#pretty fun as in. well. into the torture labyrinth with ye

[neurotonic]

Do you have any sort of hypothetical 'bad end' for any of your OCs? A future for them that leads to tragedy, despite their attempts? Not that it needs to be 'bad' morally mind you. Mamba is a villain, so their bad end would probably spell good for the Agency, and et cetera

It's definitely not something I think about a lot, nope! But this did make me think about the possible bad endings these characters could get.

Discussion of death and a brief mention of depression under the cut

Death is an easy answer, but I couldn't think of anything else worse than death for Mina and Starling. Mina's death would especially domino into a bigger political problem due to her already high-profile status and family connections, which is something she'd been trying to avoid all this time. If there's one thing she hates, it's getting other people involved in problems she made. To involve the bigger world into this, with her last act (dying) is definitely. the worst !

Starling dying early would prevent him from achieving his dreams of being a hero. To die in vain is an even bigger salt to the wound, because his death wouldn't even be considered helpful. This one is Still in the works, and I'm trying to decide whether Starling does die early on in the story.

Marshall's would be somewhat connected to these two. She's been working her ass off to prevent any more unnecessary deaths in the field after seeing the horrors of being viewed like a tool instead of a person. If she failed to save anyone in this story, she'd be devastated beyond belief. I think she'd just quit and fall into a deep depression. She could still stand up, but it will take a lot of time for her to really make peace with the fact that she failed.

Dr. Schaden is a bit more interesting...His bad end would be becoming a supervillain exactly like Dr. Zor. It feels a little odd, since Schaden wanted to be a world-renowned supervillain, so why not follow the footsteps of a master? My main thing with him is that he's a villain-to-be with morals. He has standards. He loves the villain industry but it could be a little better if the boss knew how to appreciate their henchmen. Dr. Zor is someone he...doesn't end up looking up to, and in fact he's using their techniques as guidelines of not what to do. I like the idea that he's genuinely a pretty nice guy, but he has all the ability to manipulate and lie and commit psychological warfare to anyone if he wanted to. He's knowledgeable in that field, but he chooses not to. If he lost what he valued the most...that's no longer Schaden.

Mamba's a bit simpler. I think not getting any closure with Phoenix would be the worst case scenario for her. It's already tearing her up from the inside out. Ironically, if she does kill Phoenix without talking about...Everything, she has effectively doomed herself into an unsatisfying existence. she'll never get the answers she actually wanted to hear from them. To continue living instead of dying feels a little more tragic, because then she doesn't even get the relief of not thinking about it anymore when she dies.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

The kitten-- Jareth x reader

Like a pouting child, the Goblin King sat on his throne. Outside, the thunder growled, the sky threatening to unleash his fury upon the inhabitants of the labyrinth. To drown all who stood within the storm's path! To diminish everything and everyone! 

Or at least, to make them feel as sour as he did.

His mood soured even more as he watched the source of his woe– a naughty kitten the color of ashes, chasing after a ribbon. Meanwhile, you, his love, his stars and moon entertained the damned horrid beast who knocked over his crystals and ran amuck! The monster who clawed his curtains and dipped her footprints into his ink, coating his desk in little paw prints. 

Really, he could handle that if you weren’t so busy cooing over the charming beastie. 

Finally, like the sun peeking through the clouds, you set your gaze on him. Smiling from your seat on the floor. He frowned. You were getting your pretty clothes dirty! 

“Jareth!” you called, waving him over, “Come play with me and the kitten!” 

He shifted, crossing one leg over the other, and the few goblins in the throne room watched, sensing the displeasure within their king. 

“Jareth!” You called again.

With a huff, he waved you off.

In response, your shoulders slumped, a frown forming on your lips, before you scowled, wagging a finger, “You better not be brooding!”

He sent you his own scowl in response. 

“That's the fifth time today!” You cried, shaking your head, before returning your attention to the kitten, “At least you don't brood!” 

“I heard that.”

 “Serves you right.” you put the ribbon aside now, offering her a finger to sniff, before she led your touch to underneath her chin, “he's no better than you! At least you purr, my sweet Eloise.”

“And that!” 

“And,” you continued, “At least you have cute little paws. What's he got? Hm? What does my little Jareth have?”

“Stop babying the kitten! And I'll tell you what I have, darling, class! At least I don't lick my ass in public–”

You turned to him, “So do you lick it in private then?”

Jareth shook like an overheated tea kettle as he glared at you. The splotching started at his neck, before slowly ascending, turning his cheeks and ears a bright, cherry red. In response, you snickered and grabbed the ribbon again. A smirk coated your lips as you swung it. Eloise scrunched herself into position, wiggling a bit before pouncing on her target. Or, at least, she tried to. Letting out a noise, she landed on her stomach, before determinedly chasing after the ribbon again. 

“Don't think I don’t hear you snickering over there.” He muttered, “honestly, how can you torture me so, dearest? Do you detest me?”

You continued playing with the kitten. The goblins watched, some fascinated, but others clearly disgusted. You couldn't ignore him! He was the Goblin King!

