#mephisto's face is a nightmare to draw

[sozzledjuja]

he no no wanna :(

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

[strxngemxgick]

Hair’s Breadth From Death

October 3, 2022, Day 3

Prompt: Hair’s breadth from death (”say goodbye”)

Summary: Stephen considers the ideal circumstances of his eventual demise.

Readers: @cherryfinolahobbes @shieldagentnatasharomanoff @mehrere-musen

If Stephen had a nickel for every time he’d been at the end of someone’s knife, staring down an oncoming blast, gazing down the proverbial barrel of the gun, he’d be richer than the Starks. The very nature of his position as an active master of the mystic arts demanded some level of risk, and most of the time, it was to an extreme. The Ancient One, and Sorcerer Supremes of the past, had created many enemies for themselves over the years, drawing the ire of many powerful, influential beings from all sorts of dimensions. Anyone following in their footsteps was surely cursed to face the same foes, run the same risks, and share that dance with death. 

It was only a matter of time before one foe or another finally could claim the title of Doctor Strange’s murderer. 

Stephen had always pictured that it would be one of the godlike figures that served as his opposition. Ego aside - because surely, who would he be felled by if not one of his more powerful enemies - he had a tendency to face them more frequently. Their attacks, and attempted subjugation of Earth, were relentless. The tricky, clever demon, Mephisto would have plenty of ideas to bring Stephen to his knees. He was, by far, the most creative in his schemes, and the least likely to be seen coming, no matter how obvious his influence might have been. Though, Stephen supposed, Mephisto would have derived more pleasure from Stephen’s continued torture and imprisonment, content in watching the fallen Sorcerer Supreme live out a long, miserable existence as a glorified, beaten trophy. Shuma-Gorath was also a possibility, significantly more likely. Shuma-Gorath had been bent on controlling the Earth dimension before man could even fathom their purpose, before “man” itself was even a concept. Viewed as a god across a multitude of dimensions, it was understandable that one of the greatest Many-Angled Ones might take offense to consistently being thwarted by the equivalent of a gnat. That creature, too, had been thwarted by Stephen many times, banished almost regularly to the far reaches of the multiverse. Not to say that it wouldn’t attempt to escape once more, but Stephen felt more confident in his ability to push it back. Mordo, like his other adversaries, was strong. Capable. Relentless. Wrathful. He had sworn almost since the beginning that he would be the one to drive the final nail into the Sorcerer Supreme’s coffin. But still, Stephen didn’t feel much need to be worried; there were some times where Mordo’s attempts seemed almost like more of an inconvenience.

Dormammu, Stephen determined, would ultimately be the one to come closest to actually finishing the job. Few were out for his blood like Dormammu, and the Faltine was likely the only one with the power and drive to actually finish Strange off. Stephen could see it - had seen it, in some of his most consistent, oppressive nightmares. He could picture his foe toting around his body, broken and beaten and limp as a doll as he razed Earth to the ground, laughing as he left nothing but ashes in his wake. And then, when the damage was done, irreversible and total, he would finally end the once proud, capable Doctor Strange.

He had prepared for these outcomes. He had spent years mediating on them, trying to prepare for the possibilities of some of his worst fears. To an extent, he supposed he could learn to be alright with those outcomes. Unsatisfied, certainly, and entirely disappointed that he had reached what would always feel like an untimely end. He was a hero, regardless of how he felt some days, and he knew that his efforts would never feel like enough. But, he imagined he could be content that he would go down fighting. Proud. Brave. His head held high until the very end. Prepared, yes, though never at peace.

He hadn’t prepared for Kaecilius. 

A disciple of Mordo, Kaecilius had served as more of a pest than even his master. He was utilized for dirty work, bolstered with borrowed power in one way or another before Stephen had eventually grown tired of the pathetic attempts he had made at the behest of Strange’s true nemeses. It had been easy to banish him, sending the other sorcerer to the purple dimension, and Stephen had been comfortable in believing that was the end of him. The chances of escape were so slim, and he hardly viewed the other as capable, as is.

It was embarrassing, to say the least. To think that he had been cornered so effectively, rendered immobile and helpless as Kaecilius advanced. Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme, and with all of the warlords and demigods he had sent running from his world, it was a slighted student who had managed to render him incapable. His struggles were pointless, and the grin on Kaecilius’s face told Stephen that he knew. He knew, and was giddy, the bloodlust in his crazed pale eyes made a hard shiver run up Strange’s spine. The dark magic encircling him, pinning him, nearly burned his skin. It constricted, making his joints ache. The chilling gleam of the ritual knife in his attacker’s hand sparked a shameful level of fear. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. All he could smell was the blood in his nostrils, taste the copper in his mouth. His teeth ground together in his frustration, that he hoped might beat out the growing terror as reality sank in. 

He was going to die there.

And it was hardly as heroic a death as he had imagined for himself. All he had was a weak-seeming threat, his rage, and his terror.

Kaecilius took his hands with clean swipes at his wrists, blood dripping to the floor in fountains. Sickening splashes accompanied the heavy thumps of his hands hitting the hardwood. Perhaps it was the pain making him delirious, but he was almost impressed by the effectiveness of the knifework. Following, morbid, on that idea’s tail was the idea that for the first time in years, there would be no pain in his hands - no damaged nerves or brittle bones or ruined muscles to cause him grief, because, well, he simply didn’t have them anymore. 

He barely had time to scream before the blade sank deep into his chest.

Waking, next, was an absolute whirlwind of activity. The Peregrine Child was on their doorstep, ushered by its dreadful Mothers to a world teeming with magic, with no clear Sorcerer Supreme to defend it. He’d barely had time to greet his old companions, could hardly bring himself to even look at them when he knew what must be done - Clea, in particular, was difficult to make eye contact with (she was just as beautiful as the day he had been forced to leave her). 

Doctor Stephen Strange had always lived on borrowed time. There was no denying that much. He was a man that had cheated death time and again, slipping from the chilly clutches of the afterlife with a spite only he could wield. Since becoming Sorcerer Supreme, he had only been given more tools to further spite Death, skirting around the inevitable minute by minute. 

And coming back to life to save the universe one last time had been what truly did it.

He supposed he could feel grateful that, despite his apparent end, he did get his wish. That blaze of glory that he wanted. The knowledge that he did the right thing, in the end. Went down fighting. But there was still unfinished business…

Clea.

“Say goodbye, Strange,” Death had encouraged him, close enough for him to feel her chill, her icy breath on the back of his neck. He couldn’t discern the tone of her voice, impatient and encouraging all at once. But his gaze never strayed from his wife. Stunning. Fierce. Determined. Wounded. Even after everything they had been through, Stephen felt confident in the knowledge that she was still his wife. His most beloved. 

Stephen sighed, breath shuddering as he said his goodbyes. Offered Clea one final kiss. Held her one last time.

And then he was gone.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 4, chapter 4

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: fantasy violence

It was the sound that gave the first clue to Izual's location. The howling, to be precise. It cut like a finely honed blade through the faraway sounds of demons going about their business. Those noises were babbling, sometimes raucous, natural expressions of creatures in their home element. This was something different. It was hard, and cold, and achingly lonely somehow. Morgan shivered as he followed Blaise in the direction of its source.

She paused at the corner of a ruin, the two rough walls all that remained of an ancient building. "You said he'd be alone, right? That has to be who we're after." Morgan nodded, already reaching out to feed some magic into the ground beneath the lone figure at the centre of what might have been a plaza at one time.

The figure howled again, and its clawed hands wrenched and tore violently at... something on its back. Something that had once been wings, Morgan realized as it spread what remained of them, reduced to little more than bloodied bone and tendon. Shreds of leathery membrane quivered with the force of its baying. These ruined appendages were nothing like the tendrils of light that made up an angel's wings. Perhaps that was why it wanted to be rid of them so badly, Morgan thought.

There was no sense in further prolonging its suffering. With a push of will, the earth reached up to hold the creature in place. It did not struggle. Instead it froze for a second, then fell silent and tipped its head back to bare its throat in an implicit surrender.

Blaise dispatched it efficiently. But as the body fell, something remained standing. It peeled back out of the lifeless form, amorphous and nearly transparent. After a moment it resolved into the shape of an angel. It seemed to be staring down at the fallen husk. Morgan could still see right through it. The angel began to speak in a voice that sounded like an echo.

"Tyrael was a fool to have trusted me. I told Diablo and his brothers about the soulstones. About how they could be corrupted. I helped them mastermind their own exile to your world. The plan we set in motion so long ago cannot be stopped. Hell itself will spill into your world like a tidal wave of blood and nightmares."

"What exactly is this plan?" Blaise lowered her bow but kept it drawn.

"To corrupt the stones, allowing their influence to spread across your world unnoticed by the angelic host. Their claws are already hooked into the fabric of your world, and they are eager to shred the veil separating it from Hell."

"And what's stopping them? If they're so eager, why haven't they done it yet?"

"Their long imprisonment has diminished their power. They must restore themselves here, in their home, before unleashing Hell on earth. Even now Diablo and Baal seek the rejuvenation of the Chaos sanctuary. They know they are pursued."

"Sounds like it's a good time to strike. We can take them down before they get back to full strength." There was a certain glint in Blaise's eyes. She was undoubtedly already imagining their victory over the remaining demon lords.

"Impossible. Mere mortals cannot hope to stand against the power of the Prime Evils."

"Well, we already killed Mephisto, so you're wrong there."

"Impossible," Izual repeated. Blaise was squaring up for an argument, which wasn't likely to get them any additional information. This would be an opportune moment to interject, Morgan decided.

"You are free now, Izual. The form that bound you has been destroyed. You can return to the High Heavens. To your home."

Izual's spectral hood turned toward Morgan. "My prison is felled, but I cannot return to the Host. Not after what I have done. I am beyond redemption."

"There's no harm in trying," Blaise chimed in. "What's the worst that could happen? Seems to me they can't do much worse than what you've already been through."

"Heaven knows the depths of my betrayal. I cannot return after the treason I have committed."

"It was Tyrael who bade us free you," Morgan said. "Surely if the avatar of Justice feels your penance has been sufficient, the-"

"Tyrael is a fool," Izual repeated. "He has no power over me, not any more." He looked back down at the body that had once imprisoned him. "You have granted me a brief reprieve from the torment I have earned. I thank you for this kindness. But in time, this vessel will be born anew from the Black Abyss and I will be drawn back into it. There can be no other fate for me."

"Perhaps not." Morgan approached the body, drawing a vial of oil out of his pack.

"What are you doing, mortal?" Izual reached out as if to stop him, but the only resistance his arm provided was an uncomfortable chill. Goosebumps prickled across his skin where the angel's form passed through it.

"It is not my place to judge whether or not you deserve to return," Morgan explained as he anointed the forehead and claws of the demonic form. "But I did give my word that I would try my utmost to free you." It was a bit of guesswork, but it tracked with what he knew of angels and demons. Consecrating the demonic body should, in theory, cause it to be destroyed in a way that would prevent it from reforming. Demons' spirits could return to the Black Abyss to await a new body, just as angels were given form through the Crystal Arch. But Izual was not truly a demon, despite the corruption he had endured. There was no reason a completely new body should be created for him without additional intervention. That was beyond the scope of Morgan's control, unfortunately, but this seemed like the most likely way to ensure the angel's freedom.

"Do not interfere," Izual growled. Morgan flinched as the angel lunged at him. It was colder this time, but there was still no physical resistance as the angel's form passed through him.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? He's trying to help you," Blaise called. An arrow flew harmlessly through the angel's ghostly body. It got his attention briefly, long enough for Morgan to draw a sigil in oil on the chest of the remains. He used the oldest symbol he knew. It began to glow faintly as he hovered his hand over it, starting the consecration by empowering the anointment.

"No," Izual hissed. The icy tendrils of his wings wrapped around Morgan's throat as he began reciting the prayer that accompanied the sigil. Although the touch wasn't tangible, the chill was. It drained his breath and made the muscles in his throat tighten with the shock of the sudden cold. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the intent he was feeding into the prayer and the oil. As long as he could manage at least a whisper, it should suffice. It was only a few phrases he had to get through.

Freezing chill assaulted Morgan, targeting his face, his throat. The cold ached in his teeth and stole the sensation away from his lips. He treated each word carefully, slowly. If he wanted to have any chance at success, he couldn't let Izual interrupt him. It was unlikely he'd be able to complete the prayer a second time if he had to start over.

