#phantom of the mist was devastating

[angells-housewife]

Phantom of the Mist and Ditty Nightsong have similar vibes and equally heart wrenching endings. Big question is: is it better to forget a person entirely and not have to live with the heart break but only the feeling that you've lost something or is it better to have had warmth, lost it and have to carry the memory with you?

[radiance1]

Random Danny Phantom au.

The world ended, nukes launching to every corner of the world.

If the nukes didn't kill them, then the aftermath sure did.

An actual, honest to god supervillain wanted the end of the world, and they did it even when they got taken along too.

Vlad, Danny and Dani survived due to their Halfa biology, with Dani leaving for the ghost zone after everything went down.

Danny is overcome by grief, and anger with no place to direct it.

Same goes for Vlad.

And they already didn't like each other, so just one minor thing set them off on each other.

Due to Danny's victory over Pariah Dark, and Vlad helping him with the suit and pushing Pariah back into the coffin, they each became king of the Ghost Zone.

More like half-king since they both share the position but eH.

Danny got the Crown of Fire, which because of his ice core turned into the Crown of Frost.

Meanwhile Vlad got the Ring of Rage, and became much quicker to anger than he was before.

Surprisingly enough, Danny was the one who landed the first hit.

The opposing nature of their cores, fire and ice, wasn't at all helping the planet when they both went all out, especially with the added power boosts.

They fought on the wasteland planet for a few years, then moved to space. To which something of surprise happened, Danny, with his ice core and the Crown of Frost connected to the moon, meanwhile Vlad, with his Ring of Rage, connected to the motherfucking sun.

Why is this important?

Well, because even though humanity was basically wiped out, the faith left behind on things they worshipped was still around.

So Danny and Vlad both got even more boosts of power from the lingering faiths left behind on the sun and moon. Basically becoming gods.

Not that Danny or Vlad cares, for Danny he just wants the earth back to how it was, and his family by extension. For Vlad, even though he has all of this power now, Madeline isn't here anymore, nor is Vladco and everything else he worked for.

So they just, continue fighting.

The Sun vs the Moon.

They held nothing back, using every inch of power in their cores and the power gained from lingering faith of the sun and moon and caused devastation if they were still on earth.

They fought for years and years. Until one day they just, stopped.

Be it because of how much power they used up, or they just felt emotionally exhausted, perhaps both. Danny just stayed on the Moon while Vlad just kinda, drifted, around the sun.

During this time, Clockwork saw this as the best time to yoink them over to the ghost zone, and properly appoint them as Kings of the Infinite Realms.

Of course they had to have the clothes to match, and with them having a connection to the sun and moon certain ghosts had a motif to go off of.

Danny was gifted a white robe that glowed a soft light, with the edges seeming to turn into frosty mist and the area around him is extremely cold.

Vlad was gifted a golden robe that glowed intensely, the entire thing seemed to be made of fire and the area around him extremely hot.

Opposites and stuff I guess.

No other ghost really wanted to fight them and take the Ghost King title, it's honestly far more trouble than it was worth and they didn't want the responsibilities.

So Danny and Vlad had to put aside their differences and rule together properly for each and every ghost in the zone.

Safe to say, neither of them were thrilled to be working with the other. (With Danny not thrilled to be working at all.)

Which is pretty in character with them being polar opposites.

During their off time, much to some ghost's chagrin, they typically leave outside of the zone to their respective domains, the moon and sun. Both of them feel a sense of comfort when near them.

Surprisingly after their battle and working together, Vlad feels calmer around Danny because of his overall aura, whereas Danny feels the never ending chill he experiences lighten up whenever he's near Vlad.

So they're on some sort of truce right now.

Everything is going fine, the zone finally stabilized with the extended presence of both its kings, the Ghost Zone now has some sense of law and order, and everything is just better over all than under Pariah Dark's absence and rule.

Until Danny gets summoned to some far off dimension, still in the appearance of a teenager because he never aged (neither did Vlad) and is absolutely stunned to see living, breathing humans.

It's been far, far too long since he's seen humans.

So there he is, still in his king robes (Which basically become his regular clothing), sitting in a magical summoning circle with cultists all around him preaching to him about he's going to enslave the world and how they off themselves up to be his servants.

Stunned beyond compare seeing people, and then out of the blue more people come out and beat up the cultists, with the last one begging for him to help them and then being knocked out.

A stray thought entered his mind, and he doesn't even care about the other people anymore. So he steps out of the circle, ignoring the others surprise, their battle ready stances, and their attempts at talking with him and just exits the building and flying out of the planet's atmosphere.

He then turned to look at the planet, and he started crying.

It was breath taking to see the earth living again, especially when from the moon all he ever saw was the wasteland that was once his.

Some random dude came up out of the atmosphere with him, with a determined expression on his face before that melted away into surprise and concern. Who then just floated there alongside him.

Meanwhile, over in the DP outer space:

Vlad is not at all amused when he felt the sudden void of the moon. So he went to check it out, seeing the moon deity gone from his place. Usually when they go to the Infinite Realms they are still aware of the others presence.

But now Vlad doesn't feel him at all.

So Vlad goes to find Clockwork, who should surely know if his opposite decided to go back in time.

Clockwork says he doesn't know where Danny is, but he does know he was summoned to another dimension. Vlad questions how Clockwork doesn't know where Danny is since he's the literal Master of Time.

Clockwork says that he oversees all the events and timelines in this dimension, the one where Danny was summoned to however? Noooot so much.

So now Vlad feels he has to look for his counterpart and is increasingly angry that he has to do so, but then Clockwork nudged him along to go and find him.

So now Vlad has to look for the wayward moon deity; while said deity is now talking with a bunch of actual people and is not at all hiding his wonder and amazement at seeing and talking to living people again.

(Clockwork when he knows exactly where, how, and why Danny got summoned, but isn't telling Vlad a single thing other than "You have to go find him." and acting as if he couldn't just pop into the timestream and ask the Linear Men if they've seen an immortal teenage moon deity in any timelines.)

[cherubispunk]

CHERUB (PART I) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: your uncle can’t pay for his weed, joel finds another form of payment.

a note from Lucy: SHEEE'S BAAACK! im sorry but someone had to do it. I took it into my own hands. Hate myself...but I love this. When fleabag said ‘I am a bad feminist’>>>.

playlist | alternate banner by THE cherub @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

wc: 3377 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! no outbreak (but Sarah still dies sorry), no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, porn with little plot, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his late 50s), Smut, dubcon, P in V sex (unprotected), Creampie, Cumplay, dom!Joel sub!reader dynamic, sex as payment for drugs, allusions to oral - m receiving, Fingering, ever so slight assplay, Choking, gagging (not on his d tho *sigh*), panty sniffing and stealing, Light Spanking, mentions of using drugs such as weed, alcohol consumption, Smoking, use of pet names (baby, cherub, angel, good girl...etc), Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, spitting, spit play. Some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile porn I have written thus far...with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

It was no delicate whisper, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt. 

He had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper.

He did not belong there.

He would not belong there. You’d not give him closure to live and breathe in intimate parts of your anatomy. The only place he would be from now on was between your legs. And maybe in your bed until the wee hours of the dry morning. 

That is where you would let him sit.

That is where he would stay. 

You hate him. You hate his face. You hate his voice. Hate his fucking temper. But worst of all— the cataclysmic catalyst in your small world of four bedroom walls—you hate how you don’t hate him at all. Not really. Your heart wouldn’t let you. It would break your own ribs clean in two to lurch from your flayed chest and into his palms. If only he’d open them. 

Joel Miller gnashed you between his teeth to let you splatter past his lips on the sun cracked dirt. He circled you like a wild cat. His pretty gazelle. Graceful, light on her feet. You felt the splintering distraction of him in the base of your skull. Dull and aching. Still there to rot into earth.

You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. 

Distraught with him, you contemplated desertion. Something akin to treason for his tyranny. Cowardice churning at your gut. The pleasure you would draw from the curling scowl of his coarse brows. The thin line you’d make of his lips and dark mist of hickory that would cloud his eye and better judgement. 

But then what? You soon learned  that if it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. Joel Miller was harrowing. 

Broken. Broken, broken, broken — Maimed, shattered, blistered to burst like waterlogged paint. He made you all, and nothing. Made you shrivel into your own shell at the phantom of his thought. Baring your teeth at the need to divulge in feeling deeper than satiation. 

—

You’d cycled back home, hair damp and lank with rare Austin rain. Slow circles of the pedals around a pivot, swerving gently from one side of the empty road to the other. Eyes ahead of you. It was like you were floating in a daze under the yellow saturation of the streetlamps. Past shabby housing estates back to the trailer park you called home. Tips from tonight tucked into the pocket of your apron, ready to be stored under the mattress in the moth bitten pillowcase. Ready to find your flight out of this town. 

You skidded to a halt in the pebble speckled dirt outside your trailer, brakes squealing in protest. Standing to lock up your bike to the railing by your uncles beat up, busted down truck. A heavy thunder cracked above, a swollen storm cloud rolling in to send the summer out on its departure with a bang. September was here. And the air smelled acidic with the promise of downpour. 

Glancing at the trailer next door, you came to realise your neighbour was in. Lights on, music rattling aluminium walls of his shabby home. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him as he caught your eye in his window. Watching, thumb swiping over his lower lip as he eyed you in your uniform. A stupid yellow dress and pinafore, scuffed mary janes, frilly white socks. Ketchup stains. Doe eyes glued to him, you saw a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat. His deep hickory eyes were dark black in this light, pupils blown to devour the colour.  

Before the heat licking up your cheeks could pull to your centre, you moved one foot in front of the other, crashing through the door. The TV was on, a barbaric film of screams drowned out the thunder outside, rattling in your ears. Jarring? No. The regular. Your uncle, ever the washed up cop out he was, was on his fifth beer, no doubt would send a nightcap of whiskey down his throat before lugging himself off to bed. The bottle hung limp in his drunken hand, loosely dangled over the armrest of the leather couch.

He did not spare you a glance. 

“I’m home.” You called out to him, waving out a hand in his direction. His sunken stoner eyes didn't drift from the box television in front of him. Merely garbled grunt, followed by a beer burp passed his lips. You sighed through your nose, teeth set on edge. “You had dinner?” 

Another grunt. One you took as ‘the fuck do you think?’

You sighed, “Okay, i’ll throw somethin’ in the oven, yeah?” This time he did not spare an answer. 

You took it as a blessing. Could have been worse. He could have struck you for being late, taking on overtime for Dee, the young mother who worked alongside you on friday evenings. You needed the money. Uncle Luke got laid off last month, turning up to the impound lot drunk, reeking of hard liquor and staggering around machinery. 

So you left it at that, disappeared to hide your money, counting out the bills into piles of ten. Just shy of ninety six dollars. All gathered and stuffed under your mattress. Next was dinner. Nothing much in the fridge, a box of frostbitten waffle fries, out of date in the back of the freezer. Or leftover pizza from the night before. Why not both. ‘Have a feast!’ you humoured yourself dryly. 

It was an hour or so later into the evening when your uncle finally spoke up, empty plate resting on his beer belly, another belch to punctuate the first words he said to you all evening.

“Do me a favour and drop by Joel's will ya, doll?” You sat up, looking at him from the lazyboy seat you perched in, feet kicking down from the coffee table. 

“Joel’s? Why?” He looked over to see your brow furrowed in question. 

“Usual dealer is outta town. Joel’s hookin’ me up with some in the meantime.” 

“Come on,” You sighed, tilting your head at him the way a parent would do with a child in pity, “I thought you were clean.”

“It’s just weed.” He snapped, voice gruff in his thick drawl, slurred. “Aint gonna fuckin’ kill me. But you might. Expensive brat.” 

The thought flickered across your mind to argue. Fight back. Tell him you were fighting tooth and nail for the rent due next month. But the bruise of his handprint and the simmering burn of his slap to your face the night before stopped your words dry in your throat. 

“Fine.” You sighed. 

And so, with heavy feet and a grudge in your tight chest, you ambled on over to the next door, knuckles rapping on his door three times quickly. 

Joel Miller opened the door with a puff of air out his nose, cigarette hanging loose from his lips. A barrel chested man in a tight wife beater and low slung dirty jeans, brow set in stone. The corner of his lip curled into a sneer of a smirk, taking no shame in the fact he was eyeing you head to toe. The devil down smirk. It made something disgusting tug at your insides, pool deeper in the thick of tension. 

“What can I do for you?” He asked in a drawl, crossing great oaks of arms over his chest. The neck of his tank let tease a smattering of salt and pepper hair over the top of his chest. Bristly, wiry. You ignored the urge to feel it catch in your nails. Do the same with the scruff, scant over his jaw. The same gradient. Just as coarse. 