“Well?” he demanded.

You continued your fun.

“You're horrible!” He wailed, “Terrible! Atrocious! You're torturing me, darling! Tearing me apart, limb by limb!”

He now lay himself over the throne, his legs draped  over one arm. He threw a hand across his head, and the goblins around him chittered, clamoring to comfort him. To them, he looked like a martyr, or a sacrificial lamb being sacrificed to the gods. 

“What’s the matter, your majesty?” one asked. 

“Yeah, sire, what can we do?” 

Another held back sobs, “S-sire, what’s the matter?” 

“Yes! Whatever the matter, your majesty?” 

“Oh how you wound me my love!” Jareth pretended to close his eyes, only to look at you through little slits as he continued with his caterwauling, “Oh my love, how you torture me! How you pain me!”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“It feels as if you have taken a knife and stabbed me, twisting it within my chest!” 

The goblins gasped, some now huddling around the throne while shedding tears, their poor lips warbling as they looked at their luxurious, glorious, king. 

“Oh, darling!” Jareth cried. 

Finally, you turned to him with a glare, “Yes dear?”

He glared back, sitting up, “Get away from that horrid creature and pay attention to me!” “I asked you to come and play with–” “And get my clothes dirty on that floor?!” 

You sighed softly, shaking your head. 

To think, the being who always thought of himself as a gothic byronic hero couldn’t get along with a cat. Yet, you figured it’d be lovely to get one– since he had the temperament of one, and you thought it’d be nice to see your gargoyle of a king play with a kitten. Said king didn’t even notice you frowning, or if he did, he was too caught up in the performance to comfort you. 

“How you must detest me! Torturing me with such ideas!” His voice was smooth and hazy like wine, and the goblins drank it in, “And you pain me, darling– scolding me whenever I scold that kitten.”

You glared at him, causing him to gasp, laying a hand upon his chest.

“What a horrid creature you are, precious!”

Now, the goblins glared at you. They were stupidly overprotective of him, and even worse, stupidly overindulgent. Perhaps, you should’ve indulged him more, and even went to him, and sat upon his lap, but you quite liked where you were. Gathering Eloise in your arms, you cradled her to your chest, gently kissing her forehead. She protested a moment, before settling into your arms. 

“We’ll get rid of that beast, your majesty!” a goblin bayed. 

The small crowd nodded. 

“And we’ll make that human pay!” another yowled. 

“Pay! Pay!” the goblins cheered, “Make the human pay for upsetting the king!” 

Outside, the once howling wind stilled. The thunder stopped, even the clouds froze. Jareth grew still now, his hands now clenching the sides of the throne. His jaw clenched, and he turned towards the goblin who tried to rally the crowd. Standing, he loomed over the tiny creature, and you couldn’t distinguish where his long, black cape ended, and where the darkness began. His features elongated, sprouting, sharpening– ears turning into sharp arrows that jutted from his wild mane of blond hair. 

“What did you say?” 

The sky outside broke, thunder cracking it in half, followed by a lighting flash that slashed the air. Eloise let out a whimper, burrowing into your neck, but you didn’t cower. Just like Jareth, you couldn’t help but love what you loved, and love it wholeheartedly. Though, unlike your darling, you weren’t loath to admit it. 

The goblin was pinned into place by the king’s dark, deep gaze, and the fool looked at you, but you simply turned away to coo at Eloise. The creature was at the king’s mercy,now. 

“B-but your majesty–”  the goblin squeaked out, shaking in fear.

“But? But what?” He asked.

Jareth didn’t need to yell– his voice was all encompassing, sticking like snowflakes onto frostbitten skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, but still, to spite him, you continued to pet the kitten. Someone was clearly jealous. 

“Y-you said– y-you–”

“I said? I said? You ought to focus on your own words, you spineless fool! You threatened my love. You were tempted to make my darling pay– for what? Hasn't my heart always been merciful to insignificant specks like you?”

His heels clacked against the chilled silence of the room as he descended, stopping in front of the small group. They looked towards you again. Jareth leaned down, grabbing the nearest one by the throat.

“Do not look at my love.” he seethed, “Look at your King. Look at me.” 

You sighed, “Jareth.”

He turned towards you, a sneer on his lips. You simply blinked at him. The poor goblin didn't know who to be more afraid of. The Goblin King, or You, the one who didn't, couldn't, and wouldn't back down from him.

“You’ve been glowering all day.” you said, “And specifically, you’ve been glowering at your love all day, along with our kitten.” 

His stiffness melted. He looked at you. 

“Our kitten?” he murmured, edges melting, eyes widening. 

“Our kitten,” you insisted, meeting his gaze. 

The goblin was dropped like an old doll, and he tilted his head, finally noticing the frown on your lips. 

“Darling,” he murmured, “Why on earth are you frowning?” “Do you want to get rid of Eloise?” 

He looked at you for a moment, eyes wide, and his gaze ventured towards the kitten who now looked at him in return.