At one point it felt like glacial fingers were reaching through his chest to squeeze around his heart. That made him gasp, opening his eyes to see Blaise trying ineffectually to grapple Izual away from him. Morgan staggered back a step but the angel followed effortlessly. The cold grew impossibly deeper as he reached his other hand in to join the first, bringing Morgan to his knees. It was so cold it burned, too cold to even shiver.

"Morgan, stop! I can't touch him, he's going to - you have to get out of there!" Blaise's words turned to steam as they left her mouth, little clouds hanging in the shimmering cold that surrounded Izual. Morgan shook his head minutely. No matching steam accompanied the words he continued to force past his teeth. The air from his lungs wasn't warm enough for that. But he was so close. I believe you capable, Tyrael's voice echoed in his mind. If Tyrael believed that, surely it was true. It had to be. He could finish this.

Morgan rasped out the final syllables and slumped forward, no longer trying to resist the darkness pulsing around the edges of his vision. His immediate task was complete and he could rest a little in this enveloping cold. Izual jerked back as the anointed body was consumed by light. It glowed at first like a firefly, then a torch, then a bonfire, then a sun, replacing the creeping darkness with brilliant white. Izual howled a wordless protest, growing in volume as the light shone brighter and brighter. Even when Morgan angled his face away from it, echoes danced across his eyelids. Then, suddenly, it stopped. No light, no sound. Izual was gone.

A ragged gasp broke the silence as Morgan finally drew a fresh breath unhindered by Izual's chill. It stuck in his throat, warm air warring with cold. The rough stone of the plaza scraped against his forehead as he fell into a helpless fit of coughing, his body finally reacting to the temperature shock with violent, rattling tremors. Blaise was saying something but the coughing drowned her out. A heavy hand thumped on his back, which was uncomfortable and did nothing to stop either the hacking coughs or the tremors. He waved her away weakly as he tried to steady his breathing, encouraging the stone to prop him up into a more upright position. This was no time to rest after all. Tyrael's task was complete but his own work was still in progress.

"Akarat's bane, Morgan, that was close. I thought I was going to have to drag you out of there." Blaise paused. "Would that even work?"

"I don't know," Morgan croaked, hugging his arms around himself. It was ineffective; his armour prevented any heat transfer. "People are... tethered to their bodies when they die, if they linger. But I don't know about angels. That wasn't even his true body." The uncontrollable shivering was beginning to slow slightly, the warmth of the environment chasing away the chill.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to try it. Anyway, let's get back to the fortress. Everyone's going to want to hear about that thing with the soulstones, and I don't really want to stick around to see what that light display might have attracted." Blaise raised one arm to loop briefly around Morgan's shoulders. The gesture warmed him better than the ambient heat of Hell, but he refrained from chasing it as she released him to open a portal. There was more work to be done, and he was fit enough to do it. Comfort was an unnecessary luxury.

Tyrael and Cain were conversing quietly when they returned to the fortress. Blaise set off to talk to Halbu while Morgan waited his turn to speak with Tyrael. He didn't have to wait long.

"You found Izual," the angel observed. "I can feel the echo of his resonance within you. Tell me of what happened."

"He was not eager to be freed," Morgan said. "Once the form imprisoning him was defeated, he spoke of his cooperation with the Prime Evils. Their exile to our world was planned. They have corrupted the soulstones somehow, to spread their influence across the world unnoticed by the forces of the Light. That was all he said on the matter. I consecrated the body," he added.

"In doing so, you have assured his freedom. You have my thanks for this." Morgan wrestled briefly with the awe and elation that lit up like a pyre in his chest. To receive the gratitude of an archangel was nearly unthinkable. "But if what you tell me is true," Tyrael continued, "we have been played for fools all along. With the powers of the soulstones under their control, the Prime Evils will be able to turn the mortal world into an outpost of Hell, and all mankind may be doomed." That certainly helped to dampen his emotions back down to where they ought to be.

"I feared as much," Cain said grimly. "What you described of the Zakarum high council pointed to that conclusion. If the soulstones have all been corrupted, there are dire implications."

"But we defeated Mephisto already," Blaise interjected, striding over to join the conversation. "We have his stone. And we're going to get the other ones too. Can't we just smash them?"

"When Mephisto's soulstone was split into pieces, those shards each served as a focus for his power," Tyrael said. "They are impossible to destroy by conventional methods."

"Well, what unconventional methods are there? There has to be something."

"There is the Hellforge," Halbu called from where he was working. "There is a hammer that can annihilate anything placed on that accursed pedestal. I've wanted to get my hands on that hammer for ages. It ought to be somewhere near the forge, but without any scouts I don't know for sure."

"Yes," Tyrael said, "that could work. The Hellforge could destroy the stones completely. We will lose any advantage the soulstones ever gave us, but shattering the stones is more important."

"Their advantage was lost the moment they were corrupted," Cain added.

"Is this hammer enchanted?" Morgan asked.

"Naturally," Halbu replied.

"Excellent," Cain exclaimed. "That ought to make it much easier for you to find, my friend!"

"Yes. If you suspect it's near a landmark, I ought to be able to find it easily enough." It would be good to put his skills to use again so soon, to make more progress toward their ultimate goal.

"I think I might have spotted the forge from up on one of those spires," Blaise said. "And now we know the big boys are holed up in the Chaos sanctuary, so we can head there right after."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Halbu said. "No offense. But I've been after that hammer for years."

"I guess this is your lucky year, then," Blaise returned cheerfully. "And it's my lucky day if there's any more of that pork thing you made earlier. We have to eat before we head back out."

Morgan cast a glance at the space the portal had occupied, but it was empty. She must have closed it already. And since she was the one with a clear idea of where they were going, he would have to wait.

"You coming?"

"No, thank you. I require a brief meditation." The last traces of chill had fled in the face of Tyrael's presence, but that in itself was something to be treated with caution. Although their goals aligned at the moment, that was no reason to allow his neutrality to be compromised. His duty was to his Order, and not anything else.

[bamfoftheundead]

Foul Play

heres the drabble i was working on that got deleted >:/ its prolly not as good as the original but o well, its longer anyway

enjoy ig, wonder if i should make more

@mikeellee and @dannybagpipesarecalling if your interested? just a lil thing i threw together

@niuniente not sure if your into the belasco kurtty but i do take request :B

_________________________________

Azazel, belasco and Mephisto are demon lords that gather around for monthly "games" because they have nothing better to do and they're immortal and fairly lonely

Being the rulers of their own dimensions means plenty of fun. Yearly they host games, somewhat like the earth Olympics. They take their strongest/fastest warriors and pit them against each other in brutal, inhumane games. Rarely do more than the victor of these games survive but when they do ooooh is it not fun. The winner of each game is given one "wish" from their King. No strings, no contracts or deals, just an honest free wish and that's the end of it. The three may be evil demon Lord's but they're true to their word during these games.

And the remaining demons in the games that are still alive, the 'losers' are publicly humiliated and tortured in agonizing manners. Then they're demoted to the lowest rank possible and never heard of again. Sometimes no one wins the terrible games. Sometimes to make it fun they take humans and toss them in there to see how they do. None had ever survived, not until her.

The games had started as they usually did. The humans losing their minds to fear and being torn apart and the demon warriors fighting fang and claw for victory. But the brunette woman was different, very different and that difference was noticed by the great lord of limbo, Belasco

The little human woman was a tyrant, she struck down her fellow warriors one by one. Firstly the humans, they’d been idly butting heads and she had tried to help them, to work together but they weren’t compromising, knowing the nature of the games. They’d tried to kill her and ended up dead, necks snapped on the cold ground. Then the demons, she took them down one by one in the race to the first marker. She slew them without mercy. somehow taking down the most powerful fighters in any infernal domain.

The lords watched on, amusement turning into surprise and then awe as the little woman passed the third marker. Getting past the group of infernal warriors mephisto had provided. It took no time at all before the little human shot pass them.

 The brunette took down every warrior sent her way with a remarkable mix of brawn and brains. Calculating the situation and defeating each demon with deadly precision. The human woman continued to pass each trial and marker, gaining the attention of belasco. He’d noticed her first initially from the start, a small beautiful human that wouldn’t last the trial, or so he thought. Mephisto had a mean streak, picking out delicate little women and throwing them into fatal games. Either taking pleasure in watching their demise or forcing them into a corner to bargain with him. But this one wasn’t like any other, she would not be backed away or taken down. By the sixth marker she had finally received a weapon (courtesy of belasco) and turned even more lethal. It was single handedly the most beautiful thing the lord of limbo had ever seen. The woman, no warrior holding the blade with familiarity. Dress torn and bloodied. Thick brown curls clinging to her bloodstained face as she hacked the head off another demon. He’d never seen such feats accomplished by a human before, well a normal human. He found his excitement growing as she neared the end.

 Then, in an attempt to fail her mephisto sent out more demons leaving belasco silently hoping for the small woman's survival, he liked her. Azazel seemed fairly amused by the predicament, observing with concealed interest. But just as the demons arrive they are slaughtered. She shows no mercy as she beheads each demon, taking everyone of them down. A feat truly worthy of a wish, belasco knew. If this little warrior were to win then belasco himself would come down and grant her whatever boon she desired if only to speak with her, to learn more of her.

 Finally the games were near an end, the small human walked to the last marker, enemy head in hand and blade in the other. She walked to the top of the podium and is lifted to the top of the colosseum. The crowds are stunned to silence. Never before had a human accomplished such amazing feats, or even lasted within the first ten minutes of the game. Demons gape and gasp as she rises higher and higher until she stands before the lords, angry and unwavering. She stands stiffly, back straight as a sword and glare growing icier by the minute. 

 Mephisto stays quiet as the human approaches them, dumbstruck by her win. Belasco is the first to greet her, teleporting eagerly (though he won’t show it) in front of the small woman. Azazel stands, knowing when respect is due. And the little human had certainly earned his, as well as his interest. Finally, belasco speaks.

 “ Tell me, human warrior, what is your name? “ His tone is flat and controlled as always, though tipped in excitement only discernible by his closest fellows. Azazel watches on closely, glee growing by the second.

 The woman stiffens briefly, overtaken by anger, tinged with fear. Before addressing him she turns to mephisto and tosses the head to his feet. The head belonged to his most accomplished warrior. Mephisto duly takes notice of the severed part. Though churning with hellish glee on the inside that the king barely kept hidden. The three kings are still eagerly waiting. The empire quiets down to a stop. A single speck of dust can be heard flowing through the wind as the human woman turns, tossing the sword to belascos feet. Her eyes are harsh and dark, voice tight and unwavering as she speaks.

 “ Kitty pryde “ 

  She tosses the sword to belascos own feet with disgust. The limbo lord nearly purrs in delight, her voice. So raw with anger, disgust and fear, sweet delicious fear.

 Holding her fiery gaze the king almost smiles, almost. Finally azazel clears his throat. ‘Porting from his own throne and next to their victor. Taking her hand, much to her dismay, he lifts her arm as she fights him and roars for all the world to hear.

 “ THE VICTOR OF THIS YEAR'S TOURNAMENT, MISS KITTY PRYDE OF EARTH! “ the hordes scream and roar in excitement. Confetti rains down upon the entire colosseum.

 As demons cheer belasco surveys the warrioress with interest, very beautiful and while red suited her the stench was not becoming. With a deft wave of his only hand her torn clothing transforms into a beautiful red dress. Her body is cleaned from any blood, sweat and dirt from before. Her hair is shiny clean and hangs down her back, held back regally with several gold chains. Adorned among her chestnut locks is a single red rose. 

 Stepping away to observe her belasco feels a stirring, she was quite beautiful. Azazel seemed to take notice of her as well because as she's transformed into a cleaner state the demon lord takes her hand and tucks it under his arm, smiling at the crowd and inviting belascos jealousy. 

 Kitty struggles to free her arm from the demon's grip. Pulling and hissing at the red skinned man. He merely laughs. Cheeky bastard.

 Finally the demon lets go, now turning to fully address the crowd. Before she could break for it belasco comes from behind, laying a hand on her waist and drawing her close to his chest. Leaning down he brushes his lips against her ear, his torrid breath hitting her face.

 “ please, won’t you stay for dinner? “ he purrs into her ear.

 Swallowing hard kitty shivers in his tight embrace, thighs beginning to shake. Would she ever escape this nightmare?

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

dont forget to click on the red dress link! took me a while to find the right dress

thats it folks! had a bit of fun writing this, im not a good writer so my writing will prolly sound stiff n weird. But i got this idea in me noggin and just started writing, even if the original draft was deleted >:(

and you'll notice that i, cannot for the life of me do perspective

[notbecauseofvictories]

Rey?

Let’s say the captain, sweeping his spyglassover the hills, after all this time, found us.