“Um,” You eyes dropped from their ogling to the step your feet were planted on, head hung with them, “Uncle Luke said you had somethin’ for ‘im.” You mumbled after clearing your throat. 

“I do.” He nodded, pinching his cig between his thick thumb and forefinger, taking a drag and parting it with his lips. He squinted as he exhaled, the stench of the cigarette catching bitter in your nose. “He sent you over here to get it? A sweet lil’ thing like you.” 

You nodded hesitantly, still not daring to look at the man in front of you. Above you. He chuckled inwardly at your display of subservience, cock twitching behind the zipper and denim of his jeans. “Look’t ya.” He mused, tossing his dying cigarette onto the gravel, hooking his tobacco stained fingers under your chin to lift it. While your head tilted up at his touch, your eyes strained to stay on the floor. He watched as the stretch of your neck struggled to accommodate a nervous swallow, skin rippling deliciously under his hold. “Lil’ angel aint ya?” He thumbed your head to the side, eyes relishing in the sight of more skin, the wash of yellow light over your profile. “A Cherub.”  Cherub. That’s what he named you. His little Cherub who was defiled and taken in a heated, frantic assembly of limbs. Pulled to fire at hell's mouth. Joel Miller's mouth.

Still you looked down. “Look at me, Cherub.” And with a heavy sigh you did. That was what was so easy about Joel. It took nothing to obey. Nothing to give in and keel over at his side. “That's better.” He mumbled under his breath, watching the rise of your chest. You could feel the pert tips of your breasts pebble at the meeting of his eyes, mixed with his touch. How delicate it was now. How deranged it would be later. “Come on in…Cherub.” He practically crooned the pet name, stepping aside. 

You passed the threshold, a mistake for the best and words parts of you. Because stepping across that line was the damning event in your experience of Joel Miller. Pandora’s box had been opened, left to decay in the woods somewhere as evil poured guilt free from it.

He rummaged around for a second, pulling a clear plastic ziplock bag from a duffel in the corner, dangling it in front of your face. A dirt green, clustered in form. You reached to take it, but he snatched it back with a cruel smile, making the walls of your stomach curl in dread, jaw clamp shut. 

“Luke’s gotta pay up, first. He give you money for me?” You shook your head. His eyes clouded darker.  “No?” He raised an amused brow, “How you gonna pay for it, Cherub?” 

You're stumped. “I– I…” Your voice died in your throat. But Joel can seemingly peer inside you to your own mind, part it like a page of a book or your own legs. 

“I don’t want your money, baby.” 

“Woulda been mine, anyway.” You sigh. And he narrows his eyes at you, tutting in disappointment. 

“I can think ’f one thing that’ll make it up to me.”

And that's how you ended up here. His thick, intruding fingers hooking into your mouth, unhinging your jaw as he speared you on his cock. Everything about him was larger than life. Even the way he breathed was domineering. Fucking you with flared nostrils that gave way to a billowing a breath. The other hand at your neck, revelling at the feeling of your pulse hammering under his splayed palm. Worming your way though cracks in his thick ribs while took you.

He had folded you in half, pressed the knobbles of your knees up to the sides of your head as tears ran thick, hot and slow down your temples. He made it hurt. But you loved it. Needed him to evaporate into air so you inhale him. Devour him. 

He grunted, watching in furrowed brow amusement while his thumb pressed into the soft flesh under your jaw, middle and forefinger coated in your slick form earlier and now your own saliva. 

It was a primal image. One some may find disgusting. To see him bent over you and ravaging your cunt raw. Bleeding you dry of a semblance of sanity. It was so easy when the tip of his hot, angry cock nipped at the mouth of your cervix with vigour like that. His hand is at your throat, pressing a purple bruise into your flesh over the old one made by another man. For you to marvel at later when he once again staggers from bed to refresh himself with a cool beer, clutching the ache that curled at the base of his spine. 

In his eyes, you needed a big god. A man to keep you to yourself. Never have you stray. Ground you with the slamming of his pelvis into your hips. Legs parted for him to eye the very core of you. The seam he would part with two fingers, hot, needly, wet for him. Aching and pinching and shuddering around his digits, tongue, dick. Letting him invade you like the good girl he told you you were, crooning into your ear with hot damp breaths. 

Joel dredged up an ache of humanity in you that felt numb so long before. Lay dormant in the chasm of your stomach. Swallowed like a peach pit to choke on later. After the sin had dried like the sweat on your skin.

“Fucking easy, ain’t ya, Cherub.” He would say as he penetrated your walls, invaded your mouth with his fingers. His lips draw open mouthed, wet kisses to the delicate column of your throat, down the bone between your breasts. Then he leans back, watching intently as his hips slow to grind, dragging the slick of your walls to drench the base of his cock. Ready for you to take down your throat later if he wished to meld you into that position. A hand let free the grip on your throat, instead watched with fascination as he slapped your tit, took the swell of it in his palm, cupping it, tugging at your pearled nipple. “Gonna take all of it for me, Cherub.” 

You garbled out a yes, a cry of submission to him. Before, Joel never felt the acidic aftertaste of guilt for being selfish. Since he lost Sarah, he took it upon himself to have what he wanted and when he wanted it, without a damn for the rest of humanity.

The only time he felt a shred of remorse was when he stole you; Hid you away from the warm, nurturing touch of others' more loving, less brutal hands. But you were his Cherub. All that was pretty a beautiful and to be desired in the world.

With his lip between his teeth, his thumb swiped tight circles over your swollen clit, slick aiding him in the fluidity of his strokes, heavy balls drizzled in your arousal as they slap wetly against your ass. A nod and his fingers slip further into your mouth, opening your jaw wider to peer inside. A glob of his spit drooled past his lips, splattering thick and warm upon your clit. It slid down to your entrance, where he punctures moans out of you, shaft stretching you, fucking you out, and thrusting with the intent to break you. You can feel the curve of it, the vein that runs steady on the underside of it. Heavy, full. You remember the slap it sounded out when you reached to pull it free. Before he parted your legs wide and sheathed himself in your pussy with one swift wane of his hips.

Joel smiles when you sob and break down for him, pull back a layer for him to slip into you. The walls of you drag him down into a grounding. A centre of a universe. Gravity strong enough to implode, create dark matter, compress tightly into a black hole. The centre of his universe. 

“Does my baby want it?” He crooned, and you yelped a yes, strangled by his being. The scent of him clinging to you, your sex. It gnarled at your skin. Scratched marks into flesh. “Does she want to come for me?” 

You didn't have to nod, he made you with his grip on your jaw. It was going to be your answer anyway. “Want you to say it for me too, Cherub.” 

“Yea, Joel!” You yelp, voice shrill, and cracked like the callus on the heel of his hand. “Yes!” 

He grins, wicked and wrapped with the inter to tear you apart from the inside with the jackhammering of his cock inside you, The delicious, toe curling numbness of it inside you. 

“Come on, Cherub, sing f’me.” 

“Yes-” It's a shriek, a quick, frenzied shriek. One that filled the hollow of your chest and then deflated it. “Yes! Please, please, please- Please!” 

Your begging melts in his ears, the sight of eyes rolled back, mouth open for him. And he needs to feel, reaching between where the two of you join with your own hand. The base of his cock now between your middle and ring fingers, his length swiping your fingers in combined precum and slick as he bucks his hips violently. The headboard shakes and trembles beneath his frantic movement. And he presses the heel of your hand into your clit, having you seeing stars. Crying to the heavens you fell from. 

His little Cherub. Plush skin and plump curves for his teeth to sink into and mark his territory. Whenever he may please now. 

“Come.” 

And you do, screaming his name to him as a numb weight fills the pit of your core, has your pussy pulsing in waves, ebbs and flows. It sucks him deeper, a lew squelch gaining his attention when his lower abdomen and balls tighten. He lets out a strangled groan, filling you with one final push upon your cervix. 

It has you gasping for air, chest heaving when he looks down between you, the white sticky ooze of his come seeping from your walls, softening cock still sheathed inside of you. Not ready to pull from the warmth your cunt hugs him with. 

“That’s it, angel, down you come.” He coos, before sifting his hips, leaving you to whine as your gaping hole fluttered furiously around nothing.  

He stands, pulls his jeans on, fly still undone, belt buckle loose and clinking at his sides. He swipes your underwear from the scattering of your clothes over the musty carpet, bringing it to his nose to inhale. “Part of the payment.” He mumbles, not that you’re listening, mind still swimming in its pool of oxytocin. And he slips the lace into his jean pocket, baby pink peeking out from denim. 

“Better get back, Cherub.” Joel said plainly, fingers dancing over your used hole, as cum dribbles gluttonously from it, down your crack to your puckered asshole. He thumbs it gently and you squeal, squirming away. His hand clamps down upon your thigh, dragging you back down the mattress to his unyielding touch. 

“Don’t be ungrateful now.” He growls, collecting the creamy spend with two fingers, scooping it back inside you. Your body jolts from the intrusion, but gathers itself again and desire swims low in the swell of your belly. “Want it all in ya’. Fillin’ you nice and good for me, Cherub. There we are, that’s it.” He smiles, eyes unmoving from your cunt as his fingers disappear inside and stretch it out, scissoring you to overstimulation. “Maybe one day i’ll get to use this one too…” And you feel his thumb once more at your butt, adding the smallest tease of pressure.

Joel pulled back, clapping a hand down on the plush, malleable skin of your thigh. 

“Up ‘n out, Cherub, ‘fore your uncle gets suspicious.” 

You know Uncle Luke won’t know any different. He’s passed out on the sofa when you get in, legs trembling with an ache weighing the marrow of your bones. You shut the door with your back and a shaking huff, tossing the weed onto the coffee table, retiring to your room, sobbing to nothing and no one but your grimy pillow, licking your wounds like the wounded bitch you had now become.

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

My Masterlist

I realized I should probably make this so ppl can find my good posts

X = nsfw

Ramblings:

I need to impregnate Swiss X

Aeth blows dew (gender affirming edition) X

t4t dewther double sided dildo X

Swighs (swiss thighs) X

Phantom gets high and gets railed X

Mist/Rain gill play X

Dew's tattoos

Phantom's spit kink X

Gills/heartbeat X

Size king rain X

Rain's lipstick X

Mist/ Dew gill play X

Fire ghoul pussy X

Terzo's partner Meg

T4T swissrora panty stuffing X

Moth Quints

Fics/ficlets:

Aurora pegs phantom (silly) X

Devastating dewther angst

Playing Doctor (medfet dewther) X

Playing Doctor part 2 (Aether/the whole pack) X

Bodysuit (Swisstom) X

In Which Terzo (Almost) Regrets His Marriage

Dying Star

Wet and Messy X

Swissrora vibrating panties X

Vet Visit X

Art:

Switties!!!!!!!!! X

Phantom's tummy hurts :(

Sleepy phantom sketch

Sleepy phantom finished piece

Chain/Lake bass lessons X

Forcemasc phantom sketch X

Delta/Mist sketch X

Goth dew/punk aether sketch

[mellows-arts]

Welcome to..

Apotheosisverse!

First off, a few warnings this place will contain mature themes(16+) if you don't likes the following things please don't even bother being here, move on and don't make a fuss about it: Violence, blood, slight NSFW, angst, deaths, slavery, abuse

Buut will also contain: adventure, romance, occasionally fluff, and lots of ocs. Also lots of skeles, monsters and everything xD

Also note not all the art belongs to me but the ocs are so yea-

This place is an apocalyptic AU/verse where a mysterious virus is slowly taking over and destroying worlds, homes, hopes and dreams some places have lost everything to the threat leaving nothing but a few survivors to none, some other places don't even know the existence of the virus and is all thanks to a crew led by Dream, they are responsible on trying their best to keep the peace and to stop the virus from causing more devastation the virus behaves very differently in each word it touches so is is very difficult to find a cure to stop it..

[Image on hos the virus works coming soon]

For now let's meet the main crew!

Daylight: The one who sends the crew to dangerous missions either outside or inside to investigate dangerous sectors of the cities to keep the peace he doesn't smile much

Mist: usually calm and collected he's the one who leads the missions most of the time not only outside but inside the city as well being the only one to survive the virus with his brother he is sometimes protective of him he doesn't really know how to talk to people outside work however.. he is quite shy.

Shira: Usually the second in comand agile, friendly, loyal but quite a bit hot-headed at times she gets along with most of the crew she lost her arm and a small shunk of her soul on a fight and constantly has phantom pains she hates looking at it or others mentioning it Sugarbee usually helps her whenever they need to fix the arm.

Ves: she is usually sent on missions inside the city a bit quiet and impulsive, but always follows orders to the leter gets along well with Shira, she is often confused as a guy but she doesn't really care.

