#magic man sees death of gods like OH BOY I CAN PLAY WITH THESE DISTORTIONS

[redstrewn]

Since the death of god, there's been a vacancy open

You can fill that void

[ayma-nidiot]

“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fic Chapter 32

This chapter can be found here on AO3.

Chapter 32 - God-Shattering Star

“Oh, cry me a river, Rex!” Weevil glanced to the battle below; many of the Club members had already died. Joey, Mai, Yugi, Téa, Tristan, Atem, and Duke were the only fighters who hadn’t sustained any serious injuries against the massive Earthbound army. Even Phuckdis and William were riddled with gashes, yet refused to retreat with Dr. Balls. “So your allies still cling to life like a drowning man onto a rock. Cute. Not that it will do any of you any good!”

“Rex…” Mako crawled on the floor; luckily for him, Espa retreated from the battle before he got hurt at all. “Don’t listen to him! You’re… hah… You’re the only one who can… save us…”

“Mako, don’t…” It was just then that after recalling the fight with Nortius, Rex had an idea. “Wait a second, Amber.”

“Papa, what is it?”

“I want to try something out. Why don’t we try fusing, just like Mako did with Jinzo?”

“But we don’t even have Polymerization! Those who do either are incapacitated or otherwise occupied! And you can’t even fly… If you fell to your death just like Kaiba, and all because of a stupid and ill-timed experiment, I…”

“Argh, we’ll both die anyway if we do nothing!” Rex pumped his fists in the air. “Show a little bit more Raptor spirit, why don’t you?”

“Papa… Okay. I trust you.” So Amber spoke as she half-shifted, and Rex began a long freefall.

“You really are a blooming idiot, aren’t you?” Weevil would have laughed longer, but stopped when he saw Rex glow pink. “So you think you can- Huh?”

“What’s… What’s happening to my boy?” Ptera wondered as Spinos tended to her wounds.

“Don’t tell me…” Phuckdis began. “Rex is…”

Before Rex could fall very far, Amber had completely fused with him, and he grew angel’s wings that soon turned into Rabidragon’s wings. Even if only by a little bit, the gloomy weather began to dissipate, replaced by an enormous pink glow at the top of KaibaCorp Tower. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The shining presence of Rex - with his bow, fluffy white shirt, golden pants, and Rabidragon’s ears and tail - intimidated Weevil. “Just who do you think you are, that you can challenge me? Well, no matter! I’ll kill you right here, as I intended to do from the beginning! Take this!” 

“...” Rex didn’t say anything as he simply held his bow at his side, and grabbed the chain whip before it could hurt him.

“It’s… Impossible! Aaaah!” Weevil reeled backwards when Rex threw him. “How can a weak rabbit like you stand up to me? ”

“It’s because…” Phuckdis made his presence known. “Rex is the true God-Shattering Star.”

William bowed in reverence with his brother and the remaining members of the Club. “He is the light that will save us all.”

Espa could still see Weevil and Rex, even from his hospital room. “Is that you, Rex Raptor?”

Joey looked up at Rex’s true form with a hint of jealousy. “That’s more powerful than anything I could cook up with the Claw of Hermos. I suppose that runt isn’t as weak as I thought him to be.”

Rex finally opened his now-crimson eyes and began to speak in a distorted voice. “Weevil… No, Earthbound God Sanpedro. I will kill you, right here and now, and free my beloved Weevil Underwood from your clutches.”

“So now you want me to die? That’s rich! What a fool. Come on, boy, come try me!”

“Hey, let me help too!” When Joey rushed up to Rex, he could feel an invisible barrier push him backwards. 

“Joey, this is my fight alone. Why don’t you just take out the small fry and let a pro handle this?”

“Hahaha!” Despite the fact that there were still several hundred Earthbound soldiers left, Joey couldn’t help but laugh. “Even when he’s some almighty angel… god... thing, he’s still definitely that silly Rex Raptor. Well, my dude, consider my morale boosted! You heard the man, guys!”

“H-How dare you address the God-Shattering Star that way?” Phuckdis was clearly offended. 

“Aww, come on, lighten up! Or you can just, I don’t know, sit there and relax while us duelists take care of the bad guys.”

“Or I can just, you know, show you just how strong us shapeshifters are!” Upon hearing Joey’s words, Phuckdis felt his strength anew, as did his brother. “I cannot fly, but that doesn’t mean I cannot fight!”

“Headstrong and reckless like your ‘God-Shattering Star.’” Duke chuckled. “Well, then, you better do a good job proving how strong you are!”

“You’re a poet and didn’t even know it!” Tristan quipped.

“You see, Weevil?” Rex stared at the nearly-soulless shell of his boyfriend. “You picked the wrong side to fight for. You have no friends there.”

“‘Friends,’ huh…” Weevil stared absentmindedly at the fighting below, especially at Joey and Atem. The chain whip rattled in his hands as he shook in anger. “Must be sooooo nice to have them! It must feel soooooo nice to be able to get palsy-walsy with people who didn’t give a shit about you just four years ago!”

“Weeves?!”

“You… YOU FUCKERS WILL ALL PAY!” Weevil dove as fast as he could, with all the anger he could muster ready to fuel his strike upon Atem.

“You coward! Get back here!” Rex couldn’t dive anywhere near that quickly, but tried to keep up as fast as his unborn baby would allow him, holding onto her for dear life.

“Eh?” Joey noticed Weevil coming for him before anyone else did, and braced himself with the Red-Eyes Black Dragon Sword. “Atem, look out!”

“Amulet Dragon, protect us!”

Weevil had originally planned to strike everyone in one blow with the chain whip. But being the deceptive little shit he was, he decided on a different mode of attack - bypassing all of the monsters and encasing his two most hated enemies in spider webs instead. “Ha! Syke!”

“Ggh!” Already, Joey was up to his neck in spider webs - yet for some strange reason, his sword arm remained free, as did the sword itself. The webs would not give way, no matter how hard or often he slashed at them.

“W-Weevil…” Atem could hardly talk, as the spider webs gripped his throat tightly. “I… I thought we were friends!”

“Me? Friends with you?! What a joke! Do you honestly expect me to believe a word of bullshit coming out of your mouth after the suffering you’ve caused me? Do you honestly think that after all you’ve done, I’d consider you a friend?” Weevil cackled as Atem writhed in pain. “If anything, you’re lower than the dirt underneath my feet!”

All the commotion awakened Heka. “F-Father… No! Dear gods, what’s happening to my father?”

“Boy! How does it feel to know that your father is no longer the King of Games?”

“Leave… him alone!” Heka flung a flimsy arm, releasing a ball of light that Weevil easily blocked. 

“Hmm… Nah, I think I’ll pass on that. In fact, I’d rather kill him before your very eyes!” Weevil approached Atem, with the intent to decapitate him with the chain whip. That was, until Rex blocked him in the nick of time, drawing Weevil’s attention away from his two captives. “Humph. It’s you again.”

“Damn right!” Rex’s smile faded when not long after he blocked the attack, his bow began to crumble. “Uh… Uh-oh…”

“Hah! Some ‘God-Shattering Star’ you turned out to be! Looks to me like you’re the one who’s shattered!” 

“Crud… I kind of need a weapon!” Rex picked up a sword from one of his fallen allies, but it was so weak that Weevil shattered it with his bare hands, grabbing Rex by the throat right after. “Ngh!”

“Before I kill you right here and now, tell me something, Rex. Why did you defend these guys?”

“B-Because… They’re… my… cough… cough…”

“They accepted you so easily, just because you play by the rules… Why is friendship such an easy thing for you, yet I could never make one friend? Why do Joey and Atem and literally everyone else in this fucking city love you and think I’M the worst duelist there ever was?”

“Don’t… Don’t I count, Weeves?” More than the iron grip of Weevil’s right hands, Weevil’s words hurt Rex. “And your own daughter? Have… cough… Have you already forgotten what we’ve all been through? We’re… willing to… forgive you… Just… Ugh!”

“Not another word out of you! The Earthbound Gods are the only friends I need now! Not you weaklings!” Ignoring the twinge of pain in his heart, Weevil lightly ran the chain whip over Rex’s left arm, barely enough to draw blood. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Weevil was so far gone into his own madness that Joey was certain he wouldn’t be able to hear him now. “Psst… Rex.”

“J-Joey?” Rex turned his head around, just enough to see Joey.

“You said… cough… that you needed a weapon, right?” Joey held up his sword arm. “Ya’ think this will be good enough?”

“That’s…!” Flashbacks of his Orichalcos duel flooded Rex’s mind. That’s the sword that sent my soul to the Great Leviathan! But if there’s no other choice, then…

“It’s now or never! Think fast!” Joey threw the Red-Eyes Black Dragon Sword at Rex, hoping to the gods he’d catch it and put it to good use.

“If that sword can’t cut the spider webs, then what makes you think that Rex will somehow magically put it to good use?”

Rex felt the sword land in his right hand, and had a clever idea. “By doing… this. ”

“G-Gaaaaah!” Weevil howled in pain when Rex did the unthinkable - completely cutting off his right arms and thereby freeing Atem and Joey from their bonds. He stared at Rex wide-eyes. “You would dare hurt me? Aren’t you scared of losing the love of your life?”

“Yes, I am.” Rex pointed the sword at Weevil’s face. “But the thing I’m even more scared of? Seeing Weevil Underwood beat himself up and become a destructive monster where a man once was.”

“Ugh, you were always so talkative!” Weevil flew higher and dove at Rex like a peregrine falcon. Rex took to the air as well and parried this attack with the sword, but not without some recoil. “Just one of the many things I hate about you!”

“Hah!” Rex repelled Weevil with the sword, enough to put a slight dent in the chain whip. “Your psychological tricks aren’t going to work on me now, Weevil!” 

“But maybe a variety of attacks can!” Weevil shot spider webs from his left hands that stuck to Rex’s butt-length hair and part of his shirt.

“Tch…” Rex didn’t like the sensation of sticky things in his hair, but grinned and bore it for now. “Am I supposed to be scared by the fact that you’re still part-spider?”

Weevil smirked as he barraged Rex with the chain whip. “Oh, I still see the fear in your eyes, Rex Raptor. A fear that you will lose the father of that child you’re carrying.”

Weevil’s words reminded Rex of his more painful contractions that got ever closer - yet being the bold man and duelist he was, he paid them little heed.

“I’ll give you credit for one thing,” Weevil spoke while he beat his wings faster, deadlocked in battle, trying to crush Rex with the chain whip. “You’re quite the warrior. And you’ve changed since your Orichalcos duel with Joey. It appears that you’re not going to let something like mere words rile you up.”

“But I can tell my words are riling you up…” Rex whispered closed to Weevil’s ear, catching him off-guard, before stabbing him in the shoulder with the sword. 

“Ngh…” Finally in pain, Weevil could feel his strength dwindling.

“Weeves…” Rex stared at his boyfriend - and stabbed him in the left thigh - in sorrow. “You can’t honestly mean that you want this… any of this! Don’t you remember seeing your daughter for the first time on the ultrasound? A-And how I told you all those years ago that I want nobody but you? How fast our hearts were beating when we confessed our love?”

“You… dino brain! Ack!” Weevil could no longer repel Rex’s attack and fell a few feet downwards. “I thought I told you that you can’t sweet talk your way into killing an Earthbound God!”

“You called me ‘dino brain’ again…” Tears of joy pooled in Rex’s eyes. “I know you still love me… Once the Rex Raptor has his sights on you, you can’t get rid of him.”

