#mianitefanfiction

[syndianites]

Horns

PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE READING

CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Self-Mutilation, Blood, Dismemberment

If you continue to read on you have been warned!

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

It always happened when he let himself relax too much. He’d be enjoying the moment, having a good laugh, just feeling free now that there wasn’t a big something to worry about. Always when he felt good, when he felt like things weren’t collapsing around him.

Then there would the tale-tell itch in his head. The discomfort in his mouth. A push in his clothes. The feeling for growing, unfurling.

The cracking of bone jutting from his skull, moving out in stuttered movements. A push with a crack, pause, another push of pain, pause, another. Each symbolized a curve, the rough formation of a wave, a wiggle back in forth of bone. It felt like someone was trying to rip it from his body, as though someone were gleefully pulling at an arm, listening to the person scream and cry, bone splintering and disconnecting with each tug, a splatter of blood hitting your cheek-

Horns, blood red at the tips, falling into a gradient of bone white at the base. That was his blood smeared along the growth. His head throbbed, and if he looked at the horns, eyes drifting along their length, he could almost see the blood pulse in time with the pain. Thump, pain, thump, pain.

But this growth wasn’t alone. More bone- always more bone- pushed from his gums. Teeth, fangs, sharp like daggers and meant to kill. They came in the sort of way you pushed a syringe into flesh: a smooth glide accompanied with a stiff discomfort. Just on the edge of painful, but only really for that first prick.

It was when they dug into the rest of his mouth. They grew from both the bottom and the top set of canines, crowding his mouth. They dug into his gums, tore into the inside of his mouth, and tore up his mouth. They’d grow crooked more often than not. Not sideways, but out, like they were trying to escape the confines of his jaws.

They made it awkward and difficult to close his mouth, even if he ignored how the top pair couldn’t fit back into his mouth at all. The bottom he could squeeze in if he held his jaw open and delicately put his lips together- making it look like an idiot put a big chunk of food in his mouth that he couldn’t chew.

There was the complimentary tail, of course. It was more of a prick than anything painful. Uncomfortable as hell, though. Like having your veins pulled out, a long tube that felt slimy and squishy. Not that he knew what that was like, to pull out someone’s veins, or what the rubbery feeling they have from how they bounce in your fingers whenever you pinch them. Like how you’d bounce off slime.

But no, the only part that hurt was the sting of the tip pushing out and the way the spade shaped end forced its way through a far too small hole made just above his tail bone.

The real pain were the wings that always tried to break free from his suit jacket. It was by far the longest transition, the most jerky and unorthodox way of growing wings.

It started not unlike how the tail came out: there would be a prick as the tips began to push past skin. Then a shove, forcing flesh to split open. With a crack, a length of bone would jut out, ripping into his shirt, then his suit jacket. It would pause, wet and gleaming, then just out again. Length of bone after length of bone, the wings would start to form in halting motions, stained red from drying blood.

There would be no feathers, or skin, or leather-y covering until the bone had found its full way out. This would go on for minutes, agony ripping through his back as his muscles squeezed and contracted in response. His body wasn’t made for this.

And when wings of bone were out fully in the daylight, made of segments and points, his divine healing factor would kick in. Skin would stitch its way up the stained bone, growing with slick, slimy sounds. Underneath the skin a thin layer of flesh and blood would work up, nerve endings running along his new appendages.

They would ache, then. If he turned to look at them he would see dark, reddish leathery skin. Like a bat’s wing.

After that he would barely notice the tingle of his fingernails growing into claws. They would turn dark as well, almost black.

Then there would be a moment of euphoria, of pure, pulsing power in his veins. He felt like a god. No, he was a god. Fire and strength and control buzzing at his fingertips.

But then it’d crash. Reality would body check him, steal the breath from his lungs. He wasn’t supposed to be a god. Wasn’t supposed to be his own god.

He was a traitor, hands made filthy and red. There was death to his name and power in his veins and something so wrong about both of those facts. His heart anchored him, drug him down with guilt, with fear, with regret.

What would Dianite think, seeing him now?

Which Dianite, his mind would whisper, The one you killed or the one you brought back to life?

Both. Neither. The one that mattered to him was dead. That should have been his only solace in his pain- no matter what happened his god would never be able to judge him again. But he could judge himself. He could feel a distant feeling of shame when looking at the Other Dianite. The one who wasn’t killed by his follower, whose champion was a loyal, loving presence by his side. Who had a whole world to come back to with people who trusted him, even those who belonged to other gods.

What did Tom have, as a forsaken, forgotten god?

Wasn’t he meant to replace Dianite, the old Dianite, the dead Dianite? Shouldn’t he have taken up the mantle, reinstated his brand of chaos and scheming, caused more trouble? What was he doing here, wallowing away in his own self pity and shame?

So he’d reach up to his horns.

False god

He’d clench tight, feeling the ridges underneath his palms.

Weak

With a crack and a cry, he’d wrench the horns from his head. They’d dissolve into fire in his hands but the pain wouldn’t touch him there. Instead, it radiated from his head. The rest of the horns would follow, dissolving, melting into his scalp.

The fangs would follow in a similar fashion. They were easy enough to snap off, but they didn’t leave as smoothly. There would be a tingle in his gums as his teeth- his actual teeth- would try to remember what they looked like, how they were supposed to function.