“As much as I love her, I love you too,” you said, biting down your lip, “and I want you to be happy. Not to mope all day because of a kitten.” 

His heart squeezed at the sight of you. Misty eyed and so connected to the little black cloud in your arms. It’s why he loved you, really, because your love was all encompassing, because it ate him alive, and he was scared that if you loved anything else, he’d lose it. 

“Oh darling,” he murmured, before coming towards you, and dropping to his knees, cradling your face, “No. You love that funny thing. And..” 

“Yes?” He lowered his voice, “I have been a bit jealous.” 

“Of a kitten?”

His cheeks flared. He looked away. Outside, the rumbling lowered its volume, undecided. 

“Yes.”

“Jareth–”

“Please don't scold me.”

You sighed, “She's not going to replace you–”

“You did say that you'd take her over me.”

“That's true,” you said, “especially if you keep being jealous of a kitten! Or keep trying to push her away! She's our kitten, Jareth, but I wanted us to both love her, to take care of her.” 

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I wanted to share our love.” 

Jareth stared at you, lips parted, revealing his sharp teeth. They caused the goblins to shudder in horror, but you simply smiled at him, reveling in his surprise. Then, his cheeks turned a pale pink, and the goblins watched in a mixture of horror and awe as Goblin King melted before you, turning into a man who sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“I think she hates me,” he admitted.

“She doesn’t hate you. She just glares at you when you glare at her. It’s what cats do!” He pouted, “You’ve been neglecting me–” 

“She’s a kitten! You’re a man! I’m your lover! Or are you into incest?” 

He let out a disgusted noise, “Of course not!”

“Then I'm not going to baby you like I’m your mother, Jareth! I'll take care of you like a lover. And we'll take care of Eloise together! Now hold the kitten and do some magic and give her some treats.” 

“Am I doing the magic for you, or her?” 

“Both.” 

With that, he took the kitten into his arms, and she whined as she was separated from you. Eloise looked up at Jareth through narrowed, displeased eyes. Her tail swished angrily behind her. 

“Blink slowly at her.” you whispered, now scooting beside him, and leaning onto his shoulder. 

“What?” “Just do it.” 

He sighed, and did as he was told. 

The kitten froze, and you shifted Jareth’s arms, so she was cradled against his chest.. 

“Do it again.”

He did it again. 

This time, Eloise settled against him, still a bit miffed, but otherwise, doing alright. Grabbing his freehand, you stripped off his glove and guided his fingers to the spot behind her ears. A grin spread across your face as she began to close her eyes. 

“See?” you cooed, “You’re both exactly the same. Charming.” 

His lips curled, and his smile spread as you kissed his cheek, before settling back onto his shoulder. Outside, the thunder lessened to a purr, and Eloise joined the noise, closing her eyes in contentment. You poked his side. 

“Are you still jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Of a kitten? That’s quite silly, darling.” 

You raised a brow, “You’re right. You’re lucky I like silly things, aren’t you?” 

“And you’re lucky I like silly things like you. Imagine babying a kitten.” 

“Imagine being jealous of one and wallowing in self pity.” 

He sent you a glare, making you giggle. 

Finally, he did sigh, “Will you ever forgive me for being so foolish?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you smiled, “If you’ll never be so foolish again. Save your jealousy for more practical occasions. Although, you won’t need to worry about anyone taking me away from you. I have everything I have here.” 

You settled by his side, and he continued petting little Eloise, before kissing your forehead. Outside, the thunder finally faded, revealing the pale hazy blue of the sky. He sighed in content, and the residents of the labyrinth exhaled in relief, all except a group of goblins, who, with a snap of his fingers, were sent to live within the bog of stench. Honestly, their screams were music to his ears. 

[timelesslords]

time, mystical time (cutting me open then healing me fine)

Read on AO3

The night the second Giant War ends, Percy and Annabeth sneak out together 

For the first time in what felt like years, Annabeth was able to exhale.

They'd done it. Gaea was gone, the Romans were on their side, various monster armies had been defeated. Sitting on the porch of the Big House with the remaining seven after all was said and done had felt like both one of the most anti-climactic, and heaviest moments of her life. Leo was gone, and she hadn't fully processed that yet, she wondered if she would ever fully process that Leo, so full of life and energy, wasn't there anymore. But compared to the Titan War, casualties had been light.

She still felt on edge, like at any moment the dirt in front of her might rise into Gaea's familiar form, shout "surprise!" and murder them all now that they had their guard down. But the hours passed, night fell, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Which, considering how Annabeth's life had gone the past 7 years, was extraordinary in and of itself.

But it still didn't feel right. It didn't feel done . She could breathe out, but breathing in still felt like a struggle, like there was something caught there.

Maybe that was why, once her siblings seemed mostly asleep, Annabeth slipped on her yankees cap and snuck out the door. She reached Cabin 3 easily, and was not at all surprised to find Percy still awake when she tapped on his window. He opened it, letting out a waft of cool sea breeze into the night air. Annabeth pulled off her cap and Percy grinned at her.

"Thank gods, I was wondering if you were ever going to show up." he said.