Kuru: A demon who saved Ves from human hunters on her once home and now is resident on her soul keeping her alive usually the voice of reason whenever they are on missions.

Cipher: The very first one to loose his home to the virus and is constantly looking for the one responsible for it workaholic, he is the only one known to survive the strike from the virus leaving his arm permanently damaged

Artik: Him and Mist where the only ones to survive when their home was destroyed by the virus. He is very mischievous and loves to mess around with others just to get them to smile after what they've been trough but he finds it difficult to take care of himself so his brother is constantly nagging him about it. He also gets in trouble a lot for not following orders in missions sometimes.(Flake and him are best friends)

Sugarbee: A sentient AI robot built by Cypher using what he could save from his home to help detect any viruses or issues outside or inside the omega City, he is flirty, loves to mock and he is a very good singer usually the one in charge of tech and weapons

Hohenheim: Shy, anxious but always ready for whatever they throw at him. hugee pacifist and only fights when he needs to he is the healer of the group and extremely good at archery he believes everyone's good deep down.

Gunner: one of the most recent ones to have lost his home and joined right after out of revenge for his home grumpy, mean to the crew, barely smiles and of course a bit lazy he only tolerates Shira and Hohenheim.

Skitz: He is often lost in thought, tends to space out and stare up at the sky, doesn't smile much, he is quick to anger but also quick to cry. Struggles to make friends/connections and has issues talking about himself or where he's from. Has a lot of emotional baggage but refuses to tell anyone, but those that get close to him and even that is rare. He wants to do good things but has abad record of messing things up. Only swears on rare occasions. he can also eat five times his body weight.

Now that you've met the main crew, let's meet the others and their place in their homes!

There's this place called omega city Is a huge void-like world that are the homes of our Guardians Ying and yang! They are the only ones who can led access to this place.

Ying:

Yang:

They make sure to accommodate all beings who have lost their homes to the virus here and most live happily in peace..but you cant keep the peace everywhere...This place has many flaws, from anarchy between humans and monsters to mafia, monster facilities, to dense forests with tribes and dangers in every corner.. there's a little bit of everything in this place!

And now to show you where everyone lives! There's many places scared outside the main city to explore!

[Images of the city layout coming soon]

⚙️The Outcodes⚙️

These are people who want to live as much of a normal life possible in the city center after the many events that have happened to them These peeps mostly live in peace with one another and rarely even fight with some having homes, jobs, etc but not everything is 100% peace..

Flake: Extremely anxious, insecure but very kind and generous, he always tries his best on whatever is thrown at him even tho he sometimes panics he sometimes trains with Artik with his ice magic to defend himself better he is also sometimes clumsy (he is in a very toxic relationship with Jiro)

Simon(parasite): Outgoing, yet anxious when meeting new people this parasite in disguise is very well known and liked because of his career as a streamer he also owns his own brand of clothing. Doesn't go outside much but is very well recognized when he does

Jiro(parasite): only there to cause a bit of chaos and eat the souls of lost citizens around the city doesn't matter the species he can paralyzed his victims using a toxin on the tip of his fingers one smal scratch and you are done for he is very flirty, manipulative, controlling, abusive and extremely dangerous(he is in a current relationship with Flake)

Kai: He was a s*x slave since he was very young that is all he knew but years later humans discovered he was the last of his kind after thue to over hunting so he was put for exhibition and all that and pay lots of money to sleep with then till the day he snapped and murdered everyone in sight before disappearing. He is adventurous yet timid with people. Has a hard time trusting others but gets attached easily. He was a bit of a sarcastic tone at times with people he doesn't know well and only loosens up when someone proves they're able to be trusted. Can be over protective and only wants to find someone he can truly trust.He is also very sex repulsed..yet craves it.

Opal:

♠️♥️Mafia alley♣️♦️

This place is what they call the wealthy moster section of the void here mosters rule these area this place is mostly crime driven and the place with most fancy restaurants, bars and clubs there are many dangers and crimes occurring here from time to time..

[Image coming soon but for now their names]

Leonard Maximilian

Lazarus

Kuro

Mint

🏢⛓️The labs and facilities⛓️🏢

This is a place where mostly humans live and the few monsters that are here are slaves for the wealthy humans is either of this section made in breeding factories and sold to serve the humans who live there. Most of the monsters live in facilities and know very little about the outside.

Brax' info is on his ref sheet-

Ivoris

Shade(lamia)

Stitches(parasite)

🪵🌳The woods🌳🪵

This place is one of the biggest in this place connecting all around the the void/world where tribes and much simpler people live in and where most of the organic food grows to be distributed across but there's also many dangers on these parts to tribes feral monsters to dangerous entities! Humans sometimes will come here to hunt down creatures for pleasure or trophies and such but not all of them come out alive to tell the tale.

Shin: Has been alive for thousands and has been along side Ying and Yang longer than anyone, this fox spirit takes care of the forests keeping humans away as best he can he is quite respected by the tribes and most who live in the woods he is very cunning and sneaky being able to outsmart hunters all the time by causing illusions.

Patches: A strange doll-like creature who feeds on human flesh and souls he is always alone thue his fear of hurting and scaring others and will usually starve himself just so he doesn't hurt people as often or until he looses himself to hunger will sometimes observe villages from a distance and learn stuff with his smaller from to not attract unwanted attention.

Hunter:

Gaia:

Xavier:

Orias:

And now for the extras...the bitties!

And now that you've met everyone inside the omega city..let's meet the ones outside!

.

.

.

❌️⚠️The threats⚠️ ❌️

There are many threats that want to find, harm, and destroy the omega city Ying and yang are very sought after by the people who want to do harm since they are the key to even get there but most of the threats are taken care of...but for how long?

[Note: I don't have all the references yet so please bear with me-]

Dust!Ink(Scape):

ㄅɬЯⅰк∑Я: it is believed to be the cause of the virus, but they aren't 100% sure of it they are always around with two giant wolves who destroy and eat the souls of innocents his face remains a mystery to the crew and are always actively trying to catch him but to no avail..

And that's about it for now! Hope you enjoy it here. Asks are always open for well- asks, interactions, ships and roleplay!

[This post will update over time not all the info will be present for the time being please do be patient ;; thank you for reading!]

Last update: 9-Jul-24

[denimbex1986]

'****

Everyone I have talked to about All of Us Strangers has a different moment that touched us deeply, depending on our backgrounds, families, losses, and loves. Andrew Haigh’s romantic drama/ghost story trawls the viewer’s inner worlds, moving through urban loneliness, sexual identity, parenthood, grief and its attendant wounds.

Andrew Scott is Adam, a 40-something single gay man living in a cavernous, seemingly half-vacated tower block in the grey mists of London. He has, we learn, suffered a catastrophic loss in his youth: when he was 12, both of his parents were killed in a car crash. Downstairs, he meets Harry (Paul Mescal), a new neighbour, younger, impishly flirtatious and seemingly equally alone. The pair fall into a love affair, but their relationship is plagued by the loss Adam has suffered: despair suffuses the film, informing its dull blue daylight and its sideways glances.

It’s within this strangely empty world (a visual gambit that perfectly reflects Adam’s lonely inner state) that the protagonist begins to dream of – or perhaps occupy – a land of ghosts. Within it, Adam can access his parents and their home, frozen in aspic in the 1980s when they died. His adult self – now older than his own parents – can pull up a chair and have a cup of coffee with them. Played with a quaint charm by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, the pair learn about their son.

They talk to him about how he coped with their loss, what kind of person he’s become, his sexuality and its social acceptance today. It’s validating, and heartbreaking, and as anyone who has lost a loved one can attest, the kind of dream that no bereaved person wants to wake up from. But wake up he must: one day, Adam tries to bring Harry to meet his parents, and the phantoms begin to fray at the edges.

The performances are pivotal here. Andrew Scott veils Adam’s anguish behind a shrugging diffidence. Paul Mescal, meanwhile, provides tenderness and levity, though Harry is battling his own demons. Less believable is a final act twist that feels contrived and unnecessary.

Still, even with some narrative flaws, All of Us Strangers is overwhelmingly powerful, a devastating exploration of love’s finite – and infinite – nature.'

[lizardlover-skylarglamrock]

☆Phantom Mist☆

♡ Due to her being programmed to be a haunter, she's not allowed around children because she might accidentally scare them... but, being an eight foot tall animatronic, even adults can get skittish around you. She tries her best not to take the nervousness personally... but it's hard sometimes.

♡ The first time she met Ghost, she felt a spark. It only grew when he was awkward and clumsy around her... it might've embarrassed him, but she found it adorable.

♡ The days down in the tunnels were hard on her... not knowing why they were down there in the first place was the first time her and her partner were truly scared.

♡ One thing she enjoys more than performing, is listening to her lover sing. She melts at his voice every time, no matter what song it is.

♡ She and Ghost dancing... they just whisk each other away from everything going on around them and gracefully move into their own world until the song's over. It feels... magical. And she adores every moment of it.

♡ She and Skylar are very close best friends that do nearly everything together... in fact, the wolf was the first one Phantom told about her crush on Ghost.

♡ She's very fond of Gregory, and is still surprised whenever he hugs her... but she's also happy he isn't afraid of her.

♡ She enjoys every moment she gets with her family, now... especially when it was so hard being lost all those years.

♡ There's no doubt she still loves her brother... she'd be devastated if anything were to happen to him, and she hopes he knows that.

♡ She wants only the best for her family, and she would do whatever it takes to give them that.

[meiakrp]

It’s 0900 hours when JINX calls all agents to the training hall. 

“Listen up! In preparation for a mission coming up, some things are going to change. As I’m sure you’ve noticed already, the rank rules have been tweaked and many of you have risen one rank.” She begins, hands on her hips as she over looks the crowd of agents. 

Beside her stands SOL and on the other side is LERISSA. All three head agents look rather stern. 

“We experienced a devastating loss recently and I’m sure many of you are still reeling from that.” She taps her wrist, a holographic showing the list of teams appears behind her. “I wish we could take a longer breather, but we have no time to continue sitting on our asses.” 

“Behind me you see the current line up for the teams. With the recent rank ups, this is going to change.” 

The names shift around, fading in and out, before settling in a new order.

“For the upcoming mission, and until otherwise told, the teams will be set up like this. The original meaning for each team has been tossed out for the time being.” JINX takes a step back as she speaks, revealing the list for everyone to see. 

“If anything about this confuses you, feel free to discuss it with any of us.” SOL adds, smiling at the crowd of agents. 

“Everything as we know it is going to change soon. But we are going to continue standing strong.” LERISSA says, her voice firm. Confident. 

“Humanity will not stop fighting back just yet, and we are the first line to keeping everyone alive.” JINX holds up her fists and bumps them together in front of her chest before raising both arms to the sky. “MEIA is strong!” 

NEW TEAM ORDER 

As said in the post most of the teams no longer have the same builds as before. These will be the teams going forward. The team page will be updated to reflect this soon. Leaders are bolded. 

RAVEN (baby team): sebastian, sun, moon, shadow, puresnow

SPARROW (senior team): helios, ivy, aether, eirene, epsilon

FINCH : silk, phantom, star, wisp, lucifer

FALCON : nano, zer0, sena, harlequin, eraser

CROW (tech team): luna, mist, remy, joker, artemis

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH3

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 3: Resurrection Overture (III)

Qi Leren stood in front of the door that had once made him beyond salvation.

After the huge stone door, Maria’s sword was held high and the black dragon was crucified. Seven days ago, there was a former friend sitting on the throne that belonged to the Pope, smiling at him.

Now that I think about it, I still feel like I had a nightmare.

Worried that there was some unknown danger inside, Qi Leren removed "Devil Etiquette", changed it to the perception skill "Rain-Day Clothing", put his hand on the stone door, and pushed it gently. The stone door opened almost automatically before his eyes.

Maria and the black dragon were still there, but the metal sword in Maria’s hands had ceased to exist. Qi Leren's eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and the dragged blood seemed to bring back the scene before his death.

He took a step and wanted to go there, but the first step made this dead and broken church glow with incredible changes—

The statue of Maria exuded bright light, and countless cracks spread from its head. Qi Leren stared at this horrible scene and the cracks became more and more dense, spreading from Maria to the immortal body of the black dragon. The two statues with a height of more than ten meters were destroyed in an instant by time, turning into countless fragments and dust that poured down, rushing to the earth like waterfalls!

The entire site of the Vatican collapsed in a frantic tremor.

During this collapse, Qi Leren, who had been knocked down by the shock wave, looked towards the Maria.

Maria's phantom stood there, holding an object that seemed to be a scepter in both hands and coming towards him.

The ground shook so much that Qi Leren couldn't stand up at all, but Maria's phantom came to him as if on flat ground and handed the thing in her hand to him: "Please, bring this to the Prophet, you must give it to him personally."