Pathetic 

His tail would be hard, but all he had to do was pull, pull, pull. It’d hurt. By then it had seamlessly connected to his spine and it would be a miracle if he didn’t pull his own spine out in his desperation to remove the tail. There would be a long ripping sound, muscles getting torn and bone groaning under the stress.

Tears pricked at his eyes, hot and unnaturally bright, and the tail would jerk free leaving a hole behind. It wouldn’t last for long, but it’d bleed steadily and leave a stain against his dress shirt.

Then his wings. He’d hesitate. They were painful enough on entry, stitched with flesh and bone and nerves and blood. Tearing them off was worse. Blinding and white hot and wretched.

So he’d take his time, flex them out, stretch them. He’d pick off his claws- which were hardened but otherwise not painful to remove. His heart would stutter at the thought of ripping them out.

But he couldn’t just leave them there.

You could

So he’d do it one at a time. Not because it’d hurt less, but because it was easier. They were resilient, built to take stress and strain. But so was he. He’d tug, then yank on a wing, use all the godly force he had left in him.

The first one was always easier. Despite the tear of muscle and snapping of bone, he could get it off. The skin would rip away like fabric, like his suit jacket, followed by a burst of blood and a stretch of muscle.

Then he’d cut a muscle. Pain would shoot down his spine, scream at his head. Nerves would start to fray and the bones would creak and groan. Then they’d break, tear into the rest of his muscles, take apart his wings from the inside.

He’d forget to breathe.

The worst part would be if he was too slow. His body would try to heal as fast as it could, pulling skin back together and repairing bone. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be rid of all the shit that reminded him that he killed Dianite. Not to be stuck with it.

So he had to work fast, faster. Break bone from bone, tear muscle from muscle. It was agony, it was fire running along his skin, a cold sweat on his brow.

And then one wing would be gone.

Followed by pure, shuddering anguish. He’d dry heave, gasping for air. The wing itself would dissolve slowly beside him, still try to heal itself as the last of life bled from it. His back would give out, forcing him to slump forward onto his knees.

And he’d sit there, one-winged, chest heaving for air. If anyone saw him now, they’d think he was useless. Can’t even remove wings.

By pure instinct, his hands would resist moving to tear off the next. But he had to. It must go, he must be rid of it. So he’d grip the remaining one, hands shaking. He’d be slower, this time, which was worse. But his mind fought him, screamed at him to let go, to stop.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

It hurt more the second time, but less. He was already so far deep in pain that it just… didn’t faze him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them over the snapping of bone, the ripping of muscle, the-

The same old thing, over and over. He’d done this before. Ripping half his back off and laid on the floor to let it heal over. Had to cut cloth from his wounds before it got trapped under his skin.

With a sob, the last wing dropped to the floor. And with it, so did he. He watched it dissolve in front of his eyes with a sort of detached apathy. It was pretty, almost. Like a fire struggling to light, to stay alive. Flickering about before being snuffed out.

Maybe that was him. A fire trying to survive until he, too, was snuffed out.

[ambivertfangirl]

Demigods: XXI - Jordan

Chapter 21 - Road to Comatose

Fairness aside, Tom is really annoying. Like, douchebag annoying, that should be a huge problem.

Sonja was a little concerned for the whole ‘ceremony’ part where I was going to be put into a coma-state which is kind of scary, you know?

“You do not have permission to die in this ritual.” Sonja commanded, almost equivalent of some type of care-taker, that’s responsible of me.

“Hm, sorry what?” I asked, suddenly curious

“You, Jordan Maron, do not have permission to die in this ritual of the choosing. C’mon, I like you being around. More so than that-- Sky kid.” Sonja admitted, with a slight smile creeping across her face. Sonja looked alive and happy, not bliss about the whole ritual. I suppose so, she is looking alive.

“Glad to have someone by my side.” I stated, returning her a smile. More of a small smile, though it was obvious that I’m mortification of situation.

“Please,” she bit her bottom lip, “I’m pretty sure that Nade would be a little distress because of your death. Maybe Tom would feel--”

“Can you stop with my death?” I ruffled my own hair in panic as my eyes darted everywhere. Studying the surroundings, subsequently looking back at Sonja. She looked guilty, her bright forest green eyes shown agony. Almost corresponding that she has seen stuff that aren’t so innocent, not the lust-types but as in the murderous and dangerous type. I felt sympathy toward her, but I knew she didn’t want my pity.

“Sorry.” She muttered, looking down at her feet.

“Look, it’s not your fault this process is going to happen.” I reminded her.

“Don’t worry about my blaming, I’m a hybrid. I just get blamed because I’m a disgraced. So I’m used to it.”

“How are you a disgraced just because you have some fox-features.”

“No, not that type of Hybrid. It’s called a Were, you’re describing. I’m a Hybrid, just like I mentioned to you yesterday. I’m the daughter of a Witch and a God. I’m half Witch and half Demigod.”

“So what, you’re half Witch and half Demigod. Is this some type of disgrace?” I asked,

“Yes, of course! Demigods and Witches don’t get along with each other. All because of the relationship of Q-L and the Gods.”

“Q-L?” I asked of the sudden letters.

“Quinary Lumia. The Original Witches. You know?” She questioned, she looked at me like she waiting for my answer. I shook my head, ‘I don’t know’. She sighed in frustration. “You know? Kassandra, Filandra, Edra, Andra and Alexandria?”

“All I know is that their names end with N-D-R-A.”

“That’s nothing on the subject, completely irrelevant!” Sonja stated, her face was red with anger that she has to give me a quick lecture. “Gosh, you’re such a COD!”

