#me when i decay slowly in a dark abyss and i do not understand the reason as to why.

[nonbinaryaubrey]

ok super rough doodle SO SORRY but now im thinking abt the skeletons in the abyss now. that one aubrey skeleton.. do they decay you think?

[questionablehumanbeing]

17/08/2023

Life used to be a maddening and frustrating whirll of emotions when I was younger; back then, even the smallest obstacle would become this large, thin rope bridge hanging by a thread over a ravine that I would have to carefuly cross...

I would do my best to cross it with no incident. With shaky legs and a racing heart, I'd slowly place my feet on the dangling steps of old, rotting wood.

The fear of falling into the abyss below was absolute torture, and I'd spend longer than I'd like to admit just sitting and holding onto the ropes for my life, not making any progress and just standing static in the middle of this nightmare.

Everyone I'd know would be going past me, walking confidently across this bridge while I'd be there, sitting in terror. The panic, the shame, the urgency to get up and stop making a fool of myself while being absolutely petrified at the same time...

Things are different now though. I don't come across these wrecked rope bridges that extend over unimaginable chasms... I'm instead walking on the floor of this very ravine.

Sure, it might be foggy and dark down here, and my nails do go all shades of purple and blue from the cold, but there is nowhere to fall...

Okay, the walls of the thin corridors I've been walking through might be closing in on me with each passing day, and time may have stretched and morphed down here, but, at least, there is nowhere to fall. I'm on the ground now.

Essentially, I don't think there is much to lose down here.

I've grown into an adult that -would like to believe- understands the world and the people out there, and truly, has no hope for any of it. You see, as a teenager I would have these dreams of a long, successful career and a healthy, beautiful life full of love and joy, which now sounds comically stupid. All of this fear and anxiety of failing and slipping before managing to cross these dumbass bridges stemed from the sky high expectations I had for myself and for the world, and now... well. Now I have been walking through these horribly cold corridors holding my lover's hand, and it's his heat that has been keeping me alive. Sure, things may suck down here, there is no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel, nothing, but we've sworn to eachother we'd keep walking forward until these walls crush us, and that is what I'm planning on doing.

I hate this life. I hate the people that I need to cross each day. I hate humanity and all the evil that comes with. I hate how we cause everything we touch to slowly rot and decay. I hate myself and this physical body I need to carry everywhere. I hate nature for bringing me to this Earth. I have so much hate within me, but it will never surpass the love I feel for you, Joel. Thank you for holding my hand and keeping me warm through this cold journey that has been my life. May we keep going until I collapse.

[ghostgetter]

That would be Gold Rush

When Keith thinks of Lance, he thinks: loud, eccentric, supercilious. Over the years, he’s had the luxury of learning more about him, like how he’s exceptionally considerate, especially when anyone around him is at their lowest point. Or how passionate he is about the things he loves. Or, even, regardless of his occasional arrogance, Lance was actually pretty good at the things he put his heart to.

Sharpshooter, indeed.

Now, after wars have ended and the peace has claimed everyone’s hearts, there is a certain epiphany Keith has had for his righthand man.

He may potentially, possibly, in some fashion, be in love with him.

It is utterly horrifying.

Keith has fought aliens twice his size, defeated empires, lead the most powerful robot and defended the universe, but this makes his skin crawl.

Whenever Hunk talked about legitimate romance and his love for Shay, Keith never thought twice about what it was like. Love and being with another person never came close to his ideals and imaginations while he was growing up. He needed to be with the stars, to find what was calling him. A lone-wolf that yearned for a family.

Now? Now he yearns for Lance.

Quick brushes of hands, stories of his family, his compassion and support when Keith would feel like collapsing in on himself after a rough assignment with the Blade. His overall being, which has now collected in his own imagination when he lies in bed, or in a tent in a galaxy far from Earth, where Lance is next to him, holding his hand and simply existing.

Keith doesn’t think he’s wanted something more in his life.

Like water rushing his veins, he comes back to Lance snapping his fingers in his face, his own way, way too close as he leans forward on the McClain’s sofa. It almost looks like his Altean marks are sparkling.

“Universe to Keith.”

Keith blinks several times, trying to right himself. He pushes his hand out of the way, “The snapping is unnecessary.”

“It is when you’re in LaLa Land,” Lance says, going back to swigging his beer back. “You weren’t even listening to me about Veronica!”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes, “Long mission.”

“S’okay, I figured,” Lance is always understanding and empathetic when Keith visits the farm. He has his mother make the best soup Keith has ever had in his life, next to Hunk’s own, and gets a guestroom set for him and Kosmo, who is already napping upstairs. He puts a warm hand on Keith’s shoulder, and of course electricity rushes down his arm, sparking in his fingertips. “We can just watch NASA and make fun of them if you want.”

Keith smiles softly. Shiro’s always been the brother he’s needed growing up, the shoulder to lean on, the support he desperately craved. Lance is his own brand of supportive. Carefree and funny and kind. He’s like gold, rare and sought after by hundreds. “I’m okay. Tell me about Veronica.”

“Well, Veronica became an instructor at the Garrison. Took over for Iverson and stuff, so I think the mental health of the cadet’s is gonna be a bit better.”

“Oh, thank the universe,” Keith says, “I hated that man.”

“I figured, hotshot,” Lance jokes, “Wasn’t hard to miss when you tried punching him one time during class.”

Keith turns, only the slightest bit ashamed, “You were there for that?”

Lance flicks him on the head, Keith recoiling and glaring back, “I was in your class, stupid! Geez, I’m still so annoyed you don’t remember me.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I’m not apologizing for not remembering some of the worst years of my life.”

“The Garrison wasn’t awful,” Lance sets his arms on the back of the couch, fingers brushing Keith’s shoulder. “I mean, Veronica actually wants me to come…join her?”

Keith lurches forward, gaping. “Really? Lance, that’s amazing!” Because from what Keith knows from visits and friends, Lance hasn’t stepped foot anywhere related to space in over a year. Hasn’t gone to the Garrison at all, according to Shiro. Hasn’t had any interest in going to space again, according to everyone else.

“Yeah, as an instructor,” Lance chuckles. “Can you imagine, me? Instructing?”

Yes, Keith thought, Absolutely. And he’d be amazing at it. Because, sure, Keith gave him a hard time back in the Voltron days on his piloting skills, and for some odd reason, Lance showcased some sort of desire to outshine Keith in flying, but he was good. Keith may have been the best pilot, and flew like he breathed, but Lance flew with passion, with pure heart.

Before Keith can voice Lance’s acclaim, his strengths, Lance sighs and shakes his head. He brings his hands to his knees and squeezes them under his jeans. It’s almost like a cloud washes over the living room, and it’s darker. Sadder.

“I dunno if I’m ready for anything…space-related,” Lance says. “With Allura…I dunno. I’m still…y’know?”

Yeah, Keith knows. It’s been a year and a half since the war ended, and Allura left them, left Lance, behind. He knows Lance still holds a torch for her, who doesn’t? He spends his time telling her stories to aliens and humans alike. He nods stiffly, looking down at his own beer before putting it on the coaster sitting on the long table in front of him.

“Yeah, I know.”

Lance takes a drink from his bottle, “Right.”

Right. Keith holds in a long exhale, swallowing instead and pushing himself off the sofa.

“I gotta go outside for a sec,” he says, his mind wandering and his chest constricting.

“What?” Lance sits up, sniffling. “What’s wrong? Um, do you need me to come with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith snaps, and he hates it. He hates that it burns off his tongue and how bitter the taste of it is. He walks towards the foyer and turns to look at Lance remorsefully. Lance looks downtrodden and confused, standing up after Keith, because he’s compassionate like that. Because he cares about him. Keith swallows and turns away, then softly says, “I just need to be alone.”

“Oh,” Lance frowns, “Okay.”

He closes the door behind him, and steps off the porch, crossing his arms and just breathes.

Deep, deep breaths, because he will not cry, he will not scream up to the clouds covering the stars he knows shine behind them. He will not break down in front of the hundreds of pink flowers covering the green in front of him, which still gleam in the dark of night.

He hates this so much.

To be with Lance is to imagine myths and legends. Like the juniberry flowers that cover his front lawn, to be in love with him is to wilt and decay eventually. Because, and Keith will attest to it, Allura will always be in his heart. Even if his feelings were to be reciprocated, if ever, he’d always be second best.

Keith never tolerated being second to anything.

He wipes his glove-covered hands down his face, trying to drag the stress with them. His chest constricts and it hurts. He never asked for this, and he remembers telling Shiro that once he figured out he’d fallen in love with Lance after too many recollections of their time together in Voltron, Lance’s support, the fucking abyss that showed the wisps of his past and future; of a scrawny boy with short brown hair standing up to Keith’s bullies, of a taller boy with looking out to the sea with a ring on his finger, slowly turning towards Keith before blinking out of existence, too scarce to tell who it was but Keith knows now it was Lance. It was always Lance.

“Ugh,” he finally voices, fingers grasping onto his leather jacket. “I’m such a dipshit.”

He knew how Lance felt about Allura. And frankly, Keith knows how Lance feels about him: a guy that runs away from his friends, his feelings. It sweats off his body, out of his pores; it’s not like he hides his traits well.

“Keith?”

Because of course he’d follow after him, even when he asked to be alone. That’s Lance, after all. He turns around as the wind whisps at his longer hair. Under the porch light, Lance’s skin twinkles like gold.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Keith chokes out. He curses at himself, emotion wrapping around his throat. He sniffs, rubbing at his nose. “Fantastic.”

Lance is silent for a moment, watching him, contemplating. He tilts his head and looks on sadly, before opening the door behind him. “Come back inside. I’ll grab your 80’s movie pack and make some hot chocolate.”

Keith crosses his arms, looking away, because he can’t look at Lance under a spotlight as if he’s some…some celestial being. His hair even falls into his eyes handsomely when he looks at him, waiting, and Keith doesn’t want to fall any farther than he already has. He needs to reverse these feelings, in anything. Slam on the control shift and buck his ship out of here.

But Lance is like the Sun, and Keith succumbs to him like gravity.

After a sigh, he walks back up to the porch, up to Lance, who closes the distance and brings Keith into a tight hug. He wraps his lengthy arms around him and pulls him in close. Keith’s eyes widen, shocked and overwhelmed with the feeling and the scent of Lance, until his nose tickles against Lance’s soft skin and suddenly he’s calm again. He breathes in deep and wraps his own arms around him, turning his face into a steady shoulder.

At least Keith has this.

[wkemeup]

In the Embers

summary: Bucky finds his burdens weigh a little less when he’s with you pairing: bucky x reader word count: 4.6k warnings: self-loathing!bucky, PTSD symptoms, talkin bout ✨S P A C E✨ a/n: this was done for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan writing challenge! I had the prompt “I’m having a bonfire. You should join me” and because im incapable of writing fluff without first prefacing it with angst, I apologize. (Also included anon’s request of playing with Bucky’s hair)

The universe simply wouldn’t let Bucky Barnes set right all the wrongs he’d committed in his life. He was certain that in every attempt he made to step closer to the light, the cold embrace of a cruel, empty darkness would shove him several paces back and down into the abyss of a never-ending pit, leaving him with no way to climb back up to the surface.

The universe would find a way to keep him alienated from those who worked so tirelessly to help him, to make sure he stayed as lost and broken as Hydra made him to be, to ensure that he never made amends for his crimes the way he so desperately needed.

He was never meant for anything more, he supposed. He was tempting fate at it was, just simply continuing to live after all he’d done.

Perhaps he should have known his first mission with the Avengers would be a colossal failure. It was supposed to be simple, something to ease him back into the field; something his stupid, mushed up brain should have been able to comprehend, but he couldn’t even do that, could he?

No. Instead, when Bucky was meant to stand guard while Natasha finished downloading the software she was assigned to extract from the Hydra warehouse, he’d been distracted. He lost his focus for only a moment; his eyes having darted over to a room on his right. No, a cell. A prison.

It looked too much like the one he’d seen in his nightmares; the one he only got bits and pieces of in his memories. He recognized the cement flooring and the metal door with bars over the impenetrable glass. He knew the faint discoloration of red along the floor in the hallway leading into the room, like a bloodied body had been dragged and thrown inside without remorse. The smell of something decaying burned in his noise and his breath felt shallow in his lungs.

He knew this wasn’t where he was held. Steve had been able to track down enough answers for him to know Hydra had never kept him in South America, but it was just so familiar. He froze up, hands sweating and heart pounding so loud he was certain someone might hear it through the coms. His breaths were too pained, too fast, and he didn’t notice the Hydra agent come up on his left and lunge at Natasha.

A knife scraped along her arm as she attempted to dodge the attack and her yelp was the only thing that shocked Bucky back to his body. He rushed in to help, but it was already too late. The Hydra agent had managed to destroy the computer before the download was finished and alerted the entire building the Avengers were present.

Red flashing lights and sirens echoed in the halls as Natasha sprinted past him. She shot him a look; something of frustration and understanding mixed in one, and Bucky clenched his jaw so tightly he was sure it would never unlock again. He chased after her, escaping the influx of dozens of Hydra agents because he knew staying to fight wasn’t an option.

The jet was quiet on the way home. Fury had called in for an update and Bucky all but slumped into his seat in an effort to disappear as Steve reported the mission had failed. Stark, who was still getting used to the idea of having Bucky around in the first place, was grumbling under his breath, staring daggers at the reformed Winter Soldier and Bucky couldn’t help but think Steve should have just come out with it and told the director that he was the one that fucked up.

Steve was too understanding, too forgiving of his old friend, and everyone on the jet knew it. It was the disappointment in Steve’s eyes that hurt more than anything else. He thought Bucky was ready for something like this, thought Bucky was stronger than he was, but he wasn’t.

He was weak, and pathetic, and set to lose it at any given second. He was a raging mess of trauma and panic attacks and nothing he did seemed to make any of it better. Steve should have known not to trust him. He could barely trust himself.

Hours after the jet landed, Bucky sat alone in the dark of the living room, clutching at his hair enough to burn in his scalp, hunched over on his knees. He didn’t know why he even bothered to leave his room after the team returned, but the walls were just so white, his lack of belongings so evident, it left a kind of emptiness hanging in the air mirrored to that in his chest.

The whole team was elsewhere, no one around to witness his unbridled self-loathing and poor attempts to pull himself together. Steve and Stark were still holed up in meetings and attempting to explain why the team would need additional resources to run the mission again to extremely disgruntled higher ups in the Pentagon. Natasha and Sam were sparring down in the gym, getting out their frustration and testing the limits of their aching muscles. Clint was off at the farm with his family, where the guy belonged. Thor was still out in space doing who knows what.

And Bucky?

Bucky was alone.

Until, he heard the soft patter of footsteps sneaking down the hall, a light humming through the air that sent a shiver down his spine, just enough to lift his hands from his head and peak over the edge of the couch.

You whizzed around the kitchen, headphones in and swaying your hips along to a song Bucky could only vaguely hear; something with a light, melodic beat and lyrics you clearly didn’t know the words to. Smile on your face and wrapped up in dark black leggings, a sweatshirt that looked to be about twice your size, fuzzy slippers and a worn scarf, you gathered items from the pantry and set them on the countertop.

Bucky watched, not noticing that his anxiety had started to go down as you filtered through old cereal boxes and dug out a box of graham crackers from the back of the shelf and tossed a bag of marshmallows onto the counter. You dug into the plastic bag and popped one of the white clouds into your mouth with a content sigh, almost a moan, and Bucky found his lips curve just a little. Certainly not enough for anyone to notice, but enough that muscles were used that hadn’t been in a while.

Next, you snuck a block of a chocolate bar from the top shelf Bucky was almost positive belonged to Sam. As you turned back to the counter, gathering everything up in your hands, you froze, eyes falling on Bucky and a breath hitched in his lungs.

You slowly removed your headphones, raising an eyebrow as a smile easily pushed on your cheeks.

“Whatcha doin’ sitting in the dark like that?” you asked, voice sweet as ever and Bucky swore his face must have been beet red from the rush of heat in his cheeks.

He swallowed nervously, hands raking through his hair to tame the mess he’d created as he nearly ripped it out just moments earlier. He stood, slowly, and realizing his legs were a little numb from how long he’d been sitting there.

“Nothing,” he replied, straightening out the wrinkles on his pants. He looked down and realized he was still wearing his stealth suit. You must have noticed too because you started to laugh a little. It made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots. 

He turned to leave, needed to get out before he made an even bigger fool of himself. You were the last person he wanted to know that he was as broken and damaged as the rest of them thought.

“Well, if you’re not doing anything,” you called after him, unbothered as Bucky tried to escape the room, a mischievous smile on your face as you gathered up your snacks. “I’m having a bonfire. You should join me.”

Bucky froze in his tracks, a careful look over his shoulder. “What?”

You nodded, walking closer to him. “I mean, you should change first. Can’t imagine Kevlar and thigh holsters will be very comfortable out there. Dress warm, alright?”

You turned to walk away, just assuming he’d come because you always did think the best of him, despite having absolutely no reason to. Bucky watched as you practically skipped down the rest of the hall, waiting impatiently by the elevator, and you sent him a beaming smile before you stepped inside. If Bucky didn’t know better, he might have thought he was dreaming.

He’d only been living at the compound for a few months now since his pardon and he’d largely kept to himself. He'd take long runs outside alone and eat most of his meals in his room. Never one to initiate interaction, though he agreed to spar with Steve and Sam on occasions. Throwing fists was easier than talking. Talking was how his demons seemed to fall out. He’d say the wrong thing or remind Steve that he wasn’t who he used to be and he’d just get those sad, disappointed eyes again.

Steve never meant to make him feel so unwanted. He knew that, but Steve longed for Bucky as he was before the war, forgetting that pieces of him were still right here; damaged and broken, but still here.

Things were different with you. You never once asked him to be anything he wasn’t. You never stepped around eggshells or treated him like he was something to be feared. You never left the room as soon as he’d walk in and often purposefully went out of your way to ask him what he was doing that day or to include him in whatever pop culture argument you were having with Sam, even though Bucky couldn’t begin to follow what you were talking about. You’d invite him to every movie night, no matter how often he declined. You encouraged him to come to the publicity events and promised to make fun of Sam the whole time if he came.

Try as you did, you never could get Bucky to open up.

Except for tonight, it seemed.

He appreciated your gesture more than he admitted; out loud and to himself. He did start to notice the way his stomach hurt when you’d be a day overdue on your check-in’s while on missions overseas and how he often glanced over to your spot on the couch when you weren’t around. He noticed that his heart skipped a little when you’d touch his shoulder as you walked by and how your smile seemed to always make him blush.

He put too many rules on himself; so easily giving into the voice that reminded him that he deserved to be alone and isolated and without someone as kind and forgiving as you. He wondered, if maybe he told that voice to shove it, if he could find an ounce of something other than self-deprecation tonight. Any time spent with you would be better than his original plan of allowing his guilt to swallow him whole.