There’s a world in which Han Solo makes planetfall on Jakku. Mostly because he hasn’t been there in a decade and a half and is curious—wants to know what’s left behind, in the wake of war. (Not that every port or planet he’s ever docked at isn’t a study of the wake of war. From Coruscant to the Outer Rim, there’s no part of the galaxy that isn’t a study in the leavings of war. If not the Rebellion then the Separatist, and if not the Separatist then the Jedi-Sith, and if not—

Well. He grew up in the slums of Corellia, he remembers how wars came and went and you were still poor, still angry, still hopeless. Never let it be kriffing forgot.)

Anyway. Han Solo and Chewbacca come to Jakku, and there’s a skinny, defiant girl in the marketplace, arguing she should have four portions, Unkar, come on. Her chin is a spade, and she’s too thin, too brown, too hungry. Han has always liked hungry. He liked it when it was some wide-eyed farmboy wanting to get off Tatooine and he liked it when it was that kid’s sister, trying to shape the galaxy by force of will and a blaster. Han liked it when it was his kid, following at Han’s heels and saying why how what is why tell me tell me.

The girl in the marketplace’s eyes go very wide, when Han lays down his (well. Leia’s) credit chip beside her beat-up, three generations-old hyperdrive. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Han drawls, and watches the non-human sentient behind the counter splutter. 

Afterwards, once he’s cajoled the sentient—Unkar, the girl says, like it’s a curse—into gift what’s owed, the girl hunches her shoulders in. “I’m sorry,” she says, clutching the measly dehydrated portions like Han might try to actually take them away from her. “I don’t have credits, I can’t—”

“Come work for us,” Chewie growls, which saves Han the indignity of offering no, whatever you want, you can clean out our cupboards, take that too. The girl flinches, but nothing else; she must have been here a while, if that’s her only reaction.

“It’s honest work,” Han adds, as gently as he dares—the tone he used to use to talk Ben down from whatever nightmare he’d been having, with all its blood and screaming. “Just transpo, loading and unloading. You’re tough; if you can read Aurebesh, then you’re already leagues ahead of whoever else we might get.”

The girl looks at them, each in turn. “My family is coming back for me,” she says. “I’m sorry, I have to wait for them.”

Han does convince her to come back to the ship, and she wolfs down their shitty rations like someone not used to having food around, who never learned to be precious about it. Han suspects that might be true. She insists on helping Chewie with a particularly tricky rewiring that Han had been putting off, and it’s nice, Han thinks, slipping a couple extra ration-packs into her sack when she’s not looking.

They watch from the gangway as the the girl hops onto her skimmer and vanishes into the dunes. She looks very small, set against the horizon.“So I should power-down the ship for the night,” Chewie growls suddenly. “Since we’re obviously staying.”

Han is too old to get offended when Chewie guesses what he’s thinking about; he does anyway, at least for the look of it. “You—don’t know that! I could be thinking that we’re better off, without some scrap-of-nothing kid on board.”

“Is that a no?”

Han sighs. (She had been so small.) “No.”

“You’re a soft touch, Solo,” Chewie growls fondly. 

“Eh,” Han says with a half-hearted shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s too old not to know that about himself. “You like that about me, remember?”

.

She makes a soft, startled noise when she sees them there the next afternoon—Han fussing with a datapad and Chewie sunning himself on the ship like a lizard. She’s on foot this time, dragging a net full of engine parts behind her through the sand. “You’re still here,” she says, approaching Han warily. “Why are you still here?”

“Ceren junction’s broken,” Han lies cheerfully.

The girl narrows her eyes. “I was down in the maintenance bay yesterday, it’s fine.”

“Nope. Broken. Broken beyond all repair. Chewie and I are thinking of settling down here, actually, since we can’t leave. What do you think, is Jakku a good place to spend your retirement?”

She looks at him like he’s a crazy person, which is fair. “I told you, I have to wait for my family,” she says more slowly, like he might not have heard her the first time.

“Oh, I heard you the first time, kid.”

She gives him another suspicious look, and then huffs, goes on dragging her net of engine parts over to the knot of tents around Unkar’s place. From where he’s lying in the sun, Chewie mumbles something that sounds like an insult; Han chooses to ignore it.

It’s a couple hours later when she comes back their way, her net is empty. Han’s got a fire going by then—easier than using up their fuel to heat the ship—and she edges up to it like a wild animal. Her face has odd shadows in the firelight. “How’d you do?” Han finally asks.

“Good. A portion and a half.”

Han still feeds her from their rations anyway, shows her how to cook them over the fire so they’re warm through, and taste less like pasteboard. He falls asleep there in the sand, to the sound of Chewie’s voice, telling her lies about that time on Mephisto—

.

The next day, she actually says good morning to them both, and then promptly makes a face like there’s something in her throat. Han grins, and almost convinces himself it’s unrelated.

That evening, they all three of them sit by the fire, and Han composes a transmit in his head. Dear Leia, there’s a girl in the desert, and sometimes by firelight, she looks just like you. You’d tell me if you had a daughter, right?

(He knows the girl isn’t Leia’s. Not because of some abiding faith in her fidelity—Han’s pretty sure that fathier’s out of the gate—but because Leia’s been walked away from too many times to ever leave anyone behind.)

The girl falls asleep with her head on Han’s shoulder, and Han has Chewie carry her to his bunk. Asleep, she looks even more like Leia, the durasteel princess Han knew on Yavin who wanted to charge into everything with blasters blazing. (Han wonders if he’s always going to be this homesick for a time that’s gone, people who are only shadows now.) “Come on,” Chewie growls lowly, and with a sigh, Han follows. He takes his place in the cockpit, editing his imaginary transmission until he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up, the girl is gone, but someone has laid a blanket over him in the night. It’s from his bunk.

.

Her story comes out in bits and pieces—though there’s not really much of a story to tell, it turns out. An orphan, waiting for her parents to return. Left to raise herself, in the sandy wastes of the war. She likes mechanical things, running flight sims on an old sim-drive she found. “My favorite is the Death Star run, from the Civil War Mod!” she says, and Han chokes on a mouthful of rehydrated protein. Chewie is laughing as he pounds on Han’s back.

It turns out she does know who he is, has since the beginning. She looks a little shy saying so, and Han shakes his head. “I don’t even know your name,” he says plaintively, and the girl shrugs. Goes on eating.

Once that comes out, she has a hundred questions. What’s Luke Skywalker like? Was the Death Star really that big? Did he really make the shot? Did Senator Organa really kill Jabba the Hutt? What was the Rebellion like? What was Darth Vader like? Her ideas of what happened a little stranger than Han expects, but then, she has grown up on a dirtball Outer Rim trading post; stories didn’t make it out that far unless they were stranger, wilder than the rest.

“Don’t you want to know what I’m like?” Han complains after the fifth question about Luke Skywalker and his lightsaber, and his stunning victories and his Jedi-ness.

The girl blinks, and then smiles a little quizzically at Han. “Why? I have you.” 

.

“If we don’t get a move on, this shipment will be late,” Chewie growls softly on the seventeenth day. Rey is amusing herself with the datapad by the fire, playing some sim that Han honestly forgot he had loaded onto it. She’s still young, and the thought of her alone and small against the horizon makes him want to do something drastic, like kidnap her.

“I know,” Han says. “I know.”

(When he tells her they have to leave, she doesn’t cry–-crying is a luxury in the desert, Luke told him once. But her hands spasm tightly into fists, and she turns away; Han suspects so he won’t see her eyes. 

His hand is shaking when he reaches out and touches one of her fists. “Come with,” he says, and for a second it’s awful, too-open, raw; he’d meant to make it gruff and offer her a job, if you wanted one, Chewie likes you—

Her shoulders hitch. Under his fingers, her fist opens.)

.

“My name is Rey,” the girl from Jakku says, as she straps herself into the co-pilot’s seat. Chewie doesn’t even grumble, just makes a low churring sound as he pets her hair, and then goes off to see to the engines.

“Good to know,” Han answers pointedly. “Push the thrusters—no, not like that, what are you, trying to kill us all?”

When they get into hyperspace, that blank expanse of nothingness and horrible beauty, Rey draws in a sharp breath. “Oh,” she whispers, leaning so close to the transparisteel of the window that her nose leaves a faint smudge. So do her fingers, where she presses them against the glass.

“Welcome to the galaxy, kid,” Han tells Rey. “We hope you like it here.”

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

Elisabeth and her perceptions of Mephisto’s form;

((A part of her, way deep down in a place she’s too afraid to look at for long, knows that he’s lying. She knows in her heart that his appearance---no matter how stately, no matter how animated---is just a sham. But because of her desperation to remain locked in a dream wherein she’s needed and noticed by others Elisabeth will avoid acknowledging this truth.

Because just because she doesn’t acknowledge what her heart and mind are telling her head on (at least not initially) that doesn’t make her completely blind to the truth. The truth of his form (and perhaps even a hint of his machinations) become clear in slight, offhanded ways. She glimpses scraps of the truth in the shadows on the floor, in the backgrounds of old pictures and paintings, in pools of water, out of the corner of her eye, in the spaces between blinks, even when she’s asleep.

The sight of him large and spider-like as he crawls on the floor in her dreams, the sight of his button eyes and sewn shut lips out of the corner of her eye, the sight of his scribbled out face and hideously grinning mouth full of razor sharp teeth---like a child’s drawing of the thing lurking under their bed---frighten Elisabeth tremendously and she looks away for as long as she is able. She ignores what her heart and mind are trying to warn her away from until she can do so no longer. The steadfast persistence present in her heart is a shadow of the willfulness she displayed during her days before the nightmare encompassed the house, except this time the purpose and direction of it are for something good rather than something selfish.

A large part of her breaking free from the nightmare present within the house is Elisabeth gaining the ability to face these truths head on even with her fears; for looking at the world’s truth is a necessary step to being able to look at the truth about herself.))

[fluff-and-such]

@ruhig-fortepiano​ Requested 39 and 49 for both Inarius and Malthael, here we goooo

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? 49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood? 

______________________

Read more cuz these got loooong

Inarius:   39: Most humans take one look at Inarius’s true form and assume “oh god he’s going to eat me.” Inarius is pretty rough looking, and is shaped like a good number of Sanctuary’s natural predators.  It’s pretty rare for Inarius to ever eat a human, however. Maybe in the thick of battle, he’d bite someone, but certainly not eat. That’s uncultured. 

His human form is attractive enough, with soft features and white hair. People tend to stare. It’s just something about him, the way he walks, how his skin seems to glow.  For that reason, a lot of people assume he’s some sort of holy figure - not entirely wrong, though Inarius would probably have himself a big fat panic if he knew that. Does not want a repeat of himself as The Prophet, no thank you.

Angels look at him and, at a glance, assume he’s just a particularly grubby angel of Justice (not exactly wrong). Inarius is pretty beat up, scarred, and generally covered in dirt. Busy at work on Sanctuary, it’s easy to assume he’s just a dirty worker angel. 

49: Inarius has more nightmares than dreams, or even regular sleep. Mephisto did a number on his psych, and he’s usually pretty stressed out. 

Of course, a lot of them are just reliving things that have happened to him, or perhaps being recaptured and taken back to Hell. Every so often Lilith pops up. There’s a few involving the End of the Sin War.  Technically the dream about his son showing up isn’t a nightmare, but he always wakes up freaked out from that one. 

Due to all the nightmares, Inarius tends to avoid sleep for as long as he can. It’s not like he’s actually getting any rest anyway. Once the day gets going, Inarius oddly acts happier than usual. Can’t let anyone know how bad it is, they might start worrying about him or something. 

Malthael:

39: The standard reaction to spotting Malthael is to run, maybe hide, definitely scream. Most assume he’s a monster come to terrorize them at best, and a demon from Hell here to devour them at worst. 

Well. Malthael certainly isn’t from hell, but he does enjoy a good spooking. And there was absolutely a point in time he’d tear a human apart and snack on their soul.  Fortunately, that time is mostly past...

His human illusion isn’t something Malthael uses often, but it is just striking enough to draw some attention to his features. Rough, tall, dark and glowering, most people assume he’s trouble for someone. Ironically, if Malthael is ever putting on a human front, it’s because he’s not trying to cause problems. 

Angels used to assume he was the steadfast, shining example of a leader they could all trust. They respected him. The sight of him put many angels at ease, if a little awestruck.  They assumed he had everything under his control, that everything was going to be okay because he would take care of it.  ...Malthael certainly tried to live up to their expectations. And he did keep them safe, for a very long time. (Absolutely did not have everything under control though. He’s almost as good at hiding things as Inarius.)  These days, angels look at him and see a sign that Corruption will take down even the strongest of light. They assume he’s gone completely mad, and is better off put down.  In truth, he’s very much himself. 