“Actually, I can ,” spoke a voice that was clearly not Weevil’s.

“Is… Is that you, Watda?” Weevil’s real voice finally came out.

“It appears to me that you’re going to be useless now, Uru… So it looks like I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No… No!” Weevil thrashed about in the air, confusing Rex. “Leave Rex and Amber alone!”

“Weeves, what’s going on?” Rex couldn’t hear Watda’s voice.

“Goodbye, you damned useless rabbit…”

Weevil couldn’t control the ball of dark energy coming out from his right hands. “Wait… Watda, stop!”

“Ah!” He wasn’t fully confident that he could block this evidently stronger attack, but Rex enveloped himself in his dragon’s wings. 

And Rex wouldn’t have to block the attack. For before Watda’s attack could hit him, Weevil managed to separate from Watda, taking the full brunt of the attack last minute.

“W-Weeves!” The strength in Rex’s eyes now gone, he watched in horror as his boyfriend froze in the air before beginning a rapid descent into Domino City’s concrete. “Oh my gods… No… You’re going to come back, just like you did last time… right?”

“Even an Earthbound God and the Blue-Eyes Shining Dragon can’t survive a 1000-meter fall. You saw it yourself when Cusillu, Aslla Piscu, and Kaiba all died.”

“Shut… up…”

“Now what are you going to do, since your beloved Weevil Underwood lies dead?” Watda laughed as his shadows grew fiercer. “You’re nothing without him, you weak-ass monster. Nothing!”

“That’s… That’s not… Oh!” Before Rex could aim his sword at Watda, he suddenly felt amniotic fluid trickle down his legs. He shook so badly that he lost grip of the sword as it plummeted after Weevil.

“You’re in labour, hmm? Looks to me like you have two choices: one, continue to fight me and risk losing your baby; or two, going back to ground level to give birth. But with that second option, there might be a sliiiiight chance I’ll destroy the world. Either way, you lose! Hahahahaha!”

No, he won’t, spoke Amber’s voice.

“Ngh… Amber, you’re still there?”

I’ve been with you the whole time, Papa. You’ve got to finish this fast!

“But how do you expect me to do that? Especially since… your Daddy is…”

There is one way. Now that Daddy has been separated from Watda… Papa, I’ll give you all of my strength. Use it to finally banish this mongrel to hell, where he belongs! Amber de-fused from Rex. In fully shifted form, she engulfed Watda, leaving only the Earthbound God’s chest exposed. In the process, lights sprung from the ground as the bow regenerated in Rex’s hands.

“Ggh! Let go of me, you wench!” Watda struggled to no avail.

Before Rex could process what was going on, he coruscated like the northern lights, and he stretched out his new angel’s wings. His hair grew past his legs, and brown locks encircled his arms.

“Oh my…” With the Earthbound army now vanquished, Phuckdis could truly behold his people’s chief god.

“That’s my boy!” Ptera cheered. “Give that bastard what for!”

“Hehe!” Rex gave his mom a thumbs up. “One kick-ass arrow, coming right up!”

“What are you doing?” Watda could feel his time at an end.

“Watda!” Rex continued to growl as he pulled his bowstring back, and his body and weapon grew ever brighter. “Go back to the shadows! Hyaaaaaaaah!”

“It’s…” Watda could say little more as the glowing arrow impaled a giant hole in his chest. “It’s done… I’m… done… Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!”

“Finally, something we can agree on.” Rex’s descent back to Earth started slowly, but upon reaching six feet above ground, he reverted forms and fell into Spinos’ arms.

“God-Shattering Star!” Phuckdis and the remaining Club members ran up to Rex.

“Is… Is that what I’m called? Heh, sounds pretty cool…” Rex would have rested if he didn’t wonder about Amber. “Wait a second, where’s Amber? Where is my daughter?”

“Rex!” Mokuba pointed to an approaching Joey, who carried a heavily mutilated Amber in his arms.

“Amber!” Rex got up from his prone position to hold Amber, whom Joey had gently lowered to the ground. “No! I… I thought we got him! I thought we defeated Watda together!”

“W-We did… But at a cost… What did you think I meant when I said ‘I’ll give you all of my strength?’”

“Amber…?” Rex couldn’t even hold Amber’s right hand anymore, as it began to fade into nothingness. “What’s happening? Please… This isn’t happening!”

“My… My granddaughter…” Ptera cried as Spinos and Tricera consoled her. Not a single eye was dry as Rex’s friends and allies watched the scene unfold. Even Espa and a newly-healed Mako could see what was going on.

“But… But we only got to duel once!” Joey got down and cried with Rex. “And you haven’t even dueled Espa yet! I thought you were going to win back his Serpent Night Dragon!”

“Joey… My friend…” Amber reached out her left hand to Joey. “I… I just wished I had… acknowledged you as such… earlier…”

“Amber! No, please don’t die!” Pretty much every body part Rex tried to grab at faded away, except for Amber’s head, shoulders, and left hand. 

“Die? No, I’m just about to be born…” Amber placed what was left of her left hand on Rex’s baby bump. “I can’t wait to see you again and forge our bonds anew.”

“Amber…?” Rex cried as Amber chuckled one last time before her future self was no more. “AMBER! NO! Oh… my gods… Sniff…”

“My love!” Heka, who had just fully healed, ran to Rex. He had only seen future Amber for a brief spell before she died. “Oh, no… My heart…”

“Heka, I’m so sorry…” Rex hugged his daughter’s boyfriend. “Not only for your mother’s death, but also for Amber’s…”

“Forget about me! You just lost your daughter!” Heka cried into Rex’s shoulder as Atem consoled him too.

“Amber… I… Aaaaargh!” Rex suddenly doubled over as the remainder of his amniotic fluid gushed out all at once.

“His water has already broken… Rex is going into labour!” Mokuba announced. “Someone call an ambulance!”

“It’s for real this time, guys!” Joey got up and dialed the campus emergency number. After that, he knelt down again, trying to calm Rex down in any way he could. “Rex, hang in there. We’re going to get you help!”

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s02e03 The Perfect Storm review

Episode 03 – The Perfect Strom

Hey guys. So last episode was seriously problematic for me, because, to me, young children (if raised properly) are these magical little creatures that are made of flesh yet are so moldable like clay, and you should be as respectful to them as you are to yourself, and perhaps even more? So pedophiles really get under my skin.

This episode’s name is seriously disturbing to me, cuz – hello? Storm? – but then again, I like sitting in my bed, listening to the rain patter on the roof or windows, and watching my favorite show, sipping on tea that I bought at David’s Tea in San Francisco. I’m actually doing it right now, except that there is no rain, which is a shame. But then again, we’re in Israel, so it’s gonna take a while for the rain to come.

Anyway, back to the show. Let’s see what happens.

Jacksonville, Florida. Lady, why are you smoking? They’re bad for you, those cigarettes.

Wait what? Their daughter is doing a trip, and she sent a DVD? That sounds really ominous.

Oh boy.

Fuck.

Shit!

And they just said the dad has a heart condition. And he died? Fuck!

Five abductions and two DVDs? And still nothing? Only calling in the BAU now? I’m with Derek on this, super suspicious.

Dear lord, this is sickening.

Wait. They are actually doing this for entertainment? Fuck.

Mark Twain: “Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one who inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it.” Wow. Holy shit, this man was a fucking genius! So true! We definitely cultivated some monsters!

Jesus fucking Christ, that is absolutely sick. The poor woman.

God, this is heart-wrenching. She’s lost her daughter, after her husband had died in front of her. Fuck. That poor lady.

Shit! That girl looks absolutely distorted! Oh my god.

Fuck. They took the necklace. Shit.

Ultimate degradation. Sickening.

What? There are more? Shit.

Can I say something? Matthew Gray Gubler wearing glasses is HOT.

Shit. They just abducted another girl. Fuck.

So they have to explain everything in the heat? My babies. Come to Israel and you’ll find out what it’s like.

God. So they showed various forms of dominating and submissive personalities coming together to form terrorizing duos, including how it manifested in children, and it’s so hard to watch. Fuck.

Then the mother of the girl who was abducted, Tiffany, went on air to try and find her daughter, the only problem is that this type of behavior is what fuels the abductors’ abusive behavior. Oh my god.

Oh poor Penelope, you innocent angel.

“Am I okay? Let me see. I’ve got images of a girl being tortured, burned, inside my brain over the strains of this once-carefree choice of music. I’ve isolated four sources from one track, and each one is more distorted than the next, so no, I am not okay, and it’s gonna take a while.” “Penelope, you know I appreciate you doing this.” Yeah you better, Derek, cuz that is one sick thing to ask baby girl to do.

“Thank you, sugar. For right now, even that doesn’t feel good. Moving on.” Oh honey, I love you, and I am so sympathetic, because doing this (writing this review) is one of the harder things I’ve had to do in a while.

Fuck. They just get cars, burn the parts and move one over state lines? Shit. They are good. And that’s not a good thing to say about two sickos who rape, torture and murder.

Didn’t they just say they didn’t want this in the press? What the fuck is going on?

Is this the jackhole? Please tell me it isn’t.

His daddy is in a wheelchair and he’s torturing women? Oh dear lord.

Whoa! Joey! Come on!

Oh my god. They just had to kill him in front of his daddy. Oh my god. The poor thing. I’m talking about the father, of course. Oh my lord and tailor.

So Joe was the submissive part of the equation. God. They still have to find the sick dominatrixd.

“This better be hella good.” And wham! That’s actually Jason Gideon on the line and you need to get your shit together or you’re fired, oh my god I love you Penelope you are exactly what the doctor ordered in this sick episode.

Tony Canardo. You are going down.

You know, I could get used to Gideon praising Garcia. She’s good. And it’s about fucking time he started appreciating her. I love this show. And I love the character development they are giving me in this season. And we’re only three episodes in. Bravo!

Wow. This guy is seriously a bastard. He just heard the guy he fired was shot to death, and he’s like, fine, whatever, he wasn’t good at his job and I got another one to take his place. Seriously? So what if he’s an ex-con? You’re an ex-con, you fucking turd. He also looks dreadful. I know, I know, never judge a book by its cover, but the prologue isn’t that enticing, either.

T-Bone? Really? So any guy in America who runs with crowds that give nicknames, whose name starts with the letter T is automatically T-Bone? Oh god.

Wait. This Tony was married? To Meg from Supernatural? Oh shit. Okay, can I just say? If she’s involved, this is gonna be good. I wanna see where this is going. I know she’s an actress, but come on.

So she’s blaming Joey for being a bad influence? I thought it was the other way around? That’s so weird.

“The boy needs a refresher course in anger management.” Oooh, Garcia, you are seriously on point!

Mr. Stinky! I love you, Penelope!

“And you know if there is one loose thread, I will find it, I will pull it, and his story will completely unravel. A tout a l’heure.” I love this woman so much. She is amazing.

Whoa! What the fuck happened to her? She went to see Tony? What the fuck? Didn’t they just instruct her not to? She is stupid as fuck.

Fuck! He gave her a ring that belonged to a dead chick? To one of the girls they tortured? Fuck!

Oh! Sneaky Derek! Yummy as fuck! I love you, Shemar. I do.

Oh hell no! He did not just strike my baby boy from behind! Oh hell no! You are going down you fucking white turd, you are going to be punished!

Get him! Yeah!

Only time I’m pro violence. When Morgan is kicking ass in defense.