“Did you just called me a fish?”

“No, it stands for-- you know what, forget it,” she brushed a strand of her bands behind her ear to see more better. She give me a small smile.

"Sonnehilde!" Declan snapped, Sonja blushed at the name. Her smile disappeared.

"What? I'm making conversation." Sonja replied innocently, she turned to look at the redhead. I realized that Sonnehilde might've been her real name or something, possibly a nickname as well.

"Just don't distract." Declan pleaded, I didn't know who he was talking to. Me or Sonja, because he didn't say 'him' or 'her'.

"So, Jordy. How yer feelin'?" Tom asked, as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, as he put all of his weight on me. Carrying him, he was fairly heavy for someone who's pretty thin and scawny like him, but he's taller than me. So there's that.

"I'm feeling fine. Also, Jordy?" I questioned, giving him a weird look for the ridiculous nickname.

"I have to give a nickname, I give everyone nicknames. That's how Declan got 'Dec', I even give Champwan's name. Y'know his name isn't actually Champwan? It's actually Ryley, but it's quite unimportant."

"Maybe not to you, it could be important to Champ-" I stated, then interrupted by Tom.

"Going back to the contrary, I like Jordy. It's fits to your childish personality," Tom give me a goofy grin.

"Childish? I'm not a child! Maybe you should stare at your own reflection, Thomas."

"Oh please, I'm not a file here, you are."

"A what?"

"A file. You are a file," he kept a smug look on his face like whatever a 'file' is, is the worst thing you can call anything.

"Sure . . ."

"Sweetie, he doesn't know any of those terms. Hell, he doesn't know much about the Deities." Sonja stated, as she moved Tom's arm off of me. "So, Anne, maybe you should talk to your own friends."

"Hey, aren't you a Kass?" Tom asked, Sonja replied with nothing. Letting the silence turn into anger. "Oh, sweet Sonja. The precious daughter of Mianite, one of the only children of Mianite. And Daddy's girl is a Kass. Someone who broke their vows-"

"Shut up, Anne. I might be a Kass. But you're forever going to be an Anne. You like to boast that you're the right hand of Dianite, that's pretty pathetic. Furia is so going to go after your booty. Remember, even Tony is a high soldier than you are. You were Daddy's number one son, and then you lost your rank. What happened, Anne?" Sonja mocked back, trying to hide her smug smirk. Tom didn't say anything. "Oh look, there are your brothers. Maybe you should boast about your rank to them." She pointed to the door, where Tony and Josh were standing and talking. Tom didn't reply, he simply walked over to where the 2 brothers were standing and joined in their conversation.

I wanted to speak up and change the subject but I felt like I shouldn't and let Sonja start the conversation. I turned to look at Sonja, she give me a weak smile.

"What's with the name calling? Anne, Kass and whatever Tom called me. 'File'," Sonja give a small exhaled - inhale exchanged before confirming.

"Anne is something who lost their rank, considered flawed and reckless. What Tom called me, a Kass. It's when someone who broken their vows, considered naive and stupid."

"Vows?" I echoed.

"I vowed to never seek for love, but the thing is. Love found me, and I fall in love."

"With who?"

"Tucker."

"The asshole that you really want to kill but want to make-out at the same time?"

"Yeah." She admitted, her voice was quiet like she didn't want anyone else to listened. Everyone else was distracted in their own conversations, and plus I don't think they want to overhear Sonja's conversation because of what went down with Tom.

The altar sat peacefully in the center of the room. A red silk-blanket underneath the weird materials on the wooden tablet. The red silk was laced with a gold and silver colour, like a braid. The room was dark, only to be lit with the fancy candles on the alter.

All of the demigods stood behind me, except for Sonja and Declan.

"What will happen?" I asked in a soft whisper toward Sonja.

"I don't know the exact details, but all I know is that you go through this ritual. And there's a huge chance of you dying through the process, that's one of the main reasons why there are about 10 of us living on this island." Sonja answered back quietly. "This is my first time going through the ritual, I'm finally the appropriate age to see it."

"What, 18?"

"I supposed, I don't listen much in my lectures. Maybe," she took a deep breath, resembling that she's kind of stressed out and a bit worried, "it includes like any other ritual. A lot of blood, Latin words and some type of magic. Then, BOOM!" She opened her hands resembling that she's mimicking a mushroom cloud of an explosion.

"I'm in the comatose state?" I guessed. She stayed silent, letting in the silence. Declan took a step toward the altar, he took a blade from his side. The blade was gold, with a green lace around the hilt of the dagger.

"Jordan, come over here." Declan murmured, I walked up behind him, and stood besides him. A goblet and a bowl stood in the middle of the altar. In a container it was a thick substance that was a red, another with other small materials that was a peachy colour. Declan took the blade and slice a thin cut on his palm. "Benedic hoc ferrum, et arthana. Eripe me et iurant in fide semel coepit, ut numina. Inde est quod voverint pie tueri potens aura defendit, et animam ad vitam, ut voverat. Grandinem hoc omnis anima paradisum Heroas Dylaenie ducendam. Sed, ut coeperit."

All I could translate was the last bit of the Latin which was pretty irreverent, "Now, it shall begin".

Declan passed me the golden dagger, I wasn't sure what to do. Declan's eyes darted toward my hand. Oh, he wanted my blood through my hand. I switch the blade to my other hand and slice a thin cut, similar to what Declan have done before me. His eyes darted to the bowl, I put my hand over the bowl.