49: Recently, Malthael has started having nightmares of all the people he killed, all the souls he took. He assumed (With a helping dose of denial) that his head was just conjuring up horrors.  It wasn’t until a random conversation with Rathma revealed that these were actual souls, seeking escape and perhaps some absolution. 

A quick necromancer-ritual took care of all that - and took a lot of his magic with it. 

Aside from that, he occasionally dreams of shouting and wailing, and the other archangels. He does not look forward to facing Imperius, Auriel and Itherael, but he knows he owes them an explanation, at least. 

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist: Spy Game - Yukio in Wonderland (part 5)

The fifth (and final!) part of the crackiest crack I’ve ever read in an officially sanctioned book, dragged kicking and screaming into the Anglosphere for your viewing pleasure.

If you thought Yuki(k)o was having a rough time before, just wait till MEPHISTO gets involved...

Previous parts: 1 2 3 4

“You mean it’s…a dream? All of this?”

“Yes, a dream.”

Faced with Yukio’s suspicious gaze, Mephisto nodded dramatically.

“But not the same sort of dream your kind usually have when you sleep at night. This is a dream caused by demons.”

“Demons?” Yukio raised an eyebrow behind his glasses.

“Yes,” Mephisto nodded gleefully. “There’s a type of demon called Húdié, kin of Beelzebub, King of Insects. They look like normal butterflies at first glance, but they have a troublesome taste for trickery…They parasitize humans and give them nightmares, so they can feed off of the victim’s negative emotions—embarrassment, shock, hatred, despair, and so on.”

“You’re telling me these Húdié are parasitizing me?”

Even as Yukio said it, his mind went to the insect sounds he heard when he woke up, and the black butterflies he kept seeing everywhere.

Could those have been—?

 “Well, it’s not as though they’ll take your life. Why not think of this as a rare opportunity to experience—“

“How can I get back to my world right now?”

“My goodness,” Mephisto sighed at Yukio, who was glaring at him without the slightest hint of wanting to listen to what he had to say. “It’s really quite simple. You just need to let them wake up.”

“���” Hearing this, Yukio hesitated a little. Then he started pinching his own cheeks, forcing his eyelids open…anything to give himself the right stimulus.

Mephisto grinned, his eyes narrowing to threads as he did it.

“Um, I’ll ask just in case, Okumura-sensei, but what exactly are you doing?”

“Hm? Well, I was trying to wake up, like you said…” Yukio answered hesitantly. Mephisto immediately burst out laughing. He clutched his stomach and rolled around, paralyzed with hilarity.

“Wha-?!”

“Oh, my apologies. That isn’t what I meant. I meant you need to wake the demons up. Hehehe.”

Yukio looked at Mephisto, who still couldn’t contain his laughter, with an indescribable expression.

Mephisto stopped cackling like a monster and added, “In other words, you need to make the Húdié realize that they won’t get anything out of this. Act as though you don’t see this nightmare as a nightmare—quite the contrary! You love this situation and enjoy it to the fullest. This will deprive the Húdié of their sustenance, forcing them to release you and seek out another host.”

“Enjoy this situation?”

Yukio’s face twitched subconsciously.

There was no way he could do it.

But if he wanted to get out of this ridiculous world, he was going to have to try.

He clenched his teeth and braced himself.

“What…exactly…do I have to do?” he asked, swallowing his self-esteem.

Mephisto had apparently been waiting for this moment. He took a sketchbook out of a desk drawer.

The first page said “SDE5” in massive letters. Yukio raised an eyebrow and asked, “SDE5? What does that stand for? System Director…Enterprises?”

“No, it stands for Song and Dance Exorcists.”

“Come again?”

It’s the name of an upcoming idol group based around a singing, dancing, all-female exorcist unit! ♪ The members are Ren Shima, Ryuko Suguro, Koneko Miwa, Rin Okumura…and you!”

“…”

“The twins are SDE’s biggest draw. Plus, you exorcise demons and can even work with hymns and sutras. Oh, and the producer will be me, Mephisto☆ Looking forward to it!” Mephisto giggled cutely.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse,” came Yukio’s cold, immediate reply.

Mephisto’s response was like a slap to the face. “So I take it you’re prepared to go on living in this dream forever?”

“!!”

“You could always try waiting until the Húdié get their fill, but alas, they can be quite the gluttons and there’s no telling when that will happen. Will you endure this world until then? Can you?”

“…” Yukio was at a loss for words.

It hurt to admit it, but he did want to avoid that outcome. Anything to keep from being taken over by Yukiko…

It’s the only way, he thought, and he made his bitter choice.

“If I join this ‘SDE5’…can you guarantee I’ll be able to escape this place?” he asked, his voice shaking with disgust.

Mephisto nodded and said “Yes,” grinning ear-to-ear.

He casually flipped to the next page of the sketchbook, revealing a most likely handmade illustration of Yukio and the other four wearing cute, positively idol-like outfits. It was creepily well drawn.

“You’ll start as an indie idol group, gather a phenomenal amount of support, and go major. The group will gradually grow from just the five of you to a grand total of forty-nine. As their leader, you’ll keep the members together, sometimes butting heads with them, sometimes crying with them, always strengthening the group’s unity. You’ll bond with your fans at meet and greets, sell CDs of your newest single…and when you finally defeat your twin sister and greatest rival to rise to the top of the popularity polls, you’ll give a tearful thank you speech…and then you should be able to return safely to your world.”

“… By the way…How many days is this going to take?”

“Oh, I’d say about five years?”

“THAT’S TOO LONG!!”

Yukio slammed his fist down on the desk in anger, causing Mephisto to jump back in overdramatic surprise.

“I can’t say I’m impressed by you yelling at a lady like that, Okumura-sensei. Are you sure you’re getting enough calcium in your diet?”

“Urgh…I’m sorry…It was unlike me to lose my temper like that, and…wait, what lady are you talking about?”

“What do you mean? I’m right in front of you.”

“Huh?” Yukio stared wide-eyed at Mephisto, who was sighing wistfully.

“…I’m sorry. You really don’t look any different from usual to me.”

“What are you saying? I’d expect better from you, Okumura-sensei. Of course I’m different. Just look.” Mephisto stroked her own chin.

It was true, the goatee was gone. Yukio started to feel lightheaded.

“So…having no beard makes you a woman?”

“Well, gender doesn’t mean much to demons in the first place. We can take any number of forms just by using different vessels, after all. But enough about me. We should be focusing on your Húdié problem right now, shouldn’t we?”

Yukio was clearly making a weird face, but he answered “Yes” to Mephisto’s sudden sane question. Mephisto set the sketchbook down on the desk and leaned back in the chair lazily.

“So, if we set the SDE5 idea aside for now and try to think of a way for you to more quickly experience the joys of your life as a woman…” she began, smiling with her eyes. Yukio leaned forward with an earnest look on his face.

Mephisto, who was gazing at Yukio in amusement, clapped her hands and said:

“Come work at the luxury hostess club Faust. You can start today!”

“What?!”

“For your stage name…let’s see…we’ll call you Yukkii after your real name Yukiko. You should aim to become the number one cabaret girl there.”

“…”

“I’ll stay by your side to teach you all you need to know about entertaining customers. With your looks you could become number one in three—no, two months. Oh, and when you wake up from the dream only two minutes or so will have passed in your time, so there’s no need to worry. You won’t end up like Rip van Winkle,” Mephisto announced with a smile.

As Yukio stood motionless, rooted to the spot, Mephisto snapped her fingers and held up an SLR camera.

“We’ll just take your cast photos for now. Let’s see…You have such big breasts, we can’t not take advantage of that. How about a shot where you rest your chin on both hands, so that it emphasizes your cleavage?

Yukio instinctively edged away from the camera’s gaze.

Mephisto, on the other hand, stood up from her chair and started edging closer.

“Come now, your expression looks so stiff! Smile, smile!”

“…”

“Hmm…I suppose you are the sort of overly straight-laced, studious type that’s lacking in raw sex appeal. Maybe we should be bold and open up your neckline a little more, go for that gap moe look. …Right, after the headshots we’ll move on to some full-body shots. What do you think of getting down on all fours like a tigress?

“?!”

“Okay, I’m taking it now. Smile, and make it brighter than that! Give me your best smile! Come on! Picture yourself snatching up all that money and recognition from the customers!”

“…N-No…I…”

“Come on, you’re making such an awkward face. Make it cuter, sexier, more devilish! Not like that! We’re not taking a student ID photo here. You’ll never be number one at this rate!

“LIKE ANYONE WOULD EVER EVEN WANT THAT!!”

Yukio finally reached his breaking point. He started shouting—and the world went dark.

He thought he saw the fluttering of that black butterfly, almost lost in the pitch-black darkness…

As he floated through the darkness, Yukio kept thinking, over and over:

I’m done being Yukiko.

I’ve had enough of the world of girls.

Being a boy is what’s right for me.

I want to go back to being a boy as soon as I can…

I miss my male brother and everyone else. I want to go back to my world, the world where I belong.

If I can just go home, I promise…I’ll be manlier than anyone else on the planet.

I’m a man. A man.

“Yuki…Hey, Yuki…Get up already.”

It was his brother’s voice.

It may have sounded like he was yelling from far away, but this time it was definitely his brother’s voice.

“Yuki…Hey…Yuki…”

“Mmmm…” Yukio forced his heavy eyelids open.

The first thing he saw, aside from the bright morning light, was the familiar face of his brother. Not his sister, but his brother.

Is everything back to normal…? But how?

As he asked himself, he came to the conclusion that the Húdié must have finally gotten full off the stress from his final tirade. In a way, you could even say it was all thanks to Mephisto.

“You’re running late, Yukio. We’re supposed to meet up with Suguro and the guys today, remember?”

“Thank goodness…Nii-san, you’re back to—“

Yukio smiled and started to talk, but then he froze.

As it turned out, his brother was completely ripped from the neck down—even a professional bodybuilder would have turned tail and run from him.

 “First we’ll hit the gym, then break for some protein bars, then back to the gym for more strength training, then we’ll get all the protein we need at all-you-can-eat sukiyaki!”

“…”

Yukio boggled vacantly at the muscles of steel wrapped in a martial-arts style white gi (which had the sleeves torn off, for some reason)—at his manly brother.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two Húdié now, fluttering around cheerfully…

[theartistdetective]

The Joker x Harley Quinn - Mephisto: Part 12

Hello again, it has been a while. I’ve just returned from an overseas trip before my PC broke down, leaving me with a lot of problems.

 But I’m glad I can declare that I’m back. I know I made you wait a lot, I’m so sorry. I’ve illustrated a little something about the the story if you will :). So, don't worry, I will be uploading the next ch about one week later. If you have problems about remembering what had happened in the earlier chapters, I advise you to glance at the previous chapter. So, enjoy...

 Warnings: Domestic abuse, OOC Harley Quinn.

 The illustration 

 MEPHISTO MASTERLIST

 It had been three weeks since the child had lost faith in mommy. Three whole weeks; to feel alone, cry before sleeping and feel completely forsaken. The things big sis tried to tell everyone about mommy was true all along: she had chosen a mad monster over her own children. The child felt betrayed, ashamed even; for thinking that big sis was stupid and ungrateful, for shouting at her and getting angry when she was trying to make everyone face the horrible but obvious truth. Every hit they took, every torment they bore from the “it” was the inevitable consequence of mommy’s unconditional and unhealthy love for a monster. The four children were just decoration, nothing more. With or without them, it didn't matter: mommy didn't care about death more than she cared for her children.

 And she had already shown everyone just how much she cared about them.

 Fortunately, it seemed the “it” had taken all of his anger out of the child the day mommy told him about her pregnancy. So, no further attempts of ending it by force had been made during the three weeks. Instead, the “it” had invested himself in his business more, allowing the household to breathe without a care in the world for once. Everyone one was safe and no one was hurt… yet.

 That day, exactly twenty three days after the child was discharged from the hospital, the “it” had stayed in the house for the night for a change. Naturally, everyone was on pins and needles, no one could breathe without a care in the world anymore. Especially the child, whose room was right beside theirs, had trouble sleeping all night and knew school would be very tiring the day after. It was just that wandering around, moving like a zombie while the other children played outside; was a heavenly option to wandering around, looking like a zombie. A purple eye, along with a bad posture from being beaten for hours were just enough for the child to be awake whole night, ready to hide if sensed any kind of weird movement.