"Who is the Prophet? Where is he?" Qi Leren asked, confused.

"He is in the judge’s seat of the Twilight Township. If you meet Ning Zhou, don't let Ning Zhou touch this thing and don't let him see it," Maria said.

Qi Leren looked down at what Maria gave him and held out his hand. The name of this item was [Scepter of Hell], which was made of metal, heavy and dangerous. There was a huge groove at the top of the scepter and the gem originally embedded in it had disappeared, leaving only this metal scepter with evil power. This was an extremely powerful and fearful demon item, which can even pollute the power of faith.

"I understand, I will give it to the Prophet." Qi Leren understood that the matter was important, so he put away this scepter and solemnly agreed.

"Thank you." Maria smiled, leaned over Qi Leren, and left a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The gentle kiss was like the blessing of God. Countless golden and silvery spots spread from Maria and she began to become blurred. However, these spots rushed into Qi Leren's body and he suddenly felt himself immersed as if in a hot spring. The warm energy soothed his stiff and tired body, injecting vitality and vigor into him again.

Indulged in this comfortable power, Qi Leren forgot where he was until an angry roar came from above: "How dare you! Maria! Again and again you have... I will not let you go!"

The Witch of Desperation, who found the body of the Devastator destroyed, roared. Storm clouds condensed with thunder and lightning and the terrible demon energy brewed the power of death. Countless bats came at them!

Maria nodded to Qi Leren languidly: "Good boy, go, remember my words."

Saying this, a bright white light rose from Qi Leren's feet, pierced through the dark clouds in the sky, and wrapped around Qi Leren to fly him towards the distant land of dusk.

In this dazzling silvery white light, Qi Leren felt his body float uncontrollably just like in the dream before, rising higher and higher, and the white world was full of magnificent and majestic vitality, solemn and quiet. Wrapped in the holy light, he flew in the sky like a gliding bird, moving forward in a pure white.

Suddenly an ethereal music sounded ahead. Qi Leren woke up from his dreamy state and looked in the direction of the music.

Countless little angels with flowers and musical instruments in their hands flew out of a magnificent gate, joyfully spreading petals and playing graceful music. That gate seemed to be the door to Eden. From the open gate, he could see a garden full of flowers. Angels holding musical instruments were playing the piano and singing songs by the fountain, singing praises to Father God.

A petite young female angel came out of the garden and her feet lightly landed on the clouds, smiling at Qi Leren.

Qi Leren tried to see her face clearly, but she seemed to be a light-year away from him.

"I am the Prophet," she said. "Give it to me."

Qi Leren's eyes were empty and that person's voice seemed to be God's will, which made him want to obey her orders involuntarily.

Give the Scepter of Hell to the Prophet, and she is the Prophet... This was firmly rooted in his mind.

Qi Leren took the Scepter of Hell in his hand without thinking.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly woke up. How could he believe that this unknown person was the Prophet?! This brainwashing power was simply terrible! He almost handed over this thing!

"Hmm?" The angel on the other side let out a confused hum as the projection of an archangel emerged behind Qi Leren, holding a rapier to cut the heavenly gate.

In a blaze of holy light, the world was silently torn apart and all the dreamy things in front of him disappeared in an instant.

Under the curious gaze of hundreds of millions of human beings and demons, this white holy light that shone in an arc across the sky paused for a moment in a cloud of black mist, then pierced the darkness and continued to fly towards the Village of Dusk on the eastern coast.

In the garden of Dawn.

"An unexpected miss. It’s not enough to use the avatar projection in front of him, I was too hasty," the petite woman sighed.

"You can't stop using the field’s power. After all, it’s the last of the Holy Nun’s power," the man taking a slow sip of wine said lightly.

"But to use ‘Utopia’, it will be weakened after being pierced by that holy light, it’ll do more harm than good. Forget it. Anyway, I already know that thing’s whereabouts, I’ll just ask others to keep it for the time being," the woman said and smiled again. "But that child you like is quite vigilant."

The red wine in the goblet was swirled gently, its thick red color like blood.

"People with secrets will always be more vigilant. I really wonder how many secrets he still hides."

The Village of Dusk on the east coast was shrouded in the afterglow of sunset all year round.

On the long coastline, Chen Baiqi was smoking on the seawall and her sister Sissi was catching crabs. Suddenly, she found a shiny stone. She screamed with surprise and took the stone to Chen Baiqi: "This is beautiful, I want to show it to Xiaozhi!"

Chen Baiqi glanced at the stone, but it was only a rare sea stone. She rubbed her sister's hair: "Okay."

"But I haven't seen Xiaozhi for a long time." Sissi was worried about her little friend. "Is it the Prophet who won't let him out?"

"Maybe," Chen Baiqi replied absently, full of melancholy. "We’ll go home in ten minutes and go to the Undead Island in the afternoon."

Sissi cocked her head and suddenly realized: "Is it Qi Leren’s seventh day?"

Chen Baiqi responded gently and let out a sigh.

The little girl who didn't know her sister's worries kicked the sand under her feet and muttered, "Why did he die?"

"People will always die," Chen Baiqi said lightly.

Sissi felt her sister's heavy heart and took her arm obediently. She was well protected by Chen Baiqi, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. She had met many of Chen Baiqi's customers. Those young men and women came to her store to buy what they needed. Some of them came very often while others came rarely, but gradually these people disappeared.

Those who had disappeared had never returned again. There would always be new faces coming and disappearing like those people.

Sissi remembered that when she was a little girl, a beautiful little sister always brought her delicious candy which was wrapped in colorful cellophane, and each one was sweet. She loved the candy brought by that little sister. Every time, she had collected these beautiful candy wrappers and put them in a small tin box until she had saved a whole box.

Then one day, when she saw the tin box, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen the little sister for a long time. She asked Chen Baiqi several times, and Chen Baiqi was silent for a long time, saying that she would help her find out.

She happily went back to her room, folded a string of paper cranes with those cellophanes, and prepared to give it to the little sister.

But in the end, she could only give the folded paper cranes to her tombstone.

On the Undead Island, which was just outside the Village of Dusk, the warm sunlight had illuminated her tombstone with her name on it and the days she had lived. There were only two simple lines that summarized a person's short life.

She had felt that she wasn’t very sad, but at the thought that she would never eat that delicious candy again, she had burst into tears.

Later, she learned where to buy this delicious candy that tasted sweet, but it wasn't from that little sister, so she didn't like it anymore.

She thought that, in fact, she didn't like that kind of candy very much, she just missed the little sister.

It was a carefree little girl who taught her the meaning of death for the first time.

"Jiejie*, you seem to have liked him very much?" Sissi asked.

*{E/N: “older sister”}

Chen Baiqi smoked a cigarette and the smoke blew away in the sea breeze: "Because a friend of mine likes him very much."

"How much did you like him?" Siss smiled and asked, "Does jiejie like me so much?"

Chen Baiqi looked at her sister's innocent face, smiled, and kissed her face: "Maybe I liked him more than jiejie likes you."

Sissi gave a "wow": "You must’ve liked him very much."

However, Sissi was a little sad again: "How sad will your friend be now that he’s dead?"

Chen Baiqi could not speak and her hand holding the cigarette was shaking. There was a little bit of sweet pain in the sour despair; even if it was just a bystander like her, she was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of her life. On that rainy day, Ning Zhou, who had gone to the Holy City with Qi Leren, suddenly returned to the Village of Dusk and knocked on her door. She was puzzled, but was shocked by Ning Zhou's calm dead eyes. Ning Zhou had braved the heavy rain and told her what had happened. Then, despite her dissuasion, he resolutely went to Neverland. He didn't even know whether he could survive the torture of the spiritual enchanment, or if it would leave him sleeping in the cold tundra forever.

Fortunately, Ning Zhou's tombstone had yet to appear on the Undead Island. It seemed that he had successfully arrived at his soul’s former hometown, bid farewell to it, and went to a world full of thorns and sufferings.

Thinking this, she suddenly heard Sissi let out a loud scream. Chen Baiqi raised her head and looked at the sky in astonishment—in the far west, there was a bright light streaking across the sky, magnificent, holy, and unparalleled, and all the places it passed were the projections of heaven. It stopped over the Village of Dusk and turned into a vertical beam of light.

A huge projection of an archangel appeared in the void, behind which countless wings danced slowly in the setting sun, almost covering the sunset. The wings were dying, like a white rain, and the projection of the archangel was getting weaker and weaker. He put his hands on his chest, bowed toward the distance, and disappeared into the golden red sunset.

Sissi was stunned. After being shocked, Chen Baiqi’s mind suddenly raised countless thoughts: Which of the Holy See's field-level masters had come to Dusk? The place of arrival also happened to be in the spot where the Prophet had landed at dusk... No, it should be just residual energy. If it was really a field-level master, they would not reveal such a big movement at all. And the Court’s enchantment has not been alarmed... Who was it?

"Sissi, go home, I'll check it out and I'll be right back," Chen Baiqi said, and inserted a card into her card slot. A projected book turned to a certain page in her hand. A white unicorn appeared beside her and she turned around to mount the horse. The winged unicorn flew in the air to the place where the projection of the archangel had landed.

She arrived at her destination in less than half a minute due to the short distance. On the rolling sea waves of the beach, a confused figure was looking in all directions at a loss. Seeing Chen Baiqi approach, he waved at her in surprise and ran quickly to her.

Chen Baiqi's cigarette butt fell to the ground, and shock and joy were intertwined. She couldn't wait to express her incredible mood with 10,000 swear words: "Shit Qi Leren, aren't you fucking dead?!”

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[heli0s-writes]

all in the weight (gentle, we fall)

Summary: A stretched night in Wakanda with you, Bucky, and the truth.

A/N: Smut, angst, & soft White Wolf Bucky. 1.8k words.

Written for @the-omni-princess​‘s 1k writing challenge! Congratulations again and thank you so much for hosting!  My prompt was: “The real lover is the man who can thrill you just by touching your head or smiling into your eyes — or just by staring into space.” -Marilyn Monroe

The title is a lyric from Justin Nozuka’s All I Need.

It’s these moments that enchant you the most. When your heart quivers, all pumped full-- one single hair of a stretch away from bursting, blood rushing too hard and fast, chest unwilling to compromise with the swell.

Galvanized by him.

His warm right hand and fingertips. His pulse steadying itself in measured breaths. His pretty, pretty, eyes, staring into some unknown expanse.

It's in these moments-- when he’s suspended, weightless and floating with his back against the bed, lost in the sweet drift of a comedown-- that you meet the truth.

Grey-blue casts over his features, allowing you only slivers of piercing eyelashes, cuts of his cheek’s sharp terrain, that blessed dip in his chin, a reprieve. Haloed in a fleeting corona when the light surfaces again and smatters through the curtain, his long shadow falls on you, touched with quiet. You trace his outline with a finger, igniting the silver streak of his body. It stirs him back to you.

“Yes, lover?”

Lover. What a word.

Bucky smiles, lips still slick with impatient kisses, licked just on this side of red and raw. Hungry again and changing course, curving into the way you reflexively press against him. A roguish, lingering look before he asks,

“What do you want of me?”

Your palm pursues a dip of muscle, marble carved into man, unmade and made again at long last. 

“What will you give me?”

A quick and lambent glance of that tepid ocean as he ponders. Playful tides lap each other in delay, lap your feet and ankles, seafoam mist cool and sweet just like him.

“Everything.”

Tidal waves crash upon his admission. Electricity and salt and moonlight breaking on their crests, moment turning quick and hot. Bucky moves into a better position, rocking the mat beneath as he shifts, one leg hooking over you, forearm skimming down your sternum. The two of you slick in a sheen of sweat, skin gliding over skin.

You laugh, a sharp breath of disbelief sheltering unspoken joy, hand swatting uselessly at his head.

“Can’t help it. Want you to have it all,” hastened breath on your bare shoulder followed by caresses from that noble nose at the incline of your collarbone. Then his strong brow, willow-wisps of hair a little damp at the roots in pursuit for more of you—grazing the gradual slope of your breast, kissing a nipple, then lower to where your very heartbeat springs forward to find him, too.

Protests evaporate like ocean spray.

Your hands are back on him when he gets to your belly. Sultry and kiss-bruised lips on fire as he presses them your waist and hips, and it’s a wonder how he still can.

You quake a little, pre-trembling with anticipation when he maps a roadway down your thigh, following veins and silver lines of a stretched surface. He twists from your hold, pushes your hands away until you’re grasping at the bed.  

He loves it like this most. Your whimpers, his attention. Doting. Slow. Stretched.

