildom. Listen- do you know where I can get human world wine?” Althea casually waved a hand as she glossed over what was said, downing the glass she had in her hands.

“Threatened? What did he say this time?” Satan shook his head, whether he was concerned or just feigned it was hard to tell at this moment, however, whatever Lucifer was for, Satan was always against.

“Weeeeeeeeell…..? Why not kill two birds with one stone?” Asmo plucked the glass from her hand and turned her gaze to the idea that just popped into his head.

“Just as a little favour to me, why don’t you try and dance with Lord Diavolo. It’ll be super fun.” Like a giddy school girl, Asmo pointed out the Lord of the Devildom not too far away from them. He was in the process of crossing the hall and she could easily intercept him. What was better, is that Lucifer was distracted shaking down Mammon for all the things he had stolen.

“Not only would it annoy Lucifer, but imagine the status you would gain by being seen dancing with him.”

Satan brought up a good point. It would annoy him, which was the opposite of what she wanted right now, however, it was going to be something to add clout to her. Networking was one of the things she excelled at. So, with a wink to the both of them, Althea sauntered her way to Diavolo, hips swaying as she did so. This was the time to turn on all of her charm. There was nothing to hold back with. As she neared him, she could feel the heat of Lucifer’s gaze upon her once more. Yet he was too late, she was already there.

“Lord Diavolo, I must thank you for this lovely turn of events. It is something I couldn’t hope to dream of attending. Would you do me the honour of a dance? I would be grateful and gracious if you would accept such a request of mine.” Placing a hand over her heart, Althea dipped her head in a bow, bent knees ever so slightly for a curtsy before straightening up.

She was thankful to be a woman of stature, for it would be easy to be lost or overwhelmed with a man of this size. Perhaps, she might be able to actually enjoy the dance for what it is however. After all, it is something that she did have formal practice in. Growing up in a family of wealth, no… growing up as the middle child in a family where it pushes your children to succeed, Althea had picked up many artistic hobbies or skills in her youth to try and impress her family. She didn’t expect to use any of them all that often, let alone for such an important thing like this.

“Ah, Althea! I’d be delighted to share a dance with you. I saw your dance with Lucifer and I must say I was a little jealous. I haven’t danced with Lucifer in centuries!” His cheeks went a bit flush, as if he was actually jealous. Diavolo was a strange sort of person, always laughing and smiling, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Then again, she knew just how entitled people could behave. She was one after all.

“Jealous, My Lord? Why, I find it more jealous that he gets to share your company with such great frequency. I daresay I put Lucifer in a bit of a panic earlier. My most sincere apologies if he confides in great lengths about it later. I take entire ownership of his unrest.”

As her hands came into place within his own, the moonlight from the windows illuminated her near sickly pallor and the gold between them. A glance to the left, she noticed that the other dancers had given them space. After all, it was as Satan said, dancing with the Lord of the Devildom was quite a thing of status. Yet this was not status she could use. It was simply, for the moment, for the enjoyment of it. Resting her other hand upon his shoulder just over the mantle, her eyes glance to the right. Lucifer watched from a distance, not daring to separate the two for the moment. This was her moment.

“Please, please. No need to speak so formally. Though you say you put Lucifer in a panic? Haha! That sounds just like him. I don’t think he’s had anyone challenge him outside of his brothers for quite some time.” Diavolo seemed to laugh at this, all the more amused over the turn of events. He was surprisingly light on his feet, able to stride through the dance hall with great sweeping motions. No. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising. She should come to expect that he’d excel at something like ballroom dancing.

“My apologies- ah.. Hm. Admittedly, I am not good at relaxing. It is not as if I challenge him to cause him grief. That is a byproduct I cannot control, but I will not allow others to control me, regardless of who they are. It is simply my nature to challenge those who think themselves superior.” As if in reaction, her grip tightened a bit in place, even if Diavolo remained the same, not adding fuel to her tension. This was strange for her. It was not like Althea to be so candid with her responses and while she didn’t like to lie about things, she wasn’t the most forthcoming with her feelings either.

“Hmm. I think I know what’s going on here. You’re reminding Lucifer of how he first behaved when he came to the Devildom. I must say, this certainly brings back memories!” Diavolo’s signature laugh was quite loud from a distance but up close it caused her to wince a little bit. Still, regardless of her sigh and frown, Diavolo only seemed to smile and laugh all the more.

“Yes! Exactly! He made that exact same face!” He didn’t relent with his humor, finding too much enjoyment in the similarities.

“Lord Diavolo, please-” Althea shook her head as the pair spun around in the dance, not once miss-stepping or having a single tap of her shoe off beat with the music. Even though she was being teased, she had to keep herself poised through the dance at all times, after all, there were eyes upon them.

“Now I’m curious to see you in his outfit. Hmm. Yes. I’ll have to get Barbatos to tailor you a suit.” It was as if he was already imagining this in his mind and at this moment, Althea was sympathizing with how Lucifer had to deal with this spoiled prince. There was no getting out of this whim of his, was there?