Shit! They taped her boobs to her chest? Damn! Unless she’s seriously flat-chested, that’s gonna hurt as hell. Shit.

Wait what? He’s gonna try and goad him into confessing by praising him? Damn.

Wait. What? He’s gonna use the wife as bait? Damn.

Wait. She was defensive of him in the beginning, then all of a sudden he’s a monster? Oh my god. That is seriously not good.

How is she all of a sudden calm when she’s demanding things of him? What the fuck is going on here? And all of a sudden he’s talking? Something isn’t right here.

So she wasn’t there? Tony lied? What’s going on here?

Nope. She’s not scared, baby. If she was afraid, she wouldn’t even look at him.

Oh my god. It’s her. She’s the dominant. She’s ordering him. Fuck.

And they just let her go? What? Oh she went out for a smoke? Alone? Just find an agent who smokes and get him to go with her. That’s bullshit.

Especially after Garcia managed to isolate that Amber is the one who told them how to execute the torturing.

No time for pleasantries, Garcia? Damn!

Oh shit, Amber claimed she was raped. Her mother came in to the hospital and said she was lying. Oh my god. That poor girl. And she turned psycho.

I called it.

Her brother and father raped her? Shit.

Damn. That was a fucking alligator! Shit! I hate those damn reptile dinosaurs. Shit.

Fuck! She’s actually torturing her now!

Shit!

Get her!

Get her!

Yeah? They totally got her.

Of course Derek won’t ever hurt that girl. He’s the best angel ever.

Yes! They saved her!

I love you, Penelope. I fucking love you. That’s right. Get it all out. Erase every fucking tape of torture. I love you. You’re the best.

Khalil Gibran: “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars.” True, but why should they be scarred in the first place? Why the fuck should people be cruel to begin with?

 So this episode was brutally hard. I can’t believe I was right in my assessment that that lady who played Meg on Supernatural was going to turn out to be the dominant one, I honestly was bluffing.

I really hate these cases, and I know it’s gonna escalate in the cases’ severity, but come on! Give me a little humor now and again, please? Pretty please?

Let’s hope the next one is lighter, cuz this one just fucking depressed me. Even Penelope would need to watch Disney after this one!

[madness-of-void]

Even The Sun Can Grow Dark

Also On AO3

Theme: Wild Card

WARNING: Major character deaths, gore, violence, other deaths

It’s a very dark fic, or at least can be for some people. Read at own risk.

Based on this gifset

“Did you hear about the Hale Pack?”

“I didn't. Why? Did something happen?”

“Yeah. A few days ago they were ambushed. Rogue Hunters. Killed everyone but two of them.”

“Good god...that's awful! Who were the ones that survived?”

“The Alpha and the Emissary.”

“Oh no...”

“They were in pretty bad shape, last I heard.”

“How awful! Ah, those poor boys have already suffered enough. Now to be the only ones to survive the massacre of their Pack...they aren't going to be okay for a long time. If ever...”

“If I'm gonna be honest with you...I think they died the night the rest of their pack did...”

~+~

Stiles had woken up in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeps of machines, tubes in his nose, and a needle in his arm. He could barely move, head foggy and body numb. It felt like an hour before he could turn his head to the right.

Beside him, in a second bed, was Derek. The guy was out cold, a needle in his arm and tubes in his nose, too. There were also bloodied bandages wrapped around most of his body. He was barely recognizable. Stiles was only able to identify him by the hair, parts of the beard that weren't wrapped, and the black ring band that Stiles gave him.

“Der?” the Emissary croaked, voice ruined by lack of use.

It ached to speak. And it was apparent that Derek was too far deep asleep to hear him. So, Stiles quickly gave up on it. Instead, he moved onto the very thing circling in his mind: why were they there?

Last he remembered, the Pack was enjoying a peaceful day by the lake on their land.

Erica on the grill with Boyd beside her on the second grill. Scott and Isaac playing catch with lacrosse sticks. Lydia sunbathing. Kira and Cora splashing at each other in the water. Liam and Hayden playing chicken with Mason and Corey. Derek lying on the shore reading a book. Stiles frosting the cupcakes he had made. It was a normal Pack Gathering. A celebration for the engagement between the Alpha and the Emissary. Happiness and peace. Love. So much love. And after all the tragedy both Stiles and Derek had been through...

The happy image faded quickly. It morphed into a twisted, horrifying scene. An ambush. Rogue Hunters. Gunfire. Pain. Screams. Snarls. Roars.

Stiles began shaking, the beeping on his monitor speeding up. No. No no no no no no no. No no no no no! The Pack...where was the rest of the Pack?

He sat up, closing his eyes and carefully seeped out his Magic. It burned, causing the medication numbing the pain to bubble angrily. He ignored it, desperate to find the rest of their Pack. He searched everywhere for their beings. He searched everywhere for their Lights. One by one, he found them. He found them, but...but...

Boyd's Light – out.

Cora's Light – out.

Corey's Light – out.

Erica's Light – out.

Hayden's Light – out.

Isaac's Light – out.

Kira's Light – out.

Liam's Light – out.

Lydia's Light – out.

Scott's Light – out.

Out out out out out out out out. All out. All gone. No Lights. No Lights. All bodies. No Lights. No...

The door to the room opened, nurses coming in and bombarding him with questions. Their voices sounded distorted – like they were speaking from above water. Stiles shook his head, his breathing ragged and rapid. His Pack...Derek's Pack...gone. All gone.

Hands touched him. Voices sounded urgent. Stiles didn't respond. He just sat there, staring at the blankets offered to him. Gone. All gone. His Pack was gone. They were gone...

Suddenly, he unleashed a blood curdling scream, thrashing about like a caged animal. His Pack had been butchered. They were gone. He couldn't feel them. They were all gone. The weight of each extinguished Light clawed at his soul, breaking it and re-piecing it before breaking it again over and over and over and over.

He could feel the hands of the nurses trying to push him back down on the bed, their voices frantic. But all Stiles could do was scream in agony and thrash about. He screamed and screamed and screamed until he started to feel weary. His body began to droop, easily being moved by the nurses back onto the bed. Even though he couldn't scream any longer...he could still weep.

And weep he did.

Until his mind was engulfed in a thick, dark fog.

~+~

Bleach. Medicine. Beeps. Death. Sadness. Happiness. Mumbles. Squeaky wheels.

So many sounds and smells. Derek didn't know why they were around him. They weren't familiar. They were foreign. Unwelcomed. He groaned, reaching out blindly for the one familiar thing nearby. The scent of his fiance. It was close.

It was bitter.

He creaked his eyes open, still groaning. The lights were dim, but they still stung his eyes. It made him close them again and whine in his throat.

“Der?”

Derek's heart picked up at the sound of Stiles' voice. What a relief. Stiles was here with him, wherever they were at. Of course he knew that, but there was always something about hearing that voice that put him at ease. He forced his eyes open, hoping to see Stiles right there.

He saw a white ceiling with long lights, instead. He blinked blearily, confused. Where was he? This wasn't his bed. This wasn't his home. He tried to sit up, but his body hissed with protest and he decided to listen to it. Then...he noticed other things. Bloody bandages covered his body. There was something sticking out of his arms. Something was up his nose – felt like tubing.

His heart sunk deeply into his stomach. He was in a hospital. Badly injured. But from what?

“Der?”

He licked his lips, struggling to move his head in the direction of the voice. It felt like centuries before his head managed to turn just enough to see his fiance.

Stiles was...not okay. Something was poking out of his arm. Tubes were coming out of his nose. There were bandages on him, but not as many as there were on Derek. A gauze was on his forehead, looking rather bloody. And his eyes...they were...empty. No life in them. Just vacant...dead. Like the twinkle in them was stolen.

Derek tried to open his mouth, call out to his fiance. His voice failed him. Only came out in a choked breath. And it ached.

“Der...”

Stiles sat up slowly in his bed, whiskey stare watering. His bitter smell grew worse. That's when Derek realized that the bitterness coming from Stiles, the bitterness clouding over the citrus and spices that he usually smelled of, was sadness. Bottomless sadness.

“Lights...there are no Lights...”

The Alpha didn't need any explanation. The memories raced back to him. His Pack had been ambushed. They had been attacked when they had their guard down. So many bullets. So many screams and roars.

He stared at Stiles, silently reaching out to feel the Thread that connected him to all of his Pack. A part of him hoping that Stiles was wrong.

There was nothing...only Stiles' Thread. Only Stiles'.

There were no Threads.

There were no Lights.

Gone. They were all gone.

Unable to contain himself, Derek sobbed heavily. His chest heaved, his head seared with discomfort, and his body bit at him for the slight movements. Gone. All gone. His Betas, the others that weren't Werewolves, his sister...taken from him. He had nothing. He had no one...

Suddenly, there was body beside him, wincing and hissing lowly. He tried to blink away his tears, but they were too immense and continued to blind him. The scent told him who it was, as well as the comforting fingers sweeping at his hair. Despite his own injuries, Stiles had unhooked himself from everything that hindered him in order to be with Derek.

That's right...Derek wasn't alone.

He still had Stiles.

The Emissary pressed a kiss on his forehead, the feeling rather wet. Stiles was crying, too. Mourning their lost family. That fact only made Derek sob heavier, causing burning sensations through his being.

It wasn't long before he heard voices scold Stiles for leaving his bed. But when the voices tried to take Stiles way, place him back in the prison of a bed, Derek whimpered and wailed. He didn't want to be left alone. He wanted the man he loved the most beside him. Didn't want to lose him. Had to keep him close. Because if he wasn't close...

Someone with a kind, yet stern, tone ordered the other voices around. Made them scoot Stiles' bed right against Derek's. Made them give out more medicine to make the physical pain vanish. Shooed them off. The kind and stern tone spoke to them, reeking with sorrow and worry.

Derek didn't hear the words – just the noise. He let Stiles do all the talking. Stiles was always great at talking...even if it got everyone in trouble. It was soothing to listen to the vibrations of the Emissary's voice.

Unfortunately...it didn't lull him to sleep like it usually did.

Instead, the very words that had been said to him kept playing back, making sure the tears never stopped.

There are no Lights. There are no Lights. There are no Lights. There are no Lights.

~+~

“Did you hear about the Hale Pack?”

“Yeah. Rogue Hunters. Tragic.”

“I can't believe anyone, Hunter or otherwise, would want to attack them. They were peaceful. I mean, the Emissary did have a rep, but they were still peaceful! They were quite the advocates for the Supernatural-Human Peace Act, too.”

“That may be why they were attacked.”

“But Hunters were actually excited about the bill's passing!”

“Not all of them, apparently.”

“Poor Alpha Hale and Emissary Stilinski...do you think they are okay?”

“I don't think so. A traumatizing event like that? They might suffer mentally and emotionally for a while. Maybe forever.”

“Do you think they might want retribution?”

“Can't say. But if I were them...I would fight all the armies in the universe to avenge my Pack...”

~+~

“Emissary Stilinski? Are you listening?”

If he were to be honest? No. He had tuned out the therapist ages ago. Weeks ago.

After being released into the custody of Scott's mother Melissa, Stiles and Derek were told to attend grief counseling and therapy sessions. It was a way to prevent the thirst for vengeance, or something like that. No need for the only surviving members of the world's strongest Pack to seek revenge for the death of their fallen kin, after all.

Melissa was tempted to not let them go. Especially with how draining the mass funeral was. But she had been threatened to make sure they attended, or else. She didn't know what the 'or else' meant...but neither Derek nor Stiles blamed her for slapping on a farce grin whenever she dropped them off for their sessions.