"Hunc agrum ad poenam. Qui futura inquirunt, et dormiant somnum quietis et. Qui posuit quod intermissum erit in futuro gravius faciam. Absconditis visum esse, cum in fidem excitare et deorum. In hoc Rituali umquam obliviscar eorum tradiderunt, ut benedicat anima ritu per experimentum. Eripe me ab ipso sanguine erit." Declan casted. Declan turned to me with a silver blade, I give him a questioning look. Did he want me to cut another strip for more blood?

Quickly, he slashed the blade toward me, around my chest area where I collapsed with my vision turning bla-.

[shadowcalypso]

The Champion of who?

Proloug: The Beginning

A/N So I do not own Mianite, only the characters I Create. If you like please reblog. SPREAD THE LOVE

LINE BREAK

As I regained consciousness I could tell I could not move my body, nore open my eyes. I could sense the presence of people. 2 Male 1Female and the last one I could not be sure. I just laid there on what seemed like a cloud of nothing. I could feel my black hair being brushed by the unknown entity, it seemed rather calming. I knew nothing of myself. Who I was, Where I was. All I remember is well, nothing.

“Brother, who is she?” I heard a deep male voice chime angerly though the room. He, from what I could sense, was tall. Heavy built. A fighter.

“She is the person of the legend. Dear Dianite.” A female voice replied. She seemed thinly built.

“She will never be my champion. I have TOM!” The deep voiced Male I now knew to be Dianite shouted. The room shook with his rage. The hand brushing my hair stopped and growled.

“Shh dearest Twin. Calm yourself. Keep her calm and asleep. Midnight cannot hear this.”The female whispered to the unknown entity.

“But sister Ianite... he...” the male growled again.

“NO! Keep quiet!! Zianite!” The lady, I knew to be Ianite Shouted. The room shook harder than before. I felt terrified.

“Ianite young sister calm down. I can sense her fear.” The final person said. “Anyways. She IS from the legend Dianite. She is all of our champions. I have accepted her. By the look on her forehead so has Ianite and Zianite. Will you Brother?”

“Never Mianite” Then Dianite was gone. I could not feel his body near me.

“Mianite she is stirring. We need to send her to your realm.” Ianite said.

“I shall protect her there” The man stroking my hair finally spoke. And then I felt weightless. After a moment I felt sand under my body. It took me a bit to be able to open my violet eyes and stare up at the sky. It seemed to be at high noon. Looking around I saw on one side, the ocean. It went as far as I could see.

On the other side was a birch house, ontop of a hill. Climping up to the house I wanted to know who it belonged to. “CaptainSparklez... Who is that?” I asked to myself outloud.

“That is my boy-i mean my bestfriend. I am Tom Syndicate, yes I have blue hair. Welcome your face to the realm of Miante!! Who might you be?” I jumped up with a shriek as the medium pitched male voice rang in my ear.

“I..I” 'Who was I?' I thought to myself

' You are Midnight Shadow.' Zianite(I presume) rang into my head.

“I am... Midnight Shadow...” I whispered shyly.

“Well Midnight Let me explain to you about the 3 gods.”

“3? I thought there was 4?” I asked. Tom looked confused, “Never mind...”

“Anyway we have 3 gods, Mianite; Ianite; and the best of all Dianite. Mianite is the god of the over world; he is seen as the good kind god. Ianite is the goddess of the End; and realy is seen as the balanced one who doesnt attack unless provoked. Dianite is the God o the Nether. He is seen as the god who you are able to have fun with. Like killing, trolling, etc.” Tom ranted on about how good Dianite was. I spent what seemed like an hour learning all about them and the people living there.

“Thanks Tom... I think I will settle in...” I said to him and walked to the Priest, the redhead; Declan.

“Sir Priest? You speak to the gods correct?”

“Why yes I do and I knew you were coming. They cannot know about Zianite. He has requested it.” Declan responded as we walked into his home.

“But why?” I asked and then I felt a sharp pain in my head.

'DO NOT QUESTION WHY I DID NOT WANT THEM TO KNOW YOUNG IDIOT!' Zianite yelled into my head. Declan sighed and whispered words into my ear as Zianite went away.

“I..” I tried to speak but it felt hard to. Declan smiled and picked m up and put me on his bed.

“Sleep little one, trust me. You are safe” Then I fell asleep from the pain.

LINE BREAK

I knew I was dreaming but it felt so real. I looked around at the ire. Destruction. The gods were on the ground in pain. I felt so scared. In front of me was a black figure and he pointed to Jordan's house and in my head I could hear “SOON!”

I tried to run away but it felt as if I had no control over my body. I cried out for Declan. Blinking once I saw I was in a cage.

Another blink. Tom dead, Blink. Jordan dead. Blink. Sonja. Dead. Blink. Tucker. Dead. Blink. The Modesteps. DEAD! All dead.

“When the blood moon rises. I shall rise and claim my rightful champion. Those my children have STOLEN from me.” The voice laughed onto my head, and then darkness.

“Midnight!! WAKE UP!!” I heard Declan shouting at me shaking my body. I opened my eyes and started to sob. I told him about my dream and he hugged me and calmed me down.

“You cannot Run from me when you sleep. You will join me... For I am...”

END OF PROLOUG!!!