 After hours of seemingly endless waiting and an unavoidable but short nap, the alarm clock went off, meaning it was time the children went to school. Picking some clothes randomly from the small wardrobe, the child quietly started putting them on. Waking up the “it” by making even a little sound wasn't a risk which would had been healthy to take. After the tyke took the little green bag lying on the oaken parquet, a sudden thudding sound emanated from the thin wall. Ignoring the sound at first, the five year old proceeded to get ready. Every morning their big sis took them to school; although the child was still in kindergarten, big sis was in seventh grade and big bro was a second grader. The child had to hurry since they might have missed the bus; or worse, the “it” might have woken up before they took off.

 But the sound repeated, this time, louder.

 Curiosity got the better of the child and immediately; the little ear was pressed onto the cold bricked wall. There wasn't any need to wait that long. Soon, another loud thud was followed by a -seemingly endless- silence and the child knew that mommy and the “it” were already more awake than the household would ever have wanted. Quiet whimpers followed the silence, slowly turning into louder screams. Knowing that escaping before being noticed by the “it” was the safest option, the child struggled to leave the room and ignore the noises reeking of pain.

 Mommy doesn't want to be saved, she loves that monster…

 She prefers that bastard to her children.

 She doesn't love us enough, she simply doesn't care...

 She would prefer to be dead, if that meant being with him forever.

 She wouldn't have wanted to be saved. Not from the “it”.

 The child did not want to save that woman. But as every second passed, the whimpers were becoming more and more unbearable. Not that the interference of a small child would had changed a thing, but the feeling of not doing anything was worse than getting beaten at that point. Deciding to to the right thing one last time, the green backpack was thrown onto the wooden floor and the child quickly ran out of the door of the bedroom to meet the two inevitable fates the it would had made every living being face:

 Death or pain.

 Just before the little kid was about to enter into the parents’ shared bedroom; a larger, louder and scarier crashing sound echoed through the empty corridors of the gigantic house; sending shivers down the little child's spine.

 But what was scarier, was a blood-curling scream following the crash. Immediately barging into the room, the child -gutless- glanced at the scene, only to face with the worst nightmare of any child to be born to this world.

 The “it” was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless. His back was facing towards the child; but even though his face couldn't be seen, it was a safe bet to say he was fuming with anger. But the it's concrete anger wasn't the thing to be considered as a nightmare in this scenario. The little one had been made to face that horrible thing before, millions of times. Therefore it was far away from being the worst nightmare, it was a rather routine occurrence.

 The dreadful thing was the woman, mommy, lying at the feet of the “it”. She had nothing but a shirt on, which seemed to be the “it”s, for it was too loose for her. Her hair was scattered around, the curls covering her face. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, with silent whimpers accompanying every single intermittent spasm. However, what caught the child's attention the most was the thin streak of red, gliding from under the hem of the shirt. The child; unfortunately had been the offspring of the “it” for a long time, therefore knew that the red streak was nothing but blood. Not understanding where the wound is, the little eyes wandered around on the path the streak of blood took. It was oozing somewhere from between her thighs, going downwards and staining carpet.

 The madman noticed the silent breathing belonging to neither him, nor his wife who was lying on the floor. He took a glance at the entrance of the room, noticing his terrified offspring shivering slightly at the sight of the poor woman lying unconscious at his feet. He threw his head back in annoyance, a growl tearing from the back of his throat and cracked his neck slowly but gingerly. Without bothering to work a single muscle in his body, he hissed sinisterly:

 "Go away little birdie... Before you piss me off."

 But he knew better. Because when had that brat ever listened to what he said? Never did and never will. So, when the child started running towards him, with a hateful expression suitable for a rightful successor covering the small countenance; he wasn't shocked at all. But the little birdie also had to know better, one couldn't play with daddy when he was not in a playful mood. Therefore; when the little bird of his sprang towards his neck to attack the evil snake, instead of being proud of how it learned to fly perfectly, he pushed the small frame away harshly: causing his child to hit the oaken floor.

 A scream tried to escape from the small mouth due to the sudden shot of pain suffusing between the child's clavicle and floating ribs; but couldn't when panic strained the muscles.

 It seemed the "it" couldn't take his anger out enough on his family. He approached to the shaking bairn while smiling, impatient to get this over with. Drawing his right foot back for a few centimeters, he prepared to land it on the tyke's stomach.

 But a sudden grip on his ankle stopped him.

 Mommy had crawled on the floor slowly without the "it" noticing and was stopping him by holding his ankle firm on the ground, although she knew she couldn't hold it forever. The "it" threw a wry glance at her. But the woman did nothing but stare back at him.

 The monster was already bored. Already very bored, from this scene unraveling before his very eyes and which he described as "a drama". He was fed up with his wife's time-to-time motherly instincts, he was fed up with his successor's determined effort to disobey him and he had enough of those other good for nothing offsprings of his running around in his house. It was time he ended that all.

 So, without wasting another second, the it yanked his feet away from mommy's hand and turned towards her instead of the child. He drew his feet back again, smirking at the sight of mommy's fear.

 His foot landed on the woman's stomach, tearing a blood curling shriek from her throat. A sudden spurt of blood broke free from between the woman's legs, disturbing the thin streak already flowing down her leg, turning it almost into a river.

 The child gasped in fear and ran towards mommy while the "it" proceeded to leave the room after he quickly put on a shirt. The little one shook mommy's body frantically and tried to get her hair out of her face. The front door closed with a huge bang, signalling the child that the "it" had left. Mommy moaned and tried to sit up, "I'm okay." she sobbed. "The bleeding will stop... you must go."

 The child didn't hate her enough to do what she said. "Sis, mommy's bleeding!", the little one shouted; hoping big sis could do something to stop the massive amount of red pooling around mommy's body.

 However, mommy didn't seem to be happy of her child's efforts of saving her life. Grunting in pain, she forced herself to stand up. The world spun around her for a few seconds, she had to have her face buried in her palms until the nausea was over and dangerously wobble in the process. After she decided she was fine enough to walk, she grabbed the child by the arm and yanked the small body up, her long and manicured fingernails scratching the tender skin. The child hissed in pain and shock: mommy behaving this harshly wasn't a usual occasion.

 The woman started dragging the child towards the door hastily, as she cocked her ear for any kind of sounds. She couldn't afford to be interrogated by her children on what had happened, not right now. She just wanted to suffer alone. 

 Trying to get the child out of her room, she pushed the little form with the last bit of force she had. But the tiny hand held the edge of the door like it's life depended on it. Without thinking, mommy landed a punch on the child's fingers. The unexpected force created a sting equal to getting one's fingers caught in a drawer and a scream escaped from the child's mouth.

 Mommy heard the footsteps then. They were getting closer. But the people whom the footsteps belonged were yet to be seen. "Mom?", they heard big sis yelling; worry audible in her voice.

 Seeing she had no more time left to be wasted on struggling with her child, mommy pushed the small body out of the room quickly and attempted to close the door.

 But the child quickly stood up again and shouldered it.

 The child entered the view of big sis and big bro then, only to be seen shouldering and kicking mommy's nearly closed door frantically. They ran to their five year old sibling. Big sis held the legs and big bro got the arms in control; thinking the hate the child had on mommy had grown so much that their sibling tried to attack her. The child trashed around, trying to break free from their grip.

 "Leave me... help her... she's bleeding..." were the words which could barely leave the little mouth while struggling.

 Mommy stuck her head through the left ajar door, watching the commotion before her very eyes. "Jacqueline..." she whispered to her oldest. "I think your sibling had just seen a nightmare, keeps telling me I'm bleeding; it must be a hallucination."

 Jacqueline turned to her mother, her grip on the child tighter than ever. "Don't worry, I will take them to school; no one will disturb you today."

 Mommy smiled sightly, feeling the blood drying on her legs. "Thank you Jackie..." she whispered, she felt like she would not be able to stand still for long. She needed to rest... to cry her eyes out...

 The child finally gave in and stopped trashing around, as big bro and big sis started carrying the little weight out from the house pretty easily. It was impossible to stand up to them, or object to their abduction. The child saw mommy one last time, gazing through the left ajar door with a single tear staining her cheek.

 And then the door was closed.

 A worry, preying on the child's mind and a wish of never intervening in the "it"s and mommy's affairs in the first place were all that were left; as the child was escorted out of the house by the older siblings.

 The three children, in a seemingly endless silence, passed through the neglected garden and reached to the front exit. Although big sis and bro thought their younger sibling attacked their mother, they couldn't care less. They all were sick of their parents, so, they thought they understood the child's mental state; without judging.

 Big bro released the child's legs and pulled the handle with all of the strength he had, the door was quite heavy. Nevertheless, it didn't budge a bit. He huffed, complaining and signaled his sister to come and help him. Jacqueline sighed and reached out to pull the handle with both hands, alongside her brother. Not noticing she had to release her grip on the child to do that.

 As soon as they both pulled the handle and slowly opened the heavy door, the child stepped out and started running through the long street of their neighborhood, away from that hell called "home".

 Big sis stood and stared at her five year old sibling running away from them a lot faster than she though the little child could. "You damn idiot! Where the f*ck do you think you're going?", she cried.

 She tried to sprang ahead to catch up with the dangerously too far away kid, but was stopped by her brother grabbing her by her wrist: "And who the f*ck do you think you'll be following? The brat has already lost us!", he hissed.

 It was true, the child had already took the left corner and was nowhere to be seen.

 "B-b-ut..." stammered Jacqueline. "If we don't catch up... How can we tell mother that we let her five year old child escape and get lost in these eerie streets of Gotham?

 "Pshh!", big bro mocked. "Can't run that far away, someone will definitely spot and report us the whereabouts of that brat. What can we do anyway, we'll get lost as well if we decide to follow without knowing where the hell that troublemaker is and we can't tell mom, I doubt she'll care."

 The boy looked at the empty street the child have passed through seconds ago and gritted his teeth, "Trying to get some help from that bastard is definitely out of question as well. In no circumstances, even if those concerning life or death, I object to getting any help from him."

 Jacqueline squinted her eyes with disgust, "Your pride has nothing to do with the fact that we can't ask any kind of help from him. We can't tell him; because he is the type of person who praises the escaping rebels by beating the sh*t out of them, while he kills the people responsible of their rebellion. We won't ask help unless we want to be killed."

 She sighed, "But I can't help but worry... we can't just go to school after all of that had happened, can we? But you're saying, we can't do anything either..."

 The boy exclaimed, "I'm not exactly saying we can't do anything... let's just forget about school for today. Let's hang around this area and ask around for any information. Without being able to stay alone for too long; that brat will get hungry, thirsty and sleepy and eventually will come back here. As I said, can't run that far away. We'll just be careful not to get lost ourselves when we're searching around."

 Jacqueline nodded at what his brother said and stared at the view of the neighborhood lying in front of her eyes. "Now, the question is...", she mumbled. "When will the kid come back?"

 The child was watching them patrolling through the street from inside the garden of their neighbor's property, while big sis Jacqueline and big bro Johnny were chatting. The answer of big sis’ question was echoing through the depths of her mind as the voices continued to repeat the same answer. Climbing up the back wall of the garden, the child glanced at the older siblings one last time; before jumping the other side of the wall to run through the eerie streets of Gotham in order to reach the "far away" place big bro was talking about.

 Just as the glance of the child met with the faces of big sis and big bro before the jump, the voices whispered the answer one more time; as if they didn't want the child to forget that single word:

 Never...

  The Joker took one of his hands off the white leather wheel, putting it on the gear lever; as he shifted the gear to six, causing the Lamborghini's tires to shriek like a wild bird and gyrate on the roads of Gotham as fast as possible. He had a huge grin plastered on his face; not because he was angry or filled with blood lust like usual.

 That grin was the magnum opus of the rare joy and excitement quivering somewhere around his chest. His eyes on the road, but mind somewhere else; the madman snarled and proceeded to head towards his newest club, Mephisto.

 In which the real Mephisto was supposed to be waiting for him.

 He threw a glance at the rear mirror, noting that his most trusted henchman was still following him with the others in his black Porsche. The Joker smirked and suddenly broke the steering wheel to left. The purple Lamborghini skidded on the tar surface and it's tires screeched louder than before, with the infamous laugh of the madman accompanying the spine-chilling sound, it became the cry of insanity.

 The Joker inhaled the stench of burnt rubber. It was about time he saw the majestic sign of the club. He took his eyes off the road for a second and glanced at the purple cane of his leaning against the seat next to his. Hopefully; on his way back to the penthouse, that seat would had been reserved for someone else. He took his phone out and texted that person:

 I am close, be ready.