Bucky was already changing out of his suit before he realized it; throwing on an old SHEILD crewneck from Steve and a pair of sweatpants he stole from the training center. The cold didn’t bother him much, but you’d been so sweet all wrapped up in your sweats, it made Bucky want to try for something normal.

You made Bucky want to be normal.

It was how he found himself standing at the edge of the compound, looking out into the dark field to the soft flicker of a fire. You sat curled up on a blanket, smiling and proud of your work. You didn’t notice him just yet and Bucky decided he liked the way you smiled to yourself when you thought no one was watching.

He started to make his way over to you and you nearly jumped as he approached, hand clutching at your chest to still your heart and you started to laugh.

“Bucky! You scared me!” you grinned, making room for him on the blanket and patting the surface next to you for him to sit down. He did so, amazed that the feel of your thigh against his didn’t scare him away. If anything, it made him want more.  

“You’re surprised I came?” he asked softly, a semblance of a smile on his lips.

“Of course, I’m surprised, Bucky! You never come to anything I ask you to,” you replied and Bucky frowned, a twinge of guilt in his chest, but your smile was too bright for it to stay long as you continued, “but I’m really glad you did. Now I can give you partial blame for stealing Sam’s chocolate.”

A laugh escaped him before he could suppress it. It felt odd in his chest, but warm, welcoming maybe. “I see your true motives at work here.”

You shrugged, sending him that teasing grin that made his stomach twist, and you plopped a marshmallow on a metal stick and handed it over to him before doing another for yourself.

“You know how to make s’mores, right?” you asked, almost nervously, as Bucky eyes the marshmallow.

“Of course, doll, I wasn’t born in the stone age,” Bucky teased, surprised by his own voice.

“Just before sliced bread,” you shot back, grinning wildly and nudging at his shoulder. You didn’t seem to be affected at all that it was metal you touched, hard and cold beneath the surface of his sweatshirt. Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

***

Ten minutes later and Bucky had already consumed two whole s’mores before you got the perfect toast on a single marshmallow. You berated him for not caring about the ‘art’ of the s’more and that he under toasted or set them ablaze just to eat it sooner. He agreed and you shoved him playfully in the side.

“So where is everyone?” he asked, wiping the marshmallow from his lips, as you lit your third marshmallow on fire with an aggravated huff.

You stuck a new marshmallow on the end of your skewer and held it with careful precision over the flame. It was adorable, the way you squinted at the flames, determination over your features. After a moment, as you felt content with the ratio of flame to heat, you shrugged, answering his question, “right here”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Were you just going to do this by yourself if you didn’t see me in the living room?”

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get away for a while, have some place to think and just be,” you replied softly. “Besides, I like looking at the stars. It makes me feel small.”

If Bucky thought he had a decent read on you before, he was certainly at a loss now. “You like feeling small in the universe?”

“It reminds me that there are things out there that are bigger than myself,” you said, turning the marshmallow over the flame, a pleased smile on your face as the underside was toasted to the color you were looking for. “It reminds me that the little things I used spend days agonizing over only have power if I give it to them.”

The confusion must have read on Bucky’s face because you smiled at him, readjusting in your seat.

“We’re like these little blips,” you explained, pulling your marshmallow away from the flames, “and we only have this impossibly small amount of time here with so much before us and an eternity after we’re gone, and... I don’t know... I guess that makes me remember how important every moment is. I don’t want to spend my time here suffering, you know? I want to enjoy it. I want to do good with it and make it matter.”

Bucky nodded, looking up at the stars as you started to make your first s’more. The patterns of constellations were so clear outside of the city, imperfect patterns and arrays of tiny shiny specs in the sky, stretching out into the vast universe. Each one was a sun to its own solar system, each one surrounded by planets with potential life, and there were billions more than he could take in with his own eyes from this very small corner of a single world.

He knew what you meant about feeling small, though, he wasn’t quite sure how to get to the part about being thankful for his time here. If anything, if felt like his mark has been nothing but pain and violence and destruction. He should be sentenced to spend his time here agonizing over it, shouldn’t he?

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, noticing the contemplation on his face as you finally took a bite of your s’more and marshmallow oozed out the side. You groaned, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself, and you giggled with full cheeks.

Bucky smiled at that. He might have forgotten entirely if he could just watch you do that again. “Nothing.”

“A face like that isn’t thinking about just nothing,” you retorted teasingly, shoving the rest of the sandwich into your mouth with a satisfied grin.

You had a bit of chocolate on the corner of your lips and Bucky’s hand reached out to brush it away without thinking. Your cheeks were warm from the fire, lips sticky from the marshmallows and the chocolate brushed off easily onto his thumb. He let his hand fall away and wiped it on the grass. He didn’t notice the way you watched him with a kind of awe that would have set his heart on fire.

“Come here,” you urged, pushing your legs out to lie flat on the blanket and gesturing to your lap. Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused, and you tugged on his shoulders, motioning for him to lay down.

Bucky didn’t quite know what to do, but he knew he’d do just about anything you asked, so he laid down along the blanket with his back pressed against the earth, his head resting on the soft cushion of your thigh.

“Look at the stars. They’re never ending. They go on for infinity and carry worlds of possibility. They’re limitless. Let them take some of your pain, Bucky,” you told him gently, leaning back to rest one hand against the grass as another gently wove into his scalp. 

He flinched at first, surprised by the sudden action, but found himself soon melting against the movements as it sent waves of shivers through his head and down his spine.

He did as you instructed, trying to find purpose in the stars, focusing on the gentle lull of your fingers tracing patterns in his hair. He only saw what he could; something beautiful, something vast and endless, but nothing that could take any the guilt he carried.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever find a way to let go of that. It was engrained in him. It was a part of him. The things he did were unforgivable, irredeemable, and it was all consuming. It weighed on him unlike anything else and pushed him so far beneath the surface, his lungs were filled with dirt.

After a while, Bucky’s eyes started to drift, losing focus on the stars you so endearingly found hope in, letting himself fall into the soft embrace of your nails as they wove patterns on his scalp, drawing a calm about him he hadn’t known in years.

“I heard about the mission,” you said quietly, suddenly, like you’d been thinking about it for a while, and Bucky stiffened instantly under your touch, his heart skipping several beats, but your fingers continued to rake gently against his scalp, drawing him back to a sense of calm. “It’s not your fault, you know. They never should have sent you to a Hydra facility on your first mission in the field.”

There was a hint of anger in your voice, like you’d had this conversation before, like maybe you’d argued with someone about it, tried to stop it from happening and no one had listened. Bucky’s stomach started to hurt, thinking that maybe even you, who thought so highly of him, didn’t think he was good enough to be an Avenger.

“There were too many reminders there, you know?” you said, continuing as you looked up at the stars. “I kept thinking they should have sent you to Bratislava with me; ease you into the field by breaking up trafficking rings first and maybe stop a few drug shipments, not by sending you right back to the people who hurt you for so long. I don’t know what they were thinking.”

That surprised him. You wanted to work with him? He knew you didn’t usually take part in Hydra missions after your father had been exposed as one of the double agents in the attack on D.C. There were enough agents with vendettas against Hydra to take on the cause and you were plenty happy to take down bad guys without worldwide organizational skills.

“We’d make a good team, don’t you think?”

Bucky realized then that he wasn’t watching the stars anymore, he was watching you. The flicker of the fire illuminated your skin in soft waves of reds and yellows, warm flush in your cheeks. You glanced down at him, fingers still gently carding through his hair, and he wondered if he’d ever seen a more beautiful smile in his life.

“Yeah, think so,” he replied. He never wanted to raid a Hydra base again if he could spend more time with you like this.

You smiled at him, proud, before you looked back up at the stars. “You’re more than just a culmination of your actions, Bucky. I know you feel like the things you did under Hydra’s control have turned the universe against you and that you’ll never be able to make up for all of it, but you don’t have to save people from burning buildings and throw yourself straight into your trauma to prove you’re good, Buck.”

Bucky sat up slowly, letting your hand fall away from his hair and trace down the side his left arm until it rested delicately on his hand; the metal warm to the touch as it absorbed the heat of the flame. You turned to him, smiling sweetly, though your eyes were sad.

“The small moments count, too,” you said.

“I thought you said the universe took away the small things, that they didn’t matter?” he replied, confused, but you shook your head.

“Only the bad things, Buck; the things that cause you pain.”

“That’s convenient,” he teased, enjoying the way your nose scrunched up in feigned frustration.

“You forget that small moments of good can change someone’s entire day. They can make a world of difference,” you countered, your free hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. He shivered under your touch though he didn’t dare pull away. “The first day I saw you smile is a pretty good example of that, actually.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at that, surprised.

“I had just gotten into a fight with Fury over the mission he was trying to send me on, one I didn’t believe was the right call, and I was about to go hit a punching bag for hours until my knuckles bled,” you explained, thumb brushing gently along his cheekbone, “but then I saw you sitting in the kitchen with Steve. I don’t even know what you were talking about but Sam had dropped the entirety of his lunch plate on the floor and you just... you smiled. It was wide enough to see the dimples in your cheeks and the wrinkles by your eyes, and I forgot why I was so angry to begin with.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He shook his head. “I never knew you were there...”

“I could list dozens of other moments like that Bucky,” you said softly, “and they all add up. Like the days you’d leave out an extra cup of coffee for me on Wednesdays because you figured out I only drink it before my mandatory board meetings and how you always pick up the empty dishes of those sitting around you when you go to clean your own or when you offer to help new recruits struggling with their hand-to-hand in the training gym. Please don’t disregard those moments. They matter. If anything, they matter more because they’re small. These tiny little moments that make the smallest differences and create a chain effect of something... good.”

How long have you been picking up on things like that? 

Did you also know that it was him that always made sure your stockpile of microwave popcorn was full or that he took Natasha’s shift training rookies once a week so the two of you could spend more time together, because he hated seeing you so disappointed each time your schedules clashed. Did you know that his heart eased a little when you walked in the room and the soft hum of your voice made his stomach twist in knots?

“Do you think I’m crazy?” you asked quietly, studying him for a reaction as he got lost in his own thoughts.

“No! No, of course not,” Bucky said, shaking his head, and reaching up for your wrist as you stared to pull your hand away from his face nervously. “I never considered that before, is all. I think I’ll have a lot of small moments to go before I can make up for all I’ve done.”

He said it in a teasing way, but you frowned.

“Not to me,” you said quietly, almost in a whisper. “You’re overflowing with good, Bucky, and I swear, I’m reminded of that every time I get to see you smile.”

Bucky paused, his heart aching and swelling with every word you say. He pulled your hand into his lap, holding it gently. “So, not very often then?”

You grinned, letting out a laugh, and it brought a smile to his face. “No, not very often, but it’s nice to see it now.”

“Might have to start smiling more, I guess,” he replied, a hitch in his breath as you leaned into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. You started to shove him down to the grass and he let out a heart-filled laugh, letting you lay down beside him along the blanket, head resting on his shoulder, arm draped over his chest.

“Can we just stay here a little longer?” you asked, glancing up at him and he swore he’d never say no to you again. He’d let you take him anywhere you wanted; to movie nights, to extravagant galas, to the ends of the Earth.

“As long as you want, doll,” he sighed, reveling in the warmth of the fire and the press of your body against his.

He’d stare at the stars for an eternity with you.

*insert that meme of Jenny Slate screaming about space*

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 21

Did I whump the beans? Yes, am I sorry? No. I like this one and there’s a lot of oofs.

Warnings: Descriptions of wounds, blood, blood magic/rituals, panicked characters, being restrained while a loved one gets whumped.

Masterlist Here

Approx WC: 2600

Dyan’s scream was enough to startle the horses in their stable some distance away. In that moment, he didn’t care. “Blue!” Dyan rushed towards him and dropped down beside him, not caring about his own pain that jarred his body from the sudden impact.

Avizon limped over to him and knelt down carefully. Blue was laying face down, so Avizon quickly checked his pulse. “He’s still alive. Help me with him.” He and Dyan hadn’t even been able to turn him over before Orrien arrived, panting for breath and wide eyes. Dyan guessed it was because he’d screamed. But seeing him so panicked did nothing for Dyan’s fear.

“Blue! Get back, Dyan, let me through,” Orrien ordered. Dyan could only obey, shuffling back as fast as he could until his back hit the wall and even then he tried to go back another inch. He couldn’t stop staring in shock. He whimpered. He wanted to hold Blue, to help, but there was nothing he could do. He had to hope these humans could do enough. If he lost Blue… No, no he couldn’t lose his friend.

He watched as Orrien turned Blue over with care, supporting his head. Dyan noted Blue’s sickly complexion, the way his chest barely rose and fell. Orrien swore, and Dyan soon saw why. The bite mark the other cloudwalker had left. It looked… well, he didn’t even know what could cause such a thing. It was dark and looked painful. It was like a burnt piece of wood.

“That’s dark magic,” Avizon said almost immediately. “How on Earth has he gotten dark magic in him?! The other cloudwalker? But they’re creatures of light.” Blue coughed feebly and Orrien tensed, seeing ink-black liquid escape the corner of his mouth. They quickly adjusted him, turning him on his side. Orrien gently stroked his hair before he seemed to realise it. He grimaced.

“This isn’t just dark magic, this is something else, stronger… this is evil, pure evil. An abyss compared to your magic.”

Avizon suddenly threw his head up to stare at Dyan with wide eyes for a moment. It was like he’d realised something. He rushed over to Dyan which made him squeak and cower in the corner. He couldn't help but panic. He expected master to be mad, to hit him because he’d failed to protect Blue and this was all his fault. This was all his fault and he was going to get punished- he deserved to be punished!

“I’m sorry!” he cried, bracing, which yanked Avizon back like he was on a rope. “What? Dyan, you don’t need to be sorry, please come here. We don’t have the time, I’m sorry little bird, I have to make sure you’re-”

“Take the time,” Orrien instructed. “Dyan, what are you sorry for? Do you know what happened?” Dyan whimpered. “I. I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him and keep him safe. I’m sorry p.please don’t be mad. I tried so hard, please...” Avizon sighed softly and wiped a tear out of Dyan’s eye. Dyan braced again, but Avizon simply began to remove one of his bandages, hushing him gently. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad, but you were bitten too, and I need to make sure you’re not hurting like that. I’m sorry for startling you. We have to act fast, that’s all. Dyan, I could never punish you for something like that.”

Dyan whimpered and Avizon mumbled reassurances in a bid to quickly calm him. The bandages came away to reveal Dyan’s bite mark, seeing darkness at the edges of the puncture wounds, but it was nothing compared to Blue’s. “It seems Dyan’s magic is protecting him enough…” “Blue also got bit first,” Orrien said. “It could be a number of things.”

Avizon grimaced, taking a moment to cup Dyan’s cheek to give him comfort. Dyan leaned into it and whimpered, craving it. He was just so scared. “We have to find that cloudwalker. I need to understand how this came about, how it happened. Until then, the best I can do is try to absorb this magic.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Orrien retorted. “That’s far too dangerous.” Dyan couldn’t believe how Orrien spoke to Avizon. It didn’t feel right seeing and hearing his master not being in charge.

Avizon simply shrugged. “I’ve done worse, and Blue needs me to take that risk. Another way is to burn it out with light magic, perhaps, but it will take a lot and could kill him. I should be able to take it without risk-”

Orrien exclaimed, “And it will make you a cruel bastard again. That magic is so strong it might not let you give it up. Avizon, I can’t let you!” “If you’d let me finish, I can store it, trap it into something. I will be able to get rid of it, my magic is strong, and darkness loves to spread. It will go to a new host. I can’t let these birds die!”

Dyan whimpered and curled up in his wings. His fear was bubbling in his chest. Master was scared, he’d panicked Dyan already and now he was saying they could die… this was too much for him to process all at once. Avizon swore, realising his mistake. “It’s going to be alright, Dyan. I’m sorry, don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you. But I need your help, we have to find that cloudwalker, I won’t keep him, I won’t hurt him, but I have to understand what happened.”

Dyan nodded slowly, trying to fight all that fear back for now. He had to help Blue. His own panic wasn’t important right now. “Um… I. I don’t know how I can help.” “Call for help, see if you can get him to come here,” Avizon answered.

Dyan bit his lip, but went outside to do as his master asked. He hoped he didn’t get attacked again. His hands were shaking, and it felt wrong of him to do such a thing, to trick a cloudwalker, but for Blue, he’s do anything, and he trusted his master to not hurt him.

He called out, once, twice, three times. He was surprised to find Ihuka rushing towards him, but then he paused, seeing that Dyan wasn’t in any danger.

“We have to talk to the cloudwalker,” Dyan said quickly. “Blue is dying, we have to talk to them and find a way!" He decided to leave out the fact he could be next.

Ihuka nodded and called out, which was far louder and better than Dyan’s. Dyan eventually stopped, letting Ihuka do the work until finally, finally, the cloudwalker appeared. Dyan tensed and couldn't help but step back in fear. “What do you want?” he hissed. His black hair was still long, but the shackle scars on his wrists made it clear he had not been free all his life. His eyes carried an unnatural reddish grow which made Dyan feel uneasy. 

Dyan opened his mouth to speak, but Avizon had grabbed the cloudwalker with his powers. He shrieked and tried to get away but Avizon was not letting him go. He dragged him into the barn, restrained, and forced him to kneel in front of Blue, seeing the damage he had left behind by attacking the innocent lad as Orrien would call him.

“How do you have this magic?” Avizon asked, he looked at Dyan and nodded as a prompt for him to translate. Dyan did so. “The same reason that everything we are is broken!” the cloudwalker shrieked. “Humans! Hurting us, separating us, using horrible magic on us that makes our venom black and stops us hunting and makes us starve! Humans destroy EVERYTHING!”

Dyan trembled but still translated it word for word and Avizon frowned. “Someone is corrupting you?... what is the name of this human? Please, we want to help.”

Dyan translated again and added a plea. He cared about Blue. He didn't want to lose him. These were good humans, they could help, they could protect them or maybe even stop the human. The cloudwalker snarled, but all the same, he screwed up his face.“B.Boruk?... Borg...”

Avizon didn’t need to hear anymore. He clenched his fist. “Borgurk… I should have known!” he ground out. “Keep your head,” Orrien warned.

Avizon went to the back of his cart and found a small glass vial. “Don’t be afraid, I just need to see your venom,” he said to the cloudwalker. The cloudwalker bared his teeth, but Avizon only used that as a means of getting the vial under his canine. “Shhhhh, it’s alright. I’m going to help you.” Dyan couldn't believe how fearless Avizon was being. To just walk up to the cloudwalker that had come close to killing Blue and himself.

Avizon began to gently massage a spot on the back of the cloudwalkers jaw, under his ear until it whined and several droplets of black liquid began to appear. “Orrien, see if that liquid is coming from Blue's teeth.” Orrien carefully opened Blue’s mouth to look. “No, it’s the back of his throat. Southern cloudwalkers have venom glands, but they're not actually usable. He can't make venom. This is different, it must be in his organs..."