"Some of us have roommates." Annabeth replied, but she was also smiling. Percy had a conspiratorial grin on his face, the kind that was contagious, and that would make any self-respecting teacher want to cry.

"Give me a sec," He said, disappearing from the window, and returning with a blanket a few moments later. Then he began to climb out.

"You know the door is like six feet away, right?" Annabeth asked, watching with amusement as he maneuvered his way out of the small window hole. Percy managed to slide out of it, his feet landing on solid ground a little harder than he probably intended.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

"You're ridiculous." Annabeth said. She had not meant for it to come out quite so fondly, but she didn't have the heart to try and correct herself.

"You love me anyways." Percy said happily, taking her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. It felt so easy, so natural, Annabeth could almost forget the past 8 months had happened. Like they were still two kids who had only been through one war in their lifetime instead of two Which, okay, maybe a pretty pathetic ideal, but it still made her feel good.

They made their way down to the beach, careful to avoid the cleaning harpy's regular paths, though Annabeth doubted they were even on curfew duty tonight. There was still tons of debris lying around from the earlier battle that hadn't been fully squared away yet, despite everyone working around the clock to get it done. Though, with help from the Romans, Annabeth thought they could probably have camp looking back to normal in the next day or two. They were scarily efficient. Either way, the harpies were probably taking the night off.

The beach, thankfully, had remained relatively untouched from the battle. There were a few dunes she wasn't sure had been there before, and what looked like a bit of wreckage from one of the orangers. But they ignored both, opting for their favorite spot just above the tideline, in the middle of the beach. Percy set down the blanket, and they laid down on it together, still holding hands.

They were quiet, but that didn't bother Annabeth. Quiet moments with Percy were stupidly hard to come by, and just being next to him made her feel whole again. Even after the weeks they'd spent together, Annabeth hadn't fully recovered from the time she had spent with him missing. She wondered if she would ever fully recover from that, or if she was doomed to dream of him disappearing right before her eyes for the rest of her life.

And that had always been the fear, hadn't it? That he would leave like everyone else in her life had, before she had him? It was her fault they had taken so long to get together, the way she kept pulling away, expecting him to get tired and go. But he hadn't. He had stubbornly stuck around, even when she was mad at him and being mean to him and hadn't really been all that pleasant to be around.

And of course, there was the other thing. The prophecy that had ruled their lives since they were twelve, that Annabeth had read at too young an age, and that she had applied to him from the minute that trident flashed over his head. He wasn't even supposed to be here.

"What are you thinking about?"

Annabeth glanced over at Percy, who had apparently been looking at her for the past few minutes.

"You've got that scrunched up look on your face." He said. He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

"My face doesn't get scrunched." Annabeth protested, though even as she said it she became aware of the tenseness in her forehead and between her eyes. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"It does, when you're thinking hard. Don't worry, it's very cute."

"You're biased." Annabeth said, turning herself so she could look at him straight on.

"Maybe so." Percy said, with a soft smile and a half shrug. It was very easy to forget, sometimes, that they were half gods, but Annabeth saw it in Percy just then. Something beyond human in his touch and his eyes. Something divine. She wasn't sure how she had ever thought it would be possible for him to die. Looking at him now, she would swear up and down he was an immortal.

"I was just thinking about last summer. And the one before that. And all the time we wasted." Annabeth admitted.

"In our defence, we were kind of dumb then." Percy said, hitting her with a trademark grin. Annabeth had to smile back, even as she rolled her eyes.

"Speak for yourself, Seaweed Brain."

"Okay, okay. I was an idiot, and you were as brilliant as ever." Percy amended. Annabeth appreciated his undue faith in her, but it wasn't entirely warranted.

"I wasn't brilliant. I was pragmatic, which is just another kind of stupid if you use it wrong." Annabeth sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Annabeth started, not sure how to explain what she was thinking in a totally not-morbid way, "I guess I was just thinking about the prophecy the whole time. After the labyrinth especially, I just– I don't know. I was so scared of how it would all play out. I kept pushing you away because I thought it would be easier."

"You thought I was going to die." Percy said. He had a look of careful consideration on his face, free from judgement. He didn't let go of her hand.

"Yes." Annabeth said, feeling guilty as she did, "I mean, I should've known better. Prophecies never play out the way you think they will."

"The summer before. We ended things on weird terms." Percy remembered, "Is that because you thought the time was running out?"

Annabeth shuddered inadvertently. If it was up to her, she would never think about that summer again. It had easily been the worst of her life, maybe even now, and she had some really shitty summers to compare it to.

"It was partially that." Annabeth admitted, "Partially Luke. And... it was also sort of my prophecy. When you disappeared those two weeks and we– I thought you had died, I thought... I thought it was my fault. For bringing you on the quest."

Percy was frowning, like he wasn't quite following what she was saying.

"The last line. The one I didn't tell you about until after." Annabeth prompted.