“Oh come now, don’t sigh. I do mean it, however. You and Lucifer share striking similarities at times and yet there are things you are the exact opposite with. I believe he is concerned because he knows what he is capable of but is uncertain where your loyalties lie.” It seemed that Diavolo had returned to being serious, though perhaps he was always serious, even when joking.

“I can understand that, and perhaps he is not used to having to sympathize with humans, and I will certainly not take anyone’s pity, but he should not expect that I will simply sit back and let myself get pushed around by anyone, human, angel, or demon.” Her gaze had been to the side, scrutinizing the situation as she had been on edge this entire time. It was as if the dance that was supposed to be for fun was turning more into something to be paranoid over.

“You must have had a difficult life to assume you must constantly defend yourself. Let me ask you this, Althea. What do you believe in? What is the dream that you are fighting for?” Diavolo directed the conversation back on track and brought his hand up to her face, drawing her gaze back towards his own as the pace of the dance started to slow down.

This is something that she had to think about carefully. It was something that she hadn’t particularly shared with anyone, and it was still too soon for her to determine if Diavolo was indeed someone that she could trust. After all, he was a demon, and while he might seem pleasant and charming, that is how they reel you in. You can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar after all. Still. She could not deny the fact that she was in hell, so she applied prudence and caution. However, it was something of inner reflection that she had to consider why she was always behaving in such a way, so much so that it caused her to isolate from others in the pursuit of glory.

“There are societal expectations that one should strive to be the best they can possibly be, a society that demands perfection. The idea that if you are not the best, you are not good enough to leave an impact on the world. To leave a legacy. Your mark, your name. To be remembered. I dream to have a legacy where I will not be forgotten after I am dead and gone. I fight, so that others will not ignore me.”

That is the closest reason Althea could think of right now. Of course she also believed that since she started down this path, she really couldn’t stop. After all, she had already committed to years into an economics degree, currently with a Masters and while math was not the most interesting thing, she knew that money made the world move. It was one of the reasons she surprisingly got along with Mammon, despite his idiocy, she could take full advantage of his abilities in a way that aided them both.

“And what of happiness?” The dance had now stopped, and Diavolo had his hands resting on either side of her shoulders, staring towards her with a look of genuine concern now.

“Happiness is not something I assign value to.” Her voice was flat in response, now taking a step backwards out of his attempted comfort. Perhaps Diavolo only had the best intentions, but that she said as much was enough as is. The pursuit of happiness was not within her schedule. If it happened, it happened, but she would not directly go out of her way to do something fun for fun’s sake, there was always another motivation attached to it. The amount of priority happiness had on her list was leagues below most other needs.

Yet, while Diavolo might have wanted to continue the conversation, Lucifer had made his way over, quite displeased with how long their conversation went on. Not like she cared. Althea waved over a waiter, needing another drink and swearing she would give someone a lobotomy with her nails if she didn’t get alcohol this time. Again. Just demonus.

“And just what were you discussing with Diavolo?” Lucifer’s arms were crossed over himself, stern voice, strict posture, all the while Althea kept her gaze turned away, pretending not to see him.

“Oh relax, Lucifer. This is a retreat after all. I was just noticing how many similarities you and Althea share! I have a wonderful idea I must tell you and Barbatos about!” Diavolo placed a hand upon Lucifer’s shoulder and went back to beaming brightly, now patting him in an encouraging way.

“Lord Diavolo, I swear if you-” Althea widened her eyes, this was not something she wanted to go through with and while perhaps he had a striking coat, Althea was not going to play dress up for someone’s amusement.

“I want to see the both of you wearing the same outfit and pose for the RAD Newsletter! Think how well an advertisement it will be!” On cue with Diavolo’s laughter and Lucifer’s sigh, Althea downed the glass in her hand and just started to walk away. No. At this very moment, she was most certainly glad to not be similar to Lucifer in the way that at least she could walk away from this situation. He would have to endure the conversation and hopefully he would speak sense into the Lord of the Devildom.

Staring down into the empty glass, it was at that moment that Althea did need to consider what she wanted in life. Her world was turned upside down with the realization that some things in her life were now meaningless in comparison to the eternity of either the Devildom or Celestial Realm that awaited her after death. She made no illusions that she was virtuous, but she was not quite tipsy enough to have a philosophical debate with herself about this. No, instead her eyes drifted upon a roughed up little demon sulking against the wall.

“Mammon…” Muttering his name below her lips, Althea could at least relax around one demon that didn’t care about pretenses. Then again, he might also know where an actual bottle of wine was. Maybe Solomon’s power could be used for more than just causing mischief later on. With a saunter and sway of her hips, Althea flipped a hand through her hair and approached the Avatar of Greed. He did look like he could use a bit of cheering up.

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