Stiles hated going.

The grief counselor was an utter idiot. Tried to force Stiles to experience the Five Stages of Grief in each session. Instead, the Emissary would just stare off over the counselor's shoulder, replaying the dying sounds of his Pack.

The therapist wasn't any better. Kept asking how Stiles felt about things. Made him explain what he saw in ink blot pictures. The...Rorschach or something. Always hummed and jotted things down in his notepad.

Stiles wasn't healing. In fact, if anything...Stiles was growing more and more cross.

At night, he would dream about those faceless Hunters. He would shoot up from sleep...screaming, unable to tell the difference between reality and nightmare. When he was finished with his screams, he would rant and rave about all the things he wished to inflict upon the bastards that took away his new family.

Derek had the same problem. It was also visible that Derek was becoming withdrawn. He glared more than spoke. He would snap and snarl when he became upset. Sometimes, he would burst into uncontrollable fits of anguished sobs if he was alone with Stiles.

Around Melissa, they would both be silent in their guilt. They couldn't even look at her. Despite her assuring them repeatedly that it wasn't their fault, they felt it was. That they had failed to protect everyone...including her son. Yet, she treated them the same as she always did – like a mother. She still called them her boys, giving them hugs and kisses and offering comfort. Sometimes they accepted. Other times...they just wanted to be alone.

“Emissary Stilinski. I need you to answer my question.”

Broken from his thoughts once more, Stiles glowered at the therapist, eyes flashing violet briefly. “I'm sorry. What did you say? I was too busy thinking about how I could be in my house, cuddling my fiance, instead of being here and listening to you drone about shit that I don't care about.”

The therapist sighed, face knitted with discouragement. “You're growing more irritable, Emissary Stilinski.”

“Gee, Web MD, did you figure that out all on your own? I'm impressed.” Stiles sarcastically clapped his hands, his expression blank. “Bravo. So proud of you.”

“Emissary Stilinski...please. This is not a joke. Your mental and emotional state after such a traumatizing event is important. I am here to help you. I am not the enemy here.”

“I don't want help. I just want to be left alone in my grief. I want to find peace with my fiance in my own way.”

“I understand -”

“Do you now?”

“But the government wishes for you to attend mandatory counseling so that retribution does not happen.”

“You do realize it could happen by other hands other than mine or Derek's? From what I have heard, these bastards have been attacking Packs across the country. But nobody really gave a damn till a high profile Pack was massacred! This could've been avoided if the government actually stopped these Rogue Hunters before they came onto our territory!”

The therapist paled, fingers trembling. He swallowed multiple times. Opened his mouth to say things, but didn't muster any words. Stiles crossed his arms, grinning smugly.

“What? Didn't think I'd find that out? Sir...I'm an Emissary. It's my job to find out things that shouldn't be found out. And I have quite the talent for finding out things I'm not supposed to find out. Also for hearing things I shouldn't hear. Perks of being raised under a cop's roof.”

The therapist continued swallowing, the color fading more and more from his face. Finally, he cleared his throat, rising to his feet and held a hand out towards the door. “I think we should conclude our session for the day. Thank you for your time, Emissary Stilinski.”

Stiles stood, his expression going cold and vacant. He said nothing as he turned heel and briskly walked out of the room. Once he was out, he found Derek sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. The Alpha was glaring at a particular spot on the floor, arms folded tightly across his chest. His jaw was clenched shut – the tension there visible from a mile away.

Clearly, Derek had a poor time in his session as well.

Stiles approached, tapping a finger lightly onto his shoulder before gripping it. Immediately, Derek eased and leaned into his arm. Their eyes met, both reflecting aggravation and the ever drowning sadness.

“Melissa called.” muttered Derek. “While you were still in there.”

“Yeah? What did she say, big guy?”

“That we can go back to our house.”

“What's the catch?”

“She has to check in on us.”

“Not too bad. She would've done it anyways.”

“Yeah...”

Stiles leaned in, pressing a kiss in his lover's hair. “You ready to go back there? Or do you want to stay at the Privacy Loft for a while?”

“Privacy Loft.”

No surprise. It would be too soon to go back to the empty house. Too painful with all the lingering scents of their fallen Pack. It was already torture enough smelling Scott's scent throughout Melissa's home. Even though she did try to mask it for the sensitive wolf nose.

“Do we want to do what we talked about last night?”

No response. Not verbally, anyway.

Derek got out of the chair, taking Stiles' hand from off his shoulder. He wrapped it around his waste, eyes back to the floor, and tugged him forward. They left the waiting room in silence, making their way to the parking garage. They continued in silence till they reached the elevator. Once the doors closed...Derek met Stiles' gaze.

And it told him yes.

The Emissary nodded, grinning darkly. “Awesome. We'll start tomorrow. Sound good, big guy?”

~+~

Derek woke to the sheets barely hanging around his hips. Frankly, he missed that feeling. Had been some time since he had woken like this. Lately, either he would be waking screaming and kicking, or ready to panic if Stiles wasn't there. Awaking to the sheets like this was...oddly comforting.

As if nothing had changed...

There was the smell of waffles and chocolate filling the air of the Private Loft, meaning that Stiles was once again cooking. He had been doing that a lot since...

The Alpha rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. Strange...he felt better than he had in days. Maybe it was because he was in a place only saturated in the scent of Stiles and himself. There were no other scents intermingled here. Just them. And they only made it stronger last night.

“Now that's something I haven't seen in a while.”

He removed his hands from his eyes, finding Stiles hovering above him with a plate of waffles. There was a genuine smile on his lips, something Derek hadn't seen in what felt like eternity. His own smile grew and he sat up, waiting for a kiss. Stiles obliged, leaning in and kissed him softly, briefly.

“I missed you...” Stiles whispered, gliding in beside him.

Derek ran his nose across his fiance's throat, inhaling citrus and spices. “You, too.”

“It'll be a while before we see each other again. It'll be worth it, though. Definitely worth it.”

“We'll live.”

“I dunno. Didn't realize how much I craved you until last night.” Stiles set the plate down between them, handing over a fork. “It was therapeutic. Much more than our mandatory sessions have been. Those are just frustrating.”

Derek nodded, poking at the waffles. Drenched in syrup, caked in peanut butter, dotted with far too many chocolate chips. Yep. Definitely a Stiles made breakfast. Good thing Derek had grown to enjoy them this way, or else he would've bitched about the preparation.

“I don't understand why we aren't allowed to be left alone. I mean...plenty of Packs have sought vengeance before. Then again, not many of them are...or...were...as powerful as us. But still! They should've just left us alone. We're obviously not making progress in grief counseling or therapy. Last night...when we got here...when we fell into old habits...now sharing a plate of waffles in bed while being either fully naked or half naked...this...this is the best we've been since...you know...”

He did. And this had been the most Stiles had spoken since the massacre. Stiles used to ramble like this all the time. Derek had missed it...

“Allison said she would be here at four. It's noon now. So, let's eat, do whatever we wanna get out of our system, then we better shower and dress. Don't think she would want to catch us in the middle of mischief. Not when she's here to give us a lead towards one of them.”

“Can we trust her?”

Sensing the hesitation, Stiles reached out with a finger, poking the Werewolf's nose playfully. “She may be an Argent...but she is a strong advocate for the Supernatural-Human Peace Act. Was Lyd's best friend outside of the Pack. She's good people.”

“She's selling out a fellow Hunter.”

His lover's face grew dark, twisted. A mirror of the decay inside. “Rogue Hunter. To her...they are as good as dead. All for us to play with.”

There wasn't much talk about Allison's visit after that. They ate their pile of waffles, reminiscing about their lost Pack. It wasn't said with grief like it usually was during counseling and therapy. It was said with joy and weak laughter. Broken fondness.

However, it slowly became mind and soul numbing. They fell silent, poking at their empty plate. Derek curled into himself, unable to look at Stiles.

While Derek had become withdrawn, quick to snap, glared instead of smiled...Stiles had grown gaunt, his stare haunted and murderous. He would try to hide it. Try to pretend. Sometimes, he would let everyone see. Wanting the world to witness his rage.

“What are you thinking about in that broody head of yours?”

And yet...there were times when the old Stiles would flicker through the darkness.

Derek's lips twitched, not quite reaching a smile. He set the plate on the nightstand, inching closer to Stiles. “You.”

“Oh? Good things, I hope. It would hurt my feelings if you were thinking shit of me.”

“I'm always thinking shit of you.”

Stiles threw his head back, laughing with his whole body. Like he used to.

And Derek beamed with pride. Like he used to.

They fell back into old habits once again. Shared a moment of blissful passion. Once it was over, both of them ensnared their limbs together, pensive and desperate to touch whatever skin their hands could find. They laid there for some time in the static quiet – finding peace in it all. After a while, Stiles managed to lift them both out of bed and lead them to the shower.

The warm water cascaded down their bodies, which would normally lead to more shenanigans. Maybe next time. Right now...they were cleaning each other, faint grins and soft laughs vibrating off the walls. Stiles did most of the talking, soothing Derek. What he was soothing the Alpha from was unknown, but there were certainly no complaints.

There was a knock at the front door as they began dressing.

Stiles offered to answer it, still only in a shirt far too large for his body. Looked like a dress, if Derek was to be honest. But it was gorgeous. Derek's favorite. Especially if that was all Stiles was wearing.

(Thankfully, for the person at the door, Stiles had the decency to put on boxers, too.)

Derek turned his back on the door, slipping on the cozy maroon sweater with thumbholes that he was given for his birthday last year. By Stiles, of course. Man always wanted to give Derek clothes that made him look like 'a fluffy puppy' rather than a 'scary Alpha who could crush people with his thighs'.

“Ally!”

The chipper tone was new. Made Derek flinch a little. He turned around, seeing Stiles hug a young woman with brunette ringlets in a grayish handkerchief dress and dirtied combat boots. She was smiling sadly, dimples barely visible. She smelled of roses and misplaced guilt. Not a trace of Wolfsbane on her person. Not even a weapon. Odd. Derek had never figured Allison Argent to be this reckless and comfortable in the presence of an Alpha and a powerful Magic Holder...

“How are you guys?” she asked gently, eyes now on Derek as she entered further into the loft.

Stiles shrugged, sliding the door closed behind her. “As good as we can be, I guess. Which means not good at all.”

“Well...you seem good enough to be meandering around without pants.”

“Home is where the pants aren't. And where sexy times ensue.”

“...I didn't need to know that, Stiles.”

“Hey! You made a comment about the pants!”

Allison rolled her eyes, head ducked as she grinned. Must've been refreshing for her to see Stiles showing glimpses of his old self. Certainly was for Derek.

The young Hunter approached Derek, absent of wariness. Instead, she pulled him into a surprising hug and held him there with equally surprising strength. Derek didn't fight it. He wrapped his arms around her awkwardly, accepting the hug. It was the one thing his therapist was right about: making himself touch starved would only make things worse.

Allison released him, now serious instead of empathetic and familiar. She took refuge on the couch, setting her bag beside her. “First things first...you remember the faces of the Rogue Hunters that attacked you?”

“Vaguely.” replied Stiles, walking across the loft to the dresser.

Derek folded his arms across his chest, holding himself together. “Yes. I remember them.”