And lose a love worse than death. Annabeth had been well aware of her crush on Percy at that point, but she hadn't fully, truly realized she was in love with him until she had thought he'd died for her prophecy. It was the absolute worst moment to have that clarity. Thankfully she had gotten a do-over of sorts, but it was hard to forget that kind of pain. That probably was why she had avoided him the rest of the summer, more than anything else, because she after she knew that she loved him the thought of losing him again, which had felt desperately inevitable at the time, was absolutely excruciating.

Percy's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh. Oh. Oh gods, I was an idiot. I didn't even realize how much of an idiot I was for that." he said, "After you kissed me and everything. I just never put it together."

Annabeth couldn't help but laugh a little at the expression on his face.

"It's okay." she said.

"Did I ever apologize for that? I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I tortured you enough after the fact."

"You did do that. I deserved it though. Gods." Percy said, rolling onto his back, looking up at the stars.

"Rachel didn't though." Annabeth said. She still felt a little twinge of guilt at how she'd treated Rachel the first few times they'd met. Looking back on it, it really didn't have much to do with Rachel at all; she had mostly been mad at herself, and Percy. Herself for not being brave enough to make a move, Percy for having a crush on a girl who wasn't her, after all they'd been through together. Not exactly fair feelings all around, but at least they'd been equally distributed. And she'd apologized to Rachel afterwards.

"No, probably not." Percy agreed.

"I was just mad, I guess. Luke was gone for good. Thalia had left, and I knew she had to, but it still hurt. And I thought I was going to lose you to her and then you were going to die, again, sort of, and it was all just kind of unbearable."

"I'm sorry. That you had to do that alone." Percy said, squeezing her hand, "I wish I had been better about it. I just didn't really know what to do."

"It's not your fault." Annabeth said. Then, after a moment of contemplation

"Though you could have at least acknowledged the kiss."

Percy groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

"I was so dumb. I still didn't know if you liked me after that. I thought you just wanted to forget about it."

"Well, after you didn't mention it, maybe." Annabeth said, a little teasingly. It was nice to just be able to sit here and talk about things. The past few months had been pretty hellish, but one thing they had done was put things in perspective. It was easy to laugh at their awkward 15-year-old selves' interactions now, while it might've still been uncomfortable a few months ago.

Of course, if Percy hadn't disappeared out of nowhere, they probably would've reached this point in their relationship organically, without all the trauma on the side. But if she thought about that for too long she would just get angry, and she didn't want to ruin the moment. It was a nice moment. The type of moment she wanted to have with him over and over again, until they both died of old age. For the first time that actually felt like an achievable goal.

"Can I get a do-over?" Percy asked, his trouble-maker smile back on his face. Annabeth grinned back.

"You can have as many do-overs as you want."

He leaned over and kissed her, soft and sweet, and frankly much better than the hurried, frantic one in the volcano had been.

"Annabeth Chase," he said as he pulled away, "I am acknowledging that that was an amazing kiss. I hope to have many more amazing kisses with you, for the rest of our lives."

Annabeth laughed and kissed him again, because she had the time, and they finally had the world to themselves again, and now that he had kissed her again, any time not spent kissing him felt like a waste.

"You're very good at that. Have I ever told you you're very good at that?" Percy said, when they finally broke apart again.

"Well, I had lots of practice before you." Annabeth said, unable to stop the sly smile from spreading across her lips.

"Like who?" Percy asked, indignantly. He was joking, but she could tell there was a note of genuine surprise there.

"Oh, lets see." Annabeth said, rolling back onto her back, fingers still laced through Percy's, "There was Zach, from elementary school. He wasn't very good, but practice is practice. And then Jake from that boarding school–"

"You kissed guys at your boarding school?"

"Oh sure. I was sad and you weren't around, I had to make do. I made out with Connor once, that was an experience."

"Our Connor? Connor Stoll?" Percy asked, unable to mask his surprise. Annabeth bit down a giggle.

"Yeah, on a dare. He wasn't so bad, really, but he could have used a little less ton–"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Percy said hurriedly, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.  

"Don't worry, you're better than all of them put together." Annabeth said, reaching around her own head and patting his with her spare hand.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that?" Percy asked.

"Mm. Might have to double check." Annabeth said, keeping her voice as serious as she could possibly make it.

"Oh yeah?" Percy said, and it was a dare to him now, which meant that teasing him so much had either been a bad idea, or a really really good one.

"Yeah." Annabeth said, and in a strange way she felt freer than she had before. Like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest.

Annabeth breathed in the salty sea air, revelling in the inhale. She might've started to cry if he hadn't kissed her then, but it was just as well. They had plenty of time.

[lesserfandomappreciation]

Ariadne and why the Mycenaeans can fuck right off

Warning: Includes brief mentions of r*pe, cultural destruction, ancient patriarchy reminding us why no woman would ever time-travel more than 5 years into the past if that and a great deal of spite for male historians/public education history/mythology classes. 

Possible side effects may include a sudden intense rage for an ancient society equivalent to the innate rage one has for the Romans burning the library of Alexandria, a distinct hatred for ancient men not being able to let anyone have nice things, and a sudden fascination for Minoa. 