It’s been midnight all day, feels like. A perpetual polar night, permissive of a time when eternity lies tucked inside the thin cotton sheet currently gathered over his back, dropping low.

Bucky hums between your knees, bristled jaw agonizing sensitive skin and your toes curl tightly at the thought of his tickling fingertips. A shuddering breath takes flight when you whine. So, he relents and rises, blanket falling away completely and the both of you are open in the dim inky blue—chilled, until he brackets you in with his right arm on the other side of your shoulder.

“If you let me,” Raspy and low, whispered into your ear and your very soul trembles with the hanging promise of his words. “I’ll love you, honey,” a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Love you good,” a kiss to your neck where the pulse jumps along, “Love you best.”

A flick of his tongue to the hollow of your collarbones, knee spreading your thighs open. Bucky smiles when he looks at you, “Love you again and again.”

The vibration of his voice tumbles into your ears and down the length of your spine, spinning the weight in your stomach into a typhoon.

Silent permission in the form of your repositioning, facing him fully now, chest to chest on your side, admiring each other with adjusted night vision eyes, kept safe from the world beyond this carapace of his body over yours.

Fingers make their way between your thighs, above his knee, sinking slow and soft into the swollen flesh well-loved many times this morning—afternoon, evening—by him. You’re tender, shuddering, sore. Toeing the edge of breaking completely into pieces.

Soft moans and damp gasps, he works his way into you, fingers first. One, then two, then three because he’s captivated by the way you unravel for him so quickly. Doesn’t even care about himself most times, even though you plead with me, Bucky, come with me. It’s too sweet to simply watch you.

He moves them cleverly-- ring over middle while his pointer gently strokes. Then, they shuffle like tumblers in a lock, spreading and retreating, and your fists clench against his chest, knuckles rapping on his collar.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, “Feel good, honey?”

You do. Oh, you do, and he knows. He knows everything about you. Your eyes ask again for his length—the feeling of him inside of you. The sacred moment when two yield into one and Bucky dissolves you completely.

“This what you want?” He sighs, moving on top now, pushing himself between your legs, his half-knotted hair falling apart and caging your faces together with their soft strands. You lean your cheek against them, bite your lip just a little at him, keep at bay all the words you really want to say.

Strong and velvet, easily slick with wet from how he’s coaxed you open, he slides in. All the way. All the way and you feel it up to your chest. That swell. That hurt. That consummate loving. Water and blood, and the throb of him rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. His voice, quaking just a little bit, simmering low and then broken, shattered with love.

“God. Baby,” he pleads, “Christ. Fuck. Honey,” the ramblings of a man far gone. Hips rolling this way and that, bucking slow but steady, and hard, too, his pelvis flush against yours with each contact. Your fingertips dig gently to anchor yourself inside his sea, raging hot.

You swallow his voice, his rhythm, let the saltwater sear your lungs, still greedy for more because you need him just the same way—open, taken, devastated, crawled inside your ribcage, nesting within your heartbeat, branded onto your soul.

“Take all of me, lover,” Bucky whispers, “Want you to have it all.”

Lover.

And what a lover he is.

As instantaneous as it arrived, there is submergence. Drowning. Unforgiving tides plunging you into the deep—frantic pockets of what’s left of your breath bubbling overhead and encasing his name. He holds fast one final time, kissing your crumbling mouth, quivering, worrying, lips plump and ripe with overwork—red and receptive and ready. All of you and all of him folding in over each other, dashing yourselves onto the rocks of an undoing so complete you burst apart. And then, Bucky plummets, too, shuddering and wrecked and entirely yours just like he wanted.

-

The long spell of interrupted time strikes some unknown hour. Both of you have purposely lost count of the minutes, yet it still chimes an insolent reminder with every exhale he breathes into the dark. Bucky blinks slowly at the ceiling, tallies the reedy scores of thatch and chews on the skin of his lip.

It’s these moment that hurt the most. When he does nothing but exist unwaveringly on the shoreline edge of your reality and fantasy, blue and unhurried. You, enraptured. Him, endless. There is nothing to do but stare, watching his eyes ebb and flow, adrift in the increasingly tangible tomorrow.

“You said I could have everything,” you lament against his cold left side, against that frigid alien metal, flint grey and threaded with gold. Reinforced and strong like how he feels again with its attachment. You wish you could care for it the way he does, but you know its arrival summons his departure. So there is only righteous spite.

Bucky presses his lips to your shoulder before he tugs the curtain aside, letting the evening dusk pour in with cricket song and briny lake mist. Up now, he sits face turned out toward the field, his bare back lined with the imprint of laid-in sheets, creases tracing cracked webbed patterns of peach flesh.

His silence breaks you anew, heavy chest pulsating with terrors only imagination can conjure about the unknown. Rivers flood wide paths down your cheeks, depositing heavy droplets along your jaw, collecting unsaid sorrows.

“Stay with me,” you cry, “Let me keep you.”

He steers the torrent with that horrible left arm, a poor impostor compared to the phantom space you loved even in absence. Bucky tangles his legs with yours, pulls you halfway into his lap, kisses you until your tears find a new home along the generous line of his mouth. He soothes you with his touch, but his eyes are far away.

And it is here where you suffer the truth.

As you’ve always known about him-- ever since first meeting him in the Golden City where the sunlight turned threads of his burnished chestnut hair amber; ever since touching him, tracing the arteries of his pale right arm up to his shoulder like following a pathway home; ever since loving him, engraving a space for him, recovering him from what he believes of himself—the truth, is this:

You don’t care about what he is made of, what he is made for, or what he will be made to do.

But, you are not Bucky, who wants a place carved on the battlefield because he holds onto the notion of repentance and duty. You are not the King, you are not Steve Rogers. You are not the world that broke him or the world that wants him broken again.

And, you know, as you’ve always known.

You cannot keep him.

 “Bucky,” you follow his gaze out into the field beneath a waning moon’s light, “Come back to me.”

Silver beams outline his face as he turns. Lashes so pretty you could trace them one by one. Cheeks holding onto a few final rosy blooms from when he came apart in your arms. Lips parted, chafed by the most desperate love. Eyes in a gentle fall, downwelling with fatigue and the weight of your trembling heart.

He smiles and the entire world could weep.

He knows. He knows everything.

“I will,” Bucky says, calm and endless and blue like the Pacific itself, “I will.”

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity​ @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​

[ilikeyoshi]

i woke up suddenly this morning knowing EXACTLY what i wanted to write for yesterday's prompt. l'aiha and louisoux's student/teacher super friendship mean EVERYTHING TO ME. I MISS HIM.

post-ARR/coils of bahamut raid spoilers, 1,530 words

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

sil·ver lin·ing

/ˈsilvər līning/

noun

1. a sign of hope in an unfortunate or gloomy situation; a bright prospect.

From the very crest of the cavern, Phoenix fell. Yet nary a feather touched the ground before his form began to disperse, a dissolving mist of red, then blue, then finally whiter than light.

L'aiha watched in awe as Phoenix, at last, departed from the world. A harrowing journey it had been, when she'd agreed to help Alisaie Leveilleur uncover the truth about the Seventh Umbral Calamity. They'd learned more than they ever could have expected—they learned of the regenerating Elder Primal, and the hundreds of tortured dragons woven into the very walls of Dalamud to facilitate his reawakening.

And they'd learned of a phantom, whose mask all too closely resembled Alisaie's dead grandfather.

This was supposed to be the end. Bitter and gruesome, with Alisaie and her brother left devastated by the ordeal. L'aiha could only imagine what it must have felt like, but her heart bled for them.

Yet it seemed so did another's. The twinkling, drifting aether around them began to coalesce, and soon it resembled a familiar silhouette. L'aiha braced herself for another fight, expecting the phantom whom Bahamut puppeteered about his Coils.

But one look at the soft, joyous smile Louisoix gave the three of them dispelled any fear of an imposter.

"Grandfather!" Alisaie cried out, running at once to throw her arms around the prophet's waist.

Alphinaud was right behind her, and the man stooped to embrace them.

"Alisaie," he softly croaked. "Alphinaud. Oh, my sweet, beloved grandchildren..."

L'aiha stood back, stunned by the sight.

Louisoix Leveilleur. The beloved leader of the Circle of Knowing; the dearest friend of so many people L'aiha had come to cherish.

She didn't know what to say, and certainly didn't try to say it. Though she felt drawn to the scene, she withheld herself—it was not her place, she knew, but the twins' who had strived and struggled for this moment.

When Louisoix looked at her for the first time, though, he looked surprised. "You are..."

L'aiha saw the mark tattooed upon his face. The one like so many of her Scion friends', the one that forever painted her own skin, the one she'd had without any memory of a time before whence she might have earned them.

She heard it at once in his voice. He knew her.

A jolt shot through her head, sharp as a dagger—a familiar feeling by now. L'aiha whined as the Echo consumed her, and felt her feet come out from under her before the Third Coil disappeared entirely from her awareness.

When she opened her eyes to the vision, she was still laying on the ground. But instead of a cavernous roof, she saw the abyss of a red, burning sky. She saw streaks of flame descend from the Red Moon and the creature it once caged, a monster so grotesque and wrathful.

She recognized him at once. Bahamut.

A voice cried out, despaired, and L'aiha sensed it was directed at—at her. At her! This Echo vision—she was in it!

She couldn't move from the ground though. The fire rained and razed all around her. She felt so small, so helpless—yet all she could think about was... raising her arm to that hellfire sky. Why? Why? Why?

The voice called for her again, closer. Someone was approaching her prone form, yet they felt even farther away as the thought to reach up consumed her. Words danced at the edge of her mind.

"Hear... Feel... Think..."

And then L'aiha saw her arm, raised skyward, fingers splayed and palm flat to the smoke and fire. She had to stop it. She had to summon the Twelve. She had to—

At last, the source of the voice arrived. L'aiha saw none other than Louisoix's devastated face, as the prophet fell to his knees at her side. He called her something, but it wasn't L'aiha.

She felt her lips move, and heard her voice—hoarse and wet. She realized she was dying. "M-Master," she croaked. "I-I can s-still... I c-can..."

Louisoix bundled her broken body up into his arms. He was so much bigger than her; somehow, it was enough to feel safe. She dropped her hand, as she felt tears streak down her face, as hot as the falling fire.

"M-Master Lou-uisoix..."

"Hush," he whispered. She could hear the grief in his voice. "Hush, my dear."

"I-I can... I h-have to..."

"You have done enough," he said. He smiled, and she caught the glint of teary eyes. "You have done so, so much. I will finish it."

She felt nearly suffocated with a sense of failure. She felt, even as he smiled down at her with an adoration so powerful and so impossible, like she had ruined something so very important.

"Pl-please—"

"Rest yourself," Louisoix said. "You must hold on. You must—"

He stopped himself. L'aiha didn't know why, at first, until she realized she couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Slowly, the smile fell from Louisoix's face. He called to her, that name that wasn't L'aiha. What was it? If she could just remember it... But she couldn't answer him.

Though he knew at once she was gone, he called again, and once more after that. She saw him shake, saw his tears fall.

Who was she to him? Why did she know she was someone to him?

He shut his eyes, raking in a harsh breath. Then he smiled down at her once more.

"Rest," he said, so small and so sad. "I will finish it."

His hand came to lay over her eyes, and then the Echo's vision faded away.

"L'aiha!"

She blinked, shocked by a voice so close to her. She blinked again, and again still, until she felt droplets land on her face and at last her vision cleared.

Alisaie was at her side, her eyes dripping with tears. The moment L'aiha focused on her, the poor girl whimpered in relief.

"Thank the Twelve!" she cried, dropping to hug L'aiha tight. "Don't EVER scare me like that again!"

L'aiha heard a second weeping voice, and looked to her other side, where Alphinaud fought with all his might not to disintegrate right in front of her. But it didn't stop his tears.

"Wh-when you just collapsed, we—we feared—" A hiccup slipped, and the boy stubbornly rubbed his face in his sleeve.

"Do not despair, my grandchildren. She is well."

Memory came rushing back to L'aiha. The Coils, the Echo's fainting spell—

And Louisoix.

She wrapped an arm around Alisaie, trying to pull herself into a sit. Alphinaud realized it and took her other arm in both his hands, hoisting her until she was upright. Her eyes found the prophet at once, and all of the guilt and desperation came flooding back.

"M-Master Louisoix," she croaked so miserably. "I-I—I'm so—"

Louisoix raised a hand, gentle, and L'aiha's teeth shut with a snap. "Alphinaud, Alisaie. Let me see her."

The twins reluctantly backed away, and Louisoix approached. L'aiha hurried to her feet to meet him, whimpering and shedding tears as hot as the ones in her vision.