Allison nodded, opening her bag and rummaging inside. “Good. Then the guy I was able to find first is who you need to identify. Hopefully I'm right and that I didn't waste an entire night, getting zero sleep, in tracking him down. And don't you dare scold me for not sleeping, Stiles. You have no room to talk.”

Stiles nearly dropped the pants he had in his hands, seemingly offended. “I wasn't going to!”

A tick. A lie. Derek sucked on his teeth, fighting back a smirk. Unfortunately, his fiance knew how to read him like a book and glared playfully.

“Derek...if you would?”

He made his way over, standing in front of the coffee table. He tightened the fold of his arms, feeling himself ready to break apart. His heart raced when she pulled out a photo from her bag and set in on the table. He had to glance at it for merely a second before his eyes flashed red and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

A hand squeezing the back of his neck eased him. He leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed. Calming sensations seeped into his veins. He felt as if he was on cloud nine. The joys of having his Emissary as his future husband.

“You recognize him.” came Stiles' voice, his tone saturated in coldness.

He nodded, licking his chapped lips. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“Shot Cora between the eyes.”

“Then I guess he will receive extra special treatment.”

“Yes...”

Stiles stroked his neck with a thumb, still sending calm sensations through his body. “What information do you have on this guy, Al?”

“After the massacre of your Pack, this guy and everyone else in his group scattered. Guess they were afraid of you coming after them. Funny how they would be afraid of you instead of everyone else they have hurt.”

“I do have a rep, Al. And I'm the Alpha's mate. They should be afraid of us.”

“Well, they are. And this guy? My sources say he is at the Motel Capri. That's only a few hours away. I'm guessing he was counting on the thin leash around you guys. If you tell your counselors and therapists that you want to go on a road trip for cleansing purposes, no one will bat an eye. Okay, they will bat a little bit, but they'll probably think that you have no idea who attacked you or where to find them. Everyone is counting on it. Especially because these guys are elusive. At least to the authorities. For us in the Hunter organizations, you know, the ones that  follow the Code, we know who they are and how to find them.”

“So why aren't any of you going after them?”

“It was discussed. Then, it was decided that our hands would be wiped clean of this. That if you asked, we'll help. This is your war. Plus you'll be cleaning up the mess for us. Hunting one of our own that has gone Rogue is like a political cesspool.”

“Ah. We're doing the work for you...as well as playing our own game.”

“Exactly.”

Derek finally opened his eyes, the calming sensations gradually losing effect. He stared at Allison, hunger residing there. He wanted this person. He wanted them to pay. He wanted their Light off.

“Motel Capri?” he growled.

Allison nodded regally, slipping the picture closer to him on the table. “The staff won't bother you there, most likely. The guests, if any, won't either. Hopefully.”

“Of course they won't.” snorted Stiles. “Instead of leaving mints on your pillow, each room has newspaper clippings of the deaths that happened in that specific room. And the staff loves reporting a new death.”

Derek gripped his Emissary's leg, claws beginning to protrude. “Then we're checking in. Tonight.”

~+~

“Did you hear about Alpha Hale and Emissary Stilinski?!”

“No? What happened? Did those Rogue Hunters try to kill them again?”

“No! They're going on vacation!”

“That's good, isn't it?”

“It goes against what they were told to do! They have mandatory sessions of grief counseling and therapy they have to attend given to them by the government. They are breaking the rules!”

“Can you blame them? I'm sure they want to get away. Breathe new air. It makes sense. This is where their Pack lived and died. It's probably painful for them to be here.”

“Still...don't you think it's weird? Weeks have passed since the Hale Pack Massacre, the authorities haven't found any of those Rogue Hunters, and now they are going on a road trip. Maybe they are going to hunt down those Hunters?”

“What? No! Alpha Hale is far too respectful to do that! Emissary Stilinski...I've heard some things about him...so I think maybe he would do it. But that would ruin his relationship with Alpha Hale! And he wouldn't do anything to ruin that...would he?”

~+~

It was nearly pitch black when they pulled into the Motel Capri. Not even the pitiful neon light sign and lights over the doors scratched the surface of the night.

Derek parked right next to a fancy SUV, the door riddled with scratches and dents. A smashed bullet hung from the rear view mirror, almost as if to taunt anyone that supported the Supernatural populace. Stiles sneered at it, sliding his hood over his head. Allison hadn't been kidding about this bastard being cocky. Anyone who dared to hang a smashed bullet, a bullet that may have caused the death or injury of an innocent person, needed their balls crushed.

Fortunately, that could be arranged.

“I'll check in. You unload.” Derek ordered, opening his door.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

Derek left him alone, going for the lobby. Stiles slinked out of the Jeep (yes, he allowed Derek to drive his Jeep, but only if he could drive to the next place), scanning the area. Empty. Only a few Lights here: his own, Derek's, the two staff members, and the Rogue Hunter. Should be easy for them to get a room right next door. Not a problem at all.

The cards were in their favor.

Stiles took out their shared duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder. It was nice that they really weren't packing heavily. No real need. Not yet, anyway. Because, well, they weren't just on a cross-country road trip for revenge. They actually wanted a smidgen of a vacation. Eventually.

He leaned on the hood of his Jeep, waiting for Derek to come back with the key. All the while...he stared blankly at the door of the Rogue Hunter's room. Allison's connections said his room was number B15, bottom floor of the creepy place. Her connections were never wrong. And besides, Stiles could feel his tainted Light in B15.

The joys of being an Emissary of his caliber. Knowing Lights just from a photograph.

Derek returned shortly after, radiating with discomfort. He was never a huge people person. People outside of the Pack made him anxious. People in the Pack made him anxious. People just made him anxious. However, with the rumors about how freaky the staff were, it probably didn't help with the anxiety at all.

“I'll deal with them when we check out in the morning.” promised Stiles, taking Derek's hand and kissing it.

The Alpha snorted, flipping their hands around till they were intertwined. “You'll deal with the next one, too.”

“Fair enough.”

They went into their room, dropping the duffle bag on the floor and then sat down on the bed. According to Allison's sources, the prick would start playing music far too loudly at a certain time. That would be the time to strike. When all noise would be drowned out.

“Four hours.” Derek growled, glaring at the room clock as if it would make time go faster.

“Patience, big guy. We'll get him.”

“I want him now.”

“I do, too. But we really need to drown out his screams. He'll be doing a lot of screaming. Like, a lot. I mean, I know Hunters are trained on some next level KGB shit, but nobody, and I mean nobody, can hold back screams of some sort when bones are broken.”

Derek wrinkled his nose into a snarl, impatient as always.

“I know, big guy, I know. He will get what's coming to him. I promise. But we have to be patient. And I know, I am the last person to lecture you on patience, but -”

Suddenly, music shook the walls. Loud, obnoxious, terrible music.

They both perked, lips parted and eyes rounded in shock. The routine broke. The routine had changed.

The cards were in their favor.

Nothing was said. They both bolted out the door, skin itching with excitement. They had planned their attack out during the drive. Now they'll get to do it. The first step in destroying those that destroyed them.

“Remember...patience.” Stiles reminded tenderly, kissing his lover's temple.

Derek nodded, flattening himself against the wall where the door would open to hide him from the target. Stiles lowered his head, making sure that his face was hidden well beneath his hood. He started to fidget, an act he practiced on the way there to the point where Derek couldn't tell that he was lying.

If he could fool a Werewolf...he sure as hell was going to fool this cocky bastard.

He knocked on the door, portraying meek agitation. Not to his surprise, there was no answer. Derek shook his head, indicating that the man inside didn't hear. Stiles knocked again, this time with more force. Again, nothing. Now the agitation was real. He pounded heavily on the door over and over and over – using a little of his Magic to amplify the sound.

Finally, the door opened.

Stiles kept his head down as much as he could, hiding his face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Derek's lips curled back in primal rage, fangs present and eyes glowing red. The Alpha wanted to attack. Wanted to rip this man's throat out. But there was a plan. A plan his Emissary made. Loyal to a fault...he wasn't going to move till Stiles did.

Now...if only the itch in Stiles' skin would settle...

“Wha do ya wan?”

The guy reeked of booze. Not the good kind, either. The cheap kind. It was nauseating. Took everything in Stiles' power to not only control the itch in his skin and keep up his act, but now to not throw up from the stench. He always felt awful when it came to a Werewolf's sensitive nose. This time was no exception.

“Look man...I just got in. I want to get some sleep. C-c-could you please turn down the music?” whined the Emissary, fidgeting heavily.

The guy scoffed, his booze breath nearly knocking Stiles' ass out. “Seriously? Ya tweakin'? Fuck ya.”

“C'mon, man. I'm tired. I drove for hours. I just want sleep.”

“Then sleep wit the music on! It isn' goin' nowhere!”

“Please! Just turn it down a dial! That's all I ask!”

When he was spat on...he noticed Derek tense. Noticed those blistering reds wild with relentless fury. Noticed that claws had popped out. He was ready to defend his fiance. Which was cute and all...but it wasn't time yet.

“Fuck off, ya tweaker!”

With a sigh, Stiles wiped the spit that hit is face off and straightened his posture. The fidgeting was gone. The act was up. But he still couldn't unleash a pissed off Werewolf. No...he had to make this shithead realize who he was dealing with first.

“Is this how you numb yourself? Make yourself feel like you were in the right? Or is this how you celebrate? How you celebrate the fact that you destroyed the lives of several Packs across the country? How you justify the fact that you and your buddies massacred people that only wanted to live beside people they love, because you are so blinded by your hate of living beings different than you?”

“The fuck're ya talkin' 'bout?”

Stiles raised his head, all his rage, his sadness, his disgust...everything he was feeling was wrapped into one ice cold, soul piercing, glowing violet stare. And that's when the Rogue Hunter knew. When the cockiness bled into pale fear.

“Remember me?”

The guy started to back up, likely trying to get to a weapon or slam the door. That's when Stiles stepped aside, smirking. It was funny to see how people thought they could outrun any Supernatural being. Especially an infuriated Werewolf.

Derek shot into the room at break neck speeds, roaring. He tackled the target to the floor and flipped him easily onto his stomach. As the guy tried to wriggle out from beneath a man made out of nothing but muscle, Stiles slipped inside.

Once that door was closed and locked...

Screams were drowned out by the blaring music. Derek got off the guy, snarling and pacing like a feral animal. The guy was still screaming. Was to be expected. Both of his arms just had bones snapped clean in two by a Werewolf on a war path. And it was only about to get worse.

Stiles meandered around the room for a bit, finding every weapon he could and made sure they were out for viewing pleasure. Then, as Derek threw the Rogue Hunter onto the bed, growling viciously and hovering over him with malice, Stiles walked over to the iPod dock.

“Let's see if you have anything good on here.”

“I thought you were peaceful!” the man shouted at Derek as his legs were being pinned down. “You don't believe in revenge! You look down on it! You -”

There was a sickening pop that could barely be heard over the shit music. Stiles winced, knowing that Derek more than likely tore out this guy's shoulder out of the socket. Adding to the broken arms.

“You stole my Pack from me! From us!” roared Derek with such ferocity that Stiles was starting to feel...terrified. “You and your men murdered the family we built after our original ones were taken from us! You stole them! So don't you dare tell me what I believe in! Because what I believe in now is seeing you beg for the mercy you refused to show our family!”

Another pop. Other shoulder out. Stiles couldn't even hear the screams anymore. Not over the shit music. Not over Derek's roars.