Avizon kept working, coaxing more venom out, but he knew he was playing with time, something Blue was rapidly running out of. Dyan didn’t understand why he needed the venom when Blue was laying on the floor dying, but he trusted him. Avizon looked up at the cloudwalker and paused, seeing their eyes, seeing the redness.

"Don’t tell me… Fire fever… you're running out of light magic- it's killing you,” he exclaimed to the creature who only glared at him. “Being a cloudwalker must protect you from most of the symptoms. The dark magic is going bad, rotting, it's killing him- that's why Blue is in such a bad way. It's magic decay!"

Avizon looked over to Ihuka, “Bring me some eggs. Eggs, Ihuka.” Ihuka nodded quickly and disappeared. Dyan had taught him what eggs were during their stay. Dyan was now very glad he did.

Dyan inched over to Avizon and said "W.what's magic decay?"

Avizon spared a glance to Dyan and began to explain. "Dark magic isn't meant to be in a human- or a cloudwalker. It rots, and it can kill whoever is using it if it's not used and managed properly. When it's not used, it becomes physical; it becomes like a magic infection. It's killing this cloudwalker and he doesn't know it. It's infected his venom, so when he bit Blue, it passed on a lot of that 'infection' to him… and onto you."

Dyan gulped. He didn't like this at all, he didn't want to die, he didn't want Blue to die.

"It's going to be alright, Dyan, I swear. I'm not letting you go," Avizon promised. “I will fix this no matter what it takes.”

Once he had enough of the venom, he put the cork on it and looked at a cut Dyan had given the bird the day before. It was still bleeding. That would do. Ihuka returned with the eggs, and Avizon managed to get him to put them on the floor beside him. “Eggs… Avizon, you’ve gone mad.” “Oh, I went mad a long time before this. Orrien, make sure everyone keeps their distance. I have an idea.”

Orrien picked Blue up and carried him up to the back of the barn. Ihuka and Dyan followed.

Avizon looked down at the scared bird in front of him and hushed him before he closed his eyes and put his hand over the bleeding wound. Dyan stared with wide eyes as he mumbled and drew what looked like black smoke out of the cloudwalkers body. The cloudwalker screamed in pain but Avizon didn't stop. He kept pulling, dragging more and more smoke out of him.

Dyan wanted to turn away but he was frozen in place, staring as Avizon drew it all out. Avizon’s eyes were red, cherry red and blood slipped down his cheeks from his eyes. Dyan whimpered and watched as Avizon took the egg in one hand and wiped the blood from his cheek with one finger. He drew a symbol on the egg with the blood and then groaned in pain. The smoke that was swirling around Avizon slowly went into the egg, which caused Avizon pain. 

Finally, it was done, and the egg now looked like a lump of coal. Avizon looked exhausted and the cloudwalker had fallen unconscious. Avizon released the bird from his power and set him down on a pile of straw to sleep it off.

"By the gods, Avizon…" Orrien mumbled, staring in half shock, half horror. "Blood magic now as well…"

"I know… I'm not proud of it, but if it saves him, then I'll do what I must. Eggs work temporarily, as a means of getting the power out into a container. But they don’t last. You need to destroy them anyway so it won’t be a problem."

Avizon picked up an egg and staggered over to Blue and knelt down.

"Same again." He took another egg that Ihuka had brought and put it by his side. "I need him to bleed. A small cut will do it. Here."

Orrien took his knife from his belt and with a grimace nicked at Blue's skin right by the bite mark, drawing a slightly heavier breath from Blue's sleeping body. Blood began to trickle, and then Orrien stepped back, keeping the birds back.

"Mind Dyan," Avizon warned in advance before he began to draw out the darkness.

Dyan shook as he watched Avizon cause pain to Blue. Even if it was saving him, he hated seeing it. Blue cried out, somehow dragged into consciousness. Avizon ignored how he tried to bite and scratch him out of instinct. He held firm, clenching his teeth til he thought they'd break.

Dyan's body acted before he could stop himself. He lunged forward but Orrien was quick and wrapped him in a tight hug from behind. "No, Dyan! It has to happen. I know it's awful, but it has to happen. Stay strong, lad."

Dyan tried to drown out the screams, not even realising he’d started to cry until there was suddenly silence. Avizon finally had it all. Blue dropped down motionless again. Dyan wanted to get to him, but he was surprised when Ihuka stood in front of him and opened his wings, cutting off his vision.

"Dyan… stay," he said weakly. “Rest.”

Dyan shrunk down onto his knees and cried. He hated this! He just wanted to get to Blue. He wanted to hold him and see if he was okay and offer him comfort, but Orrien still held him.

He tried to push past them again, but Orrien clamped a hand on his forehead. "Sleep."

Dyan clenched his teeth and battled against the spell. He didn't know how he did it, he just couldn't sleep right now. He found the strength in him to resist the order and he fought it with everything he had.

Orrien tried again but Dyan was determined. "Let me get to him," he ground out. "I… I have to…" "How strong is your magic?! Sleep!" Orrien strained.

This time Dyan wasn't quite able to hold off against the massive wave that took over him but he tried all the same. He slowly succumbed to sleep despite his efforts to stay awake. He reached out for Blue and whimpered before everything faded away.

Ftr if the whole magic thing didn’t make sense I’d be happy to explain it or answer any questions. I have those ask games open still too.

[vynnyal]

Throwing random thoughts, headcanons, and a variety of pasta at the wall (but only those having to do with vessels and/or their biology this time): The Thrilling Third Installment™

...aka pretending i can be dark and dramatic jskhdfd

Thk's larger form is not the standard, but the exception. Thk was cited as being "raised and trained to prime form", which people take to mean pk assisted in the vessel's natural growth. However, that conclusion leaves a lot of unanswered questions, most important of which being “then what about Ghost?” In short, I think that train of thought is backwards. Vessels can't grow- they are ageless, and immortal. We know this due to Ghost, despite living as long if not longer than thk, being completely unchanged over the years. The only thing pk trained into "prime form" was thk’s mind and fighting prowess. Their body... well, I think it was mutated. Most likely either directly by pk, or ordered by him- and with the shenanigans happening over in the sanctum, I wouldn't be surprised if Soul was involved, too. In any case, it was in no means natural. Vessels are corpses reanimated by void; neither corpses nor void tend to make drastic changes on their own all that often. Whether pk predicted the vessel’s “issues” and intended to manually “upgrade” them from the beginning, it's hard to say. But... yeah. Unless Ghost goes out of their way to make themselves grow- if its even possible, now that pk is gone- its fairly safe to say, they never will.

...with that in mind, we are promptly gonna ignore that for the rest of this post lmaooo

Grown-up vessels wouldn't look like thk; while they are described as being raised into "prime form"... prime form, to whom? Rather than looking like an idealized pk soldier, it sounds much more fitting that they’d have an entirely different, natural adult form. Consider: their cloaks being longer and fuller, perhaps filling out into something with a more practical use to their “species”. Better yet, they could even grow up to be more beast-like. Feral vessels, YEhaW

The black egg temple is cited as being "built to sustain [vessels]", yet it can't be their lifespan that is sustained. Rather, it seems the egg is specifically designed to keep the radiance from tearing thk apart, physically and/or mentally. Ngl its p obvious, but worth noting.

Sorta-au where Ghost’s shade has 8 eyes, and/or is generally all-around more cryptid-looking.

@ the sharpshadow charm and the strange, 6-eyed creature their shade turns into: kudos to this post, they bring up something super interesting- the creature not only resembles the Shade Lord, but the lord outright becomes it during the Embrace the Void cutscene.

makes me respect the ol’ civilization a whole lot more if a single charm can turn a baby shade into a baby lord.

The concept of finding ghosts unconscious body, laying next to a corpse, while they battle in their dreams. Alt: when ghost enters the dream realm, their shade leaves their shell... And protects their body from harm.

If steel soul mode is taken as canon, just how did ghost and the shade meet? Alt: Ghost may never have “met” it at all, as it technically doesn’t exist in that mode- instead, its more of a metaphor than an actual entity.

What the vessels looked like- or were supposed to look like- before the void. Alt: a story following a child, alive and untouched, that somehow managed to be spared. They could even have a gender. Alt alt: the void intentionally spared them for some purpose, or even out of simple kindness- or at least, something that resembles kindness.

Re: the shade inexplicably having a nail: all the vessel's swords are crafted from “will-bearing rock”- of which i’ve come to lovingly call living stone- and as such, are of void themselves. That's how the shade seems to conjure up its own copy; it merely shapes it, from the ground, using void. And, while more of a stretch, Ghost’s nail being some sort of living stone/pale ore alloy could explain just how Ghost can do seemingly pretty crazy things with an otherwise ordinary nail. Better, while 100% a baseless hc, its material might actually enable Ghost to build it up and modify it to suite their size as they grow older. finally, a logical reason adult Ghost has an adult-sized nail-claymore. hdsfghjfghdsjf

On that same thought: Ghost outright invented the "art" of manipulating- or creating- living stone to make their nail. ...gimme a sec. The other escaped vessels have nails, too, right? Either meaning they also discovered this ability... or that theres some legitimate ground for the “vessel gang” hc. Or, yanno, i’m reading too much into Ari’s sprites but sHHhh

How did all the vessels know to race to the top? They seemed to be falling merely because they had just been born and had literal, actual baby strength; yet not only did they inexplicably risk everything competing to the top, they somehow knew death was waiting if they lost. Alt: pk just, bringing a fucking megaphone and telling them like a sports announcer.

What if Ghost made it, and instead of falling, they managed to joined thk at the lip? What would pk do? Push them off the edge??? Or just adopt them both?? Oh fuck au where they're raised as twin sacrifices. Or worse yet, they’re raised unequally, and one is trained only as an afterthought. As a backup.

Alternatively, pk keeps all the vessels au, only a few years later when they're grown. Pk now has a literal army of pure knights. Radiance is fucked.

Hm. If vessels were fully coherent entities from the moment of birth, why was there a crib in the white palace? Did... did they use it? I have a feeling team cherry made that asset before the abyss scene lmaooo alt: they did, uh, use the crib. Cue a very awkward scene of thk, clearly not a normal baby, staring at wl with like... idk, the poofy baby hat and pacifier. I can’t tell if the image is more funny or more sad rn shdfgfjsdgg

The og notes that inspired this post, in case my rambling makes more sense (and w/o the awful comic hjsfgjsdfhj): Oh oh OH i GET it now. The void is all about "will" and whatnot, right? And shades are "fragments of a lingering will"- will, like the one you leave after your death, but instead of inheritance its the vessels' desires...last regrets.... DAMN team cherry, that symbolism is clever as heck. That took me a while. Kinda funny how a will is, technically, a person's last regrets Like I knew they were last regrets but I didn't understand WHY. Duh, it's because they're literally Made Of Will. They are the vessel's "wills". I'm so stupid.

Ghost, walking thru the abyss, getting increasingly fed up / freaked out, ducking into a crack in the wall. They follow the crack into the Scream Chamber, pause, then exhale in relief that this was EXACTLY what they needed.

Ghost's shade rolling up its void-sleeves like “fuck it, ima defeat thk myself”

Why was thk's sword there? Was its pedestal decayed? Did it fall from their body? Was it place there as an afterthought, or hurriedly? alt: taking thk's sword before freeing them, but doing the mom thing like you're grounding them hdhfjchjch

I can’t believe it just occured to me now, but... as objectivley stupid as the vessel’s test was, Ghost... technically came in second place. What if that whole scene was a metaphor? Because really, it’s just too silly to take seriously. To do so isn’t too far fetched, either; many other elements in the game’s story are better taken as symbolic or metaphorical, anyways. Take the PoP cutscene- while it could’ve been a literal moment, where they just happened to find themselves standing around and took the moment to appreciate each other... imo it makes much more sense to read it as the concept of their faint ~forbidden love~ and parental pride itself. Or, better yet, the scene at the end of the 4th pantheon. Sorry, but I severely doubt that was an actual event. What I’m trying to get at is the significance of “second place” in the cutscene. My brain is too fried to chase down any other possible connections to this theme rn (if thats even what the theme is), but even without proof, the theory smooths out a few interesting tidbits related to just how Ghost could tough it out when all others failed. All except for #1, anyway. Either way I’m just happy to take this as an excuse to pretend that cutscene didn’t literally happen because like, l m a o

The story of a small group of vessels as they work together to escape hallownest. (aka the aforementioned vessel gang hc... im sure theres a more formal name but you get the idea). Its impossible to tell how long it took them to discover that near-invisible hole, the last exit remaining after the king ordered the abyss to be sealed up. Once they did, however, the remaining vessels were quick to make a desperate scramble to escape- only for the entrance to suddenly crumble shut, far, far too soon. The remaining 8 slowly made their way through deepnest, their numbers quickly dwindling as the jouney started to take its toll. The group was nearly wiped out by those terrible, spiney-legged creatures that used their own kinship against them. Only three finally escaped the deep, yet only two made it through the basin- the third, largest sibling, left to fight alone againt a hopeless battle, just to buy the others time. It was in greenpath, so close yet so far to their goal, that the second succumbed to the infection. It was a mercy killing, that nail through the heart. The last, after all of that, finally made their way to the very precipice of howling cliffs, hesitating for just a moment to gaze out upon the still-fresh ruins of hallownest. But only for a moment, before Ghost jumps down to begin their journey beyond this wretched place.

A vessel running from its shade as it tirelessly pursues them, the vessel refusing to put it to rest.

tw: suicide, + personal on main

Ugh ugh ugh ugh Either thk was fully conscious and in terrible pain for all those years... or they couldn’t feel anything at all. The former is horrible, but imagining thk waking up, chained, unable to do anything but wait for Ghost to heed their call? Did they turn their nail on themselves to help Ghost, end the pain, or some awful mix of both? For someone who has personally dealt with close friends and family that struggled with suicide themselves, hollowknight is one of the worst horror stories I've ever seen. And the fact that the story is so personal, so open to interpretation? The fact that each character is so genuine yet vague enough to be read completely differently to someone else’s biases? Its why hollow knight- the game, and the character- will forever be one of the most powerful stories to me.

in short, good LORD THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING SAD

[ai-katsuu]

Arthur and Gwen last chapter!

read it on ao3 too!

this is one of my favorite chapters! it involves everyone in the group fighting and some backstories are heard as well!

“I don’t like this,” Peter mumbled as he looked around, “This is definitely the creepiest tower I’ve been in and I’ve been alive for over a hundred years.”

The stone tower was definitely bigger on the inside than on the outside. It’s exterior looked like a thin tower only around thirty feet tall, but it’s interior was much bigger. The wide circular room with various doors surrounding them. One could only guess where each of them led to. In front of them was a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. Gwen had suddenly turned back into her human form, which was odd because even when she was indoors on a full moon she would usually transform. It’s as if this tower knew who she was as it radiated with magic.

Arthur stepped forward, “Let’s do our best not to get separated, we-”

“Did you really think I was that stupid?” a voice echoed through the walls. The group looked around on guard as they tried to pinpoint the source. “To let all fourteen of you try and take me on at once?”

The ground started rumbling and Merlin widened his eyes. He whipped his head around to those in close proximity: Arthur, Gwen, and Snow. “Get back! Now!” He didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence as the floor crumbled. They all quickly backed up and pressed themselves against the stone wall as a large middle portion of the floor fell into a dark abyss. Even if they didn’t fall, the small individual ledges they were standing on wouldn’t last for very long.

Hans clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked behind him, “There’s no time to regroup!” he yelled to them, “Our main priority should be getting Merlin to the witch, just go! We’ll catch up to you when we can.” the ground started rumbling once more, “Go, now!” he shouted once more. Each individual entered a door. Some lead to the same room, others were separated from the rest.

“Let’s go, before this gets worse,” Snow called Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin as she ran up the stairs. The four of them followed the same steps, running up the spiral walls. As they reached the second level, the air around them had become humid. Gwen put her hood down and removed her cloak, tying it around her waist.

The second level was similar to the floor below, smooth cemented walls except this one had a platform above them. To the far right was another set of stairs. On the other wings of the tower, Hans, Gretel, Jack, Briar, and Audrey had arrived on a similar level, the other, Pino, Noki, Kio, and Goldie had run into each other.

Peter, on the other hand, had wound up alone in the fourth room. He creased his eyebrows at the scenery.

“I’ve got to find at least one of them...it’s bad if we’re separated the whole time…” he muttered to himself. He walked over to the center of the circular room, holding his hands up behind his ears and closing his eyes. Slowly, he took a deep breath. Peter Pan did have a sharp hearing. It was a trait he picked up from being in Neverland for a hundred years. He turned off all other senses and focused on his hearing.

“...earth...how...sense…”

He picked up a few words from a long distance, the echoes of the circular walls. He turned his head to his right. That was Goldie.

“That must be a fake wall,” he concluded, flying towards that place. But then he heard something else. Another set of footsteps in this room. He immediately stopped himself, glaring at the darkened part of the room as his ears knew exactly where the sound was coming from. He brought his dagger out,

“Who’s there? Come out and let’s get this over with-”

“Peter is that you?”

He widened his eyes. That voice...the voice he thought he’d never hear again. His body suddenly became cold yet he started to sweat. The footsteps became louder as the person stepped into the light, revealing their face. Peter’s heart dropped.

“...Wendy?”

---

“How on earth does this make sense?” Goldie looked to the triplets.

All of them were in shock as from what they saw, the person in front of them looked at them with a worried gaze. The Blue Fairy.

“My children, why do you look so frightened?” she worriedly asked.

“W-we,” Pino stuttered out, “We thought we’d never see you again.”

She let out a warm laugh, “Pino, my dear, I was always with you all. Even when you were all cursed, I was there to guide you.”

Noki let out a short sob as he looked at her. They didn’t have a mother. They loved their father and respected Jiminy, but a motherly figure was never in their lives. The Blue Fairy was the closest person to that, she did give them life after all.  She was beautiful, and exactly how the triplets remembered her. The blonde soft hair and shining blue dress that reflected the stars in the sky.

That was not what Goldie saw at all.

She looked at the triplets in fear, then to the so-called Blue Fairy. It was a rotting corpse. Skin green, thin as skin and bones, it’s jaw broken as it was left hanging by a string. If you looked closer you could see insects crawling all over its rib cage. She wanted to throw up in fear and disgust. But then she looked at the boys.

They were on the verge of tears as they looked at their motherly presence. The corpse stretched its arms.

“Come to me, my children,” it said in a raspy voice.

To the triplets, it was the warm voice that made Kio move forward, hopeful, and longing for a mother's hug. Goldie shook her head as she saw what was about to happen.

“N-no...no! Wait, no!” she rushed forward, and with all her might, she swung her ax in between Kio and the corpse. The triplets, clearly surprised, looked frightened for a bit. They saw the Blue Fairy’s warm smile turn into a scowl.

“She’s not real!” she cried out to them, “Snap out of it! Morgana is using magic to make you see illusions,” she lifted her axe from the ground, “It’s not...real!” she swung her axe to the corpse. Granted it was a horrifying scene to the triplets, seeing Goldie drive an axe into the Blue Fairy, but as soon as her body hit the wall, their vision of her interrupted like static, slowly they saw the decaying green corpse that Goldie saw.