Usually, I stick to writing imagines and being happy with that. It’s fun! I love it! But every now and again, in an attempt to escape the crushing forces known as reality and responsibilities I’ll put on a few cutscenes from games I’m: A) Too lazy to play B) Too broke to play C) Too unskilled to play D) All of the above

because cutscenes are free and why torture yourself with impossible levels when its free on Youtube?* *In all seriousness please support video games and video game creators, but no shame to those of us who prefer cutscenes to gameplay.  A few weeks ago I added the game Hades made by Supergiant to the list because the cutscenes were bomb and the characters are so much fun! Intricate as all hell! Hella cute too but that’s unrelated! Now my pretty little simp patootie is especially a big fan of Dionysus and his gorgeous design so the cutscenes with him are my favorite.

I’m re-watching his cutscenes a few nights ago for fun as background when he has a certain line about Theseus. Don’t quote me on this since my memory is foggy at best but roughly it was: Dionysus: Good job with Theseus. Never cared much for him- what he did to that girl was just horrible.*

*I know that’s not his exact line but this is clearly a rant post fueled by spite and ADD-hyper-focused obsessions with ancient civilizations so let’s not worry too too much about the semantics here. 

Now, I like mythology! Personally, I prefer the Norse mythology due to the general lack of very very gross dynamics that several other ancient mythologies seem to include, but I’m decently familiar with Greek mythos. Enough to go - “Why does the God of Wine give a single fuck about the frat bro of Greek heroes being a dick to a woman? Grossness is embedded into the very DNA of all distant relatives of Zeus, a woman being harassed by Zeus or his bastard army is a typical Tuesday in ancient Greece.” 

Wikipedia confirms that Ariadne is the only woman in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, which I kinda knew already so unless Theseus did some f’ed up shit to some other princess of Minos, Dionysus could only be referring to her. Disregarding what I know about Wikipedia and how it can suck you down the rabbit hole of rabbit holes through sheer fury I stupidly clicked the link to Ariadne’s article. 

By the time we get to the end of this shitstorm, I will have two separate plotlines for two separate stories based of Ariadne, 2k+ notes (and going) on an ancient civilization prior to a week ago I didn’t know existed and within me there will be a rage towards a different ancient civilization I vaguely recall learning about in high school. 

Here’s how this shit went down. 

First of all, apparently after Theseus abandoned Ariadne on an island to die (yep! He did that! To the one person who is the only reason he defeated the minotaur! Fuck this guy.) there are multiple storylines where Dionysus takes a single look at Ariadne and falls in love. 

“A god falls in love?” you say, aware of how most love stories in Greek mythos can be summed up with Unfortunately, Zeus got horny and Hera is a firm believer in victim blaming. “This poor woman is about to go through hell!” I thought so too! And in one variation of the story, Dionysus does his daddy proud by being an absolute tool to Ariadne. In the majority though? He woos the fuck out of her, and ultimately marries her by consent!

Her consent!

In ancient Greece!

The party dude of the Greek pantheon knows more about consent then his father and modern day frat brothers!

Okay! That’s interesting, so I keep reading. 

Ariadne getting hitched to Dionysus is a big deal in Olympus, to the point of getting a crown made of the Aurora Borealis from Aphrodite who is bro-fisting Dionysus, beyond glad she didn’t have to give him the talk about consent. The rest of the gods are pissy especially Hera who doesn’t like Dionysus much since he is the son of Zeus and Semele but they don’t do much. Ariadne ascends to godhood, becomes the goddess of Labyrinths with the snake and bull as her symbol and that’s that on that. 

Colorin, colorado, este cuento se acabado.  And they lived happily ever after. That’s the end of the post right?

NO! Because curiosity has made me their bitch and there’s more to this calling me. 

Also, I was pissed! Still am! Why the fuck-a-doodle-do did I have to learn about the time Poseidon r*ped a priestess instead of the arguably healthiest relationship in the entirety of the pantheon? Why is Persephone and Hades’ story (which has improved since it was first written and I like more modern versions of it, no hate) the only healthy-ish Greek love story I had to learn when Dionysus and Ariadne were right there? The rage of having endured several grade levels of “Zeus got horny and Hera found out” stories in the nightmare of public education led me to keep looking into this. 

There’s this wonderful Youtube channel called Overly Sarcastic Productions that I highly recommend that delves a lot into mythology, and I have seen their bombass video about Dionysus and how his godhood has changed since he was potentially first written in a language we comprehend. 

Did ya’ll know this man is the heir apparent to Zeus? ‘Cause I didn’t know that!

YEA! Dionysus, man of parties, king of hangovers and inducer of madness, is set to inherit the throne of Olympus! Ariadne didn’t husband up the God of Wine, she husbanded up the Prince of Olympus and heir apparent to the throne! Holy shit! No wonder some of the gods were against her marriage to Dionysus - can you imagine the drama of an ex-mortal woman sitting on the Queen’s throne of Olympus? Hera must have been pissed.

BUT WAIT.

There’s more.