He turned off the music, unable to listen to it anymore as he searched the iPod for something else. Immediately, there was the sound of muffled screams. Sounds of Derek hissing and shushing the man. Sounds of a weak struggle. Not much one could do with broken arms and popped out shoulders.

“Ooh! Babe! Mr. No Taste has The Eagles on here!” Stiles cried out, actually excited.

He heard his fiance chuckle...and the Hunter scream into the hand.

“Oh! Ohhh! Hotel California! Classic! I think I'll put this bad boy on. Have some tasteful tunes while we have some quality time together. Babe, can you put the piece of wood between his feet?”

“What piece of wood?”

“Oh shoot! I forgot to tell you about it. Gaaaah! That's okay. I got this.”

He set the iPod back on the dock, pressing play on the song. He swayed to the chords, a light smile across his lips. His fingers danced to the tune...partly. The other part was to summon a wood block from seemingly out of thin air. He pressed it between the ankles of the Rogue Hunter, which were pinned down by one of Derek's hands, the other hand on the chest. The music drowned out the man's screams and curses. For the most part.

“Come on!” Stiles shouted over the music, clapping the guy's leg. “Show a little spirit! Have some fun! I mean, after all, you had a jolly ol' time putting a bullet between dear Cora’s eyes!”

The Emissary's fingers danced again to the tune, a baseball bat appearing to grow and fall out of his palm. The Rogue Hunter was screaming louder now, almost drowning out the lyrics. Which, no. No one does that to Hotel California.

Stiles took off one of the man's shoes, followed by the sock. Then, he shoved the sock into the mouth, smirking at the disgusted expression that followed.

“And I was thinking to myself,” he began to sing along, swaying his shoulders. “This could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

He poked their target's nose, his smirk growing sinister before he swayed his hips while walking away. “Then she lit up a candle...and she showed me the waaaay.”

The guy screamed through his gag. And, well, tried to fight against a Werewolf pinning him down. Derek snapped, his fangs dripping with saliva. Like a rabid dog, in a way. No matter. Stiles didn't have time to worry about it. He had a baseball bat to use.

“There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them saaaay...”

Right foot connected with the metal bat with a sickening crack as Stiles and Glenn Frey belted, “WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA!”

The Rogue Hunter screamed, body arching upwards as much as Derek would allow him.

“Such a lovely place...such a lovely place.” Stiles twirled the bat around, making this all the more dramatic than needed. He leaned in, patting the still intact left foot. “Such a lovely face...”

There was a lot of thrashing about as Stiles raised the bat again, a wicked gleam enveloping his being.

“Plenty of room in the Hotel California!”

WHACK!

CRACK!

Muffled screams.

The Emissary waltzed up to the guy's face, patting it very gently with the tip of the bat. All manically playful.

“Any time of year...any time of year...”

His expression became ice cold, raising the bat above his head. His eyes shown a brilliant violet, flecks of blood garnet jagging out. Markings similar to several Litchenburg figures crawled up from under the collar of his hood. They slithered rapidly to beneath his hairline, making crinkling noises as they glimmered red. Like his Alpha's eyes.

“You can find it here...”

And the bat came down.

~+~

“A view of the ocean?! You spoil me, big guy!”

Derek rolled his eyes, trying his darnedest not to grin. His fiance had always wanted to go to Pismo Beach. Always. What were the chances that on their cross-country revenge trip that two of the Rogue Hunters would just so happen to be there? Very unlikely. But it happened at the very last minute, according to Allison's sources

The cards were, once again, in their favor.

But first...to break in this hotel room.

Derek closed the door behind them, watching his mate stand on the balcony and giggling out of sheer joy. It was as if they weren't on a bloody crusade for a brief moment. As if they were on their honeymoon, light and airy after a miraculous wedding.

With their Pack at their side...

He sighed, approaching his fiance from behind and wrapping his arms around him. He rested his forehead on Stiles' shoulder, breathing him and the ocean air in. It was relaxing. Perfection in every way. A momentary bliss in their fury.

“I love you, Derek...” came Stiles' voice in all its brokeness. “I don't think I've told you that enough. Which sucks, 'cause you deserve to hear it every hour of every single day.”

“That's a little unrealistic, Stiles.”

“So? You still deserve it.” He took one of Derek's hands, pressing it to his lips. “I love you so much, Derek. You have no idea.”

The Alpha chuckled, giving his lover a teasing nibble at the neck. “I think I have some idea.” He burrowed his face into the small mark he made, exhaling shakily. “Love you, too...”

They remained on the balcony for some time, admiring the view. Stiles did all the talking...like he always did. Like he had before. It was nostalgic in a way. Therapeutic, too. And as Stiles rambled on and on about the view, the smells, and on all the dogs he caught glimpses of, Derek scented him. Been far too long since he had properly done that.

They went out to dinner as night fell, enjoying a restaurant with an outdoor space to eat and continue to smell the ocean air. Stiles chatted it up, making a few acquaintances with the surrounding tables. (Mostly so he could steal the dogs and cuddle them for a bit.) Derek withdrew himself except for when he was directly spoken to. Speaking was never his thing. That was always Stiles' department. But now it was harder for the Alpha to really want to speak. Fortunately, most people were fine with nods and grunts from him. Especially with Stiles honing their attention onto him instead.

After dinner, they took a walk on the beach, holding hands and saying nothing. There was no need. They already knew what words were hanging on their tongues. Words they spoke when they returned to the hotel room and entangled their limbs together.

As the sun rose on the next day, Derek woke with a restless growl. He had agreed to have a 'play day', as Stiles called it, when they arrived. Just to feel something outside of rage. But that had passed. They had their day to relax and be happy. Now...now it was time to swallow themselves with darkness. Now it was time to -

“Could you not growl when you wake up, Mr. Grump?”

He glowered at his Emissary, nostrils flaring. The pale man beside him rolled his eyes, swatting at his chest without a care.

“Lemme take a piss. Then we will find them. Shouldn't be too hard. They were at that place we ate at last night. They know we're here. They'll follow us till they think they have us cornered. No fear. All cockiness. Which is to be expected, since they don't know about their little buddy at the Capri.”

He bolted upright, snarling and snapping his jaws. The Rogue Hunters were near them last night?! Why didn't Stiles say anything?! Why didn't they do anything to them?! Why didn't he smell them?!

Stiles reacted quickly, getting onto his knees and grabbing at Derek's face tightly. His eyes began to glow, boring into the wolf's soul as if it were mere child's play. Derek's stare glowed back, infuriated that his Emissary, the one person that was supposed to help protect him and anyone else in the Pack, refused to share this highly important information.

“Hey! Knock it off! I didn't want to ruin yesterday! Besides...this is all going according to plan. I promise. You trust me, yeah?”

The question was reminiscent to their first meeting. When they were assigned to each other by the Emissary Counsel and Derek's mother as children. Derek didn't trust him in the slightest. He was an outsider, and outsiders from the Pack were sketchy. That's what his uncle always told him.

However, Stiles had proven his loyalty time after time. Always had. Always would.

He nodded, slumping into his fiance's hold. Of course Stiles had a plan. Why wouldn't he? Maybe Derek was too itchy for retribution. The thought was...disturbing...

“We'll get them all. I promise. We just have to be patient. And I swear to you...you'll get these two today. They'll be all yours. You said they were the ones that shot you and me, yeah? When Ally sent the pics? You can get them all you want. But we're not in the middle of nowhere this time. We have to be careful. Just trust me. Okay?”

He nodded, burying his head into his fiance's throat and inhaling.

“Good. Now...can I please go pee? Before I mark my territory?”

That earned him a shove off the bed. A playful one. A full forced one would break something. Which was not ideal in any way.

Stiles still whined about it and faked a limp to emphasize his over dramatic point.

After all the morning businesses were done and over with, they left the 'safety' of their hotel room. It was discussed that they were to find a secluded place to take down their targets. Or at least somewhere that Stiles could open The Void and allow Derek to shred in peace. Stiles drove them around, both searching for an ideal spot and enjoying the view.

“Look at the ocean! It's so blue! Sure, not clear like in some tropical areas, but still! Doesn't look as gross as some of the California ocean does.”

Derek hummed, watching him fondly.

“Also! We're being followed by our little friends. Which, perfect. For all they know, we're just Jeep sight-seeing. Or trying to find a place to fulfill your outdoor sex kink.”

“I don't have an outdoor sex kink.”

“Oh, I know. But they don't. The perks of having a Hunter friend who tells you about all the misconceptions they have about you guys.” Stiles turned down a street that was mostly deserted, smirking. “But you do have a breeding kink.”

“Which you like.”

“Awww! Is my wolfy blushing?”

“Shut up. I need to -”

“Get in the zone. I know. I think we're getting close to a pretty ideal spot. Soon, Derek. Soon.”

The wolf nodded, flexing his hands in and out to bring out the claws more slowly. Brought out a sting that vibrated through his body. Helped with the rising, bubbling anger. He rumbled in his throat, fangs starting to pop. He was ready. Impatiently so. He wanted to make them pay for laying a finger on his fiance. For deciding that his Pack, anyone's Pack, wasn't deserving of life and worth more dead.

This was for his fallen Pack.

For all the Packs attacked by these monsters.

The Jeep came to a sudden stop, making Derek growl threateningly. Stiles shushed him, putting the Jeep in park and threw himself out the door. He reeked with intense disdain. He reeked with electricity as well.

Oh...he was bringing out the Spark within. He...never did that. Not unless...

Derek nearly tore off the door, hitting the ground in mid shift. He snarled and snapped his forming muzzle, the fur he did have bristling. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles shoot a ball of electricity at the car that was following them. And he could see why. One had a weapon with a silencer out. By the smell, it had been fired. That's when it clicked that Stiles' sudden stop and unrivaled malice was due to them firing at the Jeep.

His mother's Jeep.

The shouts of fright coming from the stalking vehicle fueled Derek's need to shred them to bits. He was down on all fours and making all sorts of threatening sounds by the time Stiles started spewing rapid fire incantations. Runes appeared around the car, glowing a velvet black. Ah...he was going to throw the entire car into The Void. Interesting. Make it more fun for Derek to rip them out and turn them into mince meat.

The men shrieked from their seats as they felt the burn entering The Void brought. As well as watching their weapons float around them, slashing and smacking them violently, before they melted into molten materials and fell onto their laps. The driver thrashed about, pounding on the door he knew he couldn't use. The passenger started to kick at the front window, apparently at the point where he didn't care about being electrocuted to death.

Derek felt the runes crawl up under his belly, making him shudder in unison with his mate, who was covered in the runes. So...they were both going? Guess Stiles wanted to watch, now that they had tried to shoot at them and instead likely hit the Jeep.

One shudder, two shudder, three shudder – black.

He howled his throat raw. Howled till they entered the screeching winds of The Void.

The best way to describe this place was that it reminded him of The Upside-down. An inverted and sickly version of the world. Stiles would say it was more Silent Hill-esque. But, no matter how it was described, The Void was a place no one wanted to be in. Devoid of life, of light, of cheer, of warmth. Hence its name – The Void.

“Welcome to The Void.” Stiles' voice boomed in a sinister echo. “I hope you'll enjoy your stay for however brief it will be. Because once I stop making your car a conduit for lightning...you will become the hunted. You destroyed our Pack. Our family. You had no fear then. I hope the fear of the goddess will be instilled into you when you feel the mighty wrath of an Alpha who lost everything.”