“N-no,” the voice went back and forth from a sweet one to a raspy one, “M-my children...please...h-help me…”

---

“Mama, Papa…” Gretel held her hands over her mouth. Behind her was her brother who kept her steady with his hands on her shoulder. But instead of shock, he frowned at his parents, confused. Indeed he saw them like his sister did, but something was not right. Hans spent months mourning the death of his parents. Alone, isolated, away from his sister. Their death was the biggest turning point in his life.

So how the hell could they be here?

Beside them was Jack who looked concerned as he saw his uncle, more terrified than relieved. He swallowed his throat, “Uncle...I…” he didn’t know what to say. Jack had to banish him from his palace. His greed for riches was getting far out of control, and it was starting to affect the lives of the citizens. He hadn’t known what became of him after that, but now that he was in Morgana’s tower...

Audrey and Briar, on the other hand, saw the same thing as Goldie. The same rotting corpse. Audrey looked at it, slightly concerned and disturbed. Its foul odor could be smelt from all over the room. Briar knew this was a spell, and as disgusted as this was, she turned to Hans with a terrified look. Hans didn’t let go of Gretel, but he stiffly looked at Briar and slowly shook his head. Audrey tensed up at the action. He knew it wasn’t real.

Hans couldn’t kill his parents, not in front of his sister. Even if they weren’t real, the sight might bring her to insanity, he couldn’t do that to her. Hans looked at Audrey and Briar anxiously as they had a wordless conversation. Slowly, they came to an agreement. Briar quietly unsheathed her own sword, quickly before the corpse noticed.

“Jack...turn around,” Audrey mumbled. He looked at her confused until Hans had forcibly put his hand over Gretel’s eyes as she yelled at him, struggling in his grasp. He shot a pleading look at Briar,

“End it quickly, please!” he yelled.

As Briar charged forward, Audrey made a mental note not to tell Jack what the true nature of this spell was yet. He knew it was an illusion afterward, but he didn’t know that it would only show you the illusion of a deceased loved one.

---

“Merlin, I’m sure you know this spell,” Arthur unsheathed Excalibur as he looked at the corpse. Gwen saw the same thing, scrunching her face as she glanced at Snow and Merlin.

“Snow...as real as she might seem to be, that is not your mother,” he took out his spells. Snow shook as Merlin had an arm over her,

“But...she looks so real.” she cried out, “Merlin, I haven’t seen her since I was a child...I…”

“Snow, I would never do anything to hurt you, and that’s why I need you to turn around. Think about it, your mother died years ago, why would she be here?” he told her. She didn’t respond as she finally averted her gaze. Merlin gave her a sympathetic look as he brushed her hair with hands. He looked at Arthur,

“Please,” he said.

Arthur nodded in understanding and charged forward. When Snow heard the slick sound of Excalibur, she closed her eyes harder as Merlin held her tighter in comfort. “It’s done, let’s go,” he said to them.

Merlin quickly ushered Snow towards the staircase, making sure to avert her gaze from her mother's corpse. She didn’t have to see it for the second time in her life.

---

“And John is doing great too. Oh, how I wish you could see him now!” Wendy beamed at Peter.

Peter solemnly smiled at the girl, “What about the Lost Boys?”

Wendy playfully rolled her eyes, “Oh they are as rowdy as ever. It’s like you said, they may be able to age in London, but they’ll never truly grow up.” she giggled. Peter laughed as he sat cross-legged mid-air, just a few feet away from her.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you can see them all again. They're all here right now, why don’t you join us, Peter? We could have all those adventures again!” she excitedly said. “And you could be with me…”

Peter looked shocked. That was what he wanted for many of his years alone. Wendy reached for his hand, “What do you say, Peter?”

He looked at her before letting out a small laugh, “You know I’d do almost anything to relive those memories. But I have my own family now, and someone to call my beloved,” he said softly. Wendy frowned, “And besides…” he looked at her one last time before quickly taking his dagger out and stabbing her in the chest, twisting it as the corpse screamed. “You sure aren’t Wendy.”

Merlin held Snow’s hand as they ran up the stairs. She was quick to recover as her face was now determined. Behind them were Arthur and Gwen and ran with them. “Are you okay?” he asked Gwen to which she nodded,

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

The staircase thinned and they wound up in a narrow hallway with several doors. The ground started to shake again. Merlin, highly altered, did not have enough time to react. The floor burst open with plants and vines. Snow and Merlin were pushed into one room, while Arthur and Gwen had separated into two different rooms. He called out for her once more before the vines slammed his door shut. There was barely any light in the room, he could only hear the sounds of slithering in the dark. He took Excalibur out and began to fight off death itself.

In the other room, Gwen had tried her best to transform into her wolfette form. But it wasn’t working the way she wanted it to. “Come on, come on!" she stared at her hands. "Of all the times you decide not to come out, why must it be now?!” she cried out. She backed herself into a corner, terrified of the water that started filling the room towards her. But then...she suddenly felt calm…

A song. It was sung by a beautiful voice. She looked around the room, but could only see water flowing. It didn’t matter though. Oh...what was she just doing? Why was she here? Nevermind that. The water looked nice, and after everything she’d been through, it might be nice to take a relaxing dip underwater. The song had such a nice melody...she wanted to hear more of it. Slowly, she walked down into the water, knee-deep, and about to give in.

Then the wall broke, and light reached the room,

“Get her to Arthur or Merlin, quickly! And cover your ears!” Audrey yelled out.

Jack suddenly appeared right next to Gwen, causing her to jump a bit and snap out of her trance. Oh god, she was just going to drown herself there. “Got it,” he looked at Gwen, “Sorry to startle you...again.” he offered an apologetic smile. He lifted her up in his arms and covered themselves with his cloak.

Audrey looked back and made sure they escaped before looking towards the dead vines. She reached into her belt and uncapped the vials of water, hovering her hands over them as the water flowed out, forming into a thin sword. The water on the floor morphed into blobs that resembled beautiful women who scowled at her.

“I’ve dealt with Sirens like you before, and I can do it again,” she said.

In Merlin and Snow’s room, more vicious vines attacked them. “Hey wanna know something funny? This reminds me of the time I fought that mirror.” Merlin zapped a vine with his magic.

Snow grunted as she tore them in half with her bare hands, “Merlin, this is no time for reminiscing!”

In the corner of the room, Kio, Peter, Pino, and Gretel had rushed in. “Merlin, get out of here!” Kio yelled and shot the bigger vines. Peter grabbed his hand and threw him upwards so he could get a better shot. After firing he caught him and Kio threw him to the plants as he cut them with his dagger.

“Snow! Duck!” Pino shouted towards her. She moved her head and the Pino’s arrow just missed her by a hair as he shot a vine.

“I’m gonna blow this room up, there’s too many of them.” Gretel said, “Peter, get Merlin to the other side.”

He nodded and grabbed Merlin, “Snow will be fine. She’s more than capable of handling these situations.” he assured her. Merlin let out a small chuckle,

“I know.”

In Arthur’s room, Goldie swung her axe towards the plants. Noki and Arthur fought side by side as they tried to look for an exit. Goldie stood up and held her axe, nearing her limit as she was the one who fought the hardest. She noticed a few cracks on the wall and pushed her body to get over there and ram her axe into the wall, breaking it and making an exit.

“Arthur…” she breathed out as she turned around, “Go...Gwen and Merlin are-agh!”

A vine had wrapped around her ankle as she was pulled to a corner.

“Goldie!” Noki yelled out and ran towards her, shooting the plants with an arrow. He looked back at Arthur, “Go hurry!” Arthur nodded as he ran towards the exit.

Jack was able to sneak and dodge past the vines in the hallway. It was a run that took a while, but he burst open the last door. He had to stomp his heel on the ground as the door opened to a small ledge. A few feet away from it was another platform, but it was separated by a wide gap that seemed to lead into a pit of darkness. Jack clicked his tongue.

“Sorry, Gwen. I’m gonna have to throw you to the other side,” he said, removing his cloak. Wait for Merlin and Arthur there.” Jack looked back and saw more vines approaching him. “Hang on tight, and reach for the ledge when I say so.” he ran towards the opposite end and jumped, “Now!” Gwen let go and reached for the platform, pulling herself up.

But Jack’s hand slipped on the rocky edge of the landing and cut his hand. He inhaled sharply as Gwen turned around and saw what had happened. He was now dangling on the ledge.

“Ja-!”

“Go!” he yelled at her, “I’ll be fine trust me!”

“No! I can’t-!”

“Gwen!” Merlin said. She looked back and saw him and Arthur, who was exhausted. Although she was hesitant she looked back and forth.

“Trust me,” he knowingly smiled at her, “I’ll see you when this is over. Now go!” Gwen looked at him one last time before nodding and running to the two males.

Jack, now getting tired, let go of the ledge in exhaustion as he fell into the dark pit. However, his small smile remained as he knew that he wouldn’t fall for much longer. Something wet was wrapped around his waist. He stopped momentarily before he was pulled up by a whip of water. Audrey grunted as she pulled him out and threw him towards the vines as he cut them with the sharp edges of his ring.

On the other side, Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen neared the top of the tower. “We’re almost there,” Merlin said to them. When they reached the last door, it was a relatively smaller room. Circular, but much smaller than the room of the illusioned corpse. The ground shook again, but not because of plants, rather, it was someone's footsteps. Whoever owned these footsteps was massive.

At the top ledge of the room, the woman that they had been looking for was here. “So, you’re Merlin?” Morgana looked at him. “Well, this looks like a nice reunion, Arthur the royal with his beloved Guenivere and wizard, Merlin. And here’s the evil Morgana, this villain of this story,” she said mockingly.

“If you’re going to keep talking I might as well end you now.” Merlin looked up at her and generated electricity.

“Merlin, I’ll fight.” she said, “But as for you two,” she looked at Arthur and Gwen, “You might as well have fun with my pets. They’ve been getting restless over the years and they’ve been longing for a fight.” the footsteps they had heard got louder, and a giant beast stepped out of the shadows. He was a mix of man, ogre, giant, and animal. “This is Grendel. And over here…”

Morgana looked to her left and an old man, who seemed to have lost his senses, stepped out. He had several keys attached to what seemed to be a necklace of human hair around his neck.  “This here is Bluebeard. Go and play will you?” with that Morgana landed the first blow on Merlin, who dodged and made a counter-attack.

Arthur faced Grendel, successfully cutting off whatever massive body part he could, starting with his giant fingers. Gwen backed up against the wall in caution, but it wasn’t long before she got startled as Bluebeard appeared next to her.

“Young lady...I am here to help…” he coughed out. He gave out one specific key from his necklace and handed it to her. “Here is the key to the exit.” he gestured towards a door behind her that definitely was not there before. “Hurry, you must open the door!” he smiled.

But it wasn’t long before a sword came in between them, Briar’s heel crushing the key as she swung her sword at the old man who hissed at her. Gwen gasped as she fell back. Briar stood in front of her and positioned her sword towards him,

“That’s Bluebeard. Open that door and you would’ve ended up like all of his past wives.” she looked at the necklace of hair. “I spent a lot of time reading about you in the woods. I’m gonna kill you right here, right now.” she seriously looked at Bluebeard.

On Arthur’s end, Hans had used his wok to pin Grendel down. "Arthur! On me, now!" Arthur stepped on Hans’ back as a way to jump and slay the demon from above. In the past two minutes, it had already beaten him up enough times by slamming him into walls. As he raised Excalibur, his leg cramped and he almost lost his balance, but not before pushing forward as he reminded himself who he was doing this for.

With a mighty swing, Arthur decapitated Grendel with one clean cut. On the other end of the room, Morgana screamed as his head fell to the floor. Merlin used this as an opportunity to make a whip of electricity and capture her once and for all. Bluebeard had just been slain by Briar as well, and the vines, Sirens, the Corpse she had sent to the lower floors were all defeated. About three-fourths of her power was gone.

“I don’t understand...how were you all able to defeat me?” she huffed out.

“Tell us how to break Gwen’s curse.” Merlin threatened as he increased the volts of electricity. Morgana groaned in pain as she yelled out,

“There is no way!” Merlin stopped to let her speak. Slowly, she regained her voice, “I already told the swordsman...there is no way to break the curse…but,” she said as soon as she saw Merlin’s face harden, “I can..make it more bearable for her.” she reached her hand out to Gwen who was next to Briar, but Arthur stepped in front of her.

“You’re not casting any more spells on her,” he said seriously.

Merlin shook his head, “She said there’s a way to make it easier for her.”

“Take it or leave it, I don’t care either way,” Morgana said exhaustedly.

Arthur looked at her one more time before stepping aside. Morgana lifted her hand once more, “Step aside, girl.” she looked at Briar who did as she told. Gwen put her hands to her chest as she stood cautiously. A red and grey aura began surrounding her. A familiar warmth was felt as the colors surrounded her. The light dimmed down, and Morgana, who cast her last spell, fell to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” Arthur asked her. They walked through the woods as the sun began to rise. Gwen nodded with a small smile on her face as she looked at the setting full moon.

“The power to control my forms is more than enough. I’ve come not to hate my other but rather to accept it, it has become a part of who I am. But more than that,” she smiled at him, “I’m so happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you or the others had gotten killed.” she looked back at the camp where everybody was sitting down, relieved that they were all right.

Goldie and Arthur had taken the most damage, but Noki took care of her as best as he could, and Gwen did her best to care for Arthur. Audrey had tended to Jack’s hand, and Snow bandaged Merlin from his fight with Morgana. The rest were not injured and helped with serving food, all happy that everyone was okay.

Arthur laughed, “My Lady, it will be many many years before that happens. But until then, I swear to always be by your side.” he said truthfully.

Gwen giggled “If that’s the case, then I hope to protect you as well.” she stopped walking as Arthur curiously looked at her, “You’ve already done so much for me, and I want to do the same for you...so…”

She leaned down and placed her lips against his. He didn’t have enough time to react as he closed his eyes on instinct. The familiar golden aura shone for the seventh and last time. When Gwen stepped back and opened her eyes, she saw a prince much bigger than her, looking at her with a pure lovestruck gaze.

[tangerinekumquat]

Desire for Demonic Hide

lAO3 Link

Horrors Au  @world-of-horrors-au

TW: Animal Murder, Graphic depictions of violence, drugging, and kidnapping

If you have any questions I am happy to answer!

Briar struggled against her bonds; she knew it shouldn’t be this hard, Jeff had taught her how to escape rope before. But the cool numbness that consumed her body prevented her from doing much aside from squirming pathetically. She took a breath to calm her racing heart, she knew that she needed to keep her head if she planned to get out alive. She focused on the dim room in front of her. The walls were wooden and slanted, held up by splinter laden boards.

Beneath her feet, a faded grey shaggy carpet spurted out puffs of dust as she moved the chair. She couldn’t help but sneeze as years of dust particles introduced themselves to her nose. The room seemed to come alive as more dust flew into the air. Briar used her teeth to pull her shirt over her nose. She smiled slightly, knowing at least some of her strength was slowly returning. Focusing back on the task at hand she noticed chains all around her. They seemed to be forming some sort of pattern, though it wasn’t one she was familiar with. She looked as far behind herself as she could manage; all she could see was a taxidermied rabbit bowing.

“I see you’re awake.” Like a pick through a block of ice, his voice pierced the soft silence. “You probably have many questions for me. But they can wait till later my dear Кролик.” His accent wasn’t one Briar had exactly heard before. Her limited knowledge made her want to say German but the deep rich tang and the calmness gave her pause. The man in front of her was pale as most people she knew but his features seemed sharper, even if they were hidden behind a wooden half mask. His brown eyes trained on her and his lips twitching. He gave her a smirk, pulling something from his back pocket. Briar’s eyes widened because in his hand he held her phone. “Now I know you probably don’t have the безглазый демон saved by name. So I would like you to tell me his number so that I may bring him under my control.” She thought over his words, even if she didn’t recognize the language she still understood the word demon. Demon, as in Eyeless Jack. Why would he want her to call Eyeless Jack?

Briar croaked and winced, she wanted desperately to interrogate him or at least snap back with a witty reply. “Oh right! You still are a bit drugged up. That’s ok!” He chuckled to himself, “I’ll give you the phone and you can find me my demon.”

So he did want Eyeless Jack, but that still didn’t explain why.

The man in front of her frowned. “Come now,” He encouraged. “I wish not to harm your ночь благословенный любовник. I seek goals much simpler.” Instead of elaborating, he slipped the phone into Briar’s fist and patted her on the head. She growled and furrowed her brow, how stupid could this man be? As far as Briar could tell he wasn’t associated with the government and although his mask fit the proxy motif, the house held no signs of the others. Even so, should she risk it? Risk luring her mates into a dangerous trap for the reason she was foolish enough to be captured.

“...If... not…?” She managed to slur out. This brought a mischievous gleam to her captor’s eyes.

“Well if not my маленький кролик, I turn you over to the government and help them take down your pathetic scrap of a family!” He clapped his hands with childish glee; a giggle rose from his throat, the soft laughter too delicate to have come from this tall man. Briar flinched back, she sloppily thumbed in the number. She figured that at least without the government involved they stood a fighting chance. The phone rang, the sudden vibrating motion causing Briar to lose her loose grip. Her captor quickly caught it, bringing it to his ear. “Professor Indigo speaking, is this Briar’s dear EJ?”

Briar strained her ears to listen when that failed she harshly babbled at the man.

Indigo sighed, turning her chair around. “Yes yes, that was her. Now if you want her back you can find us 469 Williamsal lane.” This was when Briar tuned out, her ears shutting off as her eyes took in the sight before her.

Four taxidermied rabbits, two on each side, bowed before a large iron symbol coated in gore. A greyhound, limbs twisted unnaturally and formed into starfish position. The dog was gutted, a frost burnt corpse nestled inside of the empty cavity. The corpse reminded Briar of the unclaimed pets bin that sat in the vet clinic’s basement, the horrible block of frozen fur and dead flesh. She shook her head, fighting off a mild wave of nausea. She decided to calm herself by glancing higher. Atop the poor dog’s neck rested the head of her owner. His eyelids were forced open, his eyes replaced by unlit candles, a smile decorated the lower half of his mishappen face. Upon seeing his bloated and pale face Briar recognized them both. The man was the greyhound, Lucile’s owner, they had just come in yesterday for her annual teeth cleaning. It was strange, almost laughable, she felt no pity towards the owner yet her heart ached for the sweet dog. She moved her eyes above the gore-filled scene, praying no more animal corpses decorated the rafters. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, just above the symbol sat a small, circular window that allowed the moonlight to peak through.

“Now all that remains is to wait.” Indigo held Briar’s shoulder, a strange, worn leather-bound book rested in his other hand. “It will be sad to see such a ruthless titan fall to this young book trapped man.” Briar tried to bite his hands, her head rolling forward. “Ah ah ah,” He hummed softly. He moved his hand away from her and opened the book, flipping the yellow pages until he came upon a unicorn-themed bookmark.