A/N End of this chapter. Cliffy no? What do you think.. Feel free to tell me!!!!  Next chapter will be up when I get some feedback about this one :)

[yanzatheghost]

Amnesia

[Prompt]

I have amnesia and you say you’re my best friend but I keep on forgetting and thinking we’re lovers

[tea-and-outer-space (tumblr)]

[Marthlington - Wag’s PoV]

Wattpad Link

[1534 words]

I sat down at Martha’s kitchen table. The sun was just coming over the horizon as I set out two plates of eggs and toast. A few days after almost everyone had gone on a scouting mission to find Urulu there had been an accident. One of the taller trees in Martha’s orchard had fallen onto her house, directly where her bed was.

–=–=+–=–+=–=–

Unfortunately it had been the middle of the night. She had been asleep and there was no one around to find her until morning.

When I came over to her house to see why she hadn’t met up with me that morning, I saw the gaping hole the tree had torn into the façade. Everything after that had felt like a blur. I remembered how numb my body felt as I ran up the creaky stairs. How my stomach dropped into my toes when I saw the blood.

Her once beautiful pink lace bedspread was soaked and dripping slightly at the corner.

After that I only remembered the slight glow of my phone as I called Declan. The snapping from the log as I somehow managed to slowly levitate the tree off of her chest. The wizards buzzing around to fix the hole while Declan wrapped her up.

People asked me questions, but I had been too dazed and scared to answer them.

–=–=+–=–+=–=–

Since the accident she repeatedly forgot who people were. There had been numerous times so far where she had forgotten me and made assumptions based on the fact that she was currently living in my house.

“Good morning darling!” He sweet voice rang out from the elevator pad as she appeared on it.

“Morning Martha,” I replied. I found it easier not to correct her every time. It was only a matter of time before she would forget me again.

She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me. Before I could stop her she grabbed my butt and lay her head on my shoulder. I leapt away from her; perhaps I had been wrong in not correcting her.

“Martha dear,” I said to her softly as I pulled away.  “Your confused again! You’re engaged to Steve, not me.” I held both of her hands to keep them away from my waist as I looked into her confused, child- like eyes. A piece of her soft lavender hair feel in front of her eye but I resisted moving it for her.

Such a gesture would be seen as romantic and could lead to nothing other than more confusion for her.

I released her hands and looked away in the hopes that she wouldn’t see the longing in my eyes.

“But Waggles,” she said. I risked a glance in her direction. She was looking at me, locking me into eye contact, fear in her eyes. “I haven’t even met Steve. You keep saying we’re just friends, but the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice…” She trailed off and I was glad she hasn’t finished the thought.

“Steve is your fiance,” I told her softly but sternly. “He’s on a trip. If he knew you were hurt he would be here, but he doesn’t. You love each other.” This was possibly the hardest conversation I had ever had. “Not me.”

I hated saying it. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but I knew she couldn’t love me. Not in that way anyways. Even if she could love more than one person, I knew it would never fly with Steve. And Steve had been there first. They’ve been through so much together, I couldn’t be the one to end that for them.

“Waggles,” she said when I didn’t say anything.

“Please,” I turned away from her. “Please don’t call me that. It makes it too hard,” I said softly.

“Waglington,” she said. “I may not remember everything about myself, or about Steve, but I do know that you love me.”

I stared at her, mouth open slightly. She knew it was true and I couldn’t deny it. Before I knew what was happening she was standing very close to me again.

“Then imagine you know as much about me as I do about you,” she said softly. I could smell the sweet smell of her shampoo. I reached through her hair and tried not to think about it too much.

I did what I had always wanted to do and kissed her. It felt magical and I wanted the moment to last forever.

So naturally, it didn’t.

“What the hell d'you think you’re doing?” Steve yelled from the doorway. He was running towards us at an alarming rate. Apparently he had returned from the scoring msn st the worst possible time. I pulled away from Martha, terrified.

The last time I had seen that look in his eyes I ended up in a bloody pulp with no house. He had been forgiving enough to rebuild my tower for me, and what had I done? I kissed his fiance in it.

“I’ll give you a right rumble mate!”

“Steve!” Martha shouted. “Stop it! Not again!” She jumped in between us prospectively.

“Martha,"I said, "don’t get yourself hurt, just leave it alo- wait.” I spun her around so that she was facing me. She looked guilty. “How do you remember him?”

“You were using her,” Steve shouted accusingly. “The priest said Martha lost her memories, and you lied to her!” He tried pushing past her to get to me and this time he succeeded.

Martha stumbled away from us, trying to keep her balance. I backed away into the corner, surprised he had been so forceful with her. It didn’t seem like him to do that.

“I wasn’t using her,” I said putting my hands up defensively. I hadn’t wanted to fight him the first time and I didn’t want to start now. This wasn’t about his anger or my love, it was about Martha. She had her own decisions to make and we couldn’t settle anything for her by fighting.

“Steve stop,” she said again. Did she remember him? “I don’t want you to fight him.”

He didn’t listen to her. He lunged towards me and punched my face, causing my nose to start dripping blood. I fell backwards against the wall and he pinned my shoulder against it.

“Steve,” I tried again. “She remembers who you are.”

Again he didn’t listen and again he punched me. My ears were buzzing as I slouched down, unable to support myself. He continued holding me up against the wall by my shoulder.

After a final blow to the stomach I found myself slumping down to the ground. I heard Martha shout again but everything was getting fuzzy and I couldn’t hear what she said. There was another thud and I saw Steve lying on the ground next to me. He looked more than a little shocked.