"I failed you," she gasped out, nearly buckling right back to the floor. "I-I failed—please, p-please forgive me—"

"My dearest student," Louisoix said, the kindness in his voice like sunlight welcoming her out of the frigid darkness. "You did everything I asked of you, and more still. You survived, just as I had prayed; just as I had tried and failed to ensure. And now you have wrested me free from Bahamut's dying grip.

"It is I who should be begging your forgiveness."

It threatened to break her. She burst into ragged sobs, throwing her arms around Louisoix, whose returning embrace felt as all-encompassing as it had in that vision.

"T-tell me," she begged. "T-tell me who I was—"

"Alas, it is not my place," Louisoix said, the sorrow in his voice potent. "But know that this love in your heart is true. Know that you were my Archon, and you have always belonged."

It was enough. In that moment, it meant everything in all the world to her.

Louisoix drew back, and scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. At first, it made her cry harder, but then she felt as if she could burst with sudden, radiant joy.

"You did it, Master Louisoix," she said. "You saved us all. I—" As quick as it came, her smile vanished again. "P-please, don't go—the Scions, Minfilia, th-they have to—"

But Louisoix shook his head, and touched a finger to the red jewel on her brow. "I am not long for this world. But I have been with you, since that dark day in Carteneau. Your aether holds a fragment of me, the spark that brought light back to your eyes—and through you, I will ever be.

"Take care of them," he said, and smiled at his grandchildren. "And know that your bond is as ours. I can think of no better a soul to entrust my Alphinaud and Alisaie to."

It was over too fast. The twins rejoined their grandfather for their final goodbyes, and the Coil glowed with Louisoux's pride and happiness. Somehow, it was still enough.

Like Phoenix, he dispersed, glistening aether like a cloud of stars around them. L'aiha closed her eyes, embracing its soft, cool touch. She remembered now, this one memory—she remembered Phoenix taking wing, and striking down Bahamut. She remembered the downpour of aether that breathed life anew into her.

"Master Louisoix," she said, opening her eyes to the twinkling embrace of the prophet's last goodbye.

Her eyes that shone with life—one gold, and suddenly, one white as light.

"Thank you."

[brownthoughtsrainbowperception]

My depression thick deepening hidden mists

There are shudders in the light that make the spine too tight as the spasm clinches the senses the memory quivers to close the rusting inner gate devastating the last attempt at escape

Can I smile to hide the tremors inside

Do you truly believe the bloom about the room as my keening soul moves slowly through you

There are blackening roots that refuse to loose and my stance is enhanced by phantom outstretched hands

As my mind refuses the next glance of the open fan dance

Do you understand the bazaar as it dwells within me

My depression blooms in tender hues and flexes muscles too often used

[kyma-thavma]

The woman with the greatsword began to surge forward, as duplicates of the Elezen surged for the other Miqo'te. While the ginger mage avoided the grappling shade, the fiery fighter wasn't so lucky; he drops and screams in pain.

His scream echos and reverberates through the kit's body, joined by a chorus of long-dead phantoms crying out for succour.

And then, there was darkness.

No longer was the arcanist within the halls of the Raven Collective, its sparring ring barely a whisper in the kit's perspective. Voices dimmed into droning background noise, save for the scream of pain.

The barren battlefield littered with the dead and dying, mortal and dragonkin alike.

Above, blackened skies with amber stars falling through them like rain.

In the distance, the churning waters lap at the edges of the darkened lake.

Standing amid the carnage and chaos, a circle of seven mages assembles atop the highest hill. Their grimoires are in right hands while their left stretch outward, towards the mage that stands across from them, as if reaching for the other's hand. Most look at stratagems that decorate the pages of their tomes, but the youngest instead looks to the skies.

White hair flowing into the raging winds like a thick mist swirling away from the young Miqo'te woman. Her crimson gaze locks upon their target - the massive shade of the fallen dragon lord. The stratagem begins to form before her eyes, entwining with the flying abomination, as if to bind it.

And that's precisely what the group of summoners attempts to do. Without much consideration for the others, the mage wrenches control of the casting. Her hand lifts skyward, drawing all of their aether with it, draining them of their essence.

There's an echoing roar as the spell tightens about the form of the draconic shade drowns the screams of the dying, and the woman tightens her fist. An aetheric leash forms between her fist and the behemoth creature as the last of her companions' aether drains into the spell, leaving their corpses to fall to the ground.

"Bachámout," she screams into the skies as she tugs both physically and aetherically on the leash, "you are mine to command! Turn your devastation upon those seeking to destroy Allag!"

Stepping over the dead bodies, the woman shackling the primal delicately steps over the remains of the deceased, leading the draconic shade back towards Meracydia's borders. Groups of smaller draconic figures burn beneath the hellfire the reborn Bahamut reigns down, the creature gathering more and more aether from the land below.

Pointing towards the incoming hordes that the shade once led, the woman screams, unleashing a flare of immense proportions. Raging against her restraints, the primal's power decimates its former followers, scattering them to the winds.

"I'll protect you," she fiercely swears, fist raised skyward, "I promise."

Before she can enjoy her success, something unseen strikes her form, cutting through the memory. Chaos envelopes her as the leash snaps, freeing the dragon as she falls to the ground, clutching her torso.

And then, there was darkness.

[thecomicsnexus]

Final Crisis

CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS #12 MARCH 1986 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, JERRY ORDWAY, TOM ZIUKO AND TOM MCCRAW (RE-COLORED VERSION)

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

In Brainiac's starship, Dolphin, Captain Comet, Rip Hunter, Animal Man, the Atomic Knight, and Adam Strange convince the reviving robot that his memory was tampered with to make him forget the Crisis. Admitting that his power is inadequate to battle the Anti-Monitor, he sets course for the world of a more powerful being. On Earth, the Anti-Monitor's visage is seen in the skies all over the globe. He repeats that the Earth is now in the anti-matter universe. His past victories over positive universes are meaningless, he says, because of the super-heroes' efforts to stop him. When he lists Supergirl and the Flash as casualties, Kid Flash demands to know what has happened.

The Supermen scan the globe and watch the populace panicking. Harbinger appears, and teleports them to a chosen destination, then gathers Dr. Light from Japan, leaving Sunburst to defend the island. When Dr. Light states that she caused Supergirl's death, Harbinger replies that the battle had already killed Supergirl, and that the Anti-Monitor's final attack merely gave her a swift death. In the skies, the darkness splits into a million shadow demons, which begin an all-out attack on humanity, and the super-heroes mass to resist them. The Global Guardians team with other heroes to free their native lands from the threat, but the demons' numbers seem endless. The Phantom Stranger summons Dr. Mist to help revive the Spectre who lies comatose. Below, Harbinger has gathered a large group of heroes, along with Pariah and Alex, to lead a final assault on their nemesis. Alex creates a bridge between universes, and they depart near Apokolips.

Brainiac's ship goes into stationary orbit, and he and his guests teleport to the planet, where Darkseid appears and introduces himself.

Back on Earth, the majority of the heroes are still battling the demons. The Dove is slain by a shadow-being as his brother watches in horror.

In Dr. Fate's Salem tower, the magically powered heroes have gathered to pool their shamanistic might. The Earth-2 Green Lantern and Dr. Occult form the nexus of their energy.

On Qward, in the anti-matter universe, Harbinger and the heroes have arrived in the Anti-Monitor's old headquarters. Kid Flash insists on joining them because of his mentor's demise. Suddenly, an image of the Flash appears to him—the last one Barry cast before his death. Wally follows the afterimage to where an insane Psycho-Pirate clutches at an empty uniform. Kid Flash knocks him out, and realizes that Barry Allen is truly dead when Lady Quark finds his ring. Pariah informs them that a great concentration of evil lies before them. They follow to find a towering Anti-Monitor, ready for the final slaughter.

In Atlantis, Aquaman leads his underwater legions against the shadows. Lori Lemaris saves a trapped Mera with a force beam. A demon closes in on her and kills her. In Chicago, Green Arrow of Earth-2 is killed by a shadow. In Philadelphia, Cyborg, the Son of Vulcan, the Vigilante, and the New Wildcat continue rescue operations.

In New Orleans, Shade the Changing Man witnesses the death of Prince Ra-Man. In Skartaris, Travis Morgan leads his forces against the black menaces. In Gotham City, both Clayface II and the Bug-Eyed Bandit perish at the hands of the demons. In Salem, the tide finally turns. The supernatural crusaders send their combined force in a net of energy to gather the demons from the Earth's surface, and bind them helpless in space. Over the Earth, lives have been lost, including those of Kole, Huntress, and Robin, but other lives have been saved. For a moment, the survivors can take stock.

On Qward, the Supermen of Earth 1 and 2, Captain Atom, Lady Quark, Firehawk, Wonder Woman, and other tarot's strike at the Anti-Monitor, but he ignores their blows, feeding on the energy of a nearby star, As Dr Light absorbs the energy of one of the binary suns they are between, the Anti-Monitor feels his power draining away. Alex begins to drain the anti-matter energy away from their enemy. Negative Woman uses her negative-self to bind the Anti-Monitor and inhibit him: then Harbinger leads all the energy-producing heroes against him, Dr. Light blasts him with the energy of a sun, and he falls into the ruins of his fortress. Alex creates a dimensional hole, large enough to enclose the Earth and return it to its proper universe. The heroes follow. The ball of bound demons hover and then fall on the fallen enemy. Thus, the Anti-Monitor absorbs his slaves energies and rises again, while the heroes start to give battle. Wonder Woman is caught in a withering flash of power, and is borne away to an unknown destination. Superman of Earth-1 and Lady Quark vow deadly revenge, but Kal-L knocks them out, and tells Superboy to take them back. Since he has no world and no wife to return to, the elder Superman has the least to lose. Then he confronts the monstrous Anti-Monitor, and batters him. Superboy sends Superman and Lady Quark back through Alex's shrinking body, and turns to aid him. Superman continues his one-man war against the Anti-Monitor, striking telling blows, while the villain, his power waning, absorbs more energy from the anti-cosmos, and blasts him and Superboy. Darkseid, watching the conflict on a viewscreen, proclaims his planet to be endangered if the Anti-Monitor survives, sends a power burst at him through Alex's eyes. The enemy, devastated, is hurled into the core of one of the binary suns. Superman, Superboy, and Alex are stunned to see the spectre of their enemy rising from the sun. Superman smashes into his foe's fiery body, scattering him: the remains fall back into the sun and the star begins to implode.

They bravely await the end and Superman wishes that Lois could have lived to see their triumph. At that, Alex produces Lois from a void-pocket in his body where she had been sent to wait. She tells her husband that she had been to a tranquil world. Alex cannot return them to Earth but he can take them all to this beautiful world. Superman, Lois, and Superboy opt for that choice. The foursome vanish seconds before the exploding sun would have reached them.

Back on Earth, Lyla is explaining facets of the Crisis to Pariah and Lady Quark. Wonder Woman was returned to the clay which Aphrodite and Athena had given life, then spread across Paradise Island.

Time then continued to reverse itself, as the Amazons were returned to their original homeland before they fled Man's World. Zeus brought the homeless Wonder Woman of Earth-2 and her husband Steve Trevor to Olympus, where they could live peacefully. The bodies of Robin of Earth-2, the Huntress, and Kole were never found. All those who died were mourned. In Keystone City, Jay Garrick determined that Kid Flash's illness was in remission, his body chemistry being changed by a blast from the Anti-Monitor. He could again move at super-speed, though only to a maximum of Mach-1. Wally donned Barry Allen's uniform, and announced, "From this day forth — the Flash lives again!"

The Great Disaster will not exist in the Earth's future, but a lost child will be found in Command D. adopted by General Horatio Tomorrow of the Planeteers, and named Thomas. Jonah Jex will be torn from his era to fight in the future, while the Guardians of the Universe must face the first division in their ranks. Thus, Lyla concludes her tale, and Lady Quark and Pariah ask her to help them explore their new homeworld. They leave with her, honoring the memory of their benefactor, the Monitor. And, in Arkham Asylum, the staff discuss a new patient who seems beyond help, straitjacketed in a rubber-lined room. Roger Hayden, formerly Psycho-Pirate, gibbers about Earths beyond numbers, the Anti-Monitor, and the memories, which only he had been allowed to keep.

NOTORIOUS DEATHS IN THIS ISSUE

Anti-Monitor

Dove

Green Arrow (Earth-2)

Huntress

Kole

Robin (Dick Grayson, Earth-2)

Sunburst

Bug-Eyed Bandit

Clayface II (Matt Hagen)

Lori Lemaris

Ten Eyed Man

REVIEW

The ending of Crisis is the only part of it that remains canon after it (as it happened on new earth). Although many things about it will not remain (no one will remember the multiverse, not even the ones that survived it). Same will apply to deaths like Huntress, who will be completely replaced post-crisis.