The two sat in the dusty attic for what seemed like hours. Briar sat tense with anticipation. She eased up when she heard the front door slam open. But before she could scream down to her mate the mad professor beside her spoke up, "We're up in the Attic!" She gave him a curious glare. Just what could this man be thinking? Why is he so confident? Briar was about to warn Eyeless Jack when her captor whipped around to face her. He had a wide grin that near split his pale cheeks.

He scanned over the pages as he walked to the shrine. Upon reaching it and seating himself between the rabbits and the mass of gore. As though he were from some prewar graphic novel, he began to monologue. “As you see Ms. Gillespie, I am a man of knowledge. My heart lies among the written word and often when you lie somewhere too long you begin to sink into the… darker parts. For me, it was simply taking the books that society dared not read. Amongst them, I found this.” He held up the decaying book, a strange runic title burnt into the leather. “Tucked between a manual of the hell kings and a book on ancient cures. Well, when I read the title I immediately knew it was meant to be mine. While you may not understand the language young one, in time you'll learn the name of this book. For it is a book of dreams, a book of unimaginable power! Things that shouldn't be possible are within my reach." He clenched his fist, panting in excitement." There are things that will help me overpower beings that could kill me within a breath. The Seal of Zalgo is one such thing. Though you'd know nothing of binding seals, wouldn't you?"

Briar growled before pausing. Unimaginable power? Binding seals? The words were familiar but twisted into a new, incomprehensible fashion. Then again living with her family had taught her thing's she thought were old fairytale nonsense was tangible as the clothes she wore. Her train of thought was quickly cut off by the attic door slamming open.

Stood in the now opened doorway was the shaded figure of Eyeless Jack. He let out a growl, the predatory glint clear in even his abyssal eyes. In his hand he held his scalpel, dark claws wrapped tightly around the metallic handle. He wasted no time talking to the mad professor, moving along the room towards the man. Upon the entrance of the demon into the chain circle, Professor Indigo began reading from the ancient tome. Eyeless Jack seemed to be in a daze as the man's chanting only got louder and louder. Soft sparks danced along the chains before igniting in an inferno of iridescent flames, the once barely lit room set ablaze with ethereal light. Briar flinched back, expecting the harsh heat of the flames to melt her before she could heal. But that didn't happen, the flames were cold. Cold enough to make her long clothes feel like a bikini in the snow. She shivered, glancing over at her mate.

Her mouth fell open in shock when she noticed the proud demon kowtowing alongside the taxidermied rabbits. She shut her mouth, knowing she had no time to question things as she summoned the last of her strength. With a powerful kick, she knocked loose the chain circle. With speed Briar could barely comprehend, Eyeless Jack stood up and freed her from the chair. He had pulled her out of the now-destroyed symbol just in time so that she wasn't harmed by the much warmer red blaze. He set her down, ready to launch himself onto the man who tried to bind him. But he was gone, seemingly absorbed by the ever-growing flames. "You better hope you're dead. Because if you aren't I'll kill you myself. " The Demon hissed before picking Briar back up and racing out the door with her.

Part Two

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Red: Part One

Valhalla 

A/N: Picking up right where we left off with Blue (which you can find on the Billy Russo page of my masterlist). Billy’s on the run and needs to find a place to hide out while he comes up with a plan. 

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 3,730

.

Left. He hit the sidewalk and immediately turned, shifting himself sideways to disappear down the alley. Go, go, go. Legs turning over with perfect form, he ran between the buildings, a blur of red brick on one side, pale gray concrete on the other. The sound of his breathing drowned out everything but the voice in his head telling him where to turn. Right. Coming through to the next street, he spun, socked feet splashing through a puddle of condensation from the A.C. unit in the window above. Alley, now. A trash bag lay across the opening of the narrow space. Jump it. Right leg extended, he vaulted over the garbage heap, springing off his coiled left calf and landing in stride, continuing to run without missing a beat. An aluminum chain link fence greeted him at the end of the alley, and he quickly calculated the necessary motion to climb it. Wait! Back pressed against the grime covered wall, he held his breath in the shadows as two police cruisers flew by, sirens wailing. He counted to ten, waiting to see if any more were in pursuit. He could hear more sirens joining in from other parts of the city, but for now the way was clear. Go, up and over. Securing the folder inside his zipped sweatshirt, he jumped and gripped the fence with both hands, fingers curling through the wire diamonds. He pulled himself up with ease, throwing one leg and then the other over the top and landing hard on the soles of his feet.  

Keep fuckin’ going. Listening to the commanding voice in his head, Billy immediately took off running again. His lungs were on fire and he had a cramp in his gut but just like in an active warzone, he knew that he couldn’t rest until he’d reached the checkpoint. Not that he had one in mind when he broke free, but as he scaled the fence he realized that his legs were taking him to a specific location- an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook. Of course. He coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself to follow his feet as fast as he could. Of course that’s where I’m goin’. He reverted back to auto pilot, following the commands to make turns and slip through alleys, allowing his thoughts to traverse the labyrinth in his brain like a mouse in a maze, desperate for the cheese. With a wince and a jerk of his head, a memory tumbled to the frontlines as he got closer to his destination.   

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. 

‘S’just an idea I had,” Billy shrugged and shoved his burger haphazardly into his mouth, filling it with food so he’d have an excuse not to elaborate too much. You watched him from across the retro red table, tapping your thumbnail against the grooved aluminum edge.

  “It’s a great idea, Billy,” you’d said encouragingly, French fry suspended over your plate, a dollop of ketchup plopping off the end of it.

 He chewed around a small smile, keeping his eyes on you as he reached for the pebbled plastic soda glass in front of him. He swallowed the bite he’d taken and chased it down with a few loud slurps of his drink before setting what was left of his lunch back on his plate. “I dunno about great,” he said with a minute shift of his shoulders. “Still got a lot of work to do. Gonna need investors and warehouse space and-“

You stopped tapping at the aluminum trim and stretched your hand across the small two top booth to grip his, giving a light squeeze. “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “Yeah, you got a lot of work to do. But the idea is a good one, and a lot of good people will benefit from it.”

She gets it. He cleared his throat and sniffed, nose wrinkling up. “Yeah, I mean… just thinkin’ about guys like me’n Frankie. Guys that gave decades of their lives to the military. Guys that need to have somethin’ to fall back on when they get home… what kinda jobs are gonna hire 38 year olds with no experience, ya know?” He was talking mainly about Frank, but he wasn’t far behind his friend in terms of age or the things he was willing to risk as that number went up.“Give ‘em a chance to use the skills they have instead’a tryin’ to scramble to fit in to some 9-5…” Let ‘em be with guys who understand…

 “So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?” You’d pushed your plate aside to give him your full attention, one hand still linked with his over the scarlet and silver boomerang patterned laminate.

He’d hesitated to tell you about his idea of starting his own private security company, because saying it out loud meant that it was real. Telling you about it was essentially sealing a promise to himself...and to you, that he’d make it work, and he wasn’t sure that he could. But the way that you asked those questions, with nothing but clarity and belief in your tone, the way your hand never left his, it made him feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy. Maybe I can. “Well, I gotta figure out how much I need to get started. Equipment, endorsements, facilities,” He ticked those off on the fingers of his free hand before his tongue came out to lick his lips.  “I...actually, I looked into this one warehouse in Brooklyn already. Not that I’m expectin’ it to still be available when I’m ready to pull the trigger but… I wanted to look into the numbers.”

“Will you show it to me?” The excitement on your face pulled his cheeks up slowly, almost making him laugh.

“What?” He shook his head looking down at your hands. “Nah, you don’t wanna,” he looked back up to find that you hadn’t so much as blinked. “I only got two days left, you wanna waste one of ‘em in a dirty old building?” But even as he tried to talk you out of it, Billy realized that he did want to take you there.

The server came over then, coffee pot in one hand and stress written all over her tired face despite the fact that there were only three other occupied tables in the joint. “Get you two anything else?” The way she asked the question dictated what she hoped the answer would be.

Without missing a beat you turned to respond to the woman. “Nope, we’ll take the-” she dropped the puffy black check presenter on the table where it clapped together with a soft thud. “-check, thanks!” You pulled your hand from Billy’s and let him inspect the bill before he dug his wallet out, tucking some cash behind the curled thermal paper and then placing it on top of the dented silver napkin holder.

When he had returned his wallet to the back pocket of his dark jeans, you tilted your head and cocked one eyebrow. “What?” He asked, to which you’d only changed the angle of your chin. “Really?” Your smirk answered and he felt a swelling in his chest at your stubborn faith in him. “You’re serious.” That one wasn’t a question.

 You stood from the booth and wrapped your scarf around your neck before slipping your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. Billy did the same, following your lead. When you’d both donned your outerwear, you pulled your hair up and over the thick cable knit loops of your neck covering and bounced up on the balls of your feet to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I am, Russo.” Motioning toward the door and lacing your fingers with his, you licked your candy apple lips. “Lead the way, Billy.” 

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..

His breathing picked up, uneven and ragged, fingers shaking as they clutched the rusty gate, swinging it open. The chase was over and his body reacted accordingly, heightened senses returning to normal levels, the adrenaline slowly draining from his blood. The greedy gulps of air he was taking would make him sick. He knew that, but there was nothing he could do. His survival instincts got him as far as they needed to before vanishing into the abyss, leaving him alone. Closing the gate behind him, Billy staggered through the fenced in loading dock of the abandoned warehouse, shoeless feet tripping on the cracks in the pavement where stubborn weeds were pushing through the concrete. Broken glass littered the ground as he got closer to the building, an entire pane having fallen from the third story, nothing but a few jagged spears remaining in the window frame.

The crunching, crashing sound of glass shattering echoed in his ears, forcing a wince and a pitiful hissing sound that was a mixture of pain and fear. Tearing his eyes from the fragments, he gripped the top of his head and shook it hard, jogging the sound and the visions that came with it from his mind. The blare of a bus horn from a few blocks away brought him back to the moment. Chest heaving, Billy gripped the folder that he’d tucked under his sweatshirt, confirming for the tenth time since his escape that he hadn’t lost it. What little relief was left for him trickled through his body as he finally reached the door and found it unlocked.

Tugging the handle he pulled it open, flakes of rust falling from the hinges as they creaked and screeched their disuse. The bottom of the door dragged over the concrete, scraping a crescent shape into the ground. He stumbled inside and yanked the door shut behind him, giving three hard pulls to close the stubborn portal. He kept moving, using the sunlight that filtered in through the thick, clouded windows to seek out the staircase on the near side of the vast and empty space. It had been over a year since he’d last been there, but he was confident that the steps hadn’t decayed past the point of use. Testing his weight on the bottom few he saw that he was right. He gripped the oxidized rails, the peeling metal rough against his palms as he climbed to the second floor, footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.

This wasn’t Anvil’s home, but it might have been, almost was. There was more graffiti than there was the last time he’d set foot inside, depleted spray paint cans littering the ground and coming into view as he took the last few steps. The word Valhalla was scrawled across the bricks in the loft, accented with flames and shadows, a few broken, lumpy chairs and mattresses spread beneath the mural. The room had clearly been used as some kind of illegal den for drugs or other illicit activity, and simply hadn’t been cleaned out when the inhabitants had been dispatched. A rat scurried out from under one of the dilapidated pieces of furniture and found refuge inside of a potato chip bag in the corner. Billy stood before the painted wall. Valhalla. What a crock of shit. He recalled the way that he and his brothers in arms had often compared themselves to the Vikings, to the Gods of War, talking about valor and the glory that was waiting for them back home. There’s no glory left, no good death for me. He tore his eyes from the lettering and sank down onto one of the badly torn couches, a broken sound coming from his throat as he pulled the folder from where it was tucked beneath the zipper of his sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ripped cushion beside him, his head falling to hang between his hands.

Outside, the clouds shifted in the sky letting hazy afternoon light find its way through the damaged windows. It created a spotlight effect that drew his gaze to a hastily sprayed “X” on the floor in the center of the room, the splotchy ruby red paint scuffed from where careless boot soles had stepped over it. His mouth fell open, an incredulous breath bursting forth as he dragged his palms over the close cropped hair on top of his head, fingers curling around the helix of his ears and memory hurtling back to the last time that he’d been in that building.

..  .. ..  .. .. .. 

You reached the door before he did, both hands gripping the chunky steel door handle, eagerly trying to tug it open but struggling to do so. He watched your shoulders hunch up as you tried to pull harder before you turned to look back at him. The excitement on your face would have been more suited to opening the door to a luxury suite in a gilded mansion than a rundown old paint factory with more broken panes of glass on the floor than existed in the window frames, but he knew it was there and it was real. Because she loves me. That simple, overwhelming thought was the hardest thing he’d ever wrapped his head around. He shook his head as his lips parted, one side quirking upwards involuntarily. “Easy there killer, lemme do that.” Billy reached passed you and grabbed the handle, a flush of warmth flooding his veins as you leaned back into his chest, your fingers falling away from the door as he gave a hard pull to pry it open, the bottom scraping the ground. “Still can’t believe this is what you wanna-“

  You turned quickly and pressed two fingers, skin chilled from the early spring air, against his lips to silence him. “Believe it. This is where I wanna be. Nowhere else. Now,” You winked at him and turned back towards the darkened entry that he’d just wrenched opened. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Russo, but you were going to take me on the tour of your new facility, were you not?” You started to take a step through the door when his arms quickly circled around your waist, stopping you. They flexed, tightening his hold and forcing a bubbly laugh to spill from your soul.

  “Yeah,” he brought his lips to your ear, pressing them to the flesh behind it. “Right this way, ma’am.” He unwound his arms and took your hand, carefully leading you into the building. The heavy door swung shut with a thud and you jumped slightly. “I got ya,” he said, squeezing your hand as the metallic sound of the door echoed throughout the cavernous space. You squeezed back and threw a smile in his direction.  

  Late afternoon light was streaming in through the remaining glass panels, showing off an iron staircase that lead to a lofted office area, and behind it an enormous room with concrete flooring. “So down here we’d build this out for training purposes,” he motioned to the space with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Put up walls, build rooms for guys to run tactical drills in. S’enough square footage to run two teams through drills at once.” He cleared his throat and nodded. “I uh, I looked into that, too.”

  He’d looked into more than he let on at the diner, already researching contractors that might be willing to work with a US Marine vet when it came to budget. He watched you take in the room, blinking slowly in the dim light, breathing quietly in the musty air. “It’s perfect, Billy.”

  He shrugged but allowed his cheek to twitch up towards his eye in a one sided grin. “It’s not. But it doesn’t haveta be. Just has to be big.”

  You dislodged your hand from his to explore the space some more, wandering between the support poles that ran from cracked floor to vaulted ceiling. Swinging around one of them, your hair fell like a curtain over your face and you pushed it back. “Well it’s definitely big. So check that off the list.” You came back towards him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “What else?”

  “Well,” his eyes darted to the staircase, yours following until they came back to meet. “Up there is where the offices would be.” Tongue flicking out to lick his lips and teeth flashing behind them, he said, “Where my office would be.”

  Your grin turned mischievous. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “Just up those stairs?” Another nod. “Well this I gotta see,” you said, taking off in the direction of the loft.

  “Hang on, wait,” he shot his arm out, catching you by the wrist and wrapping his fingers around it. “Lemme… I dunno if the stairs are…” you let him go ahead of you, testing his weight on the rickety staircase. Satisfied with their structural integrity, he looked back at you. “Okay, c’mon up.” He gave you his hand again and you took it, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

  The top floor boasted an exposed brick wall to the right and a huge half circle window high up near the ceiling to the left, long narrow windows running down beneath it. A series of smaller offices overlooking the first floor could be seen down a short hall. A few stray papers and paint cans were strewn about, and a pigeon cooed as it fluttered from rafter to rafter over your heads. You spun in a slow 360 degrees, directly in the center of the beam of light filtering in through the lead glass semi-circle. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is perfect. “So what do you think?”

  “I think your desk should go right over there,” you pointed out a spot in the middle of the large brick wall. “You close this off,” you moved your arms to indicate the area around where his phantom desk stood. “Your secretary can sit-“ you looked over your shoulder at him, devilish grin climbing your lips to change the color of your eyes to a darker shade. “She’s not gonna like me, I can tell. But she can sit over there,” again you moved your arms to indicate where walls would be. “Outside your office. More privacy that way.” You’d come back to stand in front of him, slipping your arms beneath his and pressing yourself tightly against him.

  Billy looked down through his lashes at you as you reached up to fix a stray lock of his hair that had fallen in front of his eye, tucking it back in order before trailing your fingertips down the stubble on his face. “S’not what I-“

  “I know.” You gripped the back of his neck and flexed your fingers. “I know that’s not what you were asking. You wanna know what I think, Billy?”

  His hands came up to either side of your face then, eyes searching yours. “Yours is the only opinion that matters,” he said. “So yeah, I wanna know what you think.”

  You looked around the space again, hand dropping from behind him as his fell away from your cheeks. Finding what you were looking for, you smiled and took a few steps into the corner, bending down to pick up an aluminum can with a bright red plastic top. You shook it like a maraca, the liquid inside sloshing around to tell you that it wasn’t empty. Popping the top off, you walked over towards the area you’d cordoned off for his office, finger resting atop the depressor.

  “What are you…” his sentence fell apart as you stooped down and sprayed a big “x” on the ground, dropping the can and letting it clatter by your feet.

  “There,” you said, wiping your hands together and then brushing them off on your jeans. “X marks the spot, Billy. That’s what I think. I think now you have two things to come home to, lieutenant.”

  He shook his head and moved closer to you. “That’s not even… ‘course I’m coming home to you, that’s not-”

  “Yeah, you better.” You stood on the wet X, not caring about getting paint on your shoes. “But this? This place, this goal? I think there’s no way in Hell you don’t make this happen, Billy.”

  He reached for you then, pulling you off the X and into his body, wrapping you up as tightly as he could. “X marks the spot,” he said, lips covering yours, glad that this was how you’d ended up spending the rest of the day.

  ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

  He stooped down to run his fingers over what was left of the red mark, the patterns from the soles of your shoes faintly visible in the splotchy paint. She should be here. She should be here and she’s not. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled fat and heavy onto the floor as rage roiled in his blood. Frank did this. Frank and… and Madani. He stood then, shuffling back over to the folder in the couch. There’s gotta be… He knew needed to get their attention. Gotta be some way to flush ‘em out, to… 

He flipped through the file, the photos of the two of you from the park socking him hard. Military records, session notes, accomplishments, crimes, details from every aspect of his life typed out neatly in 12 point double spaced font. One name caught his eye as he turned the pages, one name that he’d only ever shared with three people in his adult life: Frank, Madani, and you. 

“So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?”

  Your voice filled his ears then, and he knew what he had to do to make Frank take notice.  

  Thoroughly exhausted from the events of the day, from the pieces he’d put into place and the staggering realizations he’d come to, Billy took the photo from the folder and fell into the broken couch. Outside, the sun had started setting, darkness slowly swallowing the world and ending the day. They took her from me. Slow, shaky breaths puffed through his nostrils as he crossed his arms over his chest, aching to hold you one more time. They took her from me and they’re gonna pay. 

  Though it felt like his anguish would keep him from sleep, his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off, holding your picture and repeating an address over and over, like counting sheep; an address he couldn’t believe he remembered after all these years. 

 They’re all gonna pay.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @lexxierave @songforhema @thesumofmychoices @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget @obscurilicious @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!  

[luzeliza29]

Chapter 3  of Obsidian

I hope that anybody reads this enjoys it!!!!Check out my blog if you want to read the other chapters :)

Birds were chirping outside. Amalia groggily opened her eyes and looked out at the window. The sky outside was brightening but the first rays of sunshine hadn’t appeared yet.

The chirping birds outside didn’t comfort her as nature usually did. For her it only emphasized the empty quietness around her. She was alone and without the warmth of her family’s laughs around her. She heard the light footsteps and muffled voices of the inn workers outside. All the sounds made the musty room around her feel emptier and more solitary.

She swung her legs out of bed and tried to stretch out some of the tiredness from her muscles. The wooden floorboards creaked underneath her feet as she made her way to the small washroom.

She combed out her messy black hair and used a rag to rub some of the dirt and grime off of herself.  She wanted to get out of this town and on the road to Bucharest as soon as possible. With each passing day she felt like her heart was constricting tighter and tighter with fear and worry for her family.

She dressed and tugged on her riding boots. Fastening her cloak, she opened the door and walked to the inn’s dining room.

The light smell of bread wafted through the air. One of the workers brought her a plate of breakfast. She hadn’t eaten an actual meal for a week. On the road, she had mainly subsisted off of cured meats and cheeses that she had packed. In between gulps of fresh coffee, she devoured the delicious plate of sliced bread and eggs mixed with onion and bacon in front of her. As the sun rose, the dining room began to fill with more people. The still, quiet morning was slowly shifting into a busy, lively one.

After finishing her food, Amalia gathered her belongings and returned her room tag and key at the check-in desk.

After getting her horse, she set off on the road, ready to reach Bucharest and reunite with her family.

On the road, she looked at the forest around her. Looking at it now it reminded her of a whimsical wonderland of sorts, not a cold, alluring abyss full of terrible nightmares.

Golden rays of sunshine shone through the trees. A new day was dawning that filled her with hope.

Insects hummed and the birds sang around her. A slight breeze blew her through her hair and rustled the leaves. Deep within the forest she heard the slight tinkling of bells.

And underneath the soft tinkling of bells, Amalia heard soft singing. It was a hauntingly beautiful melody that tugged at her heartstrings. It was not until she was at the forest’s edge that she realized that she was straining to get closer to the source of the music.

 Why do I hear the sound of bells? There’s nobody for miles around, she thought.

Peering into forest she didn’t see anything. She only saw the thick foliage of the forest and the golden rays of sunshine pierce through the leaves.

She was about to brush it off until she noticed a horse farther up head. She cautiously approached the horse. A satchel and cloak were strewn across the edge of the rode and there was no rider to be seen.

Maybe it’s a raider’s trap, she thought.

The horse neighed and jerked its head in the direction of the forest. Amalia surveyed the forest again. Within the forest she noticed the outline of a man. He was walking deep into the forest, like he was in a trance.

She dismounted from her mare and tied her to a nearby tree. She then took a step into the forest.

The amulet at her chest pulsed. “Shit.” She knew something wasn’t right and she couldn’t just let that man walk blindly into danger.

The leaves crackled underneath her feet. With each step she could feel a sense of wariness build up inside of her. The tinkling bells were becoming stronger now.

The man was still very far ahead, and he was heading into a thick part of the forest where the beams of sunlight began to give way to dark shadows.

Amalia quickened her pace while trying to avoid the thick roots that threatened to trip her.

When she was close, she saw what the man was following. It was a beautiful woman. She radiated a pale silver light. Soft bells were tied to her ankles and her silver hair was adorned with black orchids. The long, white sleeves and hem of her dress swirled around her as she softly leaped forward and deeper into the forest.

She seemed to be singing to the man. Amalia still couldn’t discern any of the words. To her, the melody was beautiful yet still incomprehensible.

While hidden behind a tree, Amalia saw that the woman was leading the man to a small pond surrounded by small black and white orchids.

For a brief moment Amalia concentrated on her surroundings, feeling the energy of the atmosphere, and trying to understand what that woman was. She felt a strong sense of malevolence behind the beauty of that woman. That thing.

The amulet pulsed again, but this time more urgently.

Running forward she grabbed the man’s arm and yanked him around in an effort to shake him out of his trance. It was the young man she had stumbled into last night at the inn. That man. Although man might not be the right term for him.

“You can’t keep going! Something’s not right, you’ve got to turn back,” she told him.

It was of no use, he seemed transfixed by the melody.

“Don’t you hear it? They’re here to help me. They can take all of the pain away,” he said.

The woman approached Amalia. She reached up to touch the Amalia’s face, singing softly like a mother singing a lullaby. Chills ran up Amalia’s spine and she took a step backwards.

She knew this entity wasn’t good. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she knew that it was using its song and beauty for as a trap to lure humans into its domain.

Her tattoos began to glow with light as she began to build up and emit her own energy to protect herself from the woman.

The woman shrieked and howled in pain. Her skin began to fall off in flakes revealing mottled, rotted flesh underneath. Her dress hung in tattered remains on her body, while the orchids in hair rotted. The woman gave a hateful stare at Amalia and sank into the ground, her body melting into the land.

Amalia realized what that woman was. The orchids. The pool of water. Her true form. It all made sense now.

An Ilele.  

Amalia had never seen one, but she had heard stories of men going missing after following the sound of bells and the beauty of a lady and her orchids.

Amalia grabbed the man’s arms and pulled him away from the pond.

“We have to get out here!” she yelled.

The man seemed dazed but shaken out of his trance. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Come on. We’ve got to go” she said. She took a step forward to lead them out of the forest, but she found herself unable to move. She looked down. “Shit.”

Orchid vines were twisted around both of their ankles in thick tendrils. The orchid vines tugged at them like hands, causing them to fall to the ground. Amalia felt a bolt of pain as her head hit the thick tree roots. The wind around her roared wildly. The trees and flowers around her rapidly decayed. The rotted trees twisted together into a wall of thick branches that blocked the path out of the forest.

The swirling tattoos on her skin began to glow as she concentrated the energy within herself. Thrusting out her hands, a sliver of piecing white light shot out from her hands, slicing through the vines at her feet.

When she looked back, she could see the man being pulled closer and closer to the edge of the pond.

When his feet touched the water, he screamed in agony. With each passing moment he seemed to be losing consciousness. His complexion becoming more and more pale.

Looking over she saw the man’s head disappear underneath the water. Amalia scrambled to her feet and ran to the water. With a deep breath she plunged into the inky black water. She concentrated her energy around her, allowing it to protect and surround her like a cocoon as she dove deeper into the water.

The magical energy coursing through her gave her strength and life as she felt the being’s corrupt magic trying to flow in into her body and drain her of her life.

Up ahead it looked like she was about to break the surface of the water. She was confused. It seemed that the going father down meant she was heading to another side of the world.

She broke the surface of the water and saw that the world around her looked like a small decayed swamp full of black, knotted trees. The sky above her was pure black with the only light coming from tiny glowing orchids that were scattered on the ground and in the trees.

She was in the Ilele’s domain now.

She could still sense the man’s energy, it was fading fast, but it was still there.

She could feel the amulet’s warmth on her chest as it glowed persistently in the dark environment. The tattoos on her arms radiated with bright white light.

Using her enhanced perceptiveness, she found him lying at the base of a nearby tree. His body wrapped in vines and fading into a silvery glow like the orchids that surrounded them .

She sliced the vines at his feet with silver beams of light. But each time she tried more vines appeared trying to wrap him again even tighter.

Placing her hands on him she felt the life coursing through his veins and the tainted energy running through the roots of the vines and she channeled her energy into them, trying to push back the corrupted energy in him and in their environment.

The vines pulled back and Amalia heard a howl of pain. Time to go.

To heal him she grasped the man’s hand, letting some of the light energy within her flow through the energy pathways within him. His complexion returned and his body began to re-materialize. His brown eyes flew open with renewed vitality.

Amalia pulled him up to his feet. They staggered to the shore and before they were about to plunge into the water the Ilele appeared again, a few feet behind them, but unable to touch them.

She was in her beautiful form again. The pitch-black darkness around her made her look like an angelic beacon of light. She looked at the man and began to sing, her melancholy voice echoing through the empty world.

How could you?

How could you leave me?

You could stay here with me

Become my pretty, my light

Stay with me

In this forever night

No more fighting or crying

Lay down,

Close your eyes

I’ll wrap you in my arms

In a  painless sleep

She held up her hand and offered him a glowing orchid, its soft illuminating light matching her own silvery glow.

Amalia squeezed the man’s hand and looked into the man’s eyes. She could see his resolve weakening. “We have to leave. Now.”

He nodded weakly. Tears were flowing down his eyes.

Without looking back, they plunged into the water, their hands intertwined as they swam through the dark water and back to their side of the world.

[bibliotechnician]

Just a bunch of excerpts I’ve shared with people over the course of the last few years or so. They’re split up by ship where applicable, timeframe where not. I might make more of these as they show up in archive searches or being written. If something stands out and you want more of it, lemme know; they’re all unfinished drabbles-in-progress.

Warning for some ... ah ... implied necropophagy in brief for one of them, which [for those unfamiliar] is cannibalism of dead people.

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

SAURKRAUTS

"What is that." It was less a question, more an observation. He stopped behind her, the scuffle of his boots and clacking of the gun belts falling quiet in the inky black. The only sound came from far off, a constant dripping trickle of water that penetrated the thick silence, so tangible it felt like someone could cut a slice off it. Even then, she knew he could at least see her enough to read her movements, and she was aware of him within her space. "What is it?" he whispered back, tentative to break the stillness. Something else was breaking through, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Something that sent a shudder up her spine and set her metaphoric hackles raising. This wasn't the usual tunnel anxiety either. This was something real, something dangerous. She took a step back and broadened her profile in threat, grateful to feel his hand at her back to make sure she was steady. Instinct pulled her to look at the thing, whatever it was. But the problem was that there was nothing to see enough to actually look at. What is that... The thought plagued her head before the panic started setting in. She was underground, in a tunnel, the thought set her to hyperventilate. She barely heard Reiner's voice asking low and with concern if she was alright, the sound of her breathing and her heartbeat in her ears, the feeling of the tunnels closing down, the darkness pushing in, the shuffle along one wall... "There!” It erupted from her like a cannon, echoing around the concrete tube as startling as Reiner's flashlight beam cutting into the black abyss. Crouched on a jutted piece of masonry was a figure. It looked vaguely human in shape, swathed in black tatters, completely still even as the light hit it. "What the fuck ... is that..." That sure seemed the question of the day... She waited, staring at it. The longer she did, the more uneasy it made her feel. The hackles stayed up, her head lowered like they were. Whatever it was emanated a malevolence that penetrated the suit and her skin and her muscles and anchored deep in her bones. Volk prized herself for her ability to observe and conserve but this thing didn't want that, evident when a pair of wide yellowed eyes opened on the bottom of where the head was supposed to be. A wave of feeling hit her, foreboding and furious, and she went to pull the Tikhar from her side. It was only then she noticed the barrel of Reiner's rifle already aimed at it from over one shoulder.

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MAKSIM

"Well, it is just lying around doing nothing but rotting and feeding the occasional hungry mutant." he started, his voice devoid of any extreme expression but there was an odd quirk of a smile on his face that made her stomach drop. "I would still rather hunt for rats. Or Nosalises. Or something I still deem perfectly edible." she told him, turning away to look for her own quarry. "Oh, you won't find rats in this tunnel. They rarely frequent it here." There was a musical twinge to his voice now and she was almost afraid of what it meant. "Besides. They don't tell you that human meat is sweet to the taste, especially when it's been fermenting for a short while. Give me a moment to have it cut and cleaned, you'll think you're eating pork from one of those lucky livestocky stations. It helps it go down smoother, in the end..." She shied from him then. "Fine. I'll eat mutant meat then, but you won't catch me eating my own, regardless of them being dead." "They certainly won't be missing it, it's not like I'm asking you to help me hunt a living breathing human being." "How is this any different." "It doesn't squirm so much. Or scream, or beg, or fight. You maintain a good healthy level of energy..." "God, I fucking hate you." "You know, everyone says that." he said, back to his flat tones and chilling smirks, a flash of dim light off the blade of a well-worn trench-knife in his hand, the sickening shlup of it passing through decaying skin and muscle making her gag and taste bile in the back of her throat. "You should all really think up better ways to express your distaste, hate is too broad a term to use. Try 'disgust', or 'repulsed', those are good words to use. Or get used to it. We're very likely going to be here for a while."

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BOOKWYRMS

She heard him shuffle to a stop on the stairs, taking a precautionary glance at the yawning doorways around the the top landing before looking behind her. He was looking at the catalogs along the wall with a look that she could take as some form of longing. It was hard to tell through the lenses on the gasmask, but there was the sparkle there. One of curiosity, and she figured he knew what the catalogs meant to Brahmin. She knew he had been here before, and that it had left him terrified of the place. She didn't ask him about it, she didn't need to. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. She wasn't here to force it. After all, it had taken her about two months to convince him to follow her, and another had passed before he approached her to try. She walked up next to him, looking from the catalogs to him. "Do you want to try?" she asked him, her voice low so as not to attract attention so close to the front doors. The look he gave her was reverent, though he lowered his eyes to the side. "I don't think I'm allowed to." he answered, sheepish and almost a whisper. "Because you're not officially Brahmin." she replied, watching him avoid her gaze as she pinpointed the reason. "You know, I don't adhere to a lot of Brahmin ways. Despite being one in their system." She added, with a nod toward the drawers on the wall, "Go see what they have for you. If you're meant to be here, they'll know more than me." The excitement was palpable, she could feel it waft off him in giddy waves as he made a beeline toward them, running a hand reverently over each surviving drawerfront until he found the one that apparently spoke to him. His fingers were on the knob, but he paused, offering a side glance to the Stalker as she walked into his field of view. She nodded her head at him and he pulled, sliding it open in the long casing of aged cards that had once served as a filing system. He reached forward, eyes scanning over the contents as he went, until he found the one that spoke to him the most. He pulled it out slowly, turned it around so he could see the writing on it, and she chanced a glance at it. Brave New World, Huxley. "What does it mean?" he asked after a moment, unable to see how her brows knit and her lips thinned. "...It has a lot of meanings. It is how you want to interpret it." she said at last, stopping his arm as he made to slot it back in. "Nein. Keep it. Keep it in mind, all will be made clearer as you look into yourself, now or later." She heard him cough a laugh, slotting it into a pocket. "For someone who doesn't believe in the spiritualism of the Library, you certainly see this as something to be worshiped." "The Library is a building. But there are things hidden in it. Strange things, stranger than you, me, the Librarians. Be aware that it is not the Library to praise, but that which it contains. That is what it is to be a smart Brahmin. That thinking keeps you alive."

"Aha! I see you have documented Librarians among these pages!" she crowed triumphantly. Artyom looked momentarily confused before glancing over her shoulder at the page she was staring at and looking side-eyed toward her with a playful condescension. "You are not a Librarian." A snort was awarded him with a, "Says you." The worn journal was snapped closed and handed back to him. "No. Really. I think you're the first one outside my father to say that in recent years." "I can't be the only one who still sees you for human." he stated, accepting his journal back from her. "Oh yes. Outside Papa, it's always a Librarian ... or a tree ..." He thought back to a point he'd seen a tree, trying to make the correlation before nodding slowly. "Alright, the tree I understand. But a Librarian? How do you get confused for that. It seems a bit strange, outside the whole 'working in the Library' thing..." She leaned her shoulder against him, her voice low. "Listen. You stare down one guy in a bar around here..."

"The Codec doesn't exist." Artyom started, as though the words had slapped him in the face for being a stupid child. "It ... it doesn't?" The question was quiet and tentative, almost like he was afraid he'd stepped on a nerve with it. Volk sighed a little and relaxed some, realizing maybe something so blunt wasn't a good way to go about it. "No. It doesn't. The Council actively believes in it, so to them, it wasn't a meaningless crusade. They sent one of their own believers with you, so you didn't have a chance to know the truth. But I can tell you with certainty that the Codec doesn't really exist, at least physically, within the walls of the Library." she told him. The tone change did wonders for his own anxiety and she saw him visibly relax with a slump of his shoulders. "If it doesn't exist, though ... How would you know?" "If anyone in this station would have found it and brought it back, it would have been me." "That sounds arrogant..." "I've crawled that Library top to bottom for many years and asked the Librarians to find it. The smart ones, at least." She looked him as sincerely as she could in the eyes. "If they haven't found it, I haven't found it. I'm sorry to say that it doesn't exist."

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EXODUS

"What. Is. That." Anna did not seem surprised in the least. Of course she wouldn't be, Volk mused to herself. She was already used to this and had been for years. Probably due to the morning she'd had, or maybe it was because the Spartan sniper was puffing nonchalantly away on a cigarette of her own, Volk pulled out a pre-rolled stick and lit it. "It's a bruise and a split lip. What do you think it looks like." There was a glint her eyes at that, a bit mischievous perhaps. She knew exactly what her shorter sister was referring to and chose to divert attention. All it got her was a scoff and a look of fatigue that seemed to span decades. "You know damned well what I mean, you walking tree. What is that!" She pointed toward the struggling mutant held firmly by the neck in the German's other hand, futilely trying to get away from the tightened belt like a collar either to bite its captor's hand and arm or simply to get away. "Oh! That. Ja..." Volk started, staring at it for a moment. The position it was stuck in could not have been comfortable for it. Served the little bastard right. "...The locals call them 'humanimals'." "...Okay, I'll bite. What is it doing here." Anna sighed, defeated and unamused. "Learning some fucking manners."

[jamesvehrlinger]

Sheol

When I stepped through the tear, what emerged on the other side was not me. It’s clothes were identical, the same scars wrapped around it’s arms, the same iron hung from it’s hip. But just beneath the skin, I felt it. It chewed on my flesh from within, as I drew breath I could feel it infesting me. The air was decay, and every moment I spent here, it suffused into me. 

The black sand beneath my feet stretched as far as I could see, not that that was particularly far. The thick, viscous atmosphere obscured my view. The only light filtering in seemed to come from veins of lightning, snaking their way through the sky beyond. With no other choice, I embarked.

I do not know how long I walked, the lack of a setting sun or rising moon robbed me of any sense of the passing days. After some time, I saw a figure cutting through the murky dark. It’s body was human but it’s shape was wrong. I approached it’s visage, and watched as it’s inky black skin became more defined. I came to it, and felt my stomach turn. It’s limbs were atrophied, it’s skin cracked. It’s limbs coiled around it’s decrepit body, waving and shambling in the wind. At my feet, it creased it’s flailing and let itself collapse into a heap. After a series of cracks and pops, it’s head was suspended upward. It looked into me with what remained of its eyes, it’s voice rasping with dried and stretched vocal cords.