Martha started to say something else as he tried to sit up but I only caught a few pieces of it. “… how many times he’s told me not to cheat on you in the past week? He thought we were still together and he ke…” “…convince me that you loved me. You’re the only one who’s trying to use my amnesia to get me to like you, not hi…”

I blinked my eyes heavily trying not to pass out. They broke up? When? How does she remember him now?Thoughts swam through my head, distracting me from what was going on.

“But Martha I-” Steve tried to say.

“No Steve,” she said forcefully. “You don��t deserve me, and although you’ll likely get it, you don’t deserve Waglington’s forgiveness. Now get out.”

“But Marth-”

“OUT.” I heard a seam rip slightly as she pulled him up by his shirt collar. He stumbled to his feet and stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before rushing out the door.

After he was gone Martha turned to me and wrapped her arm around my back and under my shoulder. She helped me up and together we walked over to the couch.

“Are you alright?” She asked me.

“You remember Steve,” was all I could say. My thoughts were stuck on their argument.

“I’m so sorry Waggles,” she said to me. “I remembered who Steve was after the first day or two.” She looked into my eyes. “And I never forgot you.” I didn’t know how to respond, I just stared back at her until she leaned closer to me. “I’m sorry for deceiving you, I just wanted to find out how you really felt about me. I was tired of guessing with Steve.”

This time I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer. This time there was nothing holding me back as I kissed her. I felt all of my pain and thoughts drain away.

Just as we pulled apart, smiling at each other, Jordan walked into the room. “The others are back from the scouting mission and we’re ready to go to Urulu as soon as we can,” he said. “Martha, are you feeling any better?”

“Yes dear,” she blushed. “I’m feeling much better now.”

[jazlynthorn]

I wrote down what I believe is Prince Andor’s complete backstory. It’s not completely accurate to the storyline, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway! It is my first time writing fanfiction, so please feel free to give me feedback <3

[syndianites]

Craving

CW: Mentions of Cannibalism, Emphasis on Hunger

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

Tom always had a large appetite. He could eat as much meat as his leg weighed. Devour and whole farm of fresh produce.

It wasn’t anything new to him. The food never really took hold in his body. He was dead, you know? His muscles didn’t run on protein. He didn’t even really need water to live. He was just… alive.

But he liked to eat! Food tasted good, it made him feel human to eat it. Like if he drank enough water or ate enough regular, normal meals he’d be closer to being human than he was now.

He was a zombie, still. No matter how much he ate, it didn’t help him at all. Food didn’t so much as give him energy as get burned up by whatever was keeping him alive. That magical spark, the fire burning deep in his guts that kept him moving.

In Ruxomar someone had made an off-handed comment- was it Andor? Martha? Maybe Sonja. Someone who was into Thaumcraft. Who had been in the middle of research. They were looking into golems, bringing life to the lifeless. With mirth in their eyes, they looked at Tom and said that perhaps he was a golem. Something infused with life that shouldn’t be.

He remembers that, sometimes, and wonders if Dianite didn’t just shove some hidden, magical core deep inside his chest. Maybe he was just a puppet running around with their strings cut off.

So he’d eat whatever he had on hand. Meat, veggies, fruits, bread, maybe zombie flesh if he was desperate.

Did eating zombie flesh make him a cannibal?

And it’d be enough.

But sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes he ate and ate and ate and still felt empty. He’d devour all the food he had, steal from the farms, ravage others’ kitchens, and still hunger.

It was during these times that his eyes would drift towards his friends. Their human, healthy flesh. But he wouldn’t. He never would. He was a zombie, not a Zombie. There was a difference, a line he needed to draw somewhere.

So he managed it. And he ate, and he craved, and he ate some more and more, and eventually it would smooth over.

Then he became a god.

Which was cool! Amazing! Fun!

For about three seconds

And he thought, after their long, lengthy fall through the void, that he’d stop getting so ravenous. Oh, if only he’d realized how wrong he was. That the emptiness of the void had just mirrored the emptiness inside him, created a balance between being barely alive in a living world and being too alive in a dead void.

Then they hit the ground. He woke up in a cell feeling emptier than ever before. Dianite was dead, his friends were gone, and he was somewhere alone, trapped. It took every ounce of control he had- and he had so, so little now- to not go fuckin’ ballistic. To tear the cell apart with his bare hands and rip the life out of whoever tried to stop him.

He heard voices, heard his friends, and went running. Reunited with them, got introduced to a whole new world. But he felt the same.

Empty, empty, empty.

Then they were in town, getting gawked at by the locals.

Sky heroes, he’d hear them whisper, do you really think they…?

But his eyes trailed off. Lingered too long on food, too long on people. It bounced and kicked around in his head.

So hungry.

Shiny red caught his eye and then he was pulling apples into his arms, one already crunched between his teeth. Then he was yelled at, and he had to make up for stealing, and wasn’t that something new?

But the juice dripping down his chin snapped him back to reality, to the farmer giving him the stink eye. It was something to hold onto. Farmer Steve. Solid and immovable. Reliable.

But Ruxomar went by in a haze of hunger- one barely staved- and toils. Days filled with ladies with purple hair. With angels with clipped wings. A spirit of a god he couldn’t decide how to feel about hoving about.

Then darkness. Banishment and death. Farmer Steve, bleeding out for a god Tom had never met. Mianite, stabbed through by his own father. There was fighting, there was running, there was the whole world collapsing on them.