 The Clown Prince of Crime's smirk grew even wider, finally when the blue and red neon lights started dancing on his alabaster skin. He stopped the engine just right in front of the club's entrance. Grabbing his personalized cane, he kicked the door open and got off the car. The madman eyed the sign which read,  "the Mephisto". He threw the keys of his Lamborghini at Johnny Frost.

 Frost agilely caught them with a single hand and signaled Panda to escort his Boss in, while he was parking the car. The man in the giant panda costume stood right next to the King of Gotham immediately, alongside with another henchman with a huge mask shaped like a baby's head. Three of them entered  the club together, a host bowing his head as they passed through the dark red curtains to reach into the golden core of luxury.

 The first thing that caught the Joker's attention was the sound of the piano; being played with a satisfying cadence, accompanied by an almost child-like and innocent melody. It was suppressing the sound of poker chips clinking, which was unusual, due to the fact that live music was always performed as a background sound for the games. He wondered if someone different was performing tonight.

 And then a voice started to fill their ears. 

(bloody creature poster girl by In This Moment)

 Some girls like diamonds,

 S’mother them with fancy things,

 He turned his head towards the stage covered in gold, full of curiosity, to see the owner of the voice.

 There; stood a woman in red. Her blood-red dress was tight fitting, the velvet fabric underlining her beautiful curves. The fabric covered her arms down to her elbows and  hang low, touching the ground. It had a slit beginning just above her right hip, revealing her gorgeous and slightly muscled leg in black fishnet stockings. The woman wasn't wearing any jewelry on her thorax, which was made visible with her dress' deep cleavage. She had let her golden curls loose over her shoulders and waist; yet; above her red dress' shoulder-blade-level decollete; one could see the top part of a tattoo, as much as the curls covering it let them, without being able to decipher what was written.

 But the Joker had seen that tattoo before, and knew it spelled: "Lady Snowblood".

 Harley, microphone in her hand, leaned onto the white grand piano, winking at the pianist in a flirty manner. The Joker reminded himself to get rid of the man later on.

 They hunger for the taste of glamour

 And waste rotten furs and murderous rings.

 As the Joker, along with his two huge henchmen passed through the poker tables, the bewitching Mephisto noticed him. Smiling, she quickly blew him a kiss before she continued from where she was left; causing the men who were watching her from the tables to turn around to see, whom the woman blew the kiss to: only to meet the King of Gotham's grandiose figure.

 Your sweethearts need their princes

 Flattery and filthy pearls

 Barbie doll misses with the Marilyn kisses

 The original material girl

 Harley laid down on the piano on her back, perpendicular to the keys, her hair dangling from the side facing the audience; she lifted her legs up, crossing them a little bit; the long skirts of her dress being defeated by the gravity, revealed her garters. Lady Snowblood winked at the madman playfully as he settled on his personal booth, eyeing her. She pouted her lower lip and mocked sadness as she sang the next verse:

 But I'm not like those other dames, baby...

 She winked at the Joker, and screamed:

 I'm your bloody creature poster girl!

 All of a sudden; the drummer went wild on the drums, and two guys with the electro and bass guitars joined in along with two back up singers. Harley agilely sprang up from the piano and took the center of the staged once again.

 Make you crawl, make you beg, make you plead.

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 Make you want, make you hurt, make you bleed.

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 So toxic

 Psychotic

 Chaotic

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 Make you laugh, make you cry

 Make you need deadly little slasher

 She reached in between her breasts, pulling a huge skewer out as she pronounced the word "slasher". The crowd cheered, making the Joker frustrated, since her attention wasn't directed only towards him as he would had wanted; yet, he still licked his lips in anticipation.

 Fucked up savage sweetheart

 Bloody creature poster girl!

 She screamed at the last verse and suddenly turned towards the Joker, throwing the skewer right at the King of Gotham. The deadly weapon struck right in the wall behind the Joker's seat, just a centimeter away from his left ear. The madman, froze like a deer in headlights in pure shock; wearing a mask of poker face. The audience gasped at the daredevil's action, thinking the poor woman had just signed her own death warrant. Little did they know, she had signed that warrant so many times before and just didn't care.

 The pianist started playing that childish melody again, as Harley moved her hips to the rhythm slightly, smirking at the dumbfounded Joker over her shoulder before she turned her back to the intrigued man, as she started ignoring his existence one more time.

 And that, thought Johnny Frost as he watched the scene unraveling before his very eyes. Was the mating dance of two healthy psychos, now I've seen everything.

 Baby you can keep your diamonds

 You can burn all your fancy things

 I hunger for the taste of a painful ache

 That can survive my wicked sting

 She snapped her teeth, looking at the Joker out of the corner of her eye.

 Darling I don't need no princes

 I'm no damsel in distress

 The only thing I'm needing is for you to be bleeding

 From my homicidal kiss

 She walked to the pianist, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

That's it, that guy is so dead, thought Frost.

 I’m going to rip his face off, thought the Joker,

 You see I'm not like those other dames, baby

 I'm your bloody creature poster girl!

 Make you crawl, make you beg, make you plead.

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 Make you want, make you hurt, make you bleed.

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 So toxic

 Psychotic

 Chaotic

 (Bloody creature poster girl)

 Make you laugh, make you cry

 Make you need deadly little slasher

She turned towards the Joker and sang with her arms opened wide:

Fucked up savage sweetheart

Bloody creature poster girl!

 She screamed and finished her performance as a huge roar of applause rose through the crowd. She giggled and squealed, accepting a single red rose one of the mafia bosses in the audience offered to her; as a greater roar of whistles followed. The Joker stood up from his seat; started clapping slowly, with his cane in his hand. The men who had seen he was approaching to the stage, quit making sounds immediately; while others' claps and whistles formed an awkward and irregular mess, making the King of Gotham's firm applause stand out.

 The Joker swirled his cane in his right hand, attracting the last bit of attention that had been left and opened his arms wide; dramatically, like an emcee approaching his leading star.

 "Bravo, my pretty Mephisto... Bravo my Harley.", he sang, emphasizing "my", glancing at the pianist out of the corner of his eye. "You were magnificent..." he turned to the audience, "...wasn't she folks?"

 From the audience which had clearly heard the emphasize on the word "my", rose a roar of applause; but without whistles this time.

 The Joker laughed like the madman he was and held his cane out, clutching it from the shaft. Propping the curved golden handle of the cane on Harley’s loin, he pulled her closer to the edge of the stage. He stretched his hand out to help Harley get off the stage as she gladly took it with her hand holding the red rose, as the King of Gotham led her to his booth.

 As soon as the Joker glared at the curious onlookers, the poker games started continuing and the soon to be dead pianist began to play another song.

 The Joker released Harley's hand as she sat down and took the rose away smoothly in the process, dropping it on the floor. He sat on the seat across hers and took his half empty glass of Vermouth back in his hand.

 "That was quite a show, milady..." he mocked, glancing at the skewer struck on the wall behind him. "To say it intrigued me, would be an understatement."

"Great, that was my second intention."

 The Joker cocked his eyebrows, clearly not pleased with the answer: “Really? What might be the first?”

 “Well...” Harley grinned, smirking playfully. “It seemed you had some hot musicians in here... I just wanted to look a little bit closer.” she cooed, looking at the pianist out of the corner of her eye.

 The single sip of his Vermouth the Joker had drunk approximately two seconds ago before her answer, nearly drowned the Clown Prince of Crime. Throwing a coughing fit, the madman shot Harley a dead glare that screamed “I dare you”.

 “So...” Lady Snowblood cooed. “Does that mean you won’t try to be a little helpful and give me his number, no?”

 Oh my God she’s crossing all of his lines in full speed, thought Johnny Frost.

 "Anything to drink?", the Joker snarled, clearly trying to change the topic. Harley decided to not  to push him anymore.

 "No, thank you. Let's dive straight into business.", she smiled, propping her head on her hands.

 "Seriously? Right now?"

 The madman and the Mephisto both turned their faces towards Johnny Frost, who had interrupted them and who was looking extremely weirded out at that moment.

 "Yes Frosty..." smiled Harley. "Do you have a reason to oppose?"

 I mean, yes, he thought. Boss looks like he's just about to explode.

 "No, ma'am." mumbled Frost.

 "Harley." smiled the woman sweetly.

 The Joker cleared his throat, trying to turn her attention back to him. Realizing she had really meant it when she said she wanted to dive straight into business, he changed his tone into a serious one.

 "So you told me you had a strategy about this matter. How about you tell me about it?" he leaned back against his seat, trying to get his mind back together.

 "We're going to start with Amanda Waller. It is easy to learn her whereabouts, it just is going to be costly..."

 "To take her out?" interrupted the Prince of Crime.

 "No..." the woman shook her head from left to right. "We won't kill her until she tells us the information we want..."

 "Information about what and why would she tell us?"

Harley leaned back on her seat, a serious expression on her face. "About Chaos...", she spoke. As the Joker sat up to oppose she silenced him with the movement of her hand. "And she won't have any reason not to tell us."

"Hold on..." the Joker interrupted. "Stop speaking with this sphinx like manner, how can she know anything about that embodied arcanum called the Chaos?"

 "She’s unaware that she knows something about him. I think I've told you before, I know things you don't know and I'm not planning on giving them out anytime soon.", she declared in a challenging tone.

 The madman sighed, accepting defeat and wondered why he trusted this discreet woman this much. "Well then, Lady Snowblood... What is your plan regarding the abduction of Amanda Waller? Reduce the cost as much as you can if you will..."

 The woman giggled, leaning closer to him across the table. "Actually..." she sang, "I have something just for you. Dirt-cheap, more fun and bloodier..."

 King of Gotham laughed, "Now you're talking... hit me."

 "You remember our itty bitty intermediary... Penguin? The actual bastard who betrayed you? Well, he appears to have used to obtain all of the ways of contacting the recently deceased hit men and Waller. Not any direct contact with Chaos, but still..." she sat up, leaning on the table in the middle of them.

 "How about we drain the blood of that betrayer called Penguin before we move onto Waller. Or maybe play with him a little so he can drive Waller out for us?"

 The Joker growled at that. "Getting Penguin is no child's play and it will still cost a lot."

 Lady Snowblood chimed, giggling:

 "No, it won't."

 Seeing the madman still hadn't gotten it yet, the woman stood up and started walking seductively towards the Joker. When she reached beside him, she leaned down and slowly sat on his lap, on his right thigh. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his neck and planted a soft kiss. Her right arm, still hanging loosely from his left shoulder, reached out to pull the stuck skewer out the wall. She took the weapon in her hand, drawing circles with it's sharp end on the madman's cheek without cutting it.

 Both of their breaths heavy, her lips got closer to his left ear and she whispered:

 "How about you hire me Mr. J?"

 And this is where the business is over, thought Frost, quickly scrambling out of the booth to leave them alone without them noticing.

 The Joker purred, as he grabbed her hip with his left hand while the other rested on her legs. "I don't know, what do you want?"

 The woman giggled, looking at him in the eye, "Whatever you want..."

 "Good then..." the Joker growled. "I have grape soda on ice and a bear skin rug waiting."

@jokersonme

@thefaultinourstudying

@diyunho

@killer-khaleesi

@padaassisdabest

@deaths-spawn

@alexiamariai

@madelynoops

@loverhuskys

@xhystericaljokersuckerx

@michaelsfringe1995

 I tagged the readers who regularly read this series for this chapter, because it has been a while. But if you want to continue being tagged, tell me.  I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter will come in about a week later...:)

[mysterylover123]

Top 5 Shipping Moments of 2007

So I wanted to do a retrospective on the last ten years of my personal beloved ships, and I decided to do a series of lists. Basically, these are the top 5 most important moments (in my opinion) for shippers each year, starting on ‘07 and making our way up to last year, 2016 (and I’ll do a 2017 one when the year is over). These are mostly concerned with my personal ships, so if there’s a big shipping moment in the year in question that I missed, I’d love to hear about it in the comments below. So here we go: Ten years back, here’s what happened, for good and for ill, on the shipping front:

#5. ONE MORE DAY DESTROYS MARVEL ROMANCE FOREVER

Let’s face it, 2007 was mostly an awful year for shippers. And one of the worst moments has to be this catastrophically bad storyline from Amazing Spider-Man, where the twenty year marriage and forty-year Spidey/MJ ship was sunk horrifically and definitively (and still hasn’t been re-instated ten years later). I’m a SpiderJane shipper (that’s my nickname for them; there isn’t really an official shipping name for Peter and MJ), and as I’ve learned, many, many Spider-Man fans were as well. And many if not all fans were angry, disgusted and insulted by this storyline. For those who don’t know, “One More Day” is the POS in which Spider Man and his wife Mary Jane trade their marriage to the supervillain Mephisto to save Aunt May from dying of a bullet wound, after May has already assured Peter she’s okay with dying. For more information, check out the Atop the Fourth Wall Review of it. Suffice it to say, it’s a shipper’s worst nightmare. 