“Another helpless soul sent adrift in the hereafter?”

I attempted to ask it a question, but it interrupted me.

“This place is death, O cursed child of light! The belly of the beast will strip you away, body and mind! 

It began to laugh, it’s screams piercing the thick air.

“Remember, O cursed child! This place is death, and so follows the fate of all who strand!”

It’s decayed eyes spun in their bony sockets, what remained of it’s muscles and tendons spasmed and coiled in what appeared to be ecstasy. I waited for a time, but when the laughter did not stop, I left the poor excuse for life behind, and continued. 

Some time later, the atmosphere thinned, and the sky came into view. What had illuminated the sky were arcs of lightning, chaining themselves between debris in the atmosphere. Whatever they were shown brightly when the energy passed through them. Passed the debris, a pallid red hue shifted through the sky in large masses. I walked across the remaining desert until I saw them. At first, they were specks on the horizon, but as I drew closer, their forms became more defined. They walked slowly, the linear procession journeyed across dune after dune. The figures were innumerable, stretching from one side of the horizon to the other. Their cloaks obscured their bodies, deep hoods rolled off their shoulders. I watched them for a time, waiting for something, anything to break their monotony. Suddenly I stood, and stared off into the distance. I felt a burning curiosity, a need to understand. This alien desire for knowledge drove me forward, parallel to the procession. I walked for a long time, until I reached the front. The first in line was different from the others. He wore no cloak, his skin exposed to the air. His long hair drew down his body, ragged and knotted. His bangs were parted, his eyes covered by white bandages stained deep red with blood. And in his hands dangled a basin of black crag rock. 

I followed them for quite some time after, until a shape broke the horizon. At first, only one black peak crested the sky. As more and more of the titanic form came into view, the procession began to sing. It began as a low murmur, but raised in volume and frenzy. The object hung in the air, it’s nine sides sloping down as it approached the ground. The procession snaked around the base of the altar, raising their hands as their song diffused into screams. The leader climbed the black stone stairs, and placed the vessel upon the altar. He raised his hands to his head, untying the bandages that blinded him. As he did, blood began to pour from the cavities. He knelt as the vessel filled, spilling over, running down the altar, suffusing into its cracks. 

The howls set the sky alight, energy arcing into each of the nine points. It crackled and bit at the air around it as it snaked down the shape- and arrived in the basin. The blood ebbed and flowed, forming loops and shapes in the air. The man outstretched a hand, and the blood met him. It wrapped up his arm, and around his body. He fell to his knees, pressing his head against the cold stone in reverence. As the blood suffused into him, his body lost it’s form. His limbs broke down, his skin shifted like cloth. When he reared his head again, he was no longer a man. The being rose to its feet, throwing its weight violently. It stumbled over the basin and down the steps, landing in the black sand. With a throw of it’s arm, a seam tore open in space. The fissure pulled at the world around it, eating and collapsing into itself. The creature let out a deafening roar, and threw itself through the breach. The procession, now frenzied, followed, fighting one another to cross the threshold. Finally, when the desert was quiet again, I approached the altar. I gazed up at it, and down to the tear. I ascended the altar, lifting the basin. The remnants of blood still stained it’s core. With the artifact in hand, I approached the fissure, and absconded from the abyss. 

[ncumenia-archived]

The luxuriant tree with festering sap

[TRIGGERS: depression anxiety intrusive thoughts suicide mention strong language disturbing descriptions (I don’t know how to describe it, sorry!)]

Another, poisonous and catastrophic intrusive thought woke her up, during that night, so colder than usual... Like parasites, these monsters infiltrated in one’s mind, making them dance into the edge of pure madness and horror.  A caged bird which wings were torn out, in a darkened prison with no escape. The nightly breeze sounded like millions of haunted voices echoing in Targon, whispering, again and again, deadly thoughts inside her fragile mind... Again. Jaelor, the High Prophet, his dirty nails digging on her fair skin, vomiting words filled with death, a sentence endlessly repeated: “You’ll be a dawnless night, child.”. And the nightmare, the Lunar Eclipse, the vivid crimson of its surface was still vivid in her eyes, the stench of blood soaking her clothes seemed so... Real. She could remember anything from that night: her soft, pale hand now bloodstained on blood that wasn’t hers, her silver hair now turned into a shiny, crimson river. A scream echoed in that cage, screaming to a deaf world, unable to understand her pain. The fact she was unable to vomit what was twisting her guts, making her hands shiver in fear, just wanting the silence around her... For those eerie voices were already screaming inside her mind. Ah, what would happens if the whole community discover she had actually lied about the High Prophet’s verdict? The fact she had condemned an innocent soul, the guy she was supposed to know -and perhaps, marry-. Ah, his dreams... Now shattered into pieces, just like an executioner cutting the victim’s limbs, but leaving them alive... With the awareness, they won’t be able to walk anymore, nor caressing the smooth, wet grass beneath their palms. Many days have passed since that cursed prophecy ripped out her hope, her smile, now the silver-haired was pretending everything was fine. Just smile and nod, she screamed in her mind, attempting to silence all those parasites inside her brain, now slowly eating what was left of... Desire to live. Ah, the beauty of having no mouth, but a huge need to scream. And how one was supposed to scream its sins when... They had committed one of the worst acts ever? How could one was supposed to expel from its body the disease which was rotting them alive, the festering secret no one should know. A secret which would lead to death. Ernye was alone, now. Her palms opened, feeling the gentle breeze caressing her body, in contrast with the guilt which was clasping her body, silently suffocating her, whispering to her ear what she had done, what that pretty mouth of her was able to condemn a honest guy like Magel, and his whole family. O, beautiful, silver-haired child of the moon, those plump, peach-like lips of yours secrete poison, my child. And just look... Your beauty had poisoned an innocent man’s life, ah look at his family, now slowly decaying because of your lie. O, dawnless night... You’re just a beautiful, luxuriant tree filled with many fleshy, scented fruits... But nobody knows your sap is infected, rotting your sweet insides, my child... Ah, but who cares, my dear Ernye, daughter of an honest man like Maelor, your mother Sealeanna, one of the most respected women in the community? Tell me, my dawnless night... Who cares about your rotting insides, when there’s beauty outside your guts? And now, her cerulean hues staring at the abyss in front of her. The wind gently pushing her next to its edge.  Just silently staring inside it... The void. There was nothing. Only the howling wind. But, after all, she didn’t want... To face anything, for the burden was like wearing a rosebush... Ah, look at me. Beautiful roses, delicate petals... Fed with my bile and blood. «Not even the Silver One is able to heal my pain... What I’ve done is... Wrong. I’m a liar, why isn’t the High Prophet... Say anything about Magel’s exile? Is he aware? Is he waiting the Full Moon Festival to feast on my sorrow?» Warm tears now wettening her eyes, slowly running over her freckled cheeks, each drop feeding the ground beneath her feet... Feeding them with sorrow and lies. Ah, gorge before the young one. Its siren-like beauty was tempting the Lunari, now a sailor after seeing Death disguised as the most beautiful creature in the world. Hear its voice, Ernye. They’re calling your name. Throw away your burned, open yours arm and let yourself go... Don’t you wish to join us, child? You beautiful, venomous liar... Don’t you wish peace? She slowly began to forget the chains she was carrying, the same which trapped her on the bed. Ah, how awful was waking up, knowing the pain had returned. Her head hurting, the voices echoing, the night disappearing only to welcome a poisonous day. The chain were getting lighter and lighter now. Ah, goodbye, father. Goodbye, mother. Goodbye, Pasifae. Goodbye, my friends, my beloved children, my beloved teachers... Now, it’s time to go. Let me sink in my sorrow. Let the last straw drown me. It’s time to go. -Nina?- A voice, suddenly, made her eyes open again. Now silently staring in front of her. A hand, a familiar touch grasping her shoulder, almost forcing her to turn toward a dusky visage, dark, shiny hues meeting her sky ones... Pasifae. «Pae? A-ah...! I was just... Reflecting...!» Ernye quickly stuttered, fighting to not weep, but... She couldn’t. Her arms wrapping around her soft body, her visage pressed on her chest as she began to sob. Ah, my beloved Pasifae. So wild, so fierce... A lioness. How much I wish to tell what happened. How liar I am. Will you hate me, Pasifae? How, how much I want to escape, how much I need the silence, my friend. How much I need the soporific kiss of the Death. -Hey, Nina! That’s okay...! I’m here! I’m here!- She whispered, hands now caressing her silver locks, pressing her lips on her forehead, for seeing the girl she loved the most suffering like an animal was... Unbearable. -My beloved silver one. How much I wish to kiss your lips. How much I want to escape with you, to visit Runeterra. This land doesn’t belong to me, the Moon isn’t my mother. I’m fierce, I’m a lioness. And I’ll protect you, my love. With my claws and teeth.- She let Ernye silently vent, although she wasn’t that religious.  Perhaps that was... A mere coincidence. And Magel wasn’t the person suitable for her. Which made her... Lowkey smirk. But there was no time, now. Her well being was the most important thing, now. -Nina...- She repeated, her hands cupping her cheeks, raising her visage up to meet her sky-like hues again. Pasifae was a strong woman, she had been through many things... From having a family who dislikes her, for the fact she refused to become a Lunari soldier... For the fact, some girl labeled her as a lesbian, as if it was an insult... But, alas, even if, as long as two people were of age and there was consent, some people felt disgusted toward certain types of sexualities. Ah, how much she enjoyed when she threw a punch in one of those cocky, homophobic faces. A moment of silence, now, her thumb gently brushing the silver’s freckled cheek. -Everything is fine, Nina. That’s not your fault... Now you’re safe. There are people who love you, you’re not alone. Your family, me, Magni, Moodi and all our friends... This community loves you, Nina.- Pasifae, how much I wish to vomit, now. Vomit my guts, just to let you see how rotten I am inside... Pus filled with lies, the worst sin I’ve commited in my whole life... My lungs want me to scream, but I can’t... My body is a dangerous place. What could Ernye say about that statement of hers? Was she safe? Well, she didn’t feel such. She felt trapped, always vigilant something bad might happen to her. Ah, the smallest mistake which could cause a cataclysm. Ah, intrusive, vermin thoughts echoing in her head. Just fake a smile. That was so easy. And that’s what she did, curving upward her lips, hands now reaching hers, her fingertips caressing her soft skin, letting her wiping away her tears. «Yes... I... I am. That’s just... A very bad period. But everything will be okay, Pasifae... I just... Need time. And... Rest.» She murmured now, unwilling to let the other go, enjoying the warmth of her body. Which partially soothed those demons inside her. She heard a small chuckled, then Pasifae’s hand digging through the leather bag she used to carry with her... Ernye knew what she wanted to do... Smoking. Yes, letting herself dance with the smokes, the mind-altering substances taking control of her mind, of her fears... A brief respite before the madness. -Wanna smoke, Nina? You look like you need to!- Ernye let out a small, forced giggle, nodding and sitting on the ground, next to her. She waited patiently for the other to fill the pipes before handing one to her. And then, she lighted them up. Now the Lunari inhaling those smokes... Letting them fill the rotted emptiness inside her, pretending she was listening to Pasifae, gossiping about some other people. Ah, Pasifae, Please, be quiet. I need the silence. I need the smoke filling up what’s left of my body. I need silence... For the monsters are now sleeping. But soon, they’ll wake up again... Ah, I’m walking on the edge of the abyss. What am I now? She blew out some herbal-scented smoke, her senses slowly becoming numb. A dead girl walking.

[ventrue-rosary]

Kingdom of Decay - Chapter 1

I renamed and rehashed Through the Dark Veil. Reblogs, comments and coffees more than welcome

Daughter of both destiny and disgrace, Amaranthe has had the weight of an entire kingdom upon her shoulder all her young life. But when she finds herself in the damned and decaying lands of Barovia, she faces her greatest challenge yet...

Chapter 1: Of Monsters and Men

Small droplets of blood slide off the low-hanging leaves, falling into the soil with a subdued, wet thud, releasing the metallic stench of blood. Theodrin stalks through the underbrush, chasing the trail of red that eventually leads him to his quarry: a creature that is a crossbred abomination of man and beast, bipedal in structure with overtly long limbs coated in coarse, thick fur. Triangular ears sit atop its head, which in place of a mouth holds a canine-like snout uttering bestial growls as  Theodrin corners it. The claw-tipped hand clutching its wound tightens its grip around it as it hunches defensively over itself.

‘What will it be? Will you die with your last shreds of dignity, or as wretched at the beast you have become?’

Its jaws open to unleash a scream that spooks flocks of birds into flight. Theodrin grins as he unsheathes his blade with a flourish, cutting it across his wrist to wreathe the metal in shards of ice.

‘Like a beast it is, then.’

The doors to the courtroom swing open. Theodrin walks in with a swagger to his step, caked in a fine layer of sweat and dirt from his hunt, holding in his hands the severed head of his kill. Courtiers gasp and eagerly part to let him pass. Narcissa rises from her perch atop the throne fixing him with a look of contempt. Theodrin feels his teeth grind together as he bows his head to his younger sister and her bastard daughter.

‘Narcissa…’

‘You Grace.’ Alestir corrects.

His teeth grind together even harder. To think a human nobody would order him how to address his own family. Nevertheless, he maintains his calm facade as he straightens to look his sister, nay, the Queen, in the eye as he throws the beasts head at her feet. Shocked gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd. The bastard turns her head with a shudder.

Narcissa’s lips curl in disgust. ‘What manner of creature is this?’

‘A lycan, or werewolf to the laymen. A creature that can masquerade as man to hide its monstrous form, in which it has the strength to rend limbs from their sockets and talons capable of tearing through skin, flesh and bone. It is said only a bit is needed to transfer the disease. Likely there are more hiding in the forests, or even in the towns, right under our very noses.’

People in the crowd cry aloud in horror. Women fan their faces to fend off fainting.

‘And you think it is suitable to bring its severed head into my court, in front of my people–my daughter!’ Narissa’s trembling hands gesture to the young girl, her head still tilted away from the scene.

‘She has to grow a spine at some point, my dear sister. One day she will be the one taking up the sword to protect these lands.’

‘No, the sons fight. The daughters rule.’    

Theodrin spreads his arms and glances about the room. ‘Forgive me your Grace, but where is your son?’

‘Out! All of you out!’

The courtiers quickly scramble to hasten out of the room, carrying their mortified whispers with them as they go.

‘You as well, Amaranthe, Alestir.’

With far much more reluctance, the little Princess stands up from her throne. She pauses as she reaches Theodrin to glower up at him. He always hated her appearance–the dark hair and purple eyes of her human father butchering the sharp angular Darcelle features. She wasn’t right, her ears too round for elven society yet too pointy to pass as human. When Theodrin looks at her, all he sees is a crossbreed, a mongrel. An abomination.

Alestir places a hand on her shoulder and steers her out, hardly sparing his brother-in-law a glance as he passes. Theodrin for one is glad to see the back of them. He just thinks it a shame their departure is not permanent.

He turns his face towards his sister only for it to be snapped back again to the side when she delivers a hard slap to his cheek. A thousand pins tingle in his skin under the force of the blow. Narcissa’s entire frame trembles, her face beet red. The hand she used to slap him now points at his face with accusation.

‘You will never storm into my court again, make a spectacle and then humiliate me in front of my people, nor presume to tell me how to raise my daughter! Do you understand? I am not just your sister, I am also your Queen! Remember your place.’

‘And remember who hunts down those monsters from the tales your people use to put their children to bed, who you fear lurk in the shadows of these ivory towers you stand in, so haughty, so righteous, so entitled. I might err one day, my sword slip from my grasp, and one such creature may find its way into your hallowed halls.’

Narcissa steps toe to toe with him. Equal in height, her glare meets his, her emerald eyes practically wreathed in the flames of her ire.

‘Is that a threat, Theodrin?’

‘Of course not, sister. That would be treason. I would never even dream of such a thing.’

‘Get. Out.’

He stiffly bows before he takes his leave. Theodrin knows he has already crossed one too many a line this day. As much as he enjoyed irritating his sister, he very much liked the position his head currently held atop his shoulders.

As he exits the palace, he sees his niece sat by the fountain, a book between her hands. He strides over and plucks the red leather-bound tome from her grip. She makes a grab for it but Theodrin stands a foot taller than her, and he holds it out of her reach as he angles to cover to read its title written in obnoxious golden cursive.

‘ “Of Men and Monsters”?’ Intrigued, he flicks through the pages and sees it is purely fantastical drivel. Romanticised tales of armoured knights rescuing fair maidens from fearsome dragons. He scoffs and flings the book over her shoulder, into the fountain water. ‘Here I thought you were making a headstart in studying for your inevitable induction into our order. And yet you disappoint me again. It’s all you live to do, isn’t it?’

Amaranthe isn’t paying him any heed. Her back is turned to him as she drags the ruined dregs of her book from the water.

‘Are you listening to me, bastard?’ he snarls, grabbing her shoulder.

With a cry, she pivots and slams the wet book square into his face with far more strength than he could have anticipated. He feels his nose crumple with a wet crunch, chased by the overwhelming dull ache that slowly consumes his face like a fire sweeping across a dehydrated forest. It leaves him stunned for a few seconds as the pain blackens out his vision. He resurfaces from the abyss with a deep breath, hoping the Gods lend him the will he needs to stay his hand that is already inching towards the pommel of his blade.  

‘That’s now two Darcelle women that have hit me today. Two too many, I must say.’ He swipes at the blood dribbling from his ruptured nostrils. He admits it was a good hit, and a more gutsy move than he expected from her, but the problem still remained a bastard raised a hand at someone of legitimate lineage, and to him of all people. The one people should be bowing and grovelling to as thanks for lengthening their miserable little lives.

Theodrin removes his hand from his blade, raises it over his shoulder.

‘Here, bastard, treat this as your first lesson from the Blood Hunters. Never raise your hand to your betters!

Another hand snags his wrist as he strikes down. Looking over his shoulder, he is greeted by the familiar, unwelcome visage of Addenus Killglave, a human man with a full head of long red hair and a well-kempt beard. He is young, probably only seen five more winters than Alestir, but well-respected in their order, and quickly climbing the ranks, which only serves to add more insult to this injury.

‘If that is an ideal you live by, then pray tell me why you are raising your hand to Princess Amaranthe?’

Theodrin wrenches his arm free, and straightens out his coat. ‘What?’

‘You said never raise your hands to your betters but I believe that’s precisely what you just did.’

Theodrin sputters, almost choking on his words. ‘She…she’s a bastard!’

‘Aye, but a royal one at that. Not to mention that the wee girl has hardly seen ten winters. Our order doesn’t condone beating children.’

Theodrin feels the unwelcome bite of anger and shame. Addenus’s stiflingly calm nature only serves to exacerbate his foul mood as the order elder regards him coolly, waiting for the next move. A fast friend to Alestir, Theodrin knows Addenus would rebut any further words–he is in league with the lot of them.

‘Get back to the order, Theo. We’ll speak more of this when I return.’

‘Glady,’ Theodrin hisses as he turns on his heel and marches out through the open portcullis.

[katsuchako]

Day Three // Nightmares Words // 2676 Rating // T + (language) Warning // Mentions self-harm, and graphic descriptions; some may find it disturbing.

A cool breeze blew through her short layers, lifting the tresses as it passed through the air around her; her eyes glanced from left to right, forward until her lips parted.

“Hello?” Uraraka called out, chocolate eyes scanning her surroundings. Everything looked empty, the city she lived in residing of no people today as she walked through the lonely street. No cars inhabited the roads, no crowds of people wandering aimlessly, nor were there any people rushing to get to their jobs or to a class. It was quiet — something that very solemnly happened around this area. It was almost too quiet, too comforting as she sighed, another call sounding through thin lips. “Hello?! Is anyone out there?”

She could hear her voice echoing throughout the buildings that loomed over her, and an unsettling feeling began to churn in her stomach as she started her walk. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure how she had ended up in this remote location, but she didn’t question it. She followed the street, aimlessly wandering in the void, looking for someone that might be around.

The farther she walked, the colder the temperature grew. She also began to notice that the saturation in all of her surroundings began to fade, leaving the world in shades of grays and blacks; everything around her was unfolding into a world of dreams, and she could only shake her head. It made sense now as to why the streets had been empty, and now with her body in a colorless world, she continued to wander at a cautious pace.

The sounds of fast footsteps caught her attention, causing her head to whip in the direction of an incoming person. She felt panic begin to pool her chest the moment she caught the person in her arms, her own body falling backwards and colliding with the cement walkway as the person struggled in her embrace.

“You have to help me!” the shrill voice sounded through her ears, sending shivers down her spine as Uraraka tried to wiggle her way free of grabbing hands and kicking feet. “You have to!” The voice called again, except this time it sounded almost distant and an unfamiliar, numb sensation exploded in her mind. She could hardly breathe as the air from her lungs felt like it had been stolen, and all she could do was fall back to elbows and watch as this person stood up from her own body.

Ochako began to really feel the panic swell in her chest as a scream ripped out from the base of her throat. The skin of this person was the color of an off white — almost gray, while the eyes were hollow, sunken into a sea of black and staring down at her. Their face was absolutely expressionless now, staring down at her as Uraraka pushed herself away, her hands scraping against the concrete. This had to be a dream, she definitely wouldn’t see anyone looking at her with eyes like that, but the amount of pain that coursed through her body from a single scrape told her otherwise.

“You have to help me,” the voice muttered again, yet the person’s body remained still in front of her. The longer Uraraka stared at the person in horror, the deeper their eyes sunk into their head, while their hair became stringy, chunks falling from its scalp. She found herself inhaling deeply, her breaths coming out fast as she tried to push herself up from the ground. She couldn’t stand to look at this person anymore, and the way its voice road out on the wind, whispering up against her ear, sent another wave of numbing pain through her body.

Once she finally began to push her body up from the walkway, she felt pain start at her wrists, extending down her arms until she could feel her shoulders give out and her back came crashing into the pavement once more. “Please stop!” Uraraka screamed out, yet her voice was but a mere squeak in this silent, colorless world.

The being in front of her took a short step, its mouth opening to say something, but a raspy moan fell from the hollow hole while their eyes started to melt into a deeper black. She was losing herself, her mind, her being — Uraraka could hardly get a complete breath of air the moment this person fell to its knees, a large hole appearing in its chest as it finally tumbled to the ground. Uraraka’s breaths came out short and fast now, blood rushing to her head as she stared at the being with wide eyes. Her entire body continued to shake, her heart beating fast as she waited to see what would happen next.

The face of the person continued to look up at her, and it took all she had to tear her eyes away from the sight of a crumpled corpse in front of her. A scream finally broke out from above her, shattering her eardrums and throwing her body into another trance of fear.

“It’s all your fault!”

The words sounded around her, pulling her mind into a world darker than the one she was already in, and she could feel her body trying to pull her hands to her face, but everything hurt too much. Pain continued to emanate from her wrists, making her hands feel weak as she tried to move her body. Scalding tears began to well up behind her chocolate irises, another scream forming in her throat as another person began to walk up on her.

“I don’t know what’s going on!” She screamed, hot trails of tears finally rolling down her cheeks while her nose began to run. She was in complete hysterics now as her body continued shaking while her words caught in the tangles of knots in her throat. “I want to go home!”

She felt lost, her chest heaving with each breath that she took, and the moment the body in front of her crouched down on a knee, she could see the way it took the other corpse in its hand, holding it up as if it were looking at it; the hollow eyes remained the same, but the teeth that were revealed were jagged, lines and rows running down down into its throat. A nasty, haunting smile pulled at the being’s lips as it stood before dragging the body away from Uraraka. The world around her began to grow darker, and Ochako was now caught alone again, beings wandering the streets around her — they all had dark, hollow eyes and gray skin, but their facial features varied.

It took everything she had to push herself up from the ground, allowing her knees to hold her weight as she looked around herself. Just like the city, the people walked the streets, aimlessly wandering yet they never stopped when they bumped into each other. Along with that, she could hear screams and shouts of agony, terror riding up her spine as she willed herself to walk; everything in her body completely hurt, and she had no energy to try and escape this dreamland that began to plague her mind.

She finally felt her hands shoot up, covering her eyes as she broke down into a fit of tears and sobs. She tried to speak, tried to tell them all that she wanted to go home; she wanted to feel warmth, and she wanted to see all the pretty colors that her eyes welcomed each and every day. One color being the soft petals of a rose — deep red, alluring, strong. Tears began to soak into her skin the harder she cried, and like a switch, she was slowly losing all of her memories.

The temperature around her began to drop drastically, her body aching and throbbing with even more pain and it felt like she was dropping — like zero gravity, she felt like she was floating freely, her soul slowly descending into a total abyss of darkness.

“You didn’t have to do it.”

A voice, so broken and shaking finally pulled through her mind. She could almost hear the tears and sobs that could’ve gone with it, but she couldn’t uncover her eyes now. She didn’t want to see what would be in front of her — another one those people with eyes the color of spilled oil, mocking her, whispering in a raspy, scratchy voice in a tone that completely ripped her apart on the inside. She felt a whimper start in the base of her throat now, because all she could see were eyes lost in a sea of black, and skin the color of a decaying corpse.

“I just want to go home.” She muttered, her voice coming out soft and echoing around her. Uraraka continued to cover her eyes, while she pulled her knees to her chest, allowing the cool temperature to calm her body and relax her soul. “I just want to go home.” she repeated softly.

“So why’d you do it?!”

Warmth. She could feel something warm crawling up from the base of her spine, pulling at her ripped and tattered insides as she listened to the lingering voice. It was the same as before, except a hard tone encased those words. It continued to ring out around her, in this world of sheer black and she could only listen and let the warmth spread throughout her body. She felt the warmth finally touch her wrists, and through the aching and throbbing pain that continued to emanate from there, the comforting touch of warmth soothed it.

“This wasn’t suppose to happen, Uraraka!”

Hearing her name sent her mind spinning, her hands finally starting to pull away from her eyes as she leaned into the voice. She could feel something pushing against her back now as she slowly started to open her eyes. The surrounding world was no longer pitch black, but she could make out the structures that she thought she had forgotten about. Cries and yells began to sound out from around her, but the haziness in her eyes and ears, and every other sense she could remember touched her body.

She closed her eyes once more, trying to dive back into a world of peace and quiet, but that same voice continued to speak in words that she couldn’t understand. Soft sobs and grunts of frustration kept her mind at bay, and the warmth that surrounded her body finally pulled her back. She opened her eyes, letting the light of the room finally touch her caramel irises, but she could hardly control her body. Uraraka could feel her head rolling back, resting on something broad and hard as it shook with violent sobs.

“Please come back—”

She wanted to go home. Was she home? It took all the energy in her body to open her eyes again, to truly open them and wake up from this groggy, hazy world that she had descended to. She felt her head roll to the side, colliding with something hard, yet she felt something light and thick brushing against her nose, sending electrifying tickles throughout her face. A low groan started in the base of her throat before she inhaled a scent that was all too familiar, all too comforting. Was she home?

“Fuck! Say something, Uraraka!”

The voice was louder now, and it hit her right in the heart. Her ears throbbed, a headache swarming just  behind her eyes as she focused on her surroundings. The burning in her wrists never ceased — she could compare it to a deep cut on top of a sunburn, or even to fire burning flesh. It made her body tremble, her stomach churn with nausea as she finally began to take in her surroundings.

She was on the floor, her back propped up against someone she knew and she could see all of her furniture, adorned and decorated with stuff that the two of them had picked out together. She felt another wave of sickening pain wash over her body, sending her back into a world of black as she tried to blink it away.

“They’re almost here, Angel Face.”

She felt her throat instantly dry out, her mind diving back to the people with hollow eyes and skin that mocked the dead; she didn’t want to see them, she didn’t want them to come back. She wanted to bathe in the warmth provided from this person, and the way his voice kept cracking and breaking made her heart clench in her chest.

“No,” she muttered, trying to roll her head away from the tickling sensation. She felt too weak to do anything, her body completely numbing at her toes, and that feeling was already crawling up her legs. “Don’t send me back.” she whimpered. Uraraka began to open her eyes again, and this time, she could finally see the colors that painted the world. She could see the cream walls that they had painted together, and the dark trim that bordered those walls. She could see pink clothes, and green scarves; she could see black tank tops, and gray coats — she could see red, but it wasn’t the red she was familiar and comfortable with.

She felt tears welling behind her eyes again, memories of what she did flooding throughout her body. A red so deep, so crimson, it was haunting and the nightmares that came with it pulled at her mind.

“It’s all your fault!”

The words echoed throughout her mind, and she knew what those words meant now.

“You didn’t have to do it.”

His voice screaming those words to her sent a wave of pain crashing against her chest, drowning her heart as she choked on air. Uraraka felt the tears rolling down her cheeks now, her entire face scrunching up with pain as she began to sob against his neck. “I’m so sorry, Bakugou—” she choked out.

He had his back against the wall as he held her motionless, near death body in his embrace. She was sitting in between his legs, her opened wrists in his hands, as he cradled her with his broad arms. She could feel his lips pressing against her head, his own soft sobs sounding out as she cried against his throat. His warmth surrounded her, kept her body and her mind in a world of comfort, while the fire continued to burn throughout her arms.

She wanted the pain to stop, she wanted to go back in time and make herself choose a different option; she had gone too far, tried committing something that she couldn’t go back on, and now she laid there, questioning whether or not this would actually be the end.

“I want to go home,” she whispered against the skin of his neck, her lids closing over coffee orbs, thick, damp lashing dusting her cheeks with tears. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I won’t let you,” Katsuki promised, his lips pressing one more kiss to her head. She could hear something that sounded far away, almost too far away, but the way his body jolted with energy almost sent her over the edge. “They’re here, Angel Face. Just hang on.”

Who’s here? Why are they here? All she could see were faces so hollow, so skinny and filled with death, that she didn’t want to see them. She had lived through her nightmare, experienced just how cold, and how unwelcoming of a world it was, and she never wanted to go back; it wasn’t an escape, she was living through her nightmares. She wanted to stay home, accept her troubles and learn to grow and move past them. She wanted to stay with Katsuki; she felt guilt claw at her chest, knowing that she wasn’t the only one that had lived through a nightmare. Uraraka knew that death still had a grip on her body, and that was the nightmare that Bakugou was still living through.

They’re here. Can they really save me?

[writingfromkitchenator]

This Old Man

A Horror Short

There was a sensation of falling.

It took Ryan a long time to focus, to open his eyes, only to realise that air was indeed rushing past his face, his eyes watering as his mouth opened in a silent scream, his voice seemingly locked in his throat.

Voice filled the air as he rushed towards a yellow light, alternating between almost angelic and very demonic.

Heat flushed his skin as he burst through the light, tumbling around before he bring himself back into focus, the words starting to make sense.

This old man, he rules one, He plays knick-knack in the sun;

Ryan could make out a dark figure standing tall in a wide expanse of desert.  As he falls, the figures arm raises towards him and heat presses firmer against him, sparks and flames starting to lick at his skin

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

He struggles against the fire, squirms and fights what he can, unable to make a noise even as he plunges back into darkness.

The fire gone, a blue light surrounds him. This old man, he rules two, He plays knick-knack in the blue;

There is another figure, looking like it’s floating, Ryan clutching at his throat, feeling his lungs filled with water, strange looking fish swimming past him. No matter how much he kicks and struggles, Ryan cannot stop it, even as the figure reaches for him.

A sharp tug pulls him downwards.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

He draws in deep lung full’s of air, as he tumbles again, a softer, metallic light spinning around him, the sounds of gears and metal crunching.

This old man, he rules three, He plays knick-knack with machines;

Ryan can see another figure standing there, this one pointing a largish object at him, something similar to a gun, which fires into Ryan’s body.

Pain sears through Ryan’s chest and he clutches at himself, blood pooling through his clothes and making his world spin. With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

The figure reaches for him but he’s suddenly sucked down, the wounds healing over.

His plunged into almost darkness and Ryan tries to right himself, even as soft laughter joins the song. This old man, he rules four, He plays knick-knack for our lord;

Something hard wraps around his throat and he tugged forward, grasping at nothing as large, white, pointed teeth fill his vision, the laughter louder, crueller, Ryan kicking his feet uselessly, eyes wide with terror.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

There is a shriek and Ryan slips from its’ grasp, pulled down fiercely, grasped at by many hands, that clung hard to, too hard, fingers drawing blood, screeches in his ear. This old man, he rules five, He plays knick-knack and rules the hive;

Ryan slips free from the holds and somehow managed to right himself, staring at the wide expanse around him, looking like he was in the centre of a giant sphere.

His eyes go wide, the walls are amassed with what looks like people, all in various states of decay.  There is what resembles a man in the middle, long, vine like arms splaying out and Ryan can’t react as one shoots for him and throws him down.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

He lands in something thick, almost tar, and he struggles, trying to pull away, the voices becoming muffled. This old man, he rules six, He plays knick-knack on the Styx;

There is movement around him and Ryan realises he isn’t the only one in the river, that there are others struggling around him.  Something splashes down next to him and Ryan can just look up, making out a figure on a boat.  Whatever it is holding, tugs him free from the tar like substance, letting him cough the substance free before plunging him back in, fully under.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

A small light filled Ryan’s vision, even he continued to struggle against the black, before he could suddenly breathe easier, the tar melting away as he suddenly felt himself being pulled upward, towards the light. This old man, he rules seven, He plays knick-knack to spare you from heaven;

The voices go higher as they sing this, slowing down before bursting into laughter that echoes around in the dark.

Ryan frowns, even as he starts to reach for the light, his hands bleary before his eyes, the words sinking in slowly.

A low chuckle rumbles in his ear before two large hands clamp heavily around him, crushing him.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

Ryan struggles, only for the hands to suddenly feel like tight cords around him, making him scream. This old man, he rules eight, He plays knick-knack with you as bait;

He was thrown out above a large black abyss, an obsidian glow beneath him, his legs kicking uselessly.

Something large moves beneath him, a giant eye glancing up before slipping back into the dark.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

Teeth fills Ryan’s vision and a set of jaws clamps down around him, the binds disappearing. This old man, he rules nine, He plays knick-knack for all of time;

He can feel his skin shrinking, becoming slack and he stares at his hands, watches them grow older, feels his body explode in pain from within, his teeth starting to fall out, his vision fading.

Just as suddenly, it all starts to come back, except his body begins to shrink, shrill cries leaving him as his teeth pull back into his mouth, and he can catch brief glimpses of other around him, trapped in the same limbo, growing older and younger in a matter of seconds, all expressions one of agony.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, You’ve done worse so down you fall.

Ryan can’t focus, his head whirling, he can feel himself falling again, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, his body and mind exhausted.

The voices fall quieter. This old man, he rules ten, He plays knick-knack and curses amen;

He lands hard on a soft surface bouncing a little before gasping for air as he bolts upright, the room around him dark as he clenches at the sheets, his knuckles turning white.

There is someone sitting at the end of his bed, hands resting a top a cane even as Ryan stares with wide eyes, the voices fading out to a whisper.

With a knick-knack and click clack, You think you’ve seen it all, He's the worst so there you'll stall.

The man smiles, staring at Ryan with a dark eyes that show no hint of amusement.  “Do you understand yet?”

Ryan swallows, sweat beading across his forehead, an involuntary shudder going through him and he swear that he can hear soft laughter around the room.

There is a sharp tap of the cane, making Ryan jump and nod furiously.

“Good,” The man said, his grin widening.  “So you get a choice.  My hell or yours.”

Ryan looks around his room, looks at his clothes thrown about, looks at the scorch marks burned into his desk, filled with broken bottles and substances that he didn’t want to think about.  He can see the blood, even in the dark, and he looks down at the deep cuts up his arm.

The chuckle that leaves the man is cold as he reclines back in the chair, a hand resting under his chin as he stares at Ryan.  “Such choices.  Live eternally like this, or fall through those worlds again and again and again for all eternally.”

Ryan bites his tongue hard, but he know he isn’t dreaming. “That’s…that’s really it then?  No just dragging me straight down?”

For the first time, the amusement settles in his expression.  “Oh no.  See, I learned a long time ago that there was something much more interesting about you humans that you gave yourselves credit for.”

Ryan felt a bit braver.  “And what was that?”

He swears that fire leaps behind those black eyes.  “You have a complete and utter hatred for being as you are, for being human.  You all tell yourselves otherwise, but it’s just not true.  You loath it, want nothing more than to free yourselves from those little mortal bodies and see what’s on the other side.”  There is a pause.  “Now you’ve seen the other side, so the question is, what do you choose?”

Fear fights with Ryan and the words are out of his mouth before he can say anything.  “I don’t want to die!”

There is satisfaction in the man’s grin now and he leans back forward on his cane.  “Oh good, I do love it when they say that.  Now you get to see the eons pass, just as we all do.”

With a low hum, Ryan can recognise the tune again, even as there is a flash, leaving him with long enough to catch the glimpse of giant wings spreading along his wall, before the chair sits empty, the man gone.

As the air settles and he can feel his breathing returning to normal, a cold chill takes him as realisation dawns on him and scrambles from his bed.

“Wait.”

He trips in his sheets, landing hard on the floor, before managing to free himself and burst out of his bedroom door, his house dark and empty, the noises from the street outside filtering through.

“Wait!”

But he comes to the centre of the lounge, in equal disarray to his room, and stops, the emptiness making him shudder as he realises that the man was not coming back.

“Wait…”

A broken sob leaves him as he collapses to the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks as he break, starting to scream into the night as it all hit him, as he realised what he had done.

He had agreed to live forever.