But his mind kept falling back.

Hungry.

Feet pounding against dirt and stone and path.

So empty.

A portal buzzing before them made by a man he still didn’t know.

Need food.

And a jump. They were in the void again, floating and spinning. There, at least, he felt calm. The hum died down. He was still empty, but he was surrounded by empty. It was like osmosis, there was nothing to fill him with need so he didn’t need anymore.

It was then, lounging in the dark, a reborn god by his side and people he wasn’t sure he knew well beside him, that his mind looked over the past few weeks. From Farmer Steve to his death. Andor’s growing confidence to his descent. Martha clawing her way through fear and doubt into her own godhood.

World Historian lusting for power, needing power. Quintessence. Feasting on it.

He must have been hungry, too. Looking for anything to fill his burning desire. It struck a chord in Tom.

Was that him? Empty and bottomless, cursed to consume and consume until there was nothing left? Would he leave behind a void like World Historian had caused Ruxomar to fall into?

Maybe that was why he felt settled in the Void. His body cried for something to fill him, but there was nothing. The only way he would be satisfied would be to eat everything.

That thought killed him. He’d been hungry for so long. Since he was born- made? From the first day he’d set foot in the land of the gods, to the day he became one, to now.

He glanced at his friends. There was no stir in his gut around them. No voice whispering about being hungry. Nothing telling him that they could make him whole.

Would they be safe even when they dropped out of the void again?

[ambivertfangirl]

Demigods: XX - Josh

Chapter 20 - For who?

"Nie sme tuk." A voice announced in my head. "Mitseliĭ i Andryu."

I re-voiced the language in my head, trying to found out what they actually were saying. For a few strong 5 minutes, I suddenly figure out the problem and what they were asking for.

"Te sa tuk," I whispered to Tony, "Mitseliĭ i Andryu." Tony turned to me with a weird look in his eyes, he parted his lips like he was going to say something.

"Andrew and Myelica?" Tony asked, trying to translate."Who are they?" He voiced quietly, not trying to get the other demigods into the conversation with us. This conversation is only between myself and Tony. Only us 2.

"It's codenames. They're here for someone." I answered, as Tony looked toward Tucker's and Sonja's direction between turning back to me.

"If they're here for Ĭordaniya. Then, they're a little year early. Don't they need to be-" Tony started.

"The program starts in 2 months, typically it's a break right now. Newcomers classes are in 3 weeks. We don't have anyone-" I confirmed, but interrupted by Tony.

"Ami Sonya?" Tony guessed, but I shook my head.

"No, she's veche se grizhi za neĭnata magiya. Mislya, che Irene Sigurno se pogrizha za nego." I explained.

"Then who?" Tony asked, I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anyone who they can possibly go for. I looked at the others, they were still with Jordan. This could be a distraction, I looked at Tony. He give me a nod, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Slowly and then quickly, we slipped out of the room.

"We need to talk about this later." I've decided once we were outside and in the fresh air.

"No, we need to now. They're here, and obviously they're here for someone. Ami ti?" He asked, crossing his arms. I mimicked his movement and crossed my arms as well. I looked at the ground, trying to think. I looked up to my brother.

"Ne, ne mi." I answered, pretty confident in my answer. They couldn't go after it, they're here for someone. But who though?

"Mateĭ?" Tony guessed.

"Tvŭrde rano." I confirmed, groaning in frustration.

"Khektor?" Tony guessed again.

"Tvŭrde rano." I answered again.

"What exactly did they say to you?"

"They said that they're here. Myeclia and Andrew. It's them. Myeclia and Andrew aren't actually their real names, it's their codenames. Judging from knowing 'Myeclia', it's Phoenix and Rogue. But, I don't know exactly who they're here for."

"What if it has to do with something with you?"

"Not, me. I know that for sure. I rejected their attempts and summits, they'll never go back for me. If they were, it's possibly for some type of business that includes Κρίστεν."

"Write out the family tree, would you? Who's Tom's mother?"

"His mother is dead, and not that important."

"Ματθεώ?"

"Still alive, but gone missing. Possibly dead."

"Χέκτορ?"

"Same as for Ματθεώ. Still alive, but gone missing." I murmured, as I walked the distant Dianite Bunker coming closer and sharper in my eye vision.

"Is Matt and Hector brothers? But they have some type of incest love." I completely ignore the incest part, and continue on talking. Answering his first question.

"They have the same mom, and probably the same dad. So, they're fully brothers." I answered, as we continue walking toward the Dianite bunker.

"Τόκκερ?"

"Mother is still alive."

"Her name was Andromeda, right?"

"Yes, renamed after the daughter of Martha, Andromeda." I clarify, Tony quickly searched his pockets. And then stopping when he found something in his jean pockets. It was a bit of chalk. We stopped at the side walls of the Dianite Bunker. I turned to Tony to speak but Tony beated me.

"Draw me the family tree of all of the 10 Demigods here." Tony commanded, as he put the chalk into my hands.

"I don't know Jordan's parents nor Nade and Hector's. I don't even know Sonja's nor Champ's!" I admitted. Suddenly feeling a different type of essence or presence around us. "But, I'll tell you what. I'll write who I think the duo is going after. Judging from its past and its history, I think I could link something up."

I shifted the chalk in my hands so I could write with it more comfortable. And I wrote on the outside walls. Dad hated me, he probably hates me and want me dead by now. "ריילי." I wrote on the Dianite's bunkers, it was a disgrace and it was extremely disrespectful for writing or damaging the bunkers. But I still did it.

"It's in Hebrew." Tony complained, I rolled my eyes at his sucky complaint.

"Ryan." I translated. Tony give me a weird look, like he's saying that he hasn't no clue who's Ryan is. I rolled my eyes at my brother's oblivious of who I'm trying to say. Do I have to draw out a picture or what? "Ryan is a codename. Just like Myeclia and Andrew. It's Shade."

"Ahh." Tony clarify, as he looked at the Hebrew language. "How come you never taught me the Hebrew language? You used to taught me all of these languages, never Hebrew. Heck, you even taught me French, Spanish, Swedish and all of these weird languages."

"Hebrew is kind of ancient, I could say. Only certain people can understand it, if you can understand it at birth. If you don't understand it at all, in your entire life. You'll be never taught how to."

"Taught how to? Teach me, Joshua. I want to learn it, maybe Dad could appr--"

"Appreciate me better? Really, Tony? How can you be so naive to believe that Dad would even like me? He can't even look at my direction without a distaste or disgrace look on his face, Tone. He has disown me, and you need to understand it. You can't always use the same information over and over again. Dad isn't going to like me. You're his favourite son, he likes you better than Tom. And Tom is his second in-command and his right man. Right beside--." I stopped myself at my boost of anger and hatred. I shouldn't really be so angry, right? No, I have a right to be angry. But not at the wrong person, who turns out to my brother. And he's taking all of my anger like no problem. "I'm sorry, Anthony." I murmured, as I said Tony's real name. Tony give me a glare, but quickly it disappeared. "But, we need to figure out this problem. Stop changing the topic, maybe ... we just need to figure out who they're after."

"Eínai τομ étsi den eínai?" Tony asked, as he looked at me. I knew he was right, I knew that he was corrected. But I didn't want him to be concerned about it, lying to your brother isn't a big problem. Right?

"No. It's probably Tucker. Maybe they're here because of his brother, Jeriah."

[ambivertfangirl]

Demigods: XIX - Jordan

Chapter 19 - Judgement of the Gods

"Let the gods favour you."

Declan declared, taking a gulp before proceeding to head to the door that Champwan have told me in the Greek Language. I took a quick glance at Tom, he give me an 'encouraging' nod before I continue walking on. Walking into the room was terrifying, the 2 god-like people were arguing as small growing orbs. A bright light blue colour and the other was a hellish red. I could feel the war-like aura and the dark chaos settling in the atmosphere. I figured they stopped when they felt my unpleasant presence. I gulped at the unsettling glares and stares the 2 gods gave me. "Jordan Maron, welcome. Son . . . or Nephew." Dianite greeted first with an evil smirk like he was planning for me to be his 'puppet' or such. "Same as for me, Jordan." Mianite greeted unsettling. It felt weird, abnormal or even strange. I didn't like that both gods are already judging me. "You think too much." Dianite had decided from my annoyance. Dianite had a nasty remark reaction on his face, but quickly it changed into a cheeky devious grin. "But you're very logical." A feel of undeserved pride waved through me. Dianite's grin grew into a smirk. Some say that if you smirk too much, you'll get whiskers. With that thought, Dianite soon glared at me, like he just-- nope. He did. Mianite manage a smile. Mianite is impressed. Dianite is impressed as well. "People in this realm think you're shy or even kind maybe! Oh, once they read your mind they'll understand--" "Dianite enough!" Mianite declared, interrupting Dianite his statement about my mind. I also didn't like the way Dianite described everyone in the Realm as 'people', not even family members. Nephew (or Niece for Sonja) and Sons. Just 'people'. "We don't want the same to happen like the other boy." Mianite muttered, getting me out of my mind. Mianite muttered the sentence quietly, probably only wanting Dianite to hear. But clearly I heard it. Also . . . what other boy? What happened to--. "Jordan! Enough, we just want to test you. I suggest you keep your mind clear." Wow, grumpy pants possibly dad/uncle. Dianite managed a laugh at my remark, in my mental mind, about Mianite. Just that give me a little self-confidence about my immature acts/jokes. I've been hanging out with Tom too much, I think. His immaturity personality has rubbed on me, that's pretty idiotic because I've only meet him for about 48 hours or less. "I suggest you start this test." I manage to speak, not being loud nor having a shy around it-- nope. Just a bit of shyness in the mix. "Before I-I mean, 'we' get distracted by uiunusual idiotic differences of how my brain functions." Dianite seem more impressed by this remark of confidence to speak to the gods. Both gods look at each other, like they're having a conversation teleparthly. No logic in these, they're gods. 'Almighty gods'! I'm just mocking and just seeing if I have any 'sarcasm' language. I do. Wow. Many wow. They turn back to me, making me flinch and jump lightly. Being startled and all. "Declan will lead you to the next course." Mianite announced a little overly dramatic. "Excuse me?" I asked, not really knowing what he meant. "You passed the test." Dianite replied, as the red orb started to dance in circles around my area. "What's the next course then? What's course is that?" I asked, trying to rephrase it at the same time. I could feel Dianite giving out a smile like my question was cute. "Of course! The ritual. The ritual where you agree to the terms and whatever it is. Remember it?" "The one where I cut--" "Yes, that one. Better enjoy your last few minutes before you go into your 48 hours of coma."