#4. SMALLVILLE SINKS LEXANA

Smallville fans spent much of the late 2000s getting increasingly jaded with the series and frustrated with their OTPs getting dangled in front of them only to be put off for another year more, all in favor of pushing the long outdated and much despised by that point Clark/Lana pairing. The highlight of 2007 is that Season 6 of the show had spent a good chunk of its runtime on the pairing of Lex and Lana, which had developed a following among fans as an interesting pair that brought out some of the better aspects in each other - Lana seemed to draw out Lex’s more caring side, Lex her more intelligent and ruthless side. The two were getting engaged, then married, living together, spending episodes developing their romance...and then shippers got gipped by reverting everything back to the way it was before all that character development in the season finale, and in Season 7 reuniting Clark and Lana to again push a ship that was pretty universally reviled by that point. Seriously, ‘07 was an awful year for shippers if ever there was one.

#3. SOUTH PARK’S KYMAN SHIP TEASES

Now onto something more fun: South Park and its whacky slash pairing shenanigans from Season 11. The big one of course is Imaginationland, the three parter that is everything Kyman shippers ever wanted. Namely, Cartman’s entire subplot in the special is about trying to get Kyle to suck his balls. Literally. Not even joking. There’s also: Kyle dying and Cartman reviving him in a direct homage to a scene from The Abyss where the same thing happened with a man and his wife; Cartman imagining the oral sex in Imaginationland and declaring it must be real, since imaginary things are real; and a non- Imaginationland mention of the episode “Le Petit Tourette”, where Cartman ends the episode by hugging Kyle and telling him he loves him. Kyman may be a weird and dark ship at times, but there’s a lot of fun to be had with ‘em, and deep down, they really do love each other. 

#2. ONE BIG HAPPY WEASLEY FAMILY IN DEATHLY HALLOWS

To say the ending of Harry Potter is controversial with fans and shippers alike is an understatement. So much of Deathly Hallows changed everything when it first hit in ‘07, but as far as shippers are concerned, the biggest deal was that 19 years later ending, where the two Official Couples - Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny - were all grown up and had kids. Overly saccharine? Appropriately happy? Unrealistic pairings? True love for all time? Opinions range all over the place. Me? I’m a Harry/Ginny OTP-er, so needless to say I was happy with it. Also, honorable mention to the other Shipper moments in Deathly Hallows, like establishing Snape/Lily as canon and the deaths of poor Lupin and Tonks.

#1. AVATAR MAKES MAIKO CANON

It’s as if the voices of a thousand Zutarians cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. And hey, I’m a Maiko fan, so seeing them kiss and be an actual couple is great. Also, Kataang fans can be happy that the two get a sexy dance scene in the same episode. The shipping fanbase for Avatar The Last Airbender is pretty legendary; many fans identify themselves with whichever side of the Zutara/Kataang/Maiko ship war they happened to be on. The shipping wars for ATLA stormed over the Internet time and time again, but Season 3′s premiere and early episodes effectively changed things for good; although the series didn’t conclude until 2008, this was a big deal in the shipping fandom. 

What are your favorite/least favorite/most notable shipping moments of 2007?

Up next: 2008. Prepare for awkward hugs, series finales, and long-cherished ships finally getting to be.

[dbarajas03-blog]

CLOAK and DAGGER

The perfect duo of heroes as they were inseparable and need each other. Cloak draws his power from the Darkforce and Dagger generates power from the Lightforce she contains in her body. Together, they fight the evils that plague the area and protect civilians. They are definitely an interesting pair fighting crime as they go together like yin and yang.

Powers and Abilities

Cloak:

As a result of his exposure to an experimental drug, Cloak's body is a portal to the Darkforce Dimension, a world of strange ebony energy. Cloak is linked to a pocket realm of that dimension dominated by the Predator, which compels Cloak to absorb the life forces of other beings; but Dagger's light can temporarily satisfy this craving. When inverted by Mister Negative, Cloak draws his powers from the Lightforce, but they are otherwise identical.  Cloak can channel Darkforce to create a field of darkness in his general vicinity, usually using his cloak as a focal point to manipulate this darkness, though it can spread well beyond the confines of his cloak. People enveloped by Cloak's darkness feel numbing cold and experience terrifying visions of their own greatest fears and nightmares. Overlong exposure to the darkness can drive people insane. Unprotected victims trapped in Cloak's dark realm are gradually drained of their life force, and presumably, die unless Cloak releases them. Dagger's light renders her largely immune to Cloak's darkness, and she can extend her light to protect others within Cloak's darkness if need be. Cloak can teleport by entering the Darkforce dimension, moving a short distance within it and emerging back on Earth a great distance from his point of origin. A span of miles on Earth can be traversed in only a few steps via shortcuts through the Darkforce. Cloak can teleport other persons or objects along with himself in this fashion, too, a feat usually reserved for Dagger since most beings cannot safely traverse the Darkforce. During Civil War, he teleported at least a hundred heroes and Thunderbolts from the Negative Zone to the middle of New York. This effort weakened him considerably, however. As Cloak, Tyrone is usually intangible, though he can solidify through an act of will, or by absorbing enough "light" to saturate his form temporarily. He can pass through objects and objects (such as bullets) pass through him. His intangibility makes him very hard to hit. On the rare occasions when he resumes human form, he usually reverts to his old stutter, which vanishes when he becomes Cloak. Tyrone's link to the Darkforce has been severed on several occasions, but he seems drawn to the darkness and vice versa, and he always regains his Cloak form eventually.

Dagger:

As a result of her exposure to experimental drugs, Dagger generates a form of 'living light' which is actually Lightforce. She produces much more than normal humans do but is usually conservative in the use of her powers. Overuse of her powers could be fatal. Dagger generates and stores this lifeforce energy automatically. If she goes for more than a week or so without using her powers she will become fevered and delirious, and eventually discharge her energy involuntarily. When inverted by Mister Negative, Dagger draws her powers from the Darkforce, but they are otherwise identical, save for her daggers causing additional pain. Tandy can form 6-inch 'light daggers' which she can throw from her fingertips. Her daggers may automatically form under certain conditions, such as another person in danger. The maximum effective range is unknown, but the daggers seem to weaken with further distance. Tandy has a limited ability to control their flight and reinforce them by compelling them to seek targets. They can track a being, but it is most effective when searching for Cloak. Those hit by these knives have their own lifeforce disrupted. Dagger can then drain a portion of their lifeforce; enough to kill if she wishes. Normally she chooses to leave them in a state of shock where they will see a vision of how their life might be different. The experience is powerful enough to make most individuals rethink their choices, although a hardened criminal or evil being is unlikely to change their ways. Tandy's energy can also 'purge' a person, removing toxins, drugs, and other malignant substances from their system. It also has the capacity to cure certain persons of drug addictions. Sometimes Tandy can redirect the daggers after they ricochet, other times the daggers are dispersed if they hit a non-living thing. She can project her lifeforce energy in a diffused manner, allowing her to illuminate dark areas as if by natural light. Tandy can also project her 'light' into Cloak's dimension to feed his 'hunger.' She is unharmed when traveling through his dimension and can pass this protection to others.

Bio

For Cloak, he was raised in a poor South Boston neighborhood, Tyrone Johnson was a good student despite his chronic stutter, a disability he struggled to master with the support of his best friend, Billy. When Tyrone was 17, he and Billy witnessed the robbery of a local store and the fatal shooting of its clerk. The thieves fled, and Billy ran as well, fearing that he and Tyrone might be wrongly suspected of the crime. When a policeman ordered Billy to stop, Tyrone tried to proclaim Billy's innocence, but his stuttering made it impossible to speak clearly, and the officer shot Billy dead. Feeling responsible for Billy's death and afraid of the police, Johnson ran away to New York City. Dagger was born in Shaker Heights, Ohio, an affluent suburb of Cleveland. Bowen's mother, Melissa, was a celebrated and self-centered model who had become rich not only from her own career but also from receiving her previous husband's estate. Tandy's father had left for India seeking "spiritual rebirth." Subsequently, Melissa married Phillip Carlisle. Although kind, Tandy was still hurt by her father's leaving and did not accept Phillip. Her mother also neglected her. Feeling unloved, Tandy turned for affection to an older teenager named Rob Daltry. But when he left for college shortly thereafter, the despondent Tandy left home on a bus for New York City. While there, a man tried to rob her but was stopped by the homeless Tyrone Johnson. She bought him food and the two became friends. 

Dr. Simon Marshall and his men rounded up runaways, offering them food and shelter. Naive, Tandy agreed, and Tyrone went with her, suspecting things were not right. There, they were knocked unconscious and injected with a designer drug the Maggia wished to use as a replacement for heroin. Because of latent mutant genetic factors and some magical interference by D'Spayre, Tyrone and Tandy survived while the others died due to the drugs' effects. They escaped, along with another prisoner, the Chinese human-carrier who would become Mister Negative, jumping into the river, and both began manifesting superhuman powers. They discovered Tandy could keep Tyrone in check. Marshall's men attacked but were consumed by Cloak's hunger then hit with Dagger's light daggers.

Cloak & Dagger started out as merciless vigilantes, killing Marshall despite the interference of Spider-Man, who saw the duo as misguided innocents and gradually became their friend. After ill-fated assassination attempts on the crimelords Silvermane and Kingpin, Dagger became less ruthless and tried to steer Cloak in a similar direction; however, since his power compelled him to consume living beings, Cloak found it more difficult to follow this gentler path, even though Dagger's light could satisfy his hunger temporarily.

Cloak & Dagger befriended the super-powered preteens Power Pack and twice aided the New Mutants, junior trainees of the X-Men. The duo eventually learned they were mutants themselves, and that Marshall's drug had awakened their latent powers. Though they tend to target ordinary street criminals, they have faced such diverse foes as Doctor Doom, the Beyonder, Vermin, the Zapper, the Disciplinarian, the Warlord of Kampuchea, Set, Mephisto, Thanos, the Assembly of Evil, Firebrand, and Lightmaster.

Cloak & Dagger found sanctuary at the Holy Ghost Church with the sympathetic Father Francis Delgado, but over time, Delgado became romantically obsessed with Tandy. Regarding Cloak as a demonic influence, Delgado tried and failed to split up the duo, going mad in the process. After Delgado was institutionalized, Cloak & Dagger found a new mentor in Tandy's uncle, Father Michael Bowen. Tandy's father, meanwhile, had become a cult leader as the Lord of Light in India. A "light vampire" who fed on others' life force, he clashed with Cloak and Dagger until he realized what he had become and tried to atone by hurling himself into Cloak's ebony abyss.

Police detective Brigid O'Reilly regarded the duo as a menace until they helped her capture serial poisoner Duane Hellman and told her of their origins. Later, when O'Reilly was betrayed and left for dead by corrupt cops, Cloak & Dagger used their powers to save her life, but the experience mutated Brigid's body and warped her mind. She became the vicious superhuman vigilante Mayhem, often fighting crime alongside Cloak & Dagger. O'Reilly's former partner, police detective Rebecca "Rusty" Nales, would become an ally to Cloak & Dagger as well.

Cloak continued to struggle with his power, and with the hungry Predator within his darkness. During a period when Cloak swore off consuming living beings, the Predator released the spirit of legendary killer Jack the Ripper to torment Cloak; however, when Jack betrayed the Predator in search of personal power, Cloak absorbed the madman and the Predator consumed Jack again. The drug-dealing crime boss Ecstasy (Renee Deladier) twice stole Cloak's powers for herself, largely because the Predator preferred the more ruthless Deladier as a host body. Cloak regained his powers both times, thanks in part to Doctor Strange. When the dream-demon Nightmare targeted Cloak, Tyrone prevailed with the aid of Dr. Strange and Dagger, who even managed to nullify Cloak's darkness altogether for a time; however, Tyrone feared that Dagger could only relate to him as Cloak, and he was soon manipulated into reclaiming his dark powers by the malevolent mystic Mister Jip. Tyrone's willing resumption of his Cloak form estranged Dagger, who briefly worked with the Black Cat before going back to Cloak, who had tried and failed to find a new partner in Dazzler. By this time, Jip was trying to usurp Cloak's body with the aid of his agents, Night and Day. Dagger defeated them all with the aid of the Predator, and the partners were reunited. Jip would continue to hound them, striking Dagger blind for a time, using the mad Delgado as a pawn, temporarily corrupting Dagger through the power of Night, and killing both Delgado and Father Bowen by mystically usurping their bodies. Cloak and Dagger would thwart Jip's plots again and again.