To emphasize the point of the speech, Derek unleashed the deepest, menacing, bone chilling, ground vibrating growl he could muster. He could smell the panic. The disbelief. The disdain for having the rug pulled right from under their feet. Good. Continue to smell like that. He was going to eat that up, and then some.

“I just have one question for you...” The Emissary flicked his hands like they were water, dropping his voice into a mischievous whisper. “How fast can you run?”

The electricity dropped.

The game was afoot.

Derek bolted, growling and snarling, saliva flying everywhere. The passenger managed to escape from the vehicle, making a made dash away with a limp from the burns of the molten remains of the weapons. The driver wasn't so fortunate. He struggled with his seatbelt, stumbled over something. He was still in the process of getting out of his seat when Derek threw himself on top of him, pinning him against the gearshift.

The man beneath him screamed and attempted to fight back. It only further brought the inner wild rage within out. His mind blanked as he tore into the bastard that had shot his beloved. He could hear the rips of flesh – smell the iron of blood. But that was it. That was all that was clear to him.

He only stopped when the movement of the body ceased. When the frantic heart no longer had a beat.

Derek licked his maw, hopping out of the car and immediately went on the prowl. His other prey wasn't too far away. Not like there was anywhere to go in this bleak landscape. However, with how fast the man had ran...the thrill of the hunt was drumming underneath his paws.

He paced, trying to catch a scent. He was huffing and snorting with agitation, wanting to find him now.

“Listen for him, big bad. Listen for his erratic heart.”

Derek's chest rumbled his agreement. He padded forward, straining his ears to hear over the winds. It was one thing to hear and smell perfectly when the being was right there in an enclosed space. In a more open environment...it proved difficult. Irritating.

At least for a minute.

The thrum of terror flooded his ears. It boiled his blood and he howled as loud as he could with a raw throat for his mate. Let him know that he found what he was looking for. Let the prey know that time was up.

All he heard next, between the overpowering winds, was the sweet sound of broken cries of horror.

~+~

“Did you hear about those bodies appearing across the country?”

“The ones belonging to Rogue Hunters? Yeah.”

“It's...insane. They are just...piling.”

“And the suspects? There are too many. These guys attacked and killed so many Packs, so many others in the Supernatural community. It could literally be anyone.”

“I heard that, briefly, they thought that Alpha Hale and Emissary Stilinski were the prime suspects.”

“What?! Them?! How could anyone think that?!”

“Well...they were seen in every city where these bodies showed up in.”

“Oh my god...”

“There was no proof, so they were let go. They still are suspects but...they can't do anything.”

“Even if they did do it and they were punished, do you realize the amount of riots there would be? And there is no way they could track down all these people. They would've had to have some help. Which means there are Hunters that are helping whoever is doing this.”

“It's all sticky and borderline political, if you ask me. But...I'm also glad that these guys are no longer going to attack anyone else. Because what if they went after sympathizers next? What if Supernaturals stopped being enough?”

“Somewhat gray, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Even though...”

“Even though what?”

“Well...even though that the bodies have been...beyond overkilled. Whoever is responsible is pissed off. Dangerously pissed off. Hopefully they will be done after the last Rogue Hunter is gone...or else we'll have a bigger problem on our hands...”

[deruste]

Lord of light: Fallen by night

“Next to nothing,” I replied to her question. She sighed. “They were the divine family until the gods took over. To make the creation story nice and short-” It was not nice and short. It was nightfall when she finished. To make things simple I'll summarize. The first “it” couple, sky and earth had kids that were the titans who represent ancient elements or aspects of the world, Light, time, death, prophecy, constellations and the ocean. She didn't give a name but my father was the titan of heavenly light, strange position buts sound important. The Sky hates their next batch of kids the first cyclops and the hundred-handed ones which to be fair just sound ugly enough to be angry at. Especially if your first kids are the divine giants whose heads reach the sky. Earth got cranky and had her children fight their father. Nearly no-one had the balls to kill him except my uncle Kronus who chopped him up real good. My father and his brothers helped to restrain him so Kronus gave them the territories of north, south, east and west. All but my uncle Oceanus who didn't do shit but stay in the ocean so he got that by default. My father was the lord of the east. She stops there. “What else? He became the lord of the east and then what?” She shrugged. “He was the most powerful of his brothers but not more so than Atlas and Kronos himself. Honestly, he never did much of worth. Outside of giving humanity sight and most of us agree it was because wish for them to bask in his splendor. His children did more than him but the short of it. Kronos children rebelled, won and sent them to Tartarus.” She said it all so calmly I started to question both our sanities. This can’t be right, right? This is all a hallucination from a gas leak. Yet why do I feel that is should believe it. “Wait you said, Children? I have siblings.” She gave an even longer sigh. “They are...were the titans of the sun, moon, and Dawn.” I looked at her funny. “Why does the dawn have its own god?” “Goddess, Eos the rosy-fingered dawn.” She said proudly. I don’t know though, not that intimidating of a title. I shall smite you with morning dew. “Most gods are devious but Eos is mostly harmless. Mostly interested in her morning ride and attracting young men, so you're properly safer from her.” I took the backhanded compliment in stride. Also, that implies incest so nope. “What about the other two, the sun and the moon.” I pointed upwards. Are they watching me?” I said terrified that I had siblings who properly saw everything from the sky.  She seemed sad for a moment and then composed herself. “Remember when I said that Jackson boy took down your father.” She was stark serious with a guarded look, her arms crossed. I sensed something wrong with the guy but I thought he was just a dumbass, but he is something more dangerous. A powerful dumbass. “He killed him didn’t he?” I asked sincerely but she waved her hand half-heartedly. “Yes and no, there are ways to beat divine beings in combat. They all are easy in theory but much harder in practice especially with your father. From my sources, he seemed to push your father back and the satyrs used magic to turn him into a tree.” I looked at her waiting for the punchline. It was a very bad joke. She stood stone face. Oh god, oh gods whatever! She is not joking. “What? Tree, maple what?” I scramble nearly falling over. She picked me up and put me in the passenger seat. “I’ll let that set in and get us to our next destination.” I let myself sink into the car seat trying to focus on the landscape to regain stability. I saw that we were at a campsite that had peculiar markings such as purple and orange shirts and a sign saying.                                                                                 Where are your gods now? “Were avoiding the people that did that right?” “If that makes you happy.” I couldn't tell if she was joking. I have a feeling that's going to be a catchphrase. “There's one last gift, a peace offering for you.” “May I ask why? I like the necklace but what else am I getting.” If there is one thing I learned it's that everything has a price. What did the next gift cost? Also, the term peace offering is not giving me the jollies. “A general from the army your father led wanted to give recompense.” I twitch slightly. That does not give me confidence that it will be a good gift. “ From what I understand, he thought that a child of your father should have a chariot. Your father provided a chariot but the not the animal but he will have a selection to choose from.” So, my fathers, only gift after being gone for nearly a decade is a god damned chariot. A car, no. A home that isn't in a shanty town, no. An education that isn't self-taught, no. A god damned chariot with no animal, that I probably have to feed. Thanks, dad. “Wait how are you driving” I turned to look downward at the driver seat to meet something that had me chuckling. “What the hell are you using?” I said trying to suppress my laughter. It was a golden seat with mechanical legs that were overly detailed, cellulose, leg hair and all.   “Made by telkhines, ugly beast but useful beasts. They made that necklace you have and use actual magic.” Actual magic? “They make steampunk props?” I partly started to watch my surroundings as we went ever more south to the west to the town of ponce. “Weapons, armor, charms depends on what you order and what you give them. They are good at making things but not finding things. You worked for one ounce.” Did I? Guess with Aegle being a monster the whole time I guess a lot of the people I encountered and saw where monsters. A thought occurs thought. “The tall, waddling old man with the dog like face.” I always thought that man was disfigured but being a monster properly explains his ugly face as well. Not to be mean to the man Ignacio’s forge was by far one of my most filling jobs right next to the farm and second most fun right next to the flea market. “Why can I see monsters then. I saw them before I knew I was a demigod.” I remarked. She gave a glare. “Demigod naturally sees through the mist, (the veil that keeps the mortals from seeing monsters and the gods.) but you are right most see most clearly after they learn their heritage. Perhaps it's one of your abilities, true sight.” “True Sight. Its at least what would I call it, to see through the mist clearer than some demigods, the disguises of monster are powerful but the magical ones you apparently see through.” I guess that makes some sense, if dad gave humans sight then it makes sense my power involves that but that seem weak for the son of an elder divine. “Any more questions or do you wish to stay quiet.” I think for a second. “Why did you look after me. Why did dad have me? What do I do now.” She lowered her head downward in sullen dread. “The first is simple, the second unknown to me, the third is…complicated but your choice. I was assigned to you to make sure you lived after your mother died. Dracae is what my kind is called but I am deformed by their standards, they have two tails and I have one. I delivered messages for various groups even the gods at one point but like many things they forgot us.  As for the why, I don’t know. You father rarely cared about his own troops much less humans and his own children. We assumed that he forgot them, we joined because… we wanted justice.” I saw her face distort into anger. A look one gave when remembering something painful, I let her cool off a bit after she lets slip out. She did say Helios, Eos and Selene were but she talked about Eos like she was alive so the other two are gone. Wow, not even a full day and I have not only family but dead family members. “The last thing is up to you, the boy gave you the option to go to their camp where you will get food and shelter as long as you play puppet.” I shifted my head to my shoulders. “To the gods, I'm guessing.” she nodded her head keeping one eye on the road and the other on me. “You do my old snake heart proud to know I raised you to be smart. That or you go with me.”