The reason we know Dionysus is a very important god and is possibly even more important than we think is because of a handy-dandy language known as Linear B, otherwise known as the language of the Mycenaeans!

For those of you fortunate enough to have normal hobbies and interests, the Mycenaeans were the beta version of the Greeks. Their written language of Linear B is one of, if not the first recorded instance of a written Indo-European language. This language, having been translated, gives us an interesting look at what the Greek gods were like back in their beta-stages before they fixed the coding and released the pantheon. 

Interesting side facts of the Mycenaean Greek gods include:

Poseidon being the head god with an emphasis on his Earthquake aspect, and being much more of a cthonic god in general. 

Take that Zeus, for being so gross. 

The gods in general being more cthonic, as Mycenaeans were obsessed with cthonic gods (probably due to all the earthquakes and natural disasters in Greece and Crete at that time)

Several of the gods and goddesses that we know being listed, alongside some that we don’t consider as important (Dione)

The first mention of Kore, later Persephone, but no Hades because since a lot of gods were cthonic, there would be no need for one, specific cthonic god to represent the majority of death-related rituals.

That’s not what we’re focusing on though! What we’re focusing on is a specific translated portion of Linear B that we have. One of the translated portions of Linear B that for the life of me I can’t find (someone please help me find it and send the link so I can edit this post) says an interesting phrase. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

One more time. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

Mistress of Labyrinths. 

Now wait a gosh darn minute. Isn’t there a goddess of labyrinths in the Greek mythos? Why yes! Yes there is! Ariadne!

Here’s a question for you. If Ariadne is but a minor god in the pantheon, a wife to a more predominant god, why is it that while all the other gods and goddesses are bunched together in a sentence of praise, the so-called ex-mortal gets a whole-ass sentence to herself singing praises?

And thus, we have arrived to Minoa!

What is Minoa, you ask? Minoa is to Rome what Rome is to us. An old-ass civilization either older than or younger by a hundred years to ancient Egypt. Egypt, that started in 3200 B.C-ish depending on who you ask. That’s old. Old as balls. They were contemporaries to their trading partner, Egypt until 1450 BC-ish. A 2000 year old civilization.

Minoa was founded on the island of Crete, and was by what artifacts we have found a merchant civilization with its central economy centered on the cultivation of saffron and the development of bronze/iron statues of bulls. Most of what we know about them comes from artifacts and frescoes found on Crete that managed to survive everything else I will mention later, but what matters is that we know a few things about them. 

Obsessed with marine life for some time, given their pottery. 

Had the first palaces in all of Europe, some of them ridiculously big. 

Wrote in Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphs, both still untranslated languages. 

Had a ritual involving jumping over a bull, for some reason. 

Firm believers in “Suns out, Tits out.”

You’d think I’m kidding on the last one but no! No no no! All the women apparently rocked the tits-out look in Minoa!

^^^^One of many, many Minoan works featuring women giving their titties fresh air. ^^^^

“Wait a second Pinks! What does this have to do with Ariadne being the Mistress of labyrinths?”

Well you see dear wonderful darling, while we know very little about Minoan religion because Mycenaeans (we will get to those bastards in a second), we do know this:

All the religious figures appear to be exclusively women.

The most important figures of their religion seem to be goddesses as there are few artifacts featuring male gods.

Because of the religion, the culture may have been an equal society or even a matriarchy! Historians who are male aren’t sure. 

A frankly ridiculous amount of their temples, including the ones in caves in the middle of fuck-all feature labyrinths. A lot of labyrinths!

Their head god is a goddess! Whose temples have labyrinths and whose main symbols are snakes and bulls. Who do we know is a) the mistress of labyrinths and b) is symbolized a lot by snakes and bulls?

ARI-fucking-ADNE THAT’S WHO!

Ariadne didn’t upgrade by marrying the prince of Olympus! Dionysus wifed up possibly the most important goddess in all of Crete and becoming her boy-toy! 

I’m not even kidding, most Minoan depictions of the goddess’ consort features a boy/man who cycles through the stages of death. Dionysus himself in several myths goes through the same cycle - life, being crushed, death, rebirth, repeat.  Cycles the consort goes through in Minoan legend depictions too!

Okay, that’s great, but what does that have to do with the Mycenaeans? Why do you want to single-handedly go back in time and strangle the beta-Greeks with the nearest belt?

Everything I just said about Ariadne being a Minoan goddess, the Mistress of Labyrinths being hella important on Minoa, is all theoretical. The Mycenaeans are partially to blame for making it theoretical. 

Minoa thrived for 2000 years but it had a lot of issues, mostly caused by natural disasters. Towards the end of their civilization (1500 BC-ish), the nearby island of Thera, today known as Santorini, decided to blow up. The island was a hella-active volcano that when erupted, destroyed a lot. 

How big was the eruption? Well when Pompeii was wasted by Mt. Vesuvius, the blast was heard from roughly 120 miles away, 200 km. 

The blast on Thera was heard from 3000 miles away. 4800 km away.