Though Cloak & Dagger once rescued homeless youth Anna Johnson from cultists, only Anna herself was aware of the fact that she is Tyrone's long-lost sister. Tandy did stay in touch with her stepfather Philip, who persisted in offering Tandy moral and financial support. He even moved to New York City to be near her, caring for her during her temporary blindness, and the two gradually developed a real father-daughter relationship. Sadly, he was killed by an overdose of the designer drug D-Lite, a creation of the demonic D'Spayre, who feeds on human misery. D'Spayre revealed that he had helped create Cloak & Dagger, whose mutant powers would have been quite different had they developed normally. Apparently, their mutant powers would have activated naturally through contact between Tandy and Tyrone; but D'Spayre inhibited this reaction, allowing Marshall's drug to trigger their powers instead. D'Spayre also secretly placed two aspects of his own power--one light, one dark--within the teens, reshaping their mutant powers. These dark and light forms were meant to act as storage batteries for D'Spayre, accumulating pain and suffering he could tap for future use. He had selected Tyrone and Tandy as host bodies since he thought mutants were especially prone to suffering. When D'Spayre tried to reclaim the light and dark forms for himself, Cloak & Dagger resisted, and D'Spayre was seemingly destroyed. In the process, Cloak's and Dagger's powers were altered, though their original abilities reasserted themselves over time.

Cloak & Dagger are devoted to each other, but the lonely Dagger often wants more from life. While on an international case, Tandy performed with Eurocirque as Lady Light and shared a romance with supposed FBI agent Bill Clayton, who was exposed as a criminal but ultimately sacrificed himself to save Cloak & Dagger. Tandy found new friends in the New Warriors, who teamed with Cloak, Dagger and other heroes to defeat the shadow-lunatic Darkling. Around the same time, Cloak & Dagger teamed with Spider-Man and others to halt a murderous super-villain rampage led by superhuman serial killer Carnage; later, Dagger helped rescue the New Warriors from the supremely powerful Sphinx. She accepted an offer of New Warriors membership, though Cloak declined to join. Serving as a Warriors reservist, Dagger also undertook a single mission with the informal Secret Defenders group.

Bloodthirsty fellow vigilante the Punisher has been both an ally and an enemy to Cloak & Dagger over the years. When Cloak went missing recently, Dagger helped form the unofficial "Marvel Knights" alliance with the Punisher and other vigilantes and joined most of the other Knights in hunting the rogue Punisher after he left. Meanwhile, a Nightmare-manipulated Cloak embarked on a mad quest to consume all lawbreakers, absorbing the Punisher and many others until Dagger teamed with Dr. Strange to purge Cloak's corrupting darkness and rescue his victims. In the process, Cloak reverted to his human form as Tyrone Johnson, though this condition would prove temporary. Shortly thereafter, the Marvel Knights disbanded.

More recently, the secret criminal group known as the Pride tricked Cloak & Dagger into trying to retrieve their super-powered children. An encounter with these young Runaways soon convinced Cloak & Dagger of The Pride's true nature, but before they could act on this knowledge, the villains erased the duo's memories of The Pride. Cloak & Dagger continued to roam the mean streets, bringing the light of hope to the innocent and dark justice to the guilty.

Significance

Cloak and Dagger are definitely a great pair of superheroes that are inseparable to each other and clearly need more popularity, as they are underrated, to say the least. They have also crossed into the X-Men, Luke Cage’s Avengers and others. The pair have also gotten their own show on Hulu and interestingly, they decided to twist the story as Tandy is homeless and Tyrone lives a comfortable suburban life. I feel like their story is definitely so good and interchangeable that anything can happen and it's amazing that though they’ve had their ups and downs, they’re still together and strong as one with the power of two, perfectly in sync. 

References:

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Tyrone_Johnson_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Tandy_Bowen_(Earth-616)

[swipestream]

New Release Roundup, 26 May 2018: Science Fiction

This week’s roundup of the newest releases in science fiction features alien invasions, civil wars, space rogues, and, perhaps the most dangerous of all, an experience mercenary seeking to alleviate his boredom.

Alliance Armada (The Alliance Trilogy #2) – Michael Wallace

After fending off the Adjudicator attack, the Alliance learns that the enemy is preparing a final, exterminating push against the human systems and their allies, the Hroom Empire. To buy time while building their forces, the allies send Captain Jess Tolvern and her sometimes rival, the former pirate Catarina Vargus, in command of a fleet to raid and reconnoiter the aliens’ own home worlds.

They cross the inner frontier into systems torn by novas and black holes to find the aliens, who have hidden themselves in a previously undiscovered system, where they are awakening an ancient machine with the capability of devouring entire starships.

Civil War (Broken Worlds #3) – Jasper T Scott

Darius vaporized the Cygnian home world to end the war before it began. It didn’t work.

Little does he know, he’s been played for a sucker from the start. Terrible as the Cygnians are, there is a more ruthless enemy manipulating the Union to tear itself apart in a bloody war between the Revenants and the Cygnians.

Darius is surging up the ranks in the Revenant fleet, winning victory after victory, but they’re all hollow with his daughter, Cassandra, frozen in cryo and no way to safely wake her.

As the war draws to its bloody end, the puppeteers behind the conflict appear and reveal that they also hold the strings to Cassandra’s fate. Darius must deal with the Union’s real enemy and make a horrific choice: either save his daughter, or save the galaxy.

Dogs of War (The Ixan Legacy #3) – Scott Bartlett

The Invasion Has Begun.

The Progenitors are here, and Captain Husher knows the galaxy isn’t ready. He spent his entire military career preparing, but it wasn’t enough.

As the Interstellar Union continues to flail and colony after colony is consumed, Husher must make some impossible choices. About what to save. And what to let fall to the onslaught.

If he can’t find a way to oppose the Progenitors, they will sweep through the multiverse like fire through a parched forest.

It all comes down to this.

Legend (Four Horsemen Tales #1) – Christopher Woods

At a time when Humans were just starting to venture forth into the Galactic Union as mercenaries, Martin Quincy survived long enough to do something no one else had—he retired.

There was only one problem. He got bored.

After battling aliens for many years—killing aliens and getting paid—retirement didn’t suit him, and he decided to strap on the combat armor and go back to the stars. Along with his old friend Kal, Martin joined Cartwright’s Cavaliers, humanity’s best merc company. Life was exciting!

But he got bored. Again.

What does a ‘Legend’ do when even the merc life gets boring? He starts his own company! Can Martin form a merc company out of non-merc races and stand up for the downtrodden of the galaxy, or has his long string of good luck finally run out? One thing is for sure—with Torvasi and Andori troopers, and a Sirra’Kan princess as his partner, he won’t get bored again!

The Legend Fulfilled (Seers of Verde #1) – M. L. Williams

Marauders from a renegade planet attack an Earth colony ship forcing landing parties to split into two groups in a desperate attempt to escape. The attackers are killed, but the colonists pay a terrible price—their vessels are destroyed, stranding them without their technology on either side of an imposing mountain range on the planet Verde Grande.

Descendants of a mysterious Seer now protect their people but become the bane of the hunter society on the other side of the mountain. All attempts to scale the mountain are thwarted for two centuries by the powerful Seers who want to preserve their religion and way of life no matter the cost.

One day, a party of hunters sets out to climb the mountain. To their dismay, the Seers cannot control a strange unreachable young woman who finds the passage to their protected valley. The reunion triggers a decades-long conflict between the Seers and the children of the “lost ones”—a struggle that forever changes the people of Verde Grande.

Mercury Blade (Valyien #1) – James David Victor

On the run with a stolen alien artifact that could ultimately destroy humanity. Chased by the most powerful military force in the galaxy and the most notorious criminal overlord in the sector. No problem for the fastest ship in the known universe.

Eliard Martin is captain of the Mercury Blade, the fastest ship in the galaxy. With his small crew, he travels the stars looking for adventure and profit. When he tries to pull one over on a dangerous criminal overlord, he soon finds himself on a mission that will lead to more danger than he has ever faced before. With the help of a mysterious stranger, who is clearly more than she appears, they will fight to stay one step ahead of the most powerful forces in the galaxy. Can the crew of the Mercury Blade fly their way to freedom or will they be crushed by the opposing forces seeking their demise?

Negation Force (Obsidiar Fleet #1) – Anthony James

The human Confederation has known an unprecedented time of peace, unheard of in a universe where every other species is not only technologically advanced, but also incredibly hostile.

The good times are about to end.

Out on the fringes, the planet Atlantis is attacked by an alien foe remembered only by the oldest members of the Space Corps. These aliens – known as Vraxar – have conquered thousands of worlds, fighting without cessation against every life form they discover. Now it is humanity’s turn.

The lives of strangers are intertwined and together they must try and salvage something from this first exchange in a war that will not end until one side is utterly defeated. Luckily, the Tillos base holds secrets of its own…a warship with an exceptionally powerful Obsidiar core is contained within an underground bunker. It is the only hope for Atlantis…

Obscura – Joe Hart

In the near future, an aggressive and terrifying new form of dementia is affecting victims of all ages. The cause is unknown, and the symptoms are disturbing. Dr. Gillian Ryan is on the cutting edge of research and desperately determined to find a cure. She’s already lost her husband to the disease, and now her young daughter is slowly succumbing as well. After losing her funding, she is given the unique opportunity to expand her research. She will travel with a NASA team to a space station where the crew has been stricken with symptoms of a similar inexplicable psychosis—memory loss, trances, and violent, uncontrollable impulses.

Crippled by a secret addiction and suffering from creeping paranoia, Gillian finds her journey becoming a nightmare as unexplainable and violent events plague the mission. With her grip weakening on reality, she starts to doubt her own innocence. And she’s beginning to question so much more—like the true nature of the mission, the motivations of the crew, and every deadly new secret space has to offer.

Stones of Silence (Cochrane’s Company #1) – Peter Grant

The secret is out – the Mycenae system is the hottest new mineral find in the spiral arm. Now it’s about to become ground zero in a gold rush by every crooked company and asteroid thief in the galaxy.

Andrew Cochrane, with his crew of the finest veterans and cunning rogues, have an even better scheme. They’ve conned the owner into hiring them as a mercenary security company to defend the system. With no oversight but their own, Cochrane’s Company plans to seize the richest pickings for themselves.

But nothing ever comes easy. If they want to keep their loot, they’re going to have to outwit and outfight every smuggler, bandit and renegade after the same prize – and their boss, too!

Tales from the Canyons of the Damned #24 – edited by Daniel Arthur Smith

This twenty-fourth issue of Tales from the Canyons of the Damned consists of four sharp, suspenseful, thought provoking short stories and one poem-each from a different featured master of speculative fiction.

Mephisto—Hunter C. Eden The Food Police—Lara Frater The Three Ds—C.C. Ameel Ash—Ian Garner The Lost Tapes–Aubrey Blackburne—Daniel Arthur Smith

Tales from the Canyons of the Damned is a dark science fiction, horror, & slipstream magazine we’ve been working on since 2015. What is Dark Science Fiction and Horror? Think of it as a literary Twilight Zone, Night Gallery, or Outer Limits, it’s Netflix’s Black Mirror and Amazon’s Electric Dreams in the short story format. And it’s a bargain. Each monthly issue has three-to-five sharp, suspenseful, satirical tales from today’s top speculative fiction writers.

These are Dark Sci Fi Slipstream Tales like you’ve never read before.

Vigilante (Vigilante Chronicles #1) – Natalie Grey and Michael Anderle

One man leaves the life of a lawman behind him and works to clean up a new area in space.

On the planet now known as High Tortuga, the mine workers are far too close to being slaves so the ruler of the planet shut them down. Except for the mine owned by Venfirdri Lan.

He’s taken his mine off the grid and decided to keep everything running. With no need to pay the workers, profits should be good. After all, who’s going to stop him?

He had no idea there was a new type of man working for justice on the planet. A man named Barnabas.

In fact, he didn’t even know who Barnabas was. But he’s about to.

Once Upon a Time in Gravity City – presented by RiffRaff Publishing

In the far reaches of space, the celestial body known as Nebuna is the home to a metropolis with a bad attitude and an expansive wasteland filled with legends and mystery. The tales you are about to read will give you an unflinching ride through the crime-infested gutters and corruption of GRAVITY CITY and the wondrous world that lies beyond city limits!

New Release Roundup, 26 May 2018: Science Fiction published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames