#or a body built with the remains of a corpse

[onyx-wyvern]

transman meat robot crossover of the century

[lets-try-some-writing]

“It is said that during the first age, there were so many Titans that they dotted the sky like stars. But when the Quintessons came, the Primes and their inheritors were not enough to save them from the wrath of creatures without empathy." - Dion, Third-rate priest of the Primacy

Lore below the cut.

It is recorded that there were once possibly up to several thousand Titans near to and on Cybertron while the Primes still reigned. They travelled in huge groups, flocking as they spread out across the stars. Most vanished into the void of space, going forth to bring life to barren worlds just as Primus wished. Aside from a few colony worlds with still living Titans, their fates are unknown, but it is assumed that most of the Titans completed their duties as intended.

Those who remained behind on Cybertron to help safeguard the infant civilizations forming there were not nearly as fortunate. Each and every Titan was cut down methodically by the Quintessons after their arrival. The Primes who survived 'The Fall' were not strong enough to protect their Titan wards, and most of them fell alongside their cityformer comrades. The Titans never fought back, but they did attempt to flee. Most were killed all across the planet, scattered and without aid. But during the siege of Polyhex, several ancient Titans were corralled into the Rust Sea and promptly fell one after another. Their corpses created the Hydrax Plateau.

Other Titan corpses were later used as the foundations for several great cities due to the stability of their frames and the increase in wildlife growth in the areas near the bodies. Iacon, Helex, and Polyhex are three such examples. Each city built atop a Titan corpse has been noted having specific frame augmentations for any newbuilds formed there. Sometimes, newbuilds even emerge with memory fragments that they should not possess. However, those things mean little for Cybertron and its people in the modern age. The Titans are dead, and their relics are all that remain.

As it stands, there are only three Titans recorded as being active in Cybertron's most secure records. Vos, Trypticon, and Metroplex. Vos is a well kept secret and his identity is hidden beneath the guise of him being the first ever floating city. Metroplex has not moved in millennia. As for Trypticon? He wanders the wild parts of Cybertron's surface and, despite his size, is rarely observed by normal bots.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Death (& Cheating Death)

Oddly enough, not all experts – or even countries – agree on what death actually is.

Brain activity stops

Temperature drops

Cells break down

Organs decay

Bacteria produce gas

In Britain, death is said to happen when:

The person has lost the capacity to ever be conscious again.

All the functions of the brainstem (such as telling the heart to beat and the lungs to in���ate) have stopped.

What happens when someone has died?

Almost at once, blood begins to drain from the little blood vessels near the surface of the skin. This makes it look pale.

Bodily tissue starts to break down very quickly. That’s why organs are removed for transplant as soon as possible after someone dies.

Some organs function for longer than others after death. Brain cells go quickly, in no more than about 3 or 4 minutes. But muscle and skin cells may last for hours – perhaps a whole day.

In fact, a corpse is still very much alive. No, the person isn’t alive any more, but all the bacteria inside the body, plus all the others that flock in, certainly are. As they eat the body, they produce all kinds of smelly gases. When there’s no flesh remaining, there’s nothing left to cause a smell.

In some conditions, this process of decay is disrupted. This can happen naturally, as in the cases of bodies falling into peat bogs and being preserved (because the acids in the peat essentially pickle the flesh). But it can be done on purpose too.

Mummification

After pharaohs and some other members of the nobility died in Ancient Egypt, their bodies were preserved.

Most of their organs were taken out (though their hearts were left in place).

To remove the brain, a thin metal stick was poked up into their nose then wiggled around.

This whisked the brain up, turning it into a runny slop that could drain out through the nostrils.

Next, their bodies were dried out for 40 days.

Then they were coated in natural preservatives (things that would stop the body decomposing), such as beeswax, and wrapped in many layers of linen.

This completed the process of mummification.

What happens if the head is chopped off?

In the past, some criminals had their heads cut off as punishment, and members of the public would go along to watch.

Some reported seeing chopped-off heads blinking or even attempting to speak.

In 1803, two German scientists investigated these reports.

They pounced on heads as they fell and shouted, ‘Do you hear me?’ None responded.

They concluded that the brain, when separated from the body, lost consciousness immediately – or at least too quickly to measure.

How quickly?

Modern estimates range between 2 and 7 seconds. Which is quick.

But it still means that a brain in a chopped-off head might have a genuine out-of-body experience.

CHEATING DEATH

Your body is pretty tough. And as you know, your brain works very hard to keep you alive. Some uncomfortable experiments have revealed the amazing things it can do. Take extreme heat, for example...

The Walk-in Oven

In the 18th century, a doctor in London called Charles Blagden built what was essentially an oven big enough for a person to walk inside.

He and his friends would stand inside it for as long as they could bear.

Blagden managed ten minutes at a temperature of 92.2 degrees Celsius.

His friend, a famous botanist called Joseph Banks, managed 99.4 degrees – but only for seven minutes.

Unsurprisingly, the volunteers’ skin warmed up dramatically.

But Blagden also took the temperature of their urine.

He did this right before and after the oven experience.

And he found that there was no change.

That meant that their inner ‘body temperature’ had stayed the same.

This showed the toughness of the human body – it can regulate its own temperature even when outside temperatures are extreme.

He also noticed that the volunteers sweated a lot. This led him to realize that sweating is important for cooling the body.

Some of what we know about the toughness of the human body comes not from experiments, but from accidents and ‘lucky’ escapes.

The Deep Freeze

When Erika Nordby was a toddler, she woke up one night and wandered out of her home in Canada.

It was the middle of winter, and freezing outside.

When she was finally found, her heart hadn’t been beating for at least 2 hours.

But Erika was carefully warmed up at a local hospital, and she made a full recovery.

Just a couple of weeks later, a two-year-old boy on a farm in the USA did almost exactly the same thing.

He also recovered fully.

It sounds extraordinary – but dying is the last thing that your body wants to do.

Falling from a Plane

On 24 March 1944, a British airman called Nicholas Alkemade was in an RAF plane flying over Germany.

His plane was hit and burst into flames.

By the time he got to his parachute, it was on fire. So he decided to jump.

He was 3 miles above ground and falling at 120 miles per hour.

‘It was very quiet,’ he recalled later. He had no sensation of falling.

‘I felt suspended in space.’

Suddenly, he found himself crashing through the branches of some pine trees.

He landed with a thud in a snowbank, in a sitting position.

He had somehow lost both his boots and had a sore knee and some minor scrapes. But otherwise he was fine.

After World War II, Alkemade got a job in a chemical plant.

While he was working with chlorine gas, his mask became loose.

He was exposed to dangerously high levels of the chemical.

He lay unconscious for 15 minutes before co-workers dragged him out. Miraculously, he survived.

After he returned to work, he was adjusting a pipe one day when it burst and sprayed him from head to foot with sulphuric acid.

He suffered extensive burns. But he survived.

Shortly after returning to work again, a 9-foot-long metal pole fell on him from a height and very nearly killed him.

Incredibly, he survived.

He then found a much safer job – as a furniture salesman.

Alkemade went on to die peacefully in his bed at the age of 64.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References Writing Notes: Autopsy ⚜ Word List: Kill ⚜ Decompose Worksheets: Death & Sacrifice

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

jjk chapter 270 spoilers under the cut !!

GODDDDDDDDD I LOVED THIS CHAPTER. I LOVED IT SO SO MUCH . i feel so high rn you guys don’t UNDERSTAND 😭😭😭 it gave me literally everything i wanted (minus gojo stuff but we’ll get to that) AND I’M JUST !!!!!!!!!!!! i feel so satisfied . all is right with the world . i am a happy mouse

i love love loveeeee the fact that akutami finally decided to pick up (most) of the loose ends — at least the ones from the culling game !!!!!! it’s my favorite arc and i really adore all the side characters, so getting to see them all again was so nice 🥹 and my biggest criticism for akutami’s writing in general has been how he leaves these loose threads behind him, so i’m glad this chapter went back to piece them together. there’s still obviously a lot i would’ve liked to see before the finale, but this chapter finally made me feel somewhat satisfied with it all …..

buuuuut okok!!! let me get through some stuff <3

^^^^ THIS . THANK YOUUUUUUUUU GOD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ALL I WANTED WAS SOME FINAL SHOKO CRUMBS . THAT’S LITERALLY ALL. i love her so much chat …………. THE BUN :((((((( i wonder if she’s paying tribute to suguru, in a way. since she can’t make his grave all nice like she did with tsumiki’s. <- WHICH IS ALSO . so heartbreaking :((((( shoko has been the closest to death and corpses out of everyone.

’that moron should’ve let me handle geto’s body, too’……… gojo thought he was doing her a favour by not forcing her to dispose of him, but i wonder if his decision only caused her more suffering? :’) either way i loveeee shoko and i think her character is so wonderful. her not believing in an afterlife is also so in character LMAO, my little cynicist <3333

^^^^^ AND THEN THIS . PEEEEEERFECT. SO PERFECT. shoko and her cigarette motif :’)))))))) SHE FINALLY QUIT AGAIN . SHE IS AT PEACE . also need to mention how fucking cute she looks ……. i neeeed to squish her cheeks !!!!! she’s my baby !!!!!!!!!!

i will say that . obviously . i would’ve loved for her to get a more concrete final moment with stsg :’) like her being at the airport, or something. overall i’m satisfied with this being her ending of sorts (though if gojo is alive i’d obviously like to see them talk)…… she hasn’t gotten as much spotlight in this manga as she’s rightfully deserved, but i do think her character writing has been lovely and consistent throughout everything, and she remains one of my ult favorites <3333333 i LOVE my wife. love all her little quirks . i hope she quits smoking forever and ever!!!!!!!

ahh, it was also nice to see them mention tengen!!!! and how the barrier techniques worked. again, i’m just really happy that we’re not letting plotpoints go unfinished 😭😭 i also think it’s . a little romantic. that tengen’s barriers will exist as long as sukuna’s remnants remain . the tengen / sukuna / kenny trio is very interesting to me (MORE ON THAT . LATER.)

THEN WE ALSO HAVE THIS !!!!!!!!!

^ this moment means . soooo much to me. will try to get my thoughts out coherently but this theme really resonates with me so deeply :’) since the beginning of the manga, jujutsu society has been built on the foundation that is the suffering of youth — adults casting blame and burdens on children. like the higher ups who hide up at the top and force the children to work themselves to the bone. we saw this so clearly in hidden inventory most of all. and gojo is the anti thesis of that society — he wants to preserve youth !!!!!! even nanami, who didn’t really have any clear desires to change the fundamentals of their society, did his best to protect children as an adult.

so to see gakuganji refer to utahime and nitta as young (even though they’re both grown adults)….. and say that ’they needn’t worry over this just yet’…… i think. it shows how much the society is already improving. with someone like gakuganji in charge. and also kusakabe, who basically told the trio to just be kids last chapter, and leave the hard stuff to the adults (can’t remember his exact wording lmao but he said it so perfectly)…… it just warms my heart. jujutsu sorcery is still a shitshow but as least the children won’t be as exploited anymore (or at the very least, there are good adults around them, who will bear most of the burden on their own backs). idk. i just loved this moment sm :’))))))

ahhhhh, and and and !!!!!! mr katana and mr sumo 🥺 IT WAS SM FUN SEEING EVERYONE AGAINNNN and it was so sweet seeing maki try to look out for them a little after they helped her ……..

^ maki and her middle aged man besties …… :3

AND THEN CHARLES !!!!! MY BOY !!!!!!!!!!! just needed to mention him lmao. i love him T_T happy that he’s working on his trashy little manga. keep up the good work king <3333333 SAME WITH THE FORMER BULLY . sorry can’t be bothered to remember his name ….. the pudding guy. you know who i mean. seeing him apologize and try to make amends was rlly heartwarming …….. i really am so happy to see all culling game characters happy and alive . WHERE IS REMI THOUGH . 🤨

…… but okay . okay. okayyy.

actually yk what we’re saving the best for last ^^ ONTO HANA AND MEGUMIIIIIII WHAT A CUTE MOMENT . SOOOO CUTE . i don’t ship them at all i think they’re adorable though …… AND HANA IS SOOOOOOO GODDAMN CUTE I CAN’T EVEN EXPLAIN IT ????? :((( I NEED TO SQUISH HERRR

^ LOVE this line . my brother pointed this out but isn’t it like …. eerily similar to that akiangel scene 😭 lmao. i just really love this. megumi offering to be her right hand because ’he’ was the one who took it from her ……. he’s such a good boy :< also instantly pictured him being her scary knight/guard dog and yk what maybe this ship could sail after all…..

^ THEN THISSSSS 😭 THEY’RE SO CUTE. MEGUMI IS SO FUCKING AWKWARD HANG IN THERE BUDDY ………….

ah i forgot to mention higuruma …… i love him!!!!!!!!! i love him a ton!!!!!!!!!!!! :’3 i think seeing his junior demand a retrial for the sake of justice meant a lot to him. i could go deeper into it because higu’s character is so dense but yeah !!! very fitting ending for him …… i’m kinda sad that he’s cursed to be an overworked sorcerer though 💀 hang in there king…

AND THENNN WE HAVE :333c A NEW MISSION… feels kinda nice to go back to our roots. i have literally NO idea what’s gonna happen though 😭 hopefully tied to gojo….??? for the record i obviously want him to live and will have Many things to say if it turns out he’s really been dead this whole time, but. we’ll save that for the next chapter <3 for now i’m just happy to see the babies back together….

^ noba being gay ……. all is right with the world 🥹

BUT OKAY . ENOUGH. ENOUGH ABOUT THATTTT ENOUGH ABOUT EVERYTHING ONLY ONE THING REMAINS AND IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. akutami loves me and only me and this chapter finally confirmed that once and for all…..

I FUCKING . SCREAMED. YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND.

TAKABAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FIRST OF ALL? I MISSED HIM . I MISSED MY BABY 🥺🥺🥺 BUT SECOND OF ALL WHAT THE FUCKKKKK WHAT THE FUCK ALL MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED???? THIS IS ALL IVE EVER WANTED????????? i’ve been telling my brother that if i could manifest one thing i’d want jjk to end with takaba on stage with kenjaku without it ever been elaborated on AND MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED . I’M SO HAPPY YOU DON’T GET ITTT

there’s so much to say ……… truly ………. these two make me insane ………… will start with: they’re so funny. they’re so gay. kenny wanting to make sex jokes like the freak he is. THEY’RE TOGETHER GUYS 🥹 THE KENKABA SPINOFF MANGA I WANTED IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES .

….. but also !!!!! truly truly trulyyyyy — i love this. i love how akutami did this. this is kenjaku’s final scene, and it’s perfect for them!! it’s so chaotic…. they left sorcery behind for a life of stand up comedy 😭 AND IT’S SOOO IN CHARACTER . IT REALLY IS. what kenjaku wants, what they’ve claimed to want since shibuya, is to create chaos that not even they will be able to control, using cursed energy. and takaba is exactly that. kenny created takaba’s cursed technique using the culling game, and takaba is chaos personified!!! a chaos kenjaku can’t control!!!!!! as dissatisfied as i was with yuuta just swooping in and cutting their head off i did think that the takaba fight was a really clever and perfect end to kenjaku :3

soooo — it makes sense that kenjaku would go back to takaba. they had fun with him!!!! he matches their energy!!!!!! and takaba could easily have saved his life using his ct, which i think is the implication here. i love that kenny’s face is obscured, it just feels like such a fun little thing to throw in at the end 😭 but i doooo genuinely think this is akutami’s way of implying that kenny is alive and living the happy yaoi life with takaba . as they fucking should.

i also wanna say !!!!! that i think it’s so thematically fitting that kenjaku’s ending is soooo different from tengen’s and sukuna’s . i LOVE this aspect of it so much; kenjaku is the most morally corrupt of the three, and also the most human. sukuna is a human turned calamity, who slumbered for centuries, and tengen is a shut-in who ended up mimicking sukuna’s appearance while only maintaining human contact through a barrier. kenjaku laughs at them for it. he hates them for being so passive, because kenny is the opposite of that — he’s lived through it all!!!!!! changed with the centuries!!!!!!! so i think it’s just ….. soooo perfect and tasty that sukuna and tengen now only exist as remnants, as barriers, just like they did before — while kenjaku chooses to live, and takes an entirely different approach. they’re so fucking chaotic and i adore them. i can’t explain how much i love their character …… i really can’t ……… :’3

i’m just . still so happy . i really thought it was kenover…… i didn’t think they’d get an ending so perfect………………. i really, really hope akutami comes in clutch and gives gojo the same treatment :’) even if the chances are slim. i thought this chapter was absolutely lovely and i hope with allllll my heart that i end up enjoying the final chapter too.

……….. i think ……. that’s all 😭 (if you’ve read this far i’m kissing you with tongue btw). THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITH ME !!!!!! this chapter made me feel so genuinely satisfied and giddy and i’m super sleepy and tired but i just needed to rant :’3 i love kenjaku. they’re so silly . such a brat. i wanna kiss them. takaba too actually. we are in a happy polycule

[ganondoodle]

(Original art) Xaror, any pronouns, species (?), age (?)

short summary about them; they act as both an antagonist and an ally since they are only really interested in what they want or whats fun to them, they are immortal and call themselves 'death itself' since they have a special connection to souls (being the only one able to communicate with them) and the ability to seperate souls from their bodies in such a way that nothing can harm the soul afterwards their main goal is to .. bother and disturb the 'celestials'*, which they hate, as much as they can, breaking into their palace, freeing prisoners, destroying research, destroying the place, and most importantly, making as many souls unusable to them as possible-

they dont want to destroy the celestials though, they cant fight them anyway and this game of doing 'good' only with the goal of annoying them is their most treasured activity, so Xaror doesnt intend to stop them from killing or hurting anyone, only from harvesting what they are actually after (though Xaror doesnt actually care as little as they think they do about people, and has a soft spot for demons)

most of their appearance is later into the story; Zaphira (the empress) had been in coma and the medical facility she was treated in was destroyed by Shargon (orange eyed demon who acts as her bodyguard for the first part) in an attempt to save her from her estranged relatives taking over her country after they heard of her decline in health, she is believed dead but washes up on the shore of the mountain Xaror resides at years later (it has a reason, too much to write here) and they slowly nurse her back to health, the reason they give for it is that they found their first encounter very fun, thats all (is it?)

(more lore under the cut bc this is already so long .. im trying to keep it short q-q ......... this is stuff i have been working on since i was a kid so uh, some things might be cheesy but i cant change them anymore ..)

just to get some basics out of the way; theres three worlds, the celestials palace, human world and demon world, each are their own planet connected via different gateways

*celestials (possibly not final name, loosely based on angels) are the last remaining "survivors" of their planets demise, when their world died the most powerful among them cannibalized the weaker to sustain themselves until there were only less than 10 left, who each turned into different beings from it and dont resemble their own people much anymore, they built a palace from what was left on their world that protects them from space as its atmosphere collapsed shortly after- however they still needed something to live off; they discover the human world and are delighted to find rather short lived people with powerful souls, the best kind of sustenance for them (now), they aim to herd them like cattle, but a problem arose when it turned out another world has long been in contact with the human world; demons

demons are semi immortal creatures that act as protectors for their world, protection they extended, more or less secretely, to the human world ensuring them a long and secure life- the celestials need them to die at their whim though (demons are few in numbers, hard to kill and rarely have offspring, not an ideal target); as they worked out a plan on how to get rid of demons one of the celestials, Xanthriel (time) grew somewhat fond of people as they spent alot of time in the human world to observe and research them; in the end turning on their own completely, but losing the fight against Uriel (knowledge)

Xanthriel was supposed to be executed for their betrayal, but it doesnt work, instead they are splintered into many parts after a lot of struggle, most body, memory and most strength is one part (ending up as motionless forever bleeding corpse kept locked up in the palace), the rest is some time later gathered together and reforms as a seperate, weak mockery of them, they embody Xanthriels emotion- Xaror, without memory, strangely cut to pieces (hence all the missing limbs and broken halo) but driven by an unstoppable desire to disturb the celestials (they live seperate long enough to each become their own person, at some point Xaror discovers Xanthriels body after all and they merge back together, though as they are now two, Xanthriel only takes over once directly after merging, stays silent for a long time and lets Xaror be themselves, only later revealing that they are there at all .. hiding perhaps- i rarely have specific ideas for voices, but Xanthriels is like, like coarse rocks being violently rubbed against each other, less voice more noise)

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group

(also, the celestials use Xanthriels blood from the day of their execution to create a plague that nearly wipes out all demons, only the youngest of them survived, effectively robbing them of everything, culture, history, knowledge etc- as demons rarely have children, like a complete restart of their society, they disappeared from the human world, and over time being largely forgotten as actually existing- the celestials wanted them all gone however, so they kept kidnapping them to try and find somethign that would work similarly against the young ones too (and then in general, bc the only usable blood of Xanthriel was from the day of their fall, and that has long since been used up) one of the young ones was Shargon, he was the only one still alive from his group (he wasnt the strongest or special, he was jsut the last in the row and always got the lowest dosage) when Xaror found them in yet another break in into the palace and got him back to the demon world .. where he was promptly blamed for the others that were taken and treated like a pretender/fake/spy bc what he got put through changed his eye color (something that demons cannot change in any form) to one that does not exist among 'real' demons (orange ... notice the inner color of Xarors broken halo? :) ), some even suggesting killing him, but none of them were brave enough to do it (they were all kids still) .. except Eadrya (the big blue-ish one, largely regarded as the strongest demon alive) but Shargon managed to escape, and since then lived largely in isolation- this is part of why he is so hated, and why he starts to spend so much time in the human world after rediscovering the pathway there)

[katerinaaqu]

Ruthless Justice

This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @artsofmetamoor as a gift! She had also expressed an interest to the events of the murder of the suitors but I decided to take it into a more tragic level; the excecution of the 12 maids and I added some random emotional scene afterwards! You are warned this fic includes dark themes!

The cries that filled the room were deafening. The young ears of Telemachus could not bear them. The slave women were forced to clean up the room from the corpses of the blasted suitors that nearly killed him and took the kingdom of his father. It was the first time Telemachus had killed. He still couldn’t believe it how easy it had been! It was almost easier than hunting wild goats and deer in the mountains of Ithaca! Some part of him had felt a wild pleasure, almost hedonic gladness, when he had stabbed that first body and continued. This hedonism increased by the happiness he felt that he was helping his father, that he was useful. He felt pleasure for this justice that was finally prevailing in the halls of his house; finally the constant harassment and insults his mother and himself had gone through was punished and he had finally found his father. He had witnessed his brain and his ferocity, his dexterity and cunning first hand! So far he had only heard of it from others that had met him and yet now he had actually seen it before him; his father who was no longer at the prime of youth he had managed to clean the hall of 108 men 10 or even 20 years younger than what he was. Some part of Telemachus wondered; how was his father in his prime? How much more ferocity in battle he possessed? How much more wits and wiles could he loom in short amounts of time?

However now that the first thrill of battle had gone, now they had finished cleaning the chairs of the hall with sponges and water, Telemachus was shocked at their own strength and results. He looked around at the hall that was basically full of wrapped bodies; the bodies that used to belong to vigorous, young nobles and his father now stood at the hall, hard as the stones that built that very palace. Odysseus was not a tall man (that much was a surprise to Telemachus, for from the conversations he had heard about his father’s strength and name he had expected him to be as tall as he was, perhaps taller), he barely stood at average height, maybe a little less, but his physique showed the power that his hardships built upon him. His raven hair, which had already started turning silver from time and hardships, was curly like his own and long till his shoulders; those strong shoulders burnt by sea and sun. A thick bushy beard was hiding a strong jaw line and mouth shut tightly closed. However Telemachus particularly noticed his stone look as the onyx eyes of his seemed soulless like glass even if they burnt with hatred and anger. Right now he could see before him a man who lived up to his name; “The Anger Bringer”. Odysseus was indeed enraged; that much Telemachus could tell. The almost full day of slaughter seemed to have created a curst thick like salt upon his face, just as thick was the blood that had splattered it, the blood he didn’t have much time to clean. And yet, despite all that, he seemed to stand naturally within that chaos; like only a war veteran would stand naturally amongst corpses and cries. He remained there as the lamenting women were literally dragged and pushed at his feet as he stood at the podium of the throne. He seemed like a judge; a ruthless judge ready to pass judgment. Telemachus had seen him angry, hopeful, crying, tender and then ruthless in his killing but now he was truly disturbed at the shadow that had passed over his face. He saw then the one that had come from war; the Sacker of Cities… Odysseus looked down at the maidens crying and struggling, as if they were insects.

“I took you to my home…” he said, his voice cold as ice and sharp as a knife, “I gave you a bed, fed you, dressed you…made sure you would want of nothing while you were under my roof… I respected your wishes…never mistreated you and this is how you repay me? By mingling with my enemies…the very men that wished to violently claim my wife and kill my son?”

Every word was a hammer upon a nail. Telemachus felt a shiver down his spine. He wouldn’t want to be to the other end of that look that was for sure! The women seemed pale like bed sheets; like the sheets that were covering the bodies they had gathered with their own very hands. He saw the other two helpers of theirs; the two herders Eumaeus and Philoetius, standing over the crying maidens, watching at their master with pride. Telemachus had never seen so much wild triumph to the old face of Eumaeus’s before. Never.

“Eumaeus….” Odysseus addressed him, “What is the punishment for treason?”

“Death, my lord” his voice didn’t even hesitate

“Quite so…” Odysseus nodded.

He glared at the slave girls like a hawk.

“Normally I should drag you all out and stone you to death!”

Odysseus didn’t have to yell. All he needed was to speak in that low voice that boiled with anger, like the bubbling water in a cauldron. And yet that was more than enough to emphasize his anger.

“However we have caused enough ruin already! And I shall not even spare one single sacred stone of this palace for you!”

One could wonder whether he was about to say he would sell them away or something of similar manner, which would already be cruel enough. However the king of Ithaca said;

“Philoetius! Bring me a long piece of rope! Eumaeus, help me bring these treacherous women out! They shall be hanged!”

The word sounded as terrible as I was clear and the women broke to a woe Telemachus had never heard before (and, by gods, had he heard enough woe in his house ever since he was a baby!). The screeches and the cries they released along with their already blood-painted hands trying to claw themselves out of the swine herder’s strong grip, nearly made him throw up.

“Father!” he protested, “you can’t be serious! They are just helpless women!”

His father’s onyx eyes stuck within his own and Telemachus felt that same shiver down his spine. There was fire in those obsidian eyes! The same fire of earth that had forged the volcanic glass that gave his eyes their color seemed to be now burning deep inside those black orbs; it was though a cold fire that burnt like the ice burns the skin!

“Is the betrayal of a woman less serious than the betrayal of a man?” his voice was sharp as a broken sword; sharpness you wouldn’t know where it would cut you the worst; the actual blade or the broken tip

“N-No…” Telemachus stammered, “B-But…”

His voice was being drowned by the shrieks of the women. He couldn’t stand it.

“Does the dagger being wielded by a woman draw less blood when it stabs you in the back than the one wielded by a man?”

“Father please!”

“Stay back, Telemachus!” his father commanded, pushing him out of his way, “You are not to see this!”

Telemachus felt his heart clench but he held his ground.

“No, father, I shall help you” he said determined, “If I am to become king of this land, I must help justice prevail!”

His father eyed him once more but Telemachus stood his ground. He was Odysseades Telemachus. He had to live up to his father’s legacy. Odysseus eyed him in wonder for one second but he did not protest his request any further. Part of Telemachus had wished he had. However he knew he had to be strong and stand by his father’s side. The cries of the female voices still haunted his ears as they went out to the trees of the garden. Odysseus pointed towards the direction of one of the trees. Telemachus gulped. He knew that tree. He had played so many times around it when he was a kid! He had named it “Troy” at some point, running around with his horse (in other words a stick he fantasized to be his horse when he was five) and he would yell at the people of Troy to open their gates for him, like he had imagined his father would be doing, on occasions scaring the birds that sat on the branches. As he grew older he would climb and sit on them, joining those birds, and looking over to the horizon as if waiting for a ship to appear, as if waiting to see the sails of the 12 ships of Ithaca arriving.

How weird indeed that Odysseus chose that particular tree for the execution hall to be built behind it! Telemachus never made that connection so strongly before!

As the men dragged the women out to their final spot; behind that said tree lay the dome of court where a small, confided space, where the women tied up with one single piece of rope from the throats like cattle being led for slaughter were crying and moaning. Telemachus felt his stomach turn. Oh, Athena, he prayed silently, please give me strength to do what I must! He felt then a gentle touch upon his shoulder; like the sun warming him with his rays. His racing heart slowed a bit in beat and he breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel Athena’s reminder of his own strength. Yes, he had to do it. He was his father’s son. No one dared to speak at that moment. Apart from the endless woe of the women that were about to be executed, it almost felt like a macabre ritual that was about to happen. The women were forced to their final resting place; the narrow hall that was closed up by the neatherd and the swineherd. Telemachus held onto the end with both hands and sighed again, feeling weirdly calm. It was as if all his essence had gone numb. He was self-conscious that his father was looking at him. He almost felt him regretful as if he tried to release him from his task but Telemachus made a mechanical move with his head to stop him. I am Odysseiades Telemachus, he thought, this is my duty! Instinctually he looked towards the sky.

“May this be no clean death…” he heard himself whispering, breaking the silence and the cries of the women, “…that I take the lives of these women…for they were wishing for my head…both mine and my mother’s…when they betrayed us and lay with the suitors…”

His father made half a step forward. Telemachus had made his resolve

He threw the rope over the dome and pulled with all his might.

The cries stopped to give their place to chocking sounds.

Telemachus didn’t cry. He only sighed and closed his eyes.

Soon the haunting sounds stopped.

There was only the creaking of the swinging rope…

~ ~ ~

Telemachus chocked and coughed as he threw up the little contents of his stomach behind a bush. How strange, he thought, he didn’t feel the need to do that when he killed all those men he hated by his father’s side and yet he reacted upon an execution he performed with his own hands. It was, maybe, because he always learnt to respect women and protect them. Quite frankly he never raised a hand against a woman before in his life. And now he had, with one fateful move he had removed the lives of 12 women he considered helpless. And yet that moment of clarity it was as if Athena was speaking through him; these women are not innocent, he thought she said to him, they betrayed you and your father, they betrayed your mother’s secrets and led to more torment to her. They conspired to kill you.

“Then why…?” Telemachus thought, “Why was this so difficult?”

He felt two warm, calloused hands on his shoulders and looked up. He faced the tired look of his father’s; his face full of the blood of the victims they had killed. In one moment Telemachus felt self-conscious and realized he could possibly look similar to this. He turned his look away in shame. What would his father think? What would he say for his weakness? Instead, though, he heard him whisper:

“I am so proud of you, my son…” the voice echoed somewhere in his soul, “I understand that was not an easy decision to make…”

“F-Forgive me…f-father…” Telemachus stammered trying to stop the sobs that were chocking him, “I…I wasn’t strong enough…”

“You’re wrong, Telemachus” his voice was whispery and yet adamant, “You are strong, much stronger than any man I have seen so far. I understand the task that I placed upon you was not a pretty one or a pleasant one. And yet you fulfilled it with the bravery that many men didn’t show in thousands of wars. I am proud of you…”

Telemachus realized what had bothered him so much; his father indeed didn’t seem to separate women from men before the ruthless justice he threw upon them. Telemachus was taught to protect and respect women. However when Odysseus arrived at the hall and ordered the demise of 12 women with hardly even blinking disturbed him. How much had he changed? This was not the father that his mother was describing…nay, he wasn’t the father he had met in the hut of the swine herder that embraced him and kissed him like he were his own soul. He saw some of that father he met right now, to the father trying to console him but before? A few minutes prior he saw an executioner; not the father he knew and loved.

“But how much do I know him, really…?” Telemachus realized, “I first saw his face a few days ago… What kind of man is he? Really?”

Odysseus patted his son on his shoulders and helped him straighten himself. They walked past the tree where the women still hanged like doves from a hunter’s stick. Telemachus couldn’t look up at the blackened and bloated faces of death. Not Odysseus. Odysseus looked up steadily and steadfast. There hardly was a reaction on his face apart from a wrinkle playing between his eyes. He seemed tired, sure, he wasn’t feeling pleasure he wasn’t smiling and yet Telemachus wondered; does this man have nerves of steel or a heart of stone to look up so calmly? How much horror had he seen so that this gruesome sight wouldn’t make him avert his eyes?

“How…?” he whispered, “How can you take this…?”

His father was silent for one second until he finally decided to talk.

“One can get awfully accustomed to the face of death…when they have seen so plenty of it…”

His voice was almost dead; as if he was just stating a simple fact such as that the sun rises from the east rather than talking about the lives of people. That rubbed Telemachus in the wrong places even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Sometimes…” Odysseus continued, “I feel like my heart has turned into stone… Sometimes I feel like it has no more space apart from you Telemachus…”

It took him a few seconds to realize what his father had just said. Perhaps not even Odysseus himself had realized it!

“What about mother, father? What about her?”

There was silence for one second. However that silence seemed to Telemachus more cruel than any other eternity in Hades’s kingdom!

“Father!” he urged

“Of course, your mother too…” Odysseus finally whispered, “I love her more than life itself! I did everything I could so I can come back to her…to you…”

“You doubted her!” Telemachus whispered in cruel realization, “Oh, gods! I don’t believe it! You doubted her! Even after everything she went through for you!”

“No!” Odysseus immediately retorted, “No, I didn’t doubt her! Not really…it is just…”

“Just what? I don’t believe you! After all these years she waited!”

“I know this” Odysseus retorted almost calmly, “Or rather I absolutely know now. However I needed to make sure…beyond any shade of doubt. This is why Athena encouraged me to hide who I was from your mother, even if it tore me apart inside…”

“But…why…?” Telemachus was almost in tears and he was struggling really hard to keep them under control. “Why would you even doubt her so?”

They had spent years on their own and for as long as he could remember his mother was always waiting, crying and expecting a miracle. He didn’t remember one day to see his mother genuinely happy. She was smiling or complimenting his accomplishments but he had never seen her truly happy; all their life was darkened by the shadow of his father’s absence; of the lack of information whether he lived or not and now his father said that he had doubt, no matter how small it was?! Odysseus sighed deeply and looked at his son. His eyes were almost pleading even if his voice was steady.

“Son…” he said gravely, “I spent years out there…years of ordeals and pain and…many of them changed me… I cannot say much…not now…however there was someone…a woman…”

He gulped. He almost seemed ready to cry himself.

“She…she did unspeakable things to me…for years I endured hoping to come back to you and your mother… She…she kept on planting doubts in my head for years… I didn’t believe her…I didn’t want to believe her! And yet…yet all those years… Telemachus I couldn’t do otherwise! My brain was rejecting what my heart knew… And so I had to make these two come together… I had to…! Please! Perhaps one day I will be able to explain to you…and then you will understand…”

His father began walking away but Telemachus, in the heat of adrenaline and battle didn’t seem ready to let go. Not yet.

“Does this have to do with some goddess Calypso?”

His father froze and then he saw him turn around and saw another emotion he never saw before; fear. There was pure terror on his face. All color had left it; his eyes as wide as plates.

“Where did you hear that name!?” his father croaked out, “Telemachus! Where?!”

“Father…” Telemachus was more concerned and surprised than pitiful at that moment, “Look at you! You’re pale! You didn’t turn pallid when you ordered the execution of these women and yet you lost all color at the name of that woman!”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus called out desperately

“Tell me what happened father! What does this woman have to do with this?”

“I can’t!”

“Please tell me! What did that woman do to you to make you doubt your own wife?!”

“I can’t! I CAN’T!” Odysseus’s voice rose in a constant crescendo, he held his head with both hands as if suddenly his head was splitting in two

“Father, please!” Telemachus urged, “Who is that woman? Who is Calypso?”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus grabbed the shoulders of his son

Telemachus nearly whelped feeling the unbelievable strength of those hands, squeezing him in almost bruising grasp but he didn’t make a sound. He stood his ground. He was his father’s son.

“Where did you hear that name?!”

“Y-Your friend told me about it…” Telemachus finally replied, “I traveled, father. I myself tried to find the answers that I was seeking…and in my travels I visited Pylos…and Sparta…there I met your old friend… He said he had a dream in which you were trapped at the island with some goddess Calypso, but he didn’t know more… You remember him, don’t you? Menelaus the king of Sparta…”

“M-Menelaus…”

He took some breaths and he seemed to find his composure. He slowly released his son. Telemachus noticed that indeed some color had returned to his face. How much had that woman done to him to make his father react that way?! How many horrors had this man experienced to the hands of that goddess so that he would turn pale in terror even if he was completely unhinged by more than 100 vigorous men?

“Yes…of course I remember… Menelaus…he was one of my closest friends…in Troy.” That little recollection somehow calmed him down, “I…I haven’t heard of him for years… Th-Thank gods that he is fine…”

“He is in good health from what I could see…” Telemachus couldn’t lie, he didn’t know much on Menelaus but he knew that ‘fine’ was not exactly the word that described him, “He misses you a lot, you know… He didn’t speak with so warm words for anybody else…”

A sad smile spread to Odysseus’s lips.

“I remember… Menelaus was a really dear friend to me…”

He passed his hand over his face to mop some of his sweat.

“Forgive me, Telemachus…I really didn’t want this feeling to be inside me in the first place but…please understand me…that’s all I ask. That and some time… I will explain everything when I can…”

Telemachus breathed in, defeated.

“I will not pressure you, father…” he finally said, “I understand it is hard. Forgive me for insisting… It is just…”

His father’s arms wrapped around him. That moment he stopped being the heartless judge. He was the caring father again..he was the one Telemachus first met; the caring, protective father…

“Please don’t apologize…” he murmured to his son’s ear, “You have every right to be angry…you have so many questions… I promise you, my son, I will do my best to answer them all…just not yet…I can’t…not yet…”

He pulled back and looked at his son’s eyes.

“Okay?”

Telemachus smiled sadly. Suddenly his own accumulated frustration from the events of the day was evaporated. He needed this breakdown and somehow he knew his father needed it too.

“Okay” he nodded in agreement.

Odysseus patted his shoulders.

“Good.” He said, “Let’s go in now and we must order to get ourselves cleaned now. We must, sooner or later, cleanse ourselves from this murder for we both look like we went mad!”

Telemachus scoffed a bit. He began following his father; never daring to look back towards that grim execution place.

“She didn’t ask, you know…” he suddenly said

Odysseus stopped and turned around.

“What?”

“Mother. When I told her about king Menelaus’s vision, she didn’t ask. She didn’t make any inquiries. She didn’t doubt your integrity not even for one second…”

He saw his father’s chest palpitating almost suddenly. His face almost twisted with another unspoken sob. He turned around, showing Telemachus his back.

“Thank you…” he murmured

Telemachus managed to see one tear running down his father’s bloodstained cheek. There was so much behind that silent cry! Telemachus knew his father was keeping many things inside; perhaps he even blamed himself for everything. He didn’t know. He only hoped that with that last comment, he managed to give him some peace of mind. Apparently either he was right or Odysseus was a very good actor indeed, for he was back to his previous steadfast and calm self. He was once more the king.

The King of Ithaca

The Anger Bringer.

***

Not much to say here. Homer said most of it before me.

I found it disturbing and interesting how it was Telemachus the one to pull the rope of the execution so I thought to add a bit ore angst to this and show this aftermath whirlpool of emotions that could be going on inside hm.

And of course Odysseus and the years of torment, especially Ogygia.

Also in the Odyssey Rhapsody 17 Telemachus does mention to his mother how Menelaus saw Odysseus imprisoned by Calypso but Penelope didn't react to it much. She either believed not much of it in her sorrow or at the same time she felt no need to react at the name of another woman because she trusted her husband.

Hope you like it.

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 3 Vampire

A corpse supposed, in European folklore, to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth.

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @cherrysuzaku

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

Never go out at night. Especially near the old cemetery. 

You never understood why. Aa a child growing up you just assumed because the place was scary and full of ghosts so you were happily in agreement of staying far, far away from the old cemetery down the road. You'd  never go there, and stayed very far away which pleased your family. It wasn't until your sixteenth birthday that your grandfather pulled you aside one day under the guise of coming to help him carry vegetables to sell at the nearby town square however as soon as you two were alone, he pulled you both behind the barn and had  a very scary serious face.

"Y/n, listen to me. You're sixteen years old now. In two more years you're going to be all grown up and be able to make your own decisions and that's why I have to warn you before it's too late."

You blinked at him in shock. "Grandpa, what are you talking about about?" 

"I'm talking about vampires!" His tone was so blunt it made you blink.

"Vampires?" 

"Do you know why the old cemetery was abandoned and the new one was built right behind the village? Or why no one goes near the old one? Or why no one stays out at night?" You shook your head. You just assumed because it was creepy and haunted. He scoffed. "Of course not! No one's ever bothered to tell you the truth! Folks around here like to pretend nothing bad happens around here!"

"But...Vampires?" 

He nodded. That sounds.. unbelievable. There hasn't been any cases of people going missing or being found dead with their bodies drained of blood or with bite marks on their necks. And there hasn't even been any livestock killings other than the time your uncle caught a fox in his henhouse last year..But that was just a fox. 

"Let me tell you the entire truth. Back even before even my own parents were born, there was a clan that lived in the abandoned estate right next to that cemetery, it's so long no one even remembers their name, but long ago tragedy struck them. The entire clan turned on one another over a family dispute which left only two standing. A pair of brothers one of which left his clan after the incident while the other took over the entirety of the estate."

"That's very sad, but what does that have to do with anything with Vampires?"

"The brother who left died." His tone suddenly became very grim. "His body was found one day alongside the road as dead as roadkill. Instead of burning the cursed corpse, he was brought home to his brother so he may be buried in the family cemetery. However that mistake would prove to be fatal. The very next day after the funeral, the remaining brother was found dead in his bedroom! His entire body was drained of blood and a look of pure horror was etched onto his face."

Your eyes widened in shock at the words that left his mouth.

"It didn't stop there. A distant member of the clan's family went missing the next week, and then a week after that two other girls from the surrounding area also went missing. Not even their bodies were ever found."

"That's all very sad..but how do you know that it was vampires. Couldn't the girls have just ran away from home? Or the brother have a heart attack and died?" 

"Because when the local priest investigated the cemetery alongside the towns men, he ordered all the clan members graves to be dug up and the bodies examined." His gaze turned grave as a shudder physically shook his body as you gulped. "One by one each and EVERY member was dug up from the ground for the priest to examine and each one was the same with some form of destruction until they got to the final one. The brother who left the estate. "

Your skin got goosebumps and a shiver ran down your own spine at the way he was looking at you in fear. This story..Even if it was fake, sure was scary.

"When they pulled his cursed coffin from the ground and tore it open, his body was in perfect cold condition. As if he has just died within the last hour." His fearful expression became more scared. "But he wasn't the only one in that grave. Within the soft earth they found the three girls who had gone missing. Their bodies in as perfect condition as their devilish husband now. He had claimed them as his brides of the undead!" 

"W-Why didn't they just burn the bodies then?"

"Because they had already angered the spirits and committed a sacred crime by digging up all the bodies! No one wanted to risk angering the spirits on top of having a vampire! All the bodies were reburied with the exception of those cursed with vampirism. They were taken to be locked away in a mausoleum, and a steak was driven into the man's heart to return him to the dead! That place was abandoned since."

"If the vampire was killed, then why is there still worry?"

"Because someone removed his stake! A vampire is only dead as long as the stake remains in his heart! However it was discovered someone had broken into the crypt and removed it. The bodies were gone and since then it's always been the same. Don't go out at night. Stay away from the old cemetery. You're a young woman so you're going to be the most vulnerable. Heed my words, Child. Do not be fooled by them."

Since then you've been scared of going outside at night by yourself which your grandpa approved of until his eventually death a year later..but with you becoming older and older, you noticed that everything really wasn't as scary as your grandfather made it out to be. Your parents never before seemed to mind you going outside at night so long as you stayed away from the old cemetery they seemed perfectly happy. 

Plus LITERALLY NOTHING EVER HAPPENED!!

Nothing but the usual animals in the night. You never saw anything dangerous other than maybe a wild animal. Even IF there was a vampire running around, he must've been long gone by now or wasn't interested in the humans here. In fact he might not even exist at all! You came to the conclusion that he DEFINITELY didn't exist when you were out stargazing fell asleep and woke up perfectly okay on your balcony. If there was a vampire then he would've taken advantage of a woman fast asleep in the night. 

So you began to wonder what else might've been made up? Fairies? Ghosts? Imps? You've never seen anything like that even when you visited the cemetery and your grandparents' graves. No ghost, spirits, or spooks. So was the old cemetery they told you about really that bad either? Your curiosity only continued to grow and grow as you turned twenty and it was one day that you decided to go and check it out for yourself. 

Walking down the old path long since overgrown and completely covered in grass and flowers. You barely were able to find it from how much it blended into nature. You didn't know how far exactly you walked or how much time had passed by but eventually you came across something you were sort of expecting. The starts of a rock wall..the sight of it in the sunlight made you slow down to a stop. Staring wide eyed at the monument like it was something forbidden.

You should probably turn back now...but there's a reason why you came here during the day instead of night. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly approached. 

Old rocks crumbling away slowly from the elements and overgrown by vines. The wall was old and looked one step from crumbling away entirely as you approached it before slowly grabbing on some semi looking non rumbling parts and started pulling yourself up enough to look over the wall. The state of the inside was like a something out of a ghost story alright. Giant grass and wild flowers growing up and taking over the stone walkways that cracked badly with neglect, a few trees had grown in random places and a few stones looked like they were entangled in their roots.

Your footfalls were the only things that sounded around the place as you slowly walked around looking at everything. There was so many stones laid about everywhere. Misshapen by the elements over time and overgrown like everything else around the place. There was symbols that might've been named long ago but they were too worn away to really make out what they were when you curiously peered at a few. Continuing to walk around until you stumbled upon something. Something big.

A giant structure like building that was as big as a shed made of stone. 

It stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of everything. A giant tree growing out of a giant crumbling crack in the top and side coating the entire structure in shade. Where a door might've been was now covered in vines like a nature prison cell. Was that the famous mausoleum from the story? Your form walked up and pushed the nearly roots apart enough to poke your head in. Only to cough and sneeze at the amount of dust accumulated inside. But there was nothing inside. Not even a body.

So that proved there was nothing here. Whelp. That debunks everything everyone else said. Wrestling with the roots until you were able to pull your head out  and relax back. Now that your curious itch was satisfied, you could leave and never look back. This place was creepy even in the daytime. You turned to leave, grass crunching under your feet as you took a few steps- 

"Who are you?" You immediately jumped with a gasp looking around wildly for whoever talked. "Up here."

You looked up and paused. Up on top of the mausoleum was a man. A very BEAUTIFUL man. Soft looking white flowed down his shoulders and broad muscles tensed up from where he kneeled on top of the ancient structure looking at you. His clothes fit him in such a way that reminded you of old ninja uniforms seen in some history books from school, but what struck you the most was the magenta eyes that seemed to be staring right through you. 

"Who are you?," he repeated making you jump.

"Oh! I uh-..I just wanted to look around and..stuff!"

"Uh huh." His eyes narrowed more looking you up and down before stopping on your side eyed face again. Seeming to calculate something in his mind.. before smiling. "Well you know what they say." He quickly switched from a kneeling position to a sitting one with his legs hanging over the side of the structure and scooted further into the shade, head in one hand. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Your brow rose at him. "And who are you?"

"Uzui. Tengen Uzui. You happen to be trespassing on my territory lady, so I can ask you the same thing."

"Territory?" You looked around again at the creepy damaged old graves. Who'd want this as their property "No offense but have you seen where you are?"

"Every day and night but Im curious now. Why are YOU?"

"Huh? Oh. I'm Y/n. Look. I didn't mean to bother you-" You held up your hands and took a step back. "-and I'm sorry but I should really get back before someone worries about me."

"Why would they worry about you? It's not like these dead people can hurt you."

"Well you're not going to believe me if I told you."

"Try me. You'd be surprised by what I've seen in my lifetime."

"Well they say this place is crawling with vampires."

Instead of laughing at you or looking at you like you were crazy, he hummed again and smiled wider. "Vampires. You don't say."

"Yep. That's why I was here. I came to see if anything was here but there's nothing. Just a fairytale like everything else I've been told."

"Not true. There's me and I happen to be rather flamboyant if I do say so myself!~" he purred gesturing to his muscles and making you snicker.

"Yeah. Right. Well I'd better be going. It was nice to meet you. Sorry for trespassing."

"Hey. Wait a minute." A loud thud sound went off as he pushed himself off and landed on his feet, and you gawked at how much taller he was than you were. Smiling still. "It's been a long time since anyone else visited me and it's pretty lonely up here." His hand gestured to the far left. "My wives and I have an estate just a little away from here. Why don't you come back to visit tomorrow?"

You blinked again. "An estate? I thought everything up here was abandoned.years ago."

"Right. I bet they say that it's haunted too."

"Is it?"

"No. But sometimes my best buddy comes by." He smiled at you in an almost joking way. "He's a Kitsune spirit. Even has a flashy shrine in the town over."

You couldn't help but giggle. "Ok. Sure. It'd be nice to visit someone knew. I'll come by next week since I'm not busy that day."

"GREAT! I'll have my wives fix you a feast! It's been years but my Suma can make a delicious shishkabob outta venison and veggies! I used to eat it all the time."

You didn't know what you've done that day. Waving goodbye as you climbed back over the wall. You didn't see him yawn before climbing back up the tree to rest again making sure to avoid the sunlight peeking in through the leaves. 

You did end up coming back next week without telling anyone. Past the cemetery and even further past it. You were surprised to find a small mansion in the middle of the woods right smack dab in a clearing. You guessed that someone must've moved in and fixed up the place. You ended up knocking on the door which slid open and you were met with pink eyes blinking in surprise. 

"Oh my...He wasn't kidding when he said you were coming" she sounded surprised but opened the door widely beckoning you inside. "Please come in! We've been expecting you."

"Thanks! Are you Suma?"

"No. I'm Hinatsuru but it's so good to see someone new! We don't have much visitors."

Hinatsuru. And the other two wives Makio and Suma. They were all so different from each other and Mr. Uzui was there too happily smiling and talking to you. With the food they promised you. It was so good! But they didn't eat anything. 

"We ate before you came to visit us, so don't worry about it."

That didn't bother you. Nor did it bother you when Tengen offered to walk you home  once it got too dark. Your parents weren't worried since they didn't worry about you going out (they had no idea that you went near the graveyard) and were surprised seeing the stunningly beautiful man standing in the doorway.

"Charmed I'm sure!" He posed making your mother even blush. "Tengen Uzui.~ I know we just met but I think I want to start courting your daughter. With your permission of course ~"

That's how the entire thing began. Almost as if your parents were hypnotized by him. They agreed much to your shock and you were suddenly counted by not only the beautiful man but his three beautiful wives. It certainly does seem like something out of a fairytale having so many beautiful people fond over you. 

Especially when he kissed you for the first time. A blush coating his face as you held his cheeks. Surprisingly cold lips kissed yours. And then your cheeks. And then chin. And then stopping at your neck. Eyes going slit feeling the rush of pulsing blood under sharpened teeth. 

"So beautiful. You're so beautiful. So flamboyant. So M I N E.~"

"T-Tengen? W-What are you doing?" His hug suddenly got tighter.

"It's alright, Princess. It'll only hurt for a second." You were suddenly aware of the adoring smiles on the wives faces as fangs poked out from between lips. "After all, a vampire's kiss is eternal.~"

[sorceresssundries]

Down by the River

Summary: The brain is defeated, the absolute halted, our heroes have won, and yet... victory isn't all it's cracked up to be. One-shot.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, destroyed city, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Looking out across the water, away from Baldur’s Gate, you could almost trick yourself into believing that the flecks of orange and red shimmering on the surface were caused solely by the sunrise—the first kiss of light from the split-lipped smile of a new, hopeful day.

Reality is a dagger, and the Chionthar reflects the flames and chaos from the burning city, spreading them over its still surface to shimmer back at you in mockery. You don’t stop looking at the river, too scared of what you will see when you turn around. 

Baldur’s Gate is a broken city. The shops you once visited, the temples where you prayed, and the homes which welcomed you had fallen. Bricks now crush the bodies they were built to shelter.

You stand on the dock with your lover, feeling as though you have been sprinting across slipping sand for countless days, and now… stopped.

You have reached the end, and there is nothing here—only calloused hands, blistered feet, and grief that stretches and settles into every part of you it can find. The nether brain is dead, the tadpole in your head has shrivelled away to nothing, the crown is discarded, and the chosen of the dead three slaughtered, yet you are numb to relief.

“It’s over” Gale’s hand is on your shoulder, trying to turn you so you can rest your weary head against him. You can’t move. You can’t turn around. He slides his hand to your waist, to wrap his arm around you. You can’t bear to have any kind of joy, or hope, or comfort offered to you. You don’t want it. Bile burns in your throat.

He is speaking to you softly, his words as delicate as moth wings. You can't hear him. Your mind is your own again, pounding with the sound of death and destruction—it's enough to make you miss the wriggling distraction of the tadpole.

“We will rebuild,” you manage to catch him saying.

For a second, you think you hear an animal screeching in the distance, but the following sobs tell you it’s a person. A mother, maybe, who has just found the body of her child. You won’t turn to find out.

“Tell that to her.” You don’t recognise your own voice. You want to bite the words at him, but your voice has no teeth, and all you hear are the hollow words of a grief-wrecked wraith. He has no answer. No quip, no lesson, no comfort. There is nothing to say, no spell to cast, no illusion strong enough to cover the sound of screams and the smell of acrid smoke.

Your gaze remains fixed on the water, your mind churning in tandem with your stomach. The Crown of Karsus is in there somewhere, broken into pieces and buried under rubble. Left to sink into the silt of the Chionthar, as was always the plan.

Unless…

Karlach and Wyll were in Avernus, bound to a life of hellscapes and blood wars. The scorch marks from the portal, from her flame-swaddled body, were burned into the wooden dock behind you.

Astarion had been banished back into the darkness he had spent centuries trying to crawl out of. He had sprinted out of the light he once basked in, and the Gods only know where he is now.

Seven thousand souls had perished in a failed ritual. The corpses of Tieflings were shadows that could not be lifted in the curse-cleansed heartlands. Shadowheart had fought with the ferocity of a wolf to cast aside her Goddess and save her parents, only to watch them die in front of her. Rolan was dead. Cal and Lia and Zevlor and Florrick. All gone.

Lae’zel

You feel the muscles in your hand flex and spasm at the thought of Lae’zel. Your heart twists.

You had tried. You had conjured up desperate deception, attempted silver-tongued persuasion, and even rage-fueled intimidation, but it had not been enough to stop Orin the Red from plunging her knives into Lae’zel's eye sockets and splitting apart her skull.

She had been twenty-two years old, and burned with more courage than anyone you had known. It had not been enough to get her to the end, to this scorched dock in the shadow of Baldur’s Gate. You were not able to save her, and the thought of it sizzles wrath through your numbness.

Is this what victory tastes like? Blood and bile and fury. If only you had done things differently. The still, flame-orange water in front of you starts to froth in the wake of your rage.

“Tav?” Gale is trying to bring you back to him. Has his voice always been so small?

You remember how he had sounded when you first discussed the crown. After finding that damned book and seeing the desperation in his eyes, hearing the soft plea of his words which soon turned petulant and sharp.

A hindrance, he had called you. He had pouted and pleaded, and any wavering uncertainty in your decision to keep the book from him had hardened to steel.

He had not learned. Ambition still trickled and hissed through his veins, pumped around by his poor, desperate heart. Mystra had been right to keep him in check, just as you were right to do the same. He could not have the book. He could not have the crown. It would drain all of his sweet, kind mortality from him until all that was left was another God to keep the wheel spinning. How many would be crushed beneath it, beneath him? You could not allow it.

Each night, the Annals of Karsus had lain heavy in your hands. The weave, usually rosewater-scented and soft as silk, was suddenly sluggish and scraped like sandpaper in the air around its blasphemous contents.

That had not stopped you. You poured over its pages in the quiet, leftover hours where night slipped into morning. The book was heavy—not just in weight, but in the burden of turning its pages and deciphering its contents. Each word felt as if it had to be pulled out and held in hard focus before you could understand any of its meaning.

It took work, but you got there. You were just as capable a wizard as Gale, after all. The weave fought you at every turn, but with dedication the riddle unravelled and the answers became clear. The crown could be reforged and reused by someone worthy enough to wear it, and you knew how to do it.

Think of what could be done…

You could cool Karlach’s engine and bring her back to the life she deserves in the city she loves.

You could shatter the iron-clad shell of Wyll’s pact as though it were made of glass.

You could grant Astarion a life of deserved sunshine.

Maybe…you could change even more.

What if you could go back? Try again? Use the power of a God to Wish for another chance. You could do things differently, leave no one behind.

You could make different decisions. You could make it so your words would be convincing enough to still Orin’s blade and save Lae’zel. You could be stronger, wiser, tougher. You could step out of that pod on the Nautiloid a different person, if you wanted.

Another attempt, a restart, a new run.

Is that too much to ask? You are not marred by towering ambition; you don't want to raise armies or infect the minds of innocents. You don't care about gods and monsters. You just want another roll of the dice.

“If I salvage the stones… I could retrieve it…” You aren’t talking to anyone in particular; you just need it said out loud. “I could change things”

Gale is in front of you now, crouching slightly so his face is level with yours, cupping your face and wiping away tears with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes are full of panic, and he is saying things, such sweet, wonderful things. He loves you as a mortal; he needs you to stay here. There is nothing that can be done, he insists, there is always another way…

“I will find you again,” you say, an oath to the man who forgot his Goddess. You will not let him forget you. “I will love you all over again, you’ll see.”

And you mean it; your love was meant to blaze across universes, you could feel it.

His voice once again quiets as all the possibilities thunder around your head with bright new clarity. Your decision is made, your path clear.

You turn to stare at the burnt-out shell of Baldur’s Gate.

Forget ambition; you would become the God of Second Chances.

[mumsie-bangin]

(NSFW, AFAB reader but GN and no mentions of pronouns, sleepy oral with alucard)

Alucard was a mess.

And i mean, most people are in specific areas, but this man was a mess in general.

Being Alucards friend and now newly bonded partner gave you a perspective of this man you never dared dream of. Yet also led to you experiencing this mans habits and self distruction first hand.

Would that be cus of his emotional termoil and inner conflict of the two worlds he got seperated from, from all his built up trauma and or just simply loneliness leading to chronic independance. Or the two corpses you had to first meet impaled before encountering him in his castle.

You stand in the doorway as you look at your lover, who had fallen asleep at the library table. Documents and books scattered across. It had been late noon, which makes you wonder if this man studied the entire night through , as he regularly does.

One would believe a person would learn to take care of themselves eventually, but you'd guess all the built up shame makes this man work until the sight of dawn, no matter how far he comes with his results.

Stepping into the study, you glance at the documents scattered around him. The project that the two of you had been planning and setting into motion for months.

Digging up hidden spells and artifacts with any information given. God, you love this man.

You squat down and place your hand gently on alucards back and upper thigh, as to not startle him. Rubbing soothing circles around the area.

"Dearest" you gently mumble. "Your back will start hurting if you sleep like this" a moment of silence. You gaze over your lovers face, ethereal. All of him, ethereal and peacefull all the same.

Alucards hand finds yours and gently grasps it, all without opening his eyes or shifting his position. It seems that hes not planning on leaving, but wishes for your company nonetheless.

You adore this man. But god, this is the 3rd night this week.

Slithering your hands beneath his knee's, and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you lift him up gently.

He tenses slightly under your touch but relaxes once realizing what you are doing. He seems to be observant even in a exhausted state.

Placing him on the velvet couch in the study, you reach to get a blanket or maybe more pillows for this man , before feeling yourself hindered in movement. Adriens arms had tiredly wrapped around your waist , slender fingers finding their way into your blouse.

You cant help but fluster and smile at the sight. "My love, rest would be of highest priority for you"

You turn to place a kiss on his temple. Yet he shifts to pull you on top of him , grunting as he wraps himself tightly around you. Lazily placing kisses over your neck and exploring the sillouetthe of your body with his hands. "I adore you" he mumbles

Arousal coils in your stomach, covering your face with your hand. This man is barely awake, does he know what hes doing?

You lay there and eventually relax into him, wrapping your arms around him in return.

Well, hes resting. So, its a win.

You flinch as you feel his teeth graze your neck. Seemingly awake but also too tired to fully open his eyes .

He starts sucking on that soft spot and his hands remain on your waist. Sleepily humming into your neck.

A whine escapes your lips , resting your head in the crook of your lovers neck. Him shifting his hips and leaning his head against the armrest of the couch to better angle his affection.

"Beautiful..." you feel him mumble into your skin. Exploring your sillouetthe further with light touches.

Skin burning , chest heaving and arousal growing in your lower region, you cant help but hold onto alucards shoulders. Holding on while enjoying his tired state.

Your train of thought is broken when he sits up and shifts you, hands now on your hips pulling you closer.

You sit now fully in his lap as your lover gazes at you through his lashes, before leaning in to kiss you as if he's starven. Which, if he had forgotten to eat all night, wouldnt be too unrealistic.

"Darling, can I please.." he speaks between kisses, all while pushing you onto your back. Him slowly looming over you while not stopping his enrapture on you. You're so enthralled by this man that you cant even piece together words, all you can do is moan into the kiss. Holding onto his face and hair as he guides you down.

Adrien breaks the kiss, panting as he lays his head onto your shoulder, breathing hot air into your neck. He is still exhausted but awake enough now. His hands fumbling with the buttons of your blousem.

And god so are you. More awake than ever ,actually.

"May I ,please?" You finally snap out of your haze , Adrien shifting to be in between your legs, gently prying them open while patiently waiting for you.

Saying you were turned on would be a massive understatement. The sight infront of you has you practically salivating,

And the same seems to be the case for Alucard it seems.

"Yes, yes. You may" you pant, alucard lunges to kiss you again. His legs spreading yours open as he messily opens the front of your pants. Breaking the kiss once its open, and sliding the trousers off of you.

Messy hot kisses are left on your inner thighs as Alucard shifts again, now holding your legs while showering them in love bites and kisses. You cover your mouth with your hand, its embarassing how hot this is.

He gazes at you as he gets closer to your aching core. Placing your leg on his shoulder and gently pushing the other to put you ore into position.

All you can do is nod, and his fingers part your lips as he starts lapping at your clit.

In the meantime ,His other hand entering you, putting good use on all the juices are are flowing out of you at this point.

A sharp breath, and moans soon after leave your mouth as you throw your head back.

Circling his tongue on the bundle of nerves, and sucking every now and then has you seeing stars. Combine that with the now two fingers scissoring you open, you now understand what the fuzz about heaven was all about.

"Divine" he breathes . Licking up the juices leaking from you, and going back to that bundle of nerves. His teeth graze your clit before he sucks on it again, and you cant help but buck your hips more into his mouth.

Alucard smiles into your cunt as he enjoys the noises you make.

Hands travelling into his hair, you hold onto him as you ride out your orgasm. Him following suit and grabbing your hips to pull you closer to him. "Adrien-"

"Oh god-" your voice breaks. And A highpitched moan leaves you as you arch your back and feel your orgasm washing over you.

You ride out your high and calm your breath, eyes hazy as your hand remains in adriens hair.

Adrien finds his coat and drapes it over you both as he leaves his last kisses over your chest, collarbone and neck. Rubbing soothing circles into your sides as he lays on top of you.

"Do you need anything, my love?" He chimes. God, you love this man.

You laugh while catching your breath. Shifting to wrap your arms around your lover.

"No, not at all. I didnt expect this, thats all."

He sighs ,smiling . Eyes closed as he relaxes into you.

"I think I want you to just sleep but. I think id like to join you"

He chuckles "yes, please. "

[paradoxlemonade]

Nature of Curiousity

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Characters: Joe & Cleo

words: 1024

Warnings: very mild body horror (Cleo is embroidering on Joe, but he's made of fabric and does not feel pain)

Ao3: Here!

Summary: Joe Hills the puppet wants to make friends with humans. The humans do not want to be made friends with. Cleo puts him back together afterwards. [Abecedarian Prose Poem]

@mcyt-valentines gift for @therizino-ao3! Hope you enjoy :]

...

A sunrise the color of a bitter lemon tea beckons in the fresh morning scent of grass and dreams, soft around the edges and losing their remaining sharpness as sleep turns to wakefulness. Beneath an old willow tree, a corpse as fresh as the day it died rests in the dewy grass and embroiders artful designs into her best friend’s shoulder.

Cleo huffs at him, “You know, it would’ve been nice if you had waited until at least breakfast to go galavanting around and get yourself shot by a humanfolk.”

Dauntlessly undeterred as per usual, Joe merely smiles serenely and says, “But I must watch them, as the rain must fall and snow must melt; it is in my nature, sewn into my skin.”

Even-spaced threads holding his innards on the right side of the felt are the only thing decorating his skin, by Cleo’s own observation.

“Fine as that may be, your ‘nature’ does not make you invincible to arrows.” Generally speaking, being made of cloth made Joe invincible to very little, save for perhaps pain and common sense. He would grow tired of his game eventually, and then he would stop attempting to consort with the humanfolk (at least, Cleo hoped he would tire of it).

“If I am endlessly repairable no matter my condition, is that not a form of invincibility?”

 “Joe, you can only be repaired if I have the pieces to put you back together; if the humanfolk decide it would be more fun to capture you instead of running you off, you would be in more pieces than magic thread could possibly hold together.”

“Killjoys—that being people who deny my innermost whimsy, that being you—” he gestured at her with the arm not being worked on, “should not judge how one chooses to express themself, especially when they are themselves of humanfolk blood.”

Less ever said about one Joe Hills’ innermost whimsy, the more sane one would be, as neither consistency nor thoughts of sound minds are facets of his being.

Minutes flow around them like a gentle brook as Cleo continues her stitchwork and pointedly does not give his comments the dignity of a direct response, at least until she thinks of one worth saying.

“No humanfolk,” she began slowly, “Would consider me possible by their understanding of the world, let alone ‘of their blood’; I have not been theirs for a very long time.” One day was all it took to lose everything that she’d built over the course of her entire life, as one day was all it took for the sickness that ravaged her village like a pack of wolves descending on a flock of sheep to bury her in an early grave that she didn’t stay put in.

“Perhaps that much is fair and you have no love left for them, but I have never been theirs; the humanfolk ways are unlike our own, and I find myself pulled in again and again despite all attempts to the contrary.”

Quickly fleeting curiosity would be too much to ask, she supposed, as temporary passion was also as antithetical to Joe’s nature as he claimed sedation to be.

 “Really, you can’t be all too mad at me for this, because if you were as upset as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have offered to sew me back up, and you certainly wouldn’t have added these nice yellow flowers without me needing to ask.”

She glances down to her hands as if seeing them for the first time that morning, the hands that gently wove the thread in and out of his fabric skin with a practiced ease and the comfort of a close friend. This conversation—despite its distances—has still grown much too close to an uncomfortable shard of glass nestled deep into her chest, digging and poking into the soft tissue beneath her heart that she could not excise no matter how strong her will. 

“Unfortunately, we still live in a world where I need to sew you back up for reasons other than your own foolishness, and it’s not like I could simply let someone I’ve worked on walk around looking like I did the job carelessly.” 

Vexed enough by her candid response, Joe allows the conversation to wander along to more familiar territory by changing the topic with all the subtlety he could muster—that is, not a whole lot.

 “What type of flowers are these meant to be, anyway?” Joe asks, stretching to see Cleo’s handiwork.

“Xyris flowers, of some kind; they’re all over around here and you seem to like them well enough that I didn’t think you would mind if I put some on your arm.”

Yellow petals of soft thread cascade from the top of his shoulder down midway to his elbow, just shy of of meeting up with the dusky green vines—those were almost ready to come out, but the new stitches would have to stay for a few weeks so the fabric could knit itself back together. Zero weeks have gone in recent memory that did not end with one of Cleo’s friends needing stitches (usually Joe, and usually for silly and-or humanfolk reasons), but she never stopped pulling out her needle and thread before they could even apologize for bothering her.

And as Joe thanks her for the help and the flowers, she leads him back to her house for an early breakfast to cap off an odd morning, all the while dreaming of a world where the humanfolk and the otherfolk didn’t have to live on opposite sides of the veil, and Joe could make strangers into friends.

 Better worlds and broken hearts are playing cards of the same set, but a card for resilience is also shuffled into that same deck. Crisp toast and peppery fried eggs aren’t quite miracle workers, but they’re enough to bring Cleo back up to normal when combined with good company. Dreams weren’t going to come true on their own, but maybe Joe was onto something with his adventures.

 Everything considered, it took him an hour longer than last time to get run off.

[shakingparadigm]

fav alnst round so far? (mines is round 6 because i love pain and sorry to break it to you but I literally had no reaction when best boy ivan died.hes dead guys accept it.)

Favorite ALNST round... I'd have to say ROUND 5. The concept of the whole thing is just so spectacular not only in set design but in character dynamics as well. The despair and mockery that lines the whole thing is fantastic.

I particularly adore the way this round further connects the concept of death with the color white. The stage which Luka and Mizi perform on is fully white in color because it's built from the bones of an ancient creature, something of a memorial site. In certain shots, the spine of this creature is very clear. The whole area is ethereal and invokes not only a sense of reverence, but unease, too. It's haunting, almost hollow, and just like its origin, lifeless.

The moon that shines behind Luka is almost as big and bright as a white dwarf, a dying star that has exhausted itself of life.

And of course, the association with death is further emphasized once images of Sua appear.

There's something to be said about the fact that this stage is from the bones of an ancient creature, one that was respected enough for its bones to be repurposed in its honor. A deep reverence, worship, even.

It's painfully fitting for Luka to dance upon the remains of a creature so revered while he toys with Sua's image. A form of mockery, of disrespect, especially to the one who worshipped her. In both the literal and metaphorical sense, he tramples over dead gods.

It's important to note that in this round there are two performers but three participants: Mizi, Luka, and Sua. The feeling of death is something that permeates throughout the entire round because everyone involved has been forced to face it. This shared trait manifests itself as their most striking visual aspect: their white attire.

With the insight gained from Luka's relationship with Heperu, it's safe to say that Luka has experienced the feeling of death firsthand. He has quite literally died and then come back to life.

There's the factor of his purple fingertips, a result of his weak physical condition that keeps him on the precipice of life and death. Combined with his extremely pale complexion, his imperturbable disposition and obssession with heartbeats, Luka seems like a body on its way to a corpse, desperately clinging onto his last hopes of life. Staving off the coldness of death for as long as possible and monitoring his own body so that demise is confined to just the tips of his fingers.

Sua's connection to death is obvious. She has died, she is death.

A point of interest, however, is the fact that while everyone is dressed in white, only Luka and Sua share the colors of white and black. They both have these colors in their design, but in opposite places. The black of Sua's design lies on top of her white, while vice-versa for Luka as his lies at the bottom. It works exceptionally well with their state of their characters. Sua as the dead that crosses into the living, and Luka as the living that toes the line of death.

As someone who watched her god die in front of her own eyes, Mizi dons a gown of pure white just like the others. The difference is her second color, a light pink layer resting atop her dress.

Pink has associations with innocence and childishness, and in its more washed out and subdued state (light pink = pink mixed with white, innocence tainted by death) it's a perfect fit for the circumstances.

It's only during her aggressive outburst, when Mizi has death directly pointed at her that the pink layer begins to rip. Completely shedding her innocence, giving way to complete white. Dressing her for death.

Luckily, Hyuna arrives just in time (clad in black, life) to save her.

ROUND 5 has always been a complete masterpiece to me, and the more I think about it the better it gets. A dying man trying to stay alive, a white-clad widow and the haunting apparition of her dead god all performing this sick dance of death upon the bones of a creature who was exploited for spectacle and performance.

[turndecassette2]

I do remember those magic knight people! Every once in a while I go back on your blog to try to track down those drawings because I like them and the concept in the description so much. I would love to hear more about them. Do you have a story planned out?

yeah, vaguely. so for the cosmology; there's this dystopian city I desperately need to draw a map of built above the fossilised remains of an ancient hell. the city mines the hell for 'hell-flesh', a semi-sentient magical substance that's kind of the physical container of the souls of the damned. I suppose this is like fantasy rare earths for fantasy compute or w/e. this has been going on for a while and the city is, kiruna-style, gradually falling down the pit. also as more of the hell is laid bare, semi-autonomous demonic creatures are let loose, maybe as a kind of immune response against human incursion.

(imagining this sort of thing + branching passages. but in the middle of an italian intra-feuding city-state w a population ca modern day singapore)

a kind of grid of bridges and fortresses has been built above the pit to protect the fancier, upper parts of the city from the decaying/descending bits below. the lower city is mostly miners etc & due to the fucked up mutagenic influence of living near a hell & touching hell stuff all day the people in the upper city treat them with suspicion. there's a 'join the US navy-army-whatever to get health insurance & education & basic human dignity' or like french foreign legion situation where by joining the elite magic army manning the little fortresses, ppl from the lower city can gain some access to the upper. in the reverse I guess for the upper city ppl it functions a bit like 'the wall' in asoiaf where criminals, noble bastards etc go to maybe redeem themselves or die horribly.

the fire magic used by the guards to fight demons etc is derived from the burning corpse of a god that is said to have been there since before the founding of the city (presumably the entity responsible for the hell situation in the first place). by swearing fealty to this dead(-ish) god one gets the ability to summon his divine flame but you forfeit your chance at an afterlife, or maybe you go to hell (no-one is quite sure). everyone kind of assumes once the body is fully burned the god will return/reincarnate (and either save or destroy the city, depending on who you ask).

the politics part; at its founding the city was part of some empire that has since collapsed (pretty recently). the city is dependent on trade to stay viable/fed and to appease the new warring states/mini-empires that have sprung up around it. the current ruler is a reclusive young queen & she has her favourite lord/advisor, an ageing academic who is sort of trying to liberalise the place or make it superficially less fashy. other lords dislike this & are working to either find her a proper king or hasten the return of some deity or other that will return the place to its former glory.

I guess the story? has this noble child bastard protagonist from a shady family* of word-mages who is sent to the 'centre' fortress & works her way up to become the apprentice of some hero-knight demon slayer guy with a possibly shady past (I think rn the name I have for the guy is Chaimé & idk if this is a good name? like the spanish jaime but w more e, & the tiny bastard is Myia I think). I imagine her being the sasuke to a happier, more popular girl who saves her from a demon (embarrassing) then is outed as a half-demon herself (she's the redhead in the drawings) & Myia warms up to her as she (demon girl) becomes increasingly isolated from the outside city (being supposedly dangerous or too powerful? I don't think Myia has much natural magic or w/e in her aside from being a nerd & very persistent).

sorry there's a lot here that would be SPOILERS if I ever actually made this into something coherent enough to be an actual comic ha ha. the knight/mentor guy gets dragged into a kind of fantasy 'business plot' & I guess part of that would be like, seeing to what extent he goes along with it & if he's actually a good person ha ha. + there's a bunch of other characters w stuff going on that I haven't figured out the looks of yet but. they're important in my head. the big bear-ish bf guy who gets sent on an expedition down the pit etc

* I have a distinct image of these people living hidden away in some gormenghast-style estate. they've habsburged themselves into being mostly deaf but the only ones around who can fully read/write the divine language that lets them do word-based magic & the other houses kind of have to put up w their weirdness. also scheming nobles in dune using sign language is 1 of my favourite things in the new film adaption & I like the idea of outsiders being forced to learn to sign (or else being cut-off from higher level magic) as some sort of power move? I don't think they involve themselves that much in politics since that's below them but are def part of the 'bring the gods back' thing, for better or worse. anyway after 'avas demon' (GUILTY PLEASURE I know it has such pretty colours but comes from such an unhinged part of the internet, will never stop apologising for this) started posting again I realised it had a character w the same look & vibe so will try and re-design protag girl to look more like this cute person I saw in a fashion post on IG

... let's see how this goes. came up w all this BS after some viz lady at comicon asked me if I wanted to make them a manga but it's grown from being too little to being too unwieldy to pitch. will see after I finish up my current projects. how much blood, swearing & genocide can a story have before it stops being YA. I think chainsaw man is sort of YA but dorohedoro isn't

[ananke-xiii]

Although I mainly see the first six episodes of s13 as an engaging portrayal of two grief-stricken people lacking the tools to deal with what has happened to them, I can also totally see them as the so-called "widower arc". Two things can be true at the same time because yes, Dean was totally grieving Cas' death. But I'll make it worse for you.

Maybe I'm biased by the many times I've read the term "widower arc" but Dean was 100% looking for a consort in Cas in s12 (yes, "consort", I'm tired of "partner" or "boy/girlfriend", they're weak terms, give me "sharing destiny" type of old words) so I think this interpretation is not so far-fetched.

We have a grieving widow(er), a desired consort who's dead and then resurrects and a son who's been defined as "the rising son". As I've already said these are some of the elements of one of the most ancient myths in Western culture, that is the myth of Isis and Osiris.

Now, of course it was not a retelling of that myth, I don't even think it was a conscious effort to shape the story that way but sometimes symbols will be symbols, what can you do?

First of all, two brothers: Set and Osiris and Lucifer and Cas. We know how it goes, one brother kills the other (As an aside in one version Set built a wooden chest and tricked Osiris to enter into it just to seal it and drown it in the Nile. We have totally NEVER seen this image in Supernatural. Not even ONCE).

Things get very interesting from here on because in the myth there's a lot of focus on the body of the deceased brother, Osiris/Cas. The most famous way Set disposed of his brother's corpse was to cut it into pieces, to... tear him apart if you will. It is then kinda WILD that AU!Michael kills "his" Lucifer the same way:

MIchael: I killed my Lucifer. Tore him apart in the skies over Abilene. But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.

Apparently, the body must be somehow intact for resurrection to happen. In the myth Isis has to find his husband's bodyparts scattered all over Egypt in order to resurrect him. So we need to pay extra close attention to Cas' body which we are actually shown in that tragic scene where Dean prepares him for the pyre. So it's Dean who takes care of Cas' body, who "collects" it, just like Isis. Interesting.

In SPN "What gets burned stays dead", therefore Cas cannot resurrect, or so they think. The mantra is repeated by Jack in "Tombstone" when he first sees his father. To be honest, we don't really know how Cas resurrects. For the first time we see what happens to him between death and rebirth but we miss the technicalities. We can only assume that Cas' ashes were enough. Or maybe, just maybe, that's just a rule that applies in Chuck's story. Just saying.

I'm not sure if they try to discover how Jack managed to do that but the point remains: it was Jack who woke Cas up in the Empty.

And why did he do that? Well, because he can. The very first thing that Jack does is resurrecting Kelly in an episode aptly named "The Future", where Jack is sort of introduced via his mother's resurrection. He doesn't know how to use this power but he unconsciously does it again with his father. And I ask again: why?

Jack wakes Cas up in "The Big Empty", four episodes into the season. He could've done it sooner? No. Because what prompts him to unconsciously act is Dean's grief. And Dean reaches his boiling point when Sam finally provokes him. Osiris/Cas dies and his consort Isis/Dean is inconsolable. Other people like Sam can forget about it, but Dean can't in every sense of the verb.

In the myth it's Isis who resurrects Osiris and has a child, Horus, with him. But she got help. Dean's only human but there is a demi-god running around in his bunker so I think that helped. And Cas must be credited for the effort and the pushing.

Let's just say that resurrecting Castiel took three, actually four people okay? It required a team effort. Because none of them is a fully-fledged god like God or Amara or some Archangel who can just snap their fingers and boom welcome back to Life. Coaxing someone into resurrection (a resurrection with consent) takes a lot of willpower... and a lot of love.

I said four people because the last character in this little story is The Shadow. And we see this in the myth as well!

Isis doesn't "just" resurrect Osiris, she has to convince the motherfucker. Cause, you see, Osiris's heart was tired. A tired heart! Oh so beautiful! He didn't see the reason to go back to life. He was sooo tired. Isis has to literally seduce him back to life. And... this is kind of what The Shadow does, but in reverse? It tells Castiel to go back to sleep, to find peace, it's been in his mind and he wants to sleep, it knows!

The Shadow is Cas' tiredness, all his failures and regrets. But, as I said, it takes a lot of willpower and a lot of love to resurrect the dead, this is what Isis teaches us actually. To love more and then some more. And Cas loves back and he loves hard.

Castiel: You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for…ever. For eternity.

He didn't come back because he annoyed an ancient cosmic being. He came back because he loved.

So Osiris/Cas are back to life and that's good, right? Well... yeahhh. The thing is that Osiris will then live in the world of the dead so he kinda doesn't really really stay alive for long. And Isis will follow him. Things will likely go bad for Cas.

But the story continues!

Set/Lucifer and Horus/Jack engage in a rather disturbing (in the myth) struggle for power. The myth has different endings: in one they reconcile, in another they divide the realm, in yet another one Horus is the one true winner. So we don't really know (from this point in the narrative) how things will actually turn out for the two of them.

Isn't it interesting? Well, it's not surprising because there is a connection between christian stories and greek and egyptian ones but still? Kinda cool to see how myths keep repeating and repeating. As if we're still trying to understand them.

Anyway: yes to the widower arc, yes to love piercing through the veil of death. Both ways! It takes the love of two to resurrect.

[toxintouch]

I heard it was angst time. CW: MC Death. About the level of graphic (gore/violence) description that is in the source material imo. Be cautious and prioritize taking care of yourself if you are unsure, please. ♡

Mhin can’t find you.

When you don't appear at the scheduled time to discuss the headway you’ve each made individually regarding your mutual goal, they walk away from your agreed-upon rendezvous point with an annoyed huff.

When the next night passes and you still don’t show, they become even more incensed.

It’s not until they head to the Wet Wick and Leander asks them if they’ve seen you that they become concerned.

They look everywhere.

Leander places posters on the corner streets alongside his usual advertisements and soon your likeness is plastered across Lowtown.  Large letters reading: “REWARD” peer down at Mhin reproachfully at every turn as they fruitlessly go about their own search when they can spare the time during their day to day fight for survival.  

Something nags at the back of their mind.  

Guilt, they think.  Self-loathing.  They should have tried to find you that night.

As the days turn into weeks, they give up on Leander’s methods and start asking their own questions. 

They do it under the guise of collecting another bounty, but the genuine, thankful relief they get from Leander, the sorrowful look they receive from Kuras–they're know they're wearing a shallow facade at best.

It leaves a raw taste in their mouth to do so, but they even ask Vere, knowing the fleabag has keen senses which they do not.

Their stomach drops when Vere laughs.  A harsh, cruel thing that has them brandishing their dagger, keen to gut him like a fish where he stands.  He reads their rage easily, assuring them that he’s innocent, that he had nothing to do with your disappearance.

Which is what a Monster would say–but then–

Vere would be at his most honest while gloating, wouldn’t he?  If the truth is a twist of the knife.

He tells them to check their own closet for skeletons.  Tells them to check for Monsters underneath their own bed.

The adrenaline hits them immediately.  They start to sweat and shake and feel nauseous.  For their body, the realization is instantaneous.  In their mind, it comes more slowly.  Like walking through a dream.

They try to reach back in their memory. Try to tug at that nagging thing.

Unspool it until they can determine where the emptiness begins, ends, anything in between.

And then they find it.  They don’t remember it, but they find it.  

In one of their many hidden shelters. The one closest to your rendezvous point–a small lacuna in the side of a crumbling building, a nest built into the flesh.

Spooling trails of entrails and ruined bandages.  Viscera and bones and gore.  Scavengers have gotten to you and contaminated the scene but–

The wounds are unmistakable.  Familiar to them, by now.

The soft parts of you that have been picked at and eaten.

The sinking feeling in their gut expands.  This type of scene doesn’t make Mhin sick anymore but they wish it would.  Wish they could retch and rid themself of this emptiness.  Wish they could expel the vision of you–

The remains of you, laid out before them. 

There’s something almost graceful about your corpse.  As if you’ve been drawn out of a fairy tale, your gruesome demise told as a parable for children.

They try to remember transforming.  Killing you.  

Your last words, if you could make any around the blood gurgling from between your lips like a fountain.

Maybe in the future your fairy tale will have a moral to it.  A reason.  Your death will be more than senseless, another body added to the pile.  

For now Mhin will have to live without that closure.

The grief drips off of them like blood off of black feathers. It can't permeate their defenses, advantages granted to them by an evolution that was not of their own volition. They can already feel their mind warping around their memories of you, dulling them lest they tear themself apart, fall down while climbing up the tower to meet you and dash themselves upon the rocks, sink into the water below and drown beneath the torrent. A younger version of them would chase after the memories, cling to the waning thought of you.

The person they are now lets it happen.

They turn their back, leaving the empty echos behind.

Bad Ending : "Reward"

[delimeful]

to know that song (and all its words) (11)

warnings: minor character death, violence & injury, panic, biases, lmk if i missed any

-

Virgil went through the footage once, twice, and then a third time, trying to understand the conflicting emotions that were unwinding in his chest.

He settled for rewatching the fight itself once more, because it was easy to tell how he felt about that. Each time, he’d watched with a sort of utter fixation, unable to look away despite the automatic, instinctual terror the scene incited in him.

He’d known, distantly, that the Humans were strong, built with dense flesh and flexible frames. He’d known that they could be lethal, that they sometimes moved in a stalk, with a sort of focused intent that reminded him of a predator.

Knowing these facts and seeing them put into action were two very different things.

On the tapes, the lights flickered out. The camera went dark for a half second before automatically enabling infrared mode.

In that brief moment of darkness, Square had already crossed a good third of the room on uncannily quiet steps. The recording refocused just in time to catch his first lunge.

The crack of a limb splintering was audible even from the camera’s tinny speakers. Before the victim’s paralyzer gun even finished clattering to the floor, the Human was moving on to his next swing, and his next.

Every alien in the room began scattering as the howls of the injured grew more frantic and more numerous. Some bolted for the boarding hatches, some for the door to the hall, some simply away from the crunches of violent impact. Almost all of them were left floundering in the dark, the few with functional night vision unable to move within the chaotic scramble.

Within moments, any raider with a long distance weapon had been taken out of the fight with brutal efficiency, and those who recollected themselves enough to lunge forward were met with the same fate.

Heartfelt returned, the emergency lighting casting their face in dim red glow that made the weapon in their hands and their uncharacteristically solemn expression stand out all the more.

They remained solidly on defense, guarding Square’s back with heavy, unhesitating blows, their expression growing more and more crinkled with each one.

In mere minutes, any aggressors had either been sent writhing to the floor or to an early grave.

The leader, the one who had so confidently made their proposal and deemed Virgil too stubborn to live, had fought more viciously than any of the others, and managed to knock the pipe clear of Square’s grip. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, the leader drew a two pronged viper’s blade from a hidden holster, and immediately tried to stab it forward into Square’s underbelly.

Square half-turned, letting the weapon pierce the meat of their shoulder with a grunt, and without faltering, they reached out to grab the leader’s head with both hands.

The twist was quick and clean, the snap of bone loud, the silence of the room afterwards somehow louder. The raiders didn’t need to be able to see the damage, not when they could hear the way their leader’s snarled threats had been so sharply cut off.

“Your leader is dead,” Square said into the pause, releasing his grip and allowing the body to fall lifelessly to the ground. They barely twitched as the viper blades were dragged out with the motion, their gaze flitting from silhouette to silhouette, watching for the next attacker. “If you don’t wish to join them, now is the time to surrender.”

Raiders were many things, but loyal to the death wasn’t one of them.

The surrender process was quick, almost rushed once the light came back on. Seeing the crumpled corpse of their leader had probably demoralized them. Square seemed distracted, overly so. He didn’t even set any negotiation terms at first, simply walking out and leaving control of the bay to Heartfelt.

Like he’d said, the fight was easy. The fight was terrifying.

It was what came after that was driving his thoughts to run in endless, maddening circles.

Heartfelt looked as though they wanted to follow after Square for a moment, but turned away. Instead, they faced the raiders, huddled against the walls in various states of distress.

They moved to pull the med kit off the wall, and then stepped forward, approaching the worst-off of the bunch with a slowness that made Virgil’s ruff prickle up instinctively, even having watched before. Even knowing who Heartfelt was.

The injured seemed to feel the same, with the babbled pleas for mercy as many of those nearby scurried further away from what they surely thought was an impending slaughter. Heartfelt’s face was pressed into thin lines of discomfort, but they kept moving to crouch next to the alien.

“Help, no hurt,” Heartfelt told them plainly, and then set the kit down and opened it.

The raider lunged the moment they turned their attention away, and Heartfelt flung up an arm on reflex to catch the sharp claws of the alien with a pained sound that they cut off mid-noise.

All eyes turned to the door, but Square didn’t return. They were retrieving him from where Heartfelt had stashed him, Virgil knew, and Heartfelt had muffled the noise of their pain before it could reach the others.

The Human reached out and unhooked the alien’s claws from their arm, suppressing a wince. “No, no,” they said firmly. “No hurt, okay?”

The alien seemed too dumbfounded by the fact that they were still alive to respond, and Heartfelt carefully moved their limb back to their side before returning with the bandages they’d been reaching for in the first place.

That was how the next few moments went, stemming the bleeding wherever they could and applying tourniquets for the more mammalian types. And through it all, they were watched with a sort of entranced silence, as though their actions were barely comprehensible to the raiders.

On the other vidfeed, Virgil could see his own pitiful form cradled in Square’s arms, too out of it to process that Noisy was only a few paces away or even that he was being held by someone who should, by all rights, terrify him.

But they didn’t.

The thought hit him like a rough-edged stone, startling and near painful in its honesty. Virgil stopped the tapes, pushed himself a few steps away from the interface and tried to process past the automatic terrified nausea that had formed at the sight of a fairly sturdy, battle-scarred alien being killed with one move.

The Humans were strong, lethally so. He’d known that, and now he really knew it. He understood why Sveve had spoken about the Humans being monsters with such conviction, pled for his help to escape with such sheer desperation.

He understood, but he didn’t agree.

Sveve had been aboard a ship that had almost mythologized the deathworlders they were hunting. The raiders had been seeking the Humans out since the start of their journey, had known their ultimate goal for however long the trip had lasted. The leader’s grand plot hadn’t worked out, but that didn’t change the fact that his Humans had been presented as powerful, violent beasts to the crew. Despite acting in their own defense, their devastating counterattack had only added a new layer of distortion to the raiders’ perceptions of them.

Virgil, on the other hand, had been aboard a ship with the three of them for cycles on end, with misconception after misconception being washed away the longer he spent in the company of any one of them.

Sure, he knew it was smart to be afraid of power like that. There was still a part of him in disbelief, waiting for his survival instincts and general antisocial nature to kick back in. He watched the most violent parts of the security tapes through multiple times, trying to find the part of his brain that would shift his instinctual fear into some sort of action, and… failed.

Maybe if it was the version of him from that first week of their cohabitation, when he was still seeing bared fangs in their smiles and aggression in their eye contact. But now?

Now, he couldn’t help but notice the way Heartfelt’s face scrunched up in misery even when fighting, the way Noisy curled in on himself during that stretch of darkness, the way Square had held him so extremely carefully, even when they were clearly deadly furious.

There was nothing monstrous about his Humans, his unwillingly-gained crewmates. They were just people, ones that had been forced to fight to survive, ones that had been backed into a corner at nearly every turn. He’d known as much long before now, even if he hadn’t acknowledged it aloud.

He turned the feed playback off, powering down the machinery. He’d seen everything he’d needed to see.

The navigation area was still dark and quiet as he left the record room, quickly skittering back out to the hall.

Of course, as soon as he got there, he immediately encountered Square, about five eerily-silent steps from entering the doorway Virgil had just scurried out of.

The doorway to the room that he absolutely wasn’t allowed to be in. Uh oh.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said immediately, somehow sounding about as guilty as someone who’d just been caught with a body at their feet and a murder weapon in hand.

Square inhaled slowly, and then let out a long, winded exhale, which they seemed to do a lot. “I somehow doubt that, but seeing as you’ve soundly rejected earlier opportunities to betray us for your own benefit, I’m choosing not to ‘freak out’ about it.”

Virgil paused, a little surprised despite himself. “I forgot about that. I mean, I forgot you knew about it.”

Square made an odd little snorting sound. “Well. You certainly seemed to feel very strongly about the matter while you were bedridden.”

See, this was why he hated it when he got hurt. His crewmates always insisted on using enough pain medication to make him way too chatty. Sure, anything less would have left him still steeping in agony, but what about the emotional pain of humiliation that came afterwards, huh?!