So, was it worth it? Absolutely. Wolfman’s idea of rebooting the universe every 10 years would have been a great idea, but sales will not always allow for it (this is the reason DC was never able to do a complete reboot, you don’t fix what isn’t broken, namely Batman, Legion of Super-Heroes and the Green Lantern Corps).

As for its legacy, this event is the father of all events. Cross-overs and team-ups have been plenty, not only at DC, since the Golden Age. And while there have been similar events in 1982 and 1984 over at Marvel, they barely had any impact (Spider-symbiote being the one thing to remember). Crisis was a whole different thing. But sadly, it happened at DC, that means that not all the opportunities will be taken seriously.

Crisis offered the chance of a blank slate, but instead, the relaunch was sloppy and as a result, the universe required a soft reboot less than 10 years later. Crisis tie-ins are a good demonstration of how slow DC was to react to what they were doing. They do not match the chapter of the month.

Another interesting example is Wally West, who was restored in the end, with a slower speed, and became the Flash. However, it would take more than a year for Wally to take on his own book. This coincided with Justice League International and the end of Legends. Wonder Woman suffered the same delay as well. There were no plans to what would happen afterwards, because DC wasn’t fully aware of what they just did. They were too busy closing down titles, and the reaction to restart everything was delayed, sometimes by more than 5 years. Fortunately, the man of steel would end the year with one of his most emblematic runs.

As for the story itself, the science makes little sense, but I am willing to forgive those flaws. The essence of the event was to revisit the DCU history, to streamline everything and to showcase every single character they had. It was supposed to launch in 1983, but it had to wait until the 50th anniversary (while a long research had to be done to figure out the full DCU history). This story accomplishes that. The tie-ins... not so much. But Crisis as a story works very well. Without tie-ins.

There is a lot of love poured into it as well, and you can tell. Those final sequences with Alex Luthor, Kal-L, Lois and Superboy-Prime are beautiful and sad at the same time (again, DC would shoot themselves in the foot by desecrating that ending in 2005, but that’s a story for another time).

You cannot imagine another penciler for this story either. George Perez is the god of team-ups. Since then, he had some replacements, most notoriously, Phil Jimenez, but in 1985, it was pretty much him. And the art is so beautiful, and so meaningful, Crisis on Infinite Earths became on of the greatest achievements in comic-book history.

Jerry Ordway had to step in after Giordano and DeCarlo, for reasons I do not know. He was the perfect choice for this event. His style adds some clarity to Perez style, where Tanghal wouldn’t have dared to modify too much. As a result, you get an interesting hybrid. Ordway’s realistic faces, with Perez crazy layouts and detailed backgrounds.

The art in general is something to admire over and over. That scene where the shadow demons break apart and darkness becomes sky... that’s Michael Bay High Octane shit. You are basically watching a disaster movie.

Some of the deaths in this story mean nothing. Losing Green Arrow from Earth-2 or Helena Wayne will not have an impact. But they can seriously affect some readers.

One thing I didn’t mention before, was that New Genesis was actually part of the Crisis, as Darkseid only cloaked Apokolips, but apart from Crisis #10, I haven’t seen anything happening over there in other books.

Now, which version should you buy? All of them.

I grew up reading the spanish adaptation, which was pretty much the original with translated text. Then I bought 1998′s slipcase, which was already re-colored. I really think this one was the best as the wrap-around cover has the full Alex Ross painting. 2015′s deluxe edition includes the History of the DCU, with a new cover by George Perez. Perhaps this one adds more value. There is also a very expensive edition coming at the end of the year that includes all the tie-ins, but as you may have read, not all tie-ins are good or worthy of reading with this saga.

Then I actually recommend the digital version, as this book is so beautiful, you don’t even want to touch it.

I give this story a score of 10

[coolclaytony]

No-Ah Grand Elders: Ev-En, Elder of Earth (Pathfinder 1st edition Quasi-Deity)

The No-Ah hierarchy is, at it's core, a bureaucratic gerontocracy; where age and station dictate the hierarchy. As such the eldest members of each elemental caste of No-Ah, the Grand Elders, serve as the oligarchs of their people. As proof of their authority, No-Ah who live long enough to ascend to grand elder status go up one size category (no larger than huge), gain the mythic subtype, and become quasi-deific. Their granted domains are Artifice, their racial elemental subtype, and two others of their choice. Their subdomains must be Construct, at least one from their elemental domain, and three others. A Grand Elder is always character level 20 and gains the Advanced simple template. Additionally, a Grand Elder gains “Restore Vitality” as a bonus mythic ability (see below). Only when a Grand Elder dies, or more rarely, when a No-Ah of a new elemental type is born does a No-Ah ascend in this manner.

Ev-En, Elder of Earth LN 3rd No-Ah Grand Elder of Earth, Duty, and Sacrifice Domains Artifice, Earth, Law, Nobility Subdomains Caves, Construct, Judgement, Martyr, Toil Worshipers architects, earth no-ah, miners, soldiers, subterranean races. Minions earth elementals, earth no-ah Symbol a downward pointing triangle bisected by a horizontal line Favored Weapon spiked gauntlet or hook hand Obedience hold your left appendage over your heart (or an equivalent) and make an oath out loud to your self to carry out any task set before you, to the best of your ability, by someone who has legitimate authority over you. You must be willing to do anything within your power, even at the risk of personal injury or death, to see those tasks carried out. You gain a +4 luck bonus to any skill check which helps you accomplish such tasks. Boons 1: stone shape 2/day; 2: summon nature's ally II (small earth elemental) 2/day; 3: wall of stone 2/day Predecessors Ev-Ot > Ev-Ri > Ev-En

It is an understanding among the No-Ah that in order to create and preserve anything, something else must be sacrificed, thus one who gives up themselves for the greater good is the most blessed of beings. Few know this truth better than Grand Elder Ev-En. His birth was one of grim necessity. The Qlippoth Lord, Isph-Aun-Vuln, had galvanized her most powerful alien cults to war against the No-Ah with the intent of undermining their mission to preserve and nurture mortal life. Ev-En was among the many No-Ah who were produced en-mass by the Grand Elders to hold a line against her relentless and ruthless armies, a task which required the destruction of planets that could have been converted into bountiful new worlds. He had to kill many beautiful and vibrant lifeforms, tainted by the qlippoth's lies, and watch those same creatures brutally slaughter his siblings and cousins by the thousands. He would give much of himself to help ensure victories for the No-Ah with as little bloodshed on either side as he possibly could, inevitable as it was. To this end, he learned to fight unarmed, bolstered by abjuration magic. This training would prove useful when Ark-00 became assaulted by the Iathavos and it's nyogoth hordes. This Iathavos was trained especially to deal with the No-Ah and proved formidable even for the Grand Elders. Ev-En was among the No-Ah soldiers who fought alongside his parent, Ev-Ri, when the qlippoth singled them out. It was here that Ev-En talents showed their true worth, as he purged the flanking nyogoth of their corruption and turned the tables in the No-Ah's favor. Sadly, the Iathavos proved to much for Ev-Ri and he was thus slain. Ev-En, the eldest of the living Earth No-Ah, immediately ascended and in a fit of righteous fury; felled the qlippoth with a single devastating punch. Channeling his power in this fashion however, would obliterate his right-arm, an eternal reminder of the costs of the No-Ah mission. Though the No-Ah would ultimately prevail and disperse Isph-Aun-Vuln's mortal armies. Ev-En knows that it is only a matter of time before she rallies her forces again. Thus much of his time in recent history has been spent fortifying the now billions of No-Ah Arks and bolstering his people's military power, all in preparation for the inevitable war which will no doubt span entire galaxies.

Grand Elder Ev-En CR 26/MR 10 No-Ah constructed pugilist brawler 10/ hexbreaker armored battlemage magus 10 LN huge construct (earth, living machine, mythic) Init +5, Senses darkvision 60 ft, low-light vision AC 36, touch 13, flat-footed 31 (+9 Armor, +5 Dex, +12 Nat. Armor, +2 Shield*, -2 Size) *This bonus assumes Ev-En is wielding his constructed limb with the Shielding Limb modification) hp 423 (10d8+10d10+243) Fort +16, Ref +13, Will +13 Defensive Abilities armor training 2, armor master (light, medium, & heavy armor), block attacks, construct traits, earth protection, fortification (50%, 75% w/ secured armor), living machine, medium armor, heavy armor, restore vitality, take a hit; DR 13/epic Speed 15 ft Melee Attacks unarmed strike +21/+16/+11/+6 (4d8+14); or +5 stone constructed limb +26/+21/+16/+11 (4d8+19/x3); or brawler's flurry +24/+19/+14/+10/+19/+14 (4d8+19 [+14 for final two strikes}/x3 [x2 for final two strikes]) Special Attacks arcane pool (9), brawler's flurry, brawler's strike (cold iron, magic, silver), close weapon mastery, constructed limb, fighter training, knockout 2/day, knowledge pool, limb modifications (flex limb, limb extender, shielding limb, tight grip, vicious spikes), magus arcana (improved remove curse, wracking dispel), maneuver training (Disarm +2, Grapple +1), mythic power (10/day, surge 1d12), mythic magic (3/day), preserve life (200 ft), powerful blows (unarmed strike), spark of genesis, spellstrike, versatile modifications, unarmed strike (4d8+5) Space and Reach 15 ft, 15 ft Magus Spells Known (CL 10, Concentration +15) 0 Level (5/day) - Acid Splash, Arcane Mark, Dancing Lights, Daze, Detect Fiendish Presence, Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead, Flare, Ghost Sound, Grasp, Light, Mage hand, Open/Close, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic, Spark 1st level (7/day) - Abjuring Step, Blade Lash, Blade Tutor's Spirit, Call Weapon, Celestial Healing, Corrosive Touch, Desperate Weapon, Duelist's Parry, Enlarge Person, Expedious Retreat, Fallback Strategy, Feather Fall, Glue Seal, Grease, Jump, Jury-Rig, Lighten Object, Linebreaker, Line in The Sand, Long Arm, Magic Missile (M), Magic Weapon, Mirror Strike, Monkey Fish, Mudball, Obscuring Mist, Reduce Person, Reinforce Armaments, Shield, Shock Shield, Stone Fist, Sunder Breaker, Sundering Shards, Swift Girding, Thunderstomp, True Strike, Unerring Weapon, Unseen Servant, Vigor, Wave Shield, Warding Weapon, Weaponwand, Web Bolt 2nd Level (5/day) - Ablative Barrier, Acid Arrow, Alacrity, Alter Self, Animal Aspect, Aristocrat's Nightmare, Armor Lock, Bear's Endurance, Bladed Dash, Bull's Strength, Cat's Grace, Cauterizing Weapon, Communal Reinforce Armaments, Contest of Skill, Diminish Resistance, Effortless Armor, Elemental Touch, Erode Defenses, Escaping Ward, Euphoric Cloud, Extreme Flexibility, Fleeting Defect, Fog Cloud, Force Anchor, Glitterdust, Groundswell, Hollow Blades, Huntmaster's Spear, Instant Weapon, Levitate, Molten Orb, Pouncing Fury, Quick Throwing, Raven's Flight, Reloading Hands, Rock Whip, Savage Maw, Slick Walls, Shield of Shards, Spider Climb (M), Splinter Spell Resistance, Stone Call, Stone Discus, Stone Shield, Stone Throwing, Storm of Blades, Telekinetic Assembly, Telekinetic Volley, Visualization of the Body, Web, Winged Sword 3rd Level (4/day) - Air Breathing, Allied Cloak, Beast Shape I, Blade Snare, Blink, Burst of Speed, Caustic Safeguard, Channel Vigor, Clay Skin, Cloak of Winds, Conjuration Foil, Conjure Carriage, Discharge, Dispel Magic (M), Earth Tremor, Elemental Aura, Fly, Forced Mutation, Gloomblind Bolts, Grasping Tentacles, Greater Animal Aspect, Greater Magic Weapon (M), Greater Thunderstomp, Haste (M), Heart of the Metal, Infuse Self, Iron Spine, Irradiate, Keen Edge, Mark of Buoyancy, Monstrous Physique I, Nauseating Trail, Phantom Steed, Remove Curse, Resilient Reservoir, Scales of Deflection, Sickening Strikes, Silver Darts, Slow (M), Spellsword, Steal Size, Stinking Cloud, Tactical Adaptation, Titanic Anchoring, Toxic Blood, Versatile Weapon, Vomit Twin, Water Breathing, Waves of Blood 4th Level (2/day) - Absorb Rune I, Adjustable Polymorph, Arcana Theft, Beast Shape II, Black Tentacles (M), Blightburn Weapon, Caustic Blood, Break Enchantment (M), Detonate, Dragon's Breath, Elemental Body (M), Ethereal Fists, Fey Form I, Greater Celestial Healing, Lend Path, Mass Enlarge Person, Mass Reduce Person, Monstrous Physique II, Naga Shape I, Pellet Blast, Poisonous Cloud, Revenant Armor, Rigor Mortis, Rubberskin, Solid Fog, Stoneskin (M), Telekinetic Maneuver, Temporary Graft, Vermin Shape I, Ward Shield, Wreath of Blades Str 22, Dex 20, Con 20, Int 20, Wis 20, Cha 15 Base Atk +17, CMB +24, CMD 27 Feats big game hunter, bodyguard, combat casting, combat reflexes (M), craft magic arms and armor, craft technological arms and armor, create weapon, create magic weapon, imposing bearing (B), improved unarmed strike (B,M), mythic spell lore (M), poised bearing (B), secured armor (B), spell focus (abjuration) (M), technologist, titan strike (M), toughness Skills Acrobatics +28, Craft (alchemy) +15, Craft (armor) + 25, Craft (engineering) +15, Craft (mechanical) +15, Craft (ships) +25, Craft (stonemasonry) +28, Craft (weapons) +28, Knowledge (arcana) +28, Knowledge (engineering) +15, Knowledge (geography) +15, Knowledge (nature) +25, Knowledge (Planes) +28, Profession (soldier) +18, Spellcraft +28, Use Magic Device +20; Racial Modifiers -4 Fly, -8 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Ignan, Infernal, Protean, Terran SQ armed and ready, birth progeny, brawler's cunning, deific, incremental growth, martial training Equipment Artisan's Tools, 100 bullets, 4 Mwk Mithril Daggers, Mwk Mithril Shortsword, Spell Component Pouch, +1 Vigilant Expedious Impervious Adamantine Spiked Stone Plate Special Abilities Armed and Ready (Ex): Whenever Ev-En creates his constructed limb with the Create Weapon feat, the limb is automatically attached to him. It still requires 10 minutes to remove it as normal. Restore Vitality (Ex): Grand Elder Ev-En may spend a point of mythic power to remove all negative levels from himself. Even if those negative levels could not otherwise be removed. Versatile Modifications (Ex): If Grand Elder Ev-En's constructed limb was made using his Create Weapon feat; as a swift action, he may spend up to 5 points of mythic power to change one of it's limb modifications per point spent for 1 minute. This constructed limb may have the vicious blades and vicious spikes modifications simultaneously. The shield bonus from shielding limb stacks with any other shield bonuses Ev-En has. In addition; Ev-En may instead exchange a modification for a magic weapon special ability appropriate for the limb's enhancement bonus. This is a transmutation Effect.