“I aim to please. If it's all the same to you I think I'll make my decision now and go with you.” She turned her head all the way to face me and stopped the car suddenly. “Don’t make decisions lightly!” She shouted. She nearly started hissing again. “I will bring you to where what remains of the army, there are some demigods still there that chose to live far from the gods in new york, they could barely fight but they do make good merchants.” She seems to calm down again and decide it's not the time for questions anymore, I can’t even think of any more to ask her. “It was not a lie you know.” She said sadly, her voice slightly breaks “At first I didn’t like my talents being wasted to be a babysitter but you grew on me somewhat.” She chuckled, her eyes starting to water. “I...I..I-” I hug her from the side, my left hand from her shoulder interlocking with my right to make a circle hug hanging from her neck. “I know, your eyes blink three times when you lie.” She returns the hug with tears dripping down her eyes with the scent of salt on them. “I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”An arrow knocked itself into the dashboard Cutting her off. “The fuck?” I yelled as another arrow notched itself near my neck “Dammit, they found us!” She screamed trying to dodge arrows and drive the car. I looked behind us and saw only an orange splotch in a sea of dark leaves and branches. “Can Jackson fly?” I said frantically trying to find a projectile. “No that would a child of Zeus, a son of Poseidon, a lord of the sea is who we face. If I have to guess a pegasus.” “Is he a good shot?” An arrow went into the roof getting only halfway in. An idea brews in my mind to get rid Jackson. Not a single shot has hit us yet, some were close but no direct hit. I take the arrows from the various places they were logged in and pile them on my lap. “Do you have poison?” She points to the glove compartment. It was a long shot but it had what I need. “May I?” “ Look I need to release some poison for my fangs and glands sometimes.” She said reflexively. The poison was clear with a tinge of yellow in jam jars. Two to be precise. I take all the arrows and jam it in, pun intended. Aegle put a hand in front of me. “Try to aim it like a dart but if they get close enough to the window just toss them in their direction.” She dictated. I follow her directions to the letter but decide to leave them in the jar. I lower the window so I can sit on the door. Now for the nice people or those with no sense of wisdom, don't attempt this in any shape or form because in all likelihood I will fall off and leave half of my skin on the forest floor. Maybe my neck would be broken, the bottom line doesn't replicate. I used to play darts in the employee lounge but trust me that barely helps when I'm holding poison-tipped arrows while sitting on the window of a moving car. It took all my ass clenching ability not be thrown off as Aimed at the moving black mass. In the rising moonlight, I saw a bit clearer and know for a fact that he was on a flying horse. Yet that was a low mark on my what the fuck meter today. Either I aim for Jackson or his horse? I took a better look while I saw something odd, I know the flying horse with wings would be usually the first thing I saw two but its something else. It was almost that I saw an aura around Jackson that seemed...strong. And not that it seemed that he was ready for anything but more in a literal I saw a faint glowing aura of protection around him, shielding him. A voice echoed in my mind. The Styx shields, the Styx protects. You will be forced to make recompense. Okay...that was more poignant than I would like. In shows or movies, schizophrenics have this deep narrative driven voice that attacks them with personal insults. Most of the times in real life its random gibberish and loud noises, if there is a voice it can be neutral like “the sky is green” over and over again or pleasant “you're are wonderful” voices. At Least some other than instructional. So when they start to make coherent sense be very afraid especially if there negative it means it’s at its worse. Bottom line when the voice in my head starts giving advice be very afraid.   “Jackson would be vulnerable to arrows, right? Does the name Styx mean anything to you?” Oh great, I'm listening to the voice now. Terrific.  “Did you say the river Styx?!” She started swerving in response. She thinks for a moment and shakes her head. “That explains how he killed your father then. He has the curse of Achilles.” I understood what the meant, slightly. I remember that he was a hero from a myth that had a bad heel but from what she said it seems to be some sort of power. I thought about how it could help him beat my father. I barely knew him so it hard to think of anything concrete I guess it could give… invincibility. Oh crap. I try to think of something. Aim not for he who leads, aim for what carries the teens. And now this creepy shit. Shot in the dark, I try to think it out as I throw the arrow. The arrow flew for a short bit toward Jackson but was quickly deflected by a glowing sword that was now in view. He started to fly ever closer to the truck with the Pegasus ever more in my sight. It had ebony hair and raven-like wings with empty eyes. Who the hell looks at that and thinks “that's a great mount”. It was definitely majestic in its movement and manner but its actions, its stare, its look, that stare gave off the aura of rebellion. Like it would kick off most rider given the chance. Kick off the rider! Of course. The pegasus came closer now with Jackson and the blond girl. I didn’t see the satyr but the sounds of pan flutes were within the air and the trees moved slightly. Guess that makes sense, nature creature, nature magic. I kept my eye on the winged horse and tried to ignore both of the Blancos. “What are you doing?” Percy Jackson screamed. “We can give you sanctuary. The camp is the only place you can be safe.” The girl added. I ready my jar as they increased velocity with the horse nearly neck and neck with the car. “Consider this my answer in the form of a toxic hail Mary.” I  held the jar sideways as the contents blew in the wind, the arrows, the venom, all going in the direction of the raven pegasus. The horse started to convulse and bucked off Jackson and his girlfriend off its back. I would be lying if I said I didn’t take pleasure in the way the jackass fell straight on his ass in the dirt. It was like a stunt gone wrong. I was sorry for the horse, it didn't deserve the arrows and venom to the face but I needed an escape. I think he tried to yell something before we got out of earshot but we manage to escape into the wilderness.  Hopefully, that will be that last of them for a while. “W-w-w-we manage to lose them.” The realization slowly reached Aegle as an I climb, precariously back into my seat. “Don't be so sure. I remember three of them being at the hotel.” “Oh your right, that means goat boy might still pursue.” She had an angry way about her when she said goat boy. Didn't she say something about satyr's against my father? “Now what?” I try to ready for a nap. This amount of excitement has left me worn out. “Nacho, he runs the ranch nearby or at least keeps the animals running rampant.” Oh yeah. An animal to pull my chariot. Glad to know that this is my new normal from now on. “Remember Ignacio from the forge?” I close my eye as I strain to remember where that name felt right. Not a common name to say the proper way, most people go by Nacho with that name and I  swear if you bring up those cheese covered chips I will deck you in the schnoz. Then something came to me in a haze. A bright forge, a roaring flame, a small ugly man with great skills in making repairs and creating jewelry. “Wait! That Nacho!” The general that was gifting a war beast was my old boss. I worked for him for three years in Ramos, a small town north of El Yunque. I helped at his forge and learned some skill in bending and manipulating metal. It wasn't my longest job or my most enjoyable one but it was the most fulfilling. There is no other feeling like making tools with your own hands and saying that you know how to make half the things people things people need day to day. It's like you are above them in a certain way like they always need you no matter how much they pretend to be better than you. “Yes. That Nacho, he was the leader of the Telchines for a bit before your father dismissed him.” “Wait why was he dismissed?” She started to sway on the road, we properly lost a wheel so it was actually quite astounding that we are still driving semi-properly. “ He had a habit of ...Questioning authority.” She said casually now resting her head on her fist. From her tone, she explained this plenty of times. “ He questions some of your uncle's tactics and by you fathers authority he was moved to this outpost.” “Wait for outpost!” I yelled jumping from my seat. “This isle is far away enough from the gods that they barely notice anything that happens here. It's the same for Alaska except that Poseidon sends the occasional hurricane.” Annnd she let that bombshell drop. “ He hasn't done it in a while but...watch your back when near the sea. It should only be 20 minutes away from the ranch.” With that, I sunk back into my seat wide-eyed. Apparently, one of the worst kind of disasters that can befall the island is caused by the father of the guy I just threw poison at.  Maybe the ranch will be nice and quiet, Nacho was always level-headed. Maybe a little nap to keep me going later.

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OH MAN I somehow ended up unironically adoring Junya Kanashide??? He's seriously my fave p5 villain so far. Man we REALLY needed a good comic relief case after yusuke and makoto's sad back stories. So uhh yeah.. Spoilers for the third case of the game! But not really spoilers that matter or anything, unless you really wanna be surprised by the exact lunacy of Mr world's most ridiculous boss fight XD OKAY RIGHT LET ME BLABBER Like... It was SO GOOD that he's a complete outside context villain who has no connection to anything and just does stupid ordinary mafia crimes. It was great as a sort of framing device excuse to focus more on makoto's redemption arc/search for her own definition of justice. And it didn't really matter that she got her persona from fighting a guy she only just met instead of someone emotionally relevant, really her biggest enemy was her own self hatred and it symbolized her breaking out and showing her true personality for the first time! So yeah it worked perfectly that we had a stupid funnyman with no motivation except money, who gets like 5 minutes of screentime in his own plot. Makoto's was kinda the 'villain' for this whole arc anyway, it was so triumphant to finally see her join the team!! Thank you terrible money man for making this happen! Oh and BTW I seriously need to take a second to mention how makoto is literally the only character who had any sort of combat training before becoming a phantom thief. She spends ten hours filling the role of 'cliche catty student council president sitcom nemesis' and then suddenly 'oh BTW i know aikido' *runs off to punch shadows without a damn persona* And then instead of being all traumaness in her transformation sequence she just rips the mask off before the damn thing is even finished, and SHATTERS THE FLOOR TILES WITH EACH STEP! Shy nerdy sassy girl just EXPLODES into angry badass who's been hiding behind this prim and perfect mask for so long! And her persona ISNT EVEN A PERSONA?? She JUST punches shadows. Her persona is a fucking motorcycle that's like distant support friend compared to everyone else. Popemobile: "kick his ass honey I'll hold yo flower" ITS LITERALLY A POPE MOTORCYCLE IM NOT EVEN MAKING A JOKE!! so she punches fucking shadows and then drives her magic motorcycle out a window so hard they break thru the metaverse and land back in the real world sorry I CAN NOT GET OVER how much I love makoto!!!! ... Sorry that went offtopic. .. ANYWAY that's why terrible funny trash villain man works well as an excuse for her plot to happen. But I still enjoyed him a lot on his own merits! He's introduced as this honestly kinda scary and cool mob boss for like five minutes. I dunno if I would have preferred if he was actually a decent enemy like that? Like literally the ONLY time I've ever seen a fat mob boss character not played for laughs is the kingpin in spiderman. So seriously its an untapped market! BUT I do really adore his random subverted expectations terrible shadow self that is terrible in all the right ways~ The closest we get to any sort of personality description for this guy is that he's someone who pretends to act tough but is really just a selfish child who wants to live in the lap of luxury at any cost. Which might explain why his regular world design is honestly kinda inexplicably adorable?? He's got a total baby face when every other fat character in persona is drawn like frankenstein's monster. Its really rather creepy having this tiny chibi face on the evilest of all evils! And it is kind of a shame that he had a rather unique polite and soft spoken voice in his scary mob boss form, that was genuinely terrifying! They shoulda made his comedy shadow self sound even slightly similar, there's a million ways to do a funny version of that voice. Like an exaggerated nerd one! But every shadow seems to share the same voice actor for some reason?? Or else the distortion effect is so loud they all sound the same. ANYWAY His shadow self is just himself but dressed up like a banker with a fake mustache. Its hilarious cos he's still like a friggin 5ft tall 16 year old?? Also he's purple??? What??? And then he has this big fakeout demon transformation and his deadly sins form is just... The same guy with fly wings. Beelzebub is the most horrifying bonus boss in EVERY OTHER SMT GAME and this is what we got! I CANNOT BELIEVE And then (no joke) he starts doing terrible white boy rapping, and pulls a GIANT ROBOT out of nowhere to make up for his lack of boss form! The 'piggytron 2000', a giant death star piggy bank that shoots eyeball lazers. And then (NO JOKE) his ultimate move is turning it into a disco ball and COSPLAYING GANGNAM STYLE TO KILL YOU. Yes. This is a canon occurance in the persona universe. And then its just the most fun and low effort boss fight to make up for his deadly hard super long dungeon. It was over too fast! 10/10 would crush beetlejuice psy under a giant disco ball again And what is weird is that this terrible nonsense shadow is also like the most competent one they fought so far?? His dungeon is SO AWFUL and he actually spots you sneaking in and actively fights against you the whole way. His shadow self has ten times the screentime of the original! And he actually has the last laugh by not repenting at all, even though the real version of him is still gonna end up confessing his crimes either way. He just fades away with a big ol shit eating grin after revealing some important plot stuff to the heroes. Like.. Real junya was completely incompetent but his infinitely sillier shadow has apparently been operating independently of him and knows all about the phantom thieves and was making deals with some mysterious ultimate villain guy we had no clue even existed??? And now we're left with no answers to that, and shadow junya is probably still wearing that asshole grin in hell. Also his Treasure turned out to be completely worthless, its literally monopoly money with his face on it. Not even an intentional troll move or anything, that was LEGITIMATELY his single most important possession! Completely free of all character depth, right to the very end~! Oh god, everyone's FACES as they try and justify 'well its probably a metaphor about how he was a kid pretending to be badass', and then deciding the briefcase is probably worth more. Best ending to a thoroughly enjoyable brief moment of levity in a sad sad game! I salute you, gangnam Beelzebub! ... Also this mysterious villain ringleader person would probably be kicking the self if they knew the phantom thieves only found out about their plan thanks to disco monopolyman. This is why you don't make deals with comic relief, yo! XD