His expression had soured, but he still managed to pipe up before Square moved on. “I was looking at the vidfeeds.”

Square paused, gaze sharpening. “Pardon?”

“The security records. There are cameras on the ship, and all the footage is recorded and stored for future review.” Virgil stopped for a moment, a fragment of memory coming back. “That’s how they knew you three were aboard. There was a recording of the station you switched ships at.”

The lines of stress along Square’s brow seemed more pronounced than ever. “I understand.”

“I can show you how to erase them, before you leave,” Virgil offered, his antennae flattening back slightly in apprehension. “And, uhh… speaking of leaving. What are we doing with Sveve?”

Virgil wasn’t particularly fond of the guy from the few moments of conscious interaction he’d had with them, but he also didn’t really want to see them go the way of the leader for the crime of being annoying and a little pathetic.

At Square’s blank stare, he clarified. “The medic we abducted.”

“Oh!” Square frowned for a moment, aether full of contemplative, slightly confused feelings. “We had planned to release them on a nearby inhabitable planet. Maybe one with a port, depending on how fast you recovered.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh a little, even as his feathers drooped slightly with relief. “And the other raiders? Sveve said we were still attached to their ship.”

“If one could call it that, at this point,” Square replied, radiating a bit of smugness. “The vessel has only one piece of functioning equipment now, a distress beacon that we’ll activate remotely once we’ve gained some distance.”

Anyone responding to a distress beacon would be adjacent enough to the law to report the obvious raider vessel, meaning that their rescue would leave them facing legal charges and unable to pursue. Virgil chirped lowly, impressed.

A few doors away, Heartfelt appeared, holding a pile of machinery in their arms that was stacked higher than Virgil was tall. Despite being unable to see much past their burden, they barely seemed to feel the weight.

“I should go help him,” Square said, but glanced back down at Virgil one last time, something hesitant in their posture, almost apologetic. “We retrieved enough parts to rig up a temporary remote steering system, to use while you heal. I imagine that we won’t be the most graceful of pilots, so… What I’m saying is, everyone will be much happier once you’ve recovered enough to take the helm again.”

Virgil felt a little thrill of joy, unable to keep his ruff from fluffing up slightly at the confirmation that his fears had been unfounded all along. “I’ll try not to take too long,” he managed to respond, with only the barest embarrassing croaking to his voice.

Square nodded and hurried off to prevent Heartfelt’s teetering tower of metal, and Virgil huffed in amusement, turning to go track down Noisy and let him know that he was ready to take another nap.

It was amazing, just how relieved he felt to finally understand their arrangement. If they weren’t seeking retribution against Sveve, who had actively been on an opposing force, he seriously doubted they would kill him just to tie up a loose end.

Maybe it was a dangerous hope to foster, but Virgil couldn’t help himself. If this had probed anything, it was that the three of them saw him as far more than a simple, easily discarded tool, that much was obvious. It stood to reason that as long as he didn’t break any of the serious rules, they wouldn’t hurt him.

He might just make it out of this situation intact, after all.

[sinistergooseberries]

A Goodbye

Not beta read or anything. Literally the most self indulgent thing ive ever written. enjoy. inspired by @rambheem-is-real 's nsfw posts that got the horny wheels working.

Pairing: Varadeva

NSFW

*****

Khansaar, 2010

There it was. Laid out in front of them like an animal's carcass.

Love had never been easy for Varadha. Love had always been an enemy, a weakness and every other attribute that tainted that word. It ate away at him like a disease and spit him back out like phlegm. When love did not want him, it made him its weapon.

So he looked at its corpse. Beaten, ragged and dirty, as it was meant to be. He was the one who had ended its life, so why was he feeling like a gaping hole had been made in his heart?

And why did love look so alive in his eyes? Why did it writhe and dance and reach out and pull Varadha towards him? Why did it seem to want to live when he kept killing it? Why couldn't it just go?

"Varadha," said Deva.

"Go." A piece of his heart turned to stone as he said that.

"Varadha, listen-"

"Get out. If I ever see your face again, I'll put your head on a spike and hang it at Khansaar's doors. Go."

Well, it had achieved what he wanted it to. That writhing love stopped its dance in Deva's eyes. In its remains, all that was left was a rising anger.

Good. At least he would go out of this world in the wake of that love. No death would be more respectable.

But Varadha knew Deva more than he knew himself. That anger, so familiar to him, cooled down, replaced with another emotion

It wracked him to his bones.

Don't leave me, he wanted to say. I love you. Love me back. Please.

But he stood his ground.

Deva turned around, and walked out of the room. The entire place descended into silence. No one spoke a word. The sun set.

Varadharaja Mannar became King.

***

Khansaar, 2017

The corpses that lined the border of Khansaar reminded him of another time, when burning bodies were all you could see around you.

He could also see Deva on top of the cliff.

Love still felt like a punch to the gut.

How untamed could something be? How could it still be alive, with all of its guts spilling out? How could it be alive and fight to burn and writhe, when blobs of its blood had fallen for 32 years?

And why did it need to haunt him of all people?

Deva was just as beautiful as he had been all those years ago. Even as Varadha prepared for a proper death this time, he couldn't help but look at the one man who made him feel like he was at the heights of pleasure and in the depths of despair at the same time. How could he not when Deva looked at him with storms in his eyes?

Varadha wanted to ease them. Ease all of his worries away. He didn't care about that Aadhya girl, he didn't care about anything. He just wanted Deva to look at him with those eyes of his. He wanted to drown in them, lose himself in them and then kiss the man's head, caress away the lines on his forehead and love him like he had always wanted to.

"Get me his head," he said instead.

All the people at his disposal marched out, perhaps hoping for an intense battle.

Well, he had just sent a hundred men to their deaths. He made a silent prayer to Katteramma to forgive him.

It didn't take long for the men to be disposed of. Deva was quite singularly focused on murdering anyone involved.

As Varadha sat in his throne, the doors burst open, and in bulldozed the man.

He couldn't help it - he never could when Deva was near - he noticed Deva's minute details without even having to try. It was like a built in mechanism that couldn't be removed. A little scar there, a bit of rugged scruff here, a small mole that had been the highlight of his days during their childhood.

"Varadharaja Mannar," began Deva.

Varadha shook himself out of his little trance. What use was it being in cahoots with a dead love?

He lifted his hand to stop Deva - no, Devaratha - from continuing.

He looked at everyone else in the court. "Get out. All of you. This is between me and - Devaratha." His jaw clenched.

Everyone filed out in a few minutes. The court room, which had been filled with clamouring noise earlier, fell quiet.

Neither of them said a word. Both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Deva put his weapon down. He raised his arms up in surrender and walked towards the throne.

Varadha didn't move an inch.

His footsteps echoed in the courtroom as he made his way to the throne. Varadha's heart constricted just a little bit more with each step.

Deva stopped at the foot of the stairs. His gaze was laser focused on Varadha.

"Devaratha," Varadha said.

"Where is Aadhya?" asked Deva.

"It doesn't matter. She never did, did she?" Varadha smirked. "It was never about her."

"Then give her back." Deva's face contorted, fury radiating off him in waves.

Varadha let out a chuckle, humourless and dry. That fury would go back in again, simmer in his insides. Old habits.

"Come on, Deva. We both know how these things work. I can't give her to you, unless you give me something in return," he said instead.

Deva's fist clenched. "What do you want?"

"You."

Deva's expression went from fury, to confusion, to - something else, and then finally seemed to settle on a decision. Deva raised an eyebrow at him, as if he was asking something.

Varadha watched him squirm. In a twisted way, he felt a bit of triumph. He bet Aadhya couldn't decipher all these minute expressions.

"Come," he said.

Deva took a few cautious steps, wariness shrouding his form. Varadha, as usual, just watched.

One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The man was right in front of him. He could smell his sweat and the remnants of gunpowder. He could feel the heat radiating off of Deva.

Varadha's breath caught.

Deva seemed to register that, and a small smirk made its way onto his face. And Varadha, as usual, traced every movement that Deva made.

Eventually, their eyes met. They had to. It was inevitable for them to look at each other like the other held the answers to the universe. It was inevitable that they would search for the answers to their unspoken questions in each other's eyes.

Deva's eyes dissolved into something soft. Varadha - he was helpless. Even if he wanted the harshness of vengeance or past anger to take over his heart, Deva could simply look at him and he would forget everything.

That's just how it was.

God, he was gone. He was delusional. That was the only way he could explain - whatever this was.

How badly messed up it was that he was imagining Deva getting closer to his face, as if he was about t-

What the fuck.

***

Deva was kissing him.

Lips were pressed against his own, bearing down on them.

And Varadha's lips moved. He didn't remember it clearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of whiskey he'd had in the morning.

But Varadha moved. He put his arms around Deva's neck and kissed him back. He bit Deva's lips, opened him him up.

The sensation of his tongue felt sent a jolt through Varadha and heat pooled low in his groin.

He had longed for this. He had longed for it like a parched man in a desert for water. He wanted to be engulfed in Deva's scent, completely surrounded by it. He wanted to kiss this man to pieces, kiss him into submission.

He pulled Deva onto his lap, not leaving his mouth for even a second. The gasp that escaped his mouth just riled Varadha up.

He wanted the man to whimper. To moan and gasp and writhe against him. He wanted him to lose his control and give in.

Well, only one way to do it.

Varadha parted from his mouth. He pulled Deva by the ass and thrusted up, grunting as he did so. Deva gasped.

"Y-you fucking bastard," the other man gritted out.

"Mhm?" Varadha hummed as he rubbed their crotches once again.

Deva just kissed him again, forcefully parting his lips and biting down on them.

Varadha moaned, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making everything hazy around him.

That distinct smell of Deva clouded every other sense of his, and the only thing he could feel was the touch of his lips, the heat of his breath and that heady, heady pleasure.

Deva separated them, and a string if spit extended between their lips. Deva was breathing hard, and Varadha wasn't any better.

Deva's eyes were dilated, and the look in his eyes spoke more than he could ever express with words. Varadha's eyes trailed down to his lips, so plump and kissed. He caressed them and felt Deva suck in a breath.

God, he was beautiful.

He pressed a haphazard kiss to Deva's lips. He didn't move away after letting go. Instead, he let their temples touch.

It was a simple act, a simple touch. Yet it felt like he had finally come home, and had been laid to rest. The hand that had been on Deva's lips, now became intertwined with his hair, pulling them closer to each other. Deva sighed.

He didn't know for how long they stayed like that. Everything felt a bit hazy, and his cock wasn't in the mood for calming down either, throbbing as it was.

Deva seemed to have regained some of his senses. He leaned forward and kissed Varadha's temple. Then his eyes. Then the tip of his nose. The apples of his cheeks. The space between his upper lip and his nose. He peppered kisses across his jaw.

He reached Varadha's neck, and that is where he chose to stop. Varadha looked to the side, and caught Deva staring at him. A small smile came into Varadha's vision.

Oh.

Oh.

Next thing he knew, Deva was kissing his neck, licking it, biting it, loving it. All he could hear around him were little gasps and moans. Deva was grunting as he played with the sensitive skin on Varadha's neck.

Varadha ground against Deva, craving that sweet release. He kept thrusting and rubbing, Deva's erection an acute reminder of his arousal. He wanted this just as much as Varadha did. A little bloom of possessiveness occurred in his heart.

His hand, which had been around Deva's neck, now made its way to his crotch. He palmed the man's erection.

Deva bucked up against his hand, and the moan that came out of his mouth went straight to Varadha's cock. He pressed down on Deva further, bringing out more of those.

Not once did Deva let go of his neck. At one point, he did something with his tongue that almost made Varadha come in his fucking lungi.

He pulled him away from his neck. Deva looked dazed and was about to dive back in, but Varadha pulled at the man's hair. Deva let out a moan.

He looked so fucked out. They hadn't even put each other's cocks inside each other. Something warmed in Varadha's heart at that.

Deva got up. Varadha stopped himself from whining at the loss.

Deva kneeled in front of him.

"What-"

"Shh. Let me do my thing." He placed a finger on Varadha's lips.

This is probably the last time I'll love you went unsaid, but they both understood it.

He took away his hands to work on Varadha's lungi. He untied it, and looked him in the eyes while doing it. Varadha didn't shy away.

Deva looked down at Varadha's twitching cock, the thin cloth of the boxers the only thing separating it from him. He licked his lips.

Varadha palmed his cock through his boxers, little moans escaping his throat.

Deva looked mesmerised by it all. It made Varadha feel a certain type of way.

He placed a hand on Varadha's. They moved together, touching where the other didn't, rubbing where the other didn't, caressing where the other didn't.

"Don't look at me," Varadha breathed in between gasps.

"Where else will I look?" Deva murmured.

Varadha didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on Deva.

Deva pulled down his boxers, and Varadha's cock sprang up. He hissed at the sudden sensation of cold wind.

His - whatever - seemed to notice and came to his aid.

"It's aroused," said Deva.

"Shut the fuck up and suck it," replied Varadha.

And Deva did just that.

***

Aftermath

"Did you just have sex with him?" asked Aadhya, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She had the most incredulous expression on her face.

Deva, to save his ass and reputation, did not reply.

"You did," she said in disbelief. "Oh my god, you went and fucked your fucking ex. What the actual fuck."

Deva stayed quiet.

"Unbelievable," she said.

After a few minutes, though she asked, "Was he that good?"

*****

ummm so that was that. i just wanted an excuse to write porn yall. i hope its not all bad. i hope u find some alright things!