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You Can Read More About the No-Ah Here No-Ah Alternate Traits No-Ah Feats

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I realize most npc stat blocks usually only have the spells listed that the character is most likely to have prepared, but I have no way of narrowing that down, so I recommend just using him like a spontaneous caster and only bothering to decide his prepared spells when the players need that information.

Edit: I forgot some bits.

@dailycharacteroption @bogleech

[elizabethgoldlokidottir]

Something Precious Act I Ch.2-The Seer

ACT I, CHAPTER 2 THE SEER "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering."-Yoda, Star Wars: The Phantom Menace It was autumn in the enchanted forest and near the province of Dunbroch. Of all the lands in Vanaheim, the Enchanted Forest(or Misthaven depending on which class of person you came across) tended to have the most beautiful and cold fall weather. In this land, the very air itself was filled with magic. It existed within proximity of every being in this land, whether or not magic was within them or whether it surrounded them. Like a spirit, it lived within every plant and animal, for it permeated all things. This constant flow of magical energy created the beauty of the forest. It gave the falling leaves on the trees their beautiful hues, bright and neon shades of red, yellow and orange, glowing within the wintering trees like fire. There were certain plants that were magical within themselves whose leaves gave a faint glow like the morning sun as they became ready to fall upon the ground. The birds became ready to migrate to warmer parts of the land, warmer kingdoms. The sound of wildlife verberated through the forest just like the magic within it. The usual quarry, the deer, rabbits, wolves and all the small creatures who lived within the forest were looking for places to hibernate or moving towards more bountiful hunting grounds. The magical creatures were no different. Dragons had already found the caverns where they would bed down for the winter. Herds of unicorns followed their migration paths in order to avoid their wild equine cousins in the cinmarron. Winter was coming. As a hush flowed over the forest and mist began to cover the trees, a quiet padding of high heeled boots fell upon the forest floor. Out into the woods, a figure stepped. Of all of the strange creatures roaming these wilds, he was perhaps the strangest of all. He took the shape of a man, but his appearance was not of a normal man. His most outstanding feature was his skin. Where the pale skin of the Scotsman should have been, there was instead glittering golden scales that sparkled in the light. The small glittering scales covered his body just as they covered the body of a reptile. He had unusual amber eyes that glowed within his eyes like smoking embers, grey and yellow all at once. In the place of fingernails, this man had claws. The talons extended half an inch above his fingertip and were a sort of greenish brown, like the woods that surrounded him. Whenever he would come across an obstacle, he would sneer, showing that his canines were just a hint sharper than the average human being. He kept his red cloak wrapped tightly around him as if to ward off the imaginary cold that had not yet settled in. A mop of brown hair existed upon his head that extended nearly to his shoulder. For all of this inhuman appearance, there was some humanity within him, for it could be seen in the raw rubbing underneath his eyes and the few despairing sighs that he let loose now and then. This so called beast, so feared by all of the land, was grieving. He moved out into a clearing. It had been a campsite. He walked over to the fire that had once been set up. Moving closer to inspect it, he had found that it was still smoldering. A litter of dirty blankets and pillows had been stacked near a pathetic looking patchwork tent. He smirked to himself. She was around here somewhere. “Show yourself, dearie.” He spoke in a high pitch voice laced with a Scottish accent. Out of the woods came another figure, another strange creature. This one looked to be a human young woman, with shocking red hair. Yet when one searched out her eyes, only stitches remained. They were stitched closed, almost as if her eyes had been taken out. Instead, she held up her hands and out from each of them a glowing blue eye looked out. This strange creature was cloaked in peasant clothing. She spoke in an almost echoing voice, her voice reverberating through the air like waves through the mist. “Rumplestiltskin. I’ve been expecting you. As you see all that I have told you has come to pass.” The imp smirked as he circled around the seer like a lion stalking around his prey. “Ah...yes...it all came to pass…” His voice grew with intensity as he circled her, his amber eyes settled upon her. Whenever he spoke, he used his hands in animated gestures. The madness within his grieving and jumbled mind had led to certain unstable behavior, or was it just that he no longer cared about his appearance? “You spoke that my actions on the battlefield would leave my son fatherless. And like an imbecile I chose to follow you. So...in fear that I might die, I hobbled myself…” he gestured to the leg on which he used to limp before his powers had come to him. “I returned home to a wife who couldn’t stand the sight of me because of cowardice. She ran off with the damn pirate. Oh...and then to save my son from the wars I became the dark one. Because of them I let my son go to the land without magic and being the coward I am...I didn’t follow. So yes...because of my actions on the battlefield my child did become fatherless. But….” he came closer to her and snarled, his voice holding the edge of sarcasm. “It would have been nice to know all the pesky details!” He tried to tell himself not to be harsh with the woman, for if Baelfire was here with him that wouldn’t be what he wanted. After he swallowed his anger deep down, producing an unpleasant taste akin to bile in his throat, he gave her an intense stare. “I want you to tell me one last thing. I have one last question for you. And seeing as you ruined my life I should think you owe me at least this one.” He stood there, his small figure compared to ordinary men still carrying the power of the darkness coursing through his veins. “Will I find my son?” and for a moment, there was the desperation of a father in his voice, for it shook and trembled as the true grief and devastation threatened to show. The seer held up her hands, not to see into the future but to stop his speech. “Wait. There is one price you must pay.” She held out her hands. “Take this burden from me.” He stood there, comprehending it for a moment. After all, if she wanted this gift taken from her, surely it must have been painful. Yet he knew he had no choice. To get his son back he would do whatever it took. Seeing into the future just might point him to where he needed to be to find him. He could finally see what fate awaited him. Future was the specter that all men feared, and he would be able to tear off his black robe and look into the phantom’s eyes. “Erm...alright.” he said in his high pitched, almost playful voice as he grabbed her hands. Out of the fog and the mist, a bright light burst forth from the two figures, as power flowed from one to the other. The female screamed in pain as the magical energy flowed from her to the imp who had taken a hold of her hands. The surrounding animals ran away in fright, both the predatory creatures and their prey. Rumplestiltskin stared into the air in front of him, his eyes giving him the appearance of being in a trance. He looked around frantically as if he was trying to find a figure in front of him, as if he had suddenly become blind. “It’s all a jumble!” he said in alarm. “I can’t make it out!” “Focus…” the seer hissed, her voice becoming weaker and weaker as the imp in front of her began to rapidly breathe, the panic ensuing within him. “Over time, and practice, the pieces will fall into place.” all the sudden the all powerful dark one felt weak...vulnerable...like a beginner just learning how to work his magic. That was not desirable for him. For even though he still had much to learn about the dark arts he would never admit it. Yet he listened...in desperation to find his son, he swallowed his pride and accepted the seer’s teachings. He focused himself like one would focus their vision. There was only one vague vision that presented itself. He was in the same wood that he was now, but it was eerie and dark. He could smell blood. A paddock remained nearby as well as a series of shacks. In the middle of the clearing, a work horse was tied up, latched to a post. The creature was mangy, the equine covered in old wounds that had tattered it’s fur. The poor horse’s eyes were wide in panic, and he could see tears within them. There was a bloody bandage around it’s right hind leg, extending down to the fetlock from the cannon bone. The pack animal shook from fear and crossed it’s legs now and then as it struggled to gain it’s footing, having little to no coordination. Rumplestiltskin, having always had a sympathy towards animals(far more than he did for people), felt his heart breaking towards the creature. He knew what it was like to be lame, to be friendless. Out of the smokehouse came the drunk owner, filthy, dressed in peasant clothes and obese, he came staggering out towards the mare that was tied up. There was a whip in his hand, and the mare was trying to release herself from the post. The equine neighed in fear and tried to strike out with her hooves, but she could not rear up on her hind legs. She backed away, limping harshly as she did so. As the brute came closer and closer with the whip, Rumplestiltskin held out his hands to try to choke him with his dark magic, but it wasn’t working. As the abuser approached, the horse looked right at the imp, her eyes wide in panic. And then...she spoke within his mind. “FATHER! HELP ME!!” As he woke up from the vision in a sheer panic, he quickly let go of the seer’s hands, staggering backwards. “A dirty trick!!” he snarled. “You only wanted to release yourself from this torment! And that vision! It is wrong! First of all, how the hell would I give birth to a horse! Second of all, I only have one child and he is a male! Do you actually think that any woman would lay with me long enough to produce another?! Me?! The monster?!” Well! Explain yourself!” he tried to look to the seer’s stitched face, but instead she now lay as a lump on the ground. The transfer had taken too much out of her. Her breathing was shallow and harsh. The young woman was dying. He had to get his bargain before she passed away. He leaned over her. “Now I have taken this burden from you. If you cannot explain what I saw...fine. I will find out for myself. But I wish to know one thing, and I pray you do not make me wait. I cannot spend years trying to focus my vision when there could be a way to find him once more. Now tell me…” his voice was dangerously low, a hint of an animalistic growl within it. “Do I find my son..” The seer, speaking in a weak and gasping voice answered him. “Yes…” At that simple answer, a wave of relief broke over him as well as excitement. His boy...he knew that he was somewhere out there. His features for once grew soft, as he thought of the day that he was born..and that he would once more hold his darling son within his arms. “How.” he stated with some impatience...and excitement..as he looked to her. “You will form a curse that will lead you to him...but you will not cast the curse…” a ragged breath came from her as her hands shook. “Someone else will. And you will not break the curse...someone else will…” at this point, she struggled to breathe. “Yes, yes!” his voice grew impatient. “Go on!” “A young boy will lead you to him. But be warned...the boy will be your undoing. And yet there will be another who can save you from this fate. There will be the young boy, but there will also be a young girl. The girl will be your salvation…” She could not hold her breath anymore. She gave a sharp exhale and then fell back upon the ground, her body growing limp. As she passed away, the dark one leaned in to inspect her. He placed his finger to her throat. No pulse. He sighed to himself, running his clawed fingers through his brunette hair. “Rubbish..” the imp growled under his throat. “Absolute rubbish.” But there was a part of him that knew she was right deep down. But about that child...now that had to be ridiculous. No one could ever love him. Or could they?