Fuck me, the environmental effects of the explosion were felt in imperialistic CHINA.

Holy shit that would waste anybody! And it did! Minoa went from being a powerhouse in the Mediterranean to scrambling to recover from losing 40,000 citizens and who knows how many cities. Tsunamis may have followed the blast, further destroying ports which for a navy-powerhouse of an island nation is a bad thing and the theorized temperature drops caused by a cloud of ash lingering for a while would have destroyed crops for the year.

Minoa was fucked. 

The Mycenaeans and all their bullshit made it worse.

Up until a few hundred years prior to Thera’s explosion, Minoan artifacts don’t depict much in terms of military power. Why would it? Crete is a natural defense post. Sheer cliffs, high mountains and a few semi-fortified areas would make it pointless to invade. It’s only when the Mycenaeans in all their bullshit decided to attack/compete that Minoa really needed any army to speak of.

Guess who decided to invade while Minoa was reeling from an incredibly shitty year? Mycenaea!

Guess who won?

Also Mycenaea!

Nobody knows how this shit went down though because wouldn’t you know it, the Mycenaeans in all their superiority-complex glory decided to destroy most written accounts about Minoa, a good junk of the temples and culturally eliminated most of Minoan beliefs. 

Minoa isn’t even the real name of the civilization! It’s just the name Arthur Evans, the guy who re-motivate interest in Minoan archaeology, gave to the civilization because the writings that would have included the name of the civilization were destroyed.

“That sucks!” Fuck yes that sucks! “What does that have to do with Ariadne though?”

Oh ho ho. Strap in because you’re about to be pissed. 

Those of us unfortunate enough to be aware of all the bullshit the Christians pulled on the European pagan belief system are familiar with the concept of cultural, religious destruction. There’s a special name for it I don’t know but if I did I would curse it to be absorbed by the horrendous will of fungi. 

An example: Christianity was not the most popular of religions amongst the Vikings. A monotheistic religion that is heavily controlled did not strongly appeal to anyone with a pantheon as rad as the Norse one. 

In order to appeal to the Vikings, what monks would do is they would write down traditionally Viking stories which up until that point were orally passed down. Beowulf, the story of the most Viking Viking to have every Vikinged, was one of these first stories. 

However! Did these monks write Beowulf as closely to the original oral transcript as possible? Of course not! They took liberties! While Norse features such as trolls and dragons and all sorts of Norse magic occur, there is a lot of Christian features added in. 

This happened across all Pagan religions that Christianity came into contact with in Europe. Stories would be altered when written down to be more Christian (this happened to the Greek Pantheon too btw), holidays that were Pagan magically lined up with ones the Vatican just happened to suddenly have. Even names of mythological figures were taken and added onto Christian figure names. Consequently, a lot of pagan religions they did this to got erased over time, with many of their traditions and details being lost forever, and the details we do know being tinted by Christianity.

The Mycenaeans were likely no different. 

Minoa and Mycenaea were as culturally opposite as can be. Minoa is theorized to be a matriarchal or equal society*. Mycenaea and most of early Greece absolutely was not. In fact, during early stages of their religion where they believed in reincarnation, the Mycenaeans believed the worst thing to come back as was a woman. 

Did you get that? With your options ranging from man to ever single animal on Earth, a woman was ranked as beneath literal animals in Mycenaean society.

Fuck the Mycenaeans.

* This is not to say Minoa was without fault, as a society that is matriarchal or equal can still have rampant issues such as privilege, classism, racism, sexism and more, but when history has a shortage of civilizations that didn’t treat women like shit, you find yourself rooting for them more. 

 What do you do then, when you take over a society that is very much the opposite of a nightmare of a patriarchy? You fold their beliefs into your own to bait them into yours. Going back to the Linear B line about “Mistress of Labyrinths” that line would/could have been an early tactic of incorporating Minoan belief into Mycenaean belief. Other goddesses and gods were made into aspects of Mycenaean gods. Bristomartis, the Minoan goddess of the hunt, would become Artmeis. Velchanos, a god of the sky, would become Zeus. 

With more time, the religion shifted more into Mycenaean and eventually into ancient Greece as we know it. Through trade other gods and goddesses would continue to shift and change, some being straight up imported (Aphrodite for example). Dionysus himself changed a lot too, going from a God representing freedom and attracting slaves, women and those with limited power into his cult, to a God of parties for the wealthy. 

Theseus and the Minotaur was a myth likely based on a Mycenaean myth based on a Minoan myth that changes Ariadne from an important, possibly the important goddess of an ancient religion and relegates her to a side character in a pantheon so vast that she would be lost within it. 

All of this brings us to today. Today, where as soon as work ended I spent most of the day, as well as the past two days, looking up everything I can on Minoan civilization and added it to my notes. Spite is fueling me to write two possible different stories for two different fandoms where Minoa dunks of Mycenaea and it is giving me life. Expect an update within the next two weeks folks as I lose control of my writing life once more. 

In summary: Ariadne deserves more respect, fuck the public education system for skipping over the good parts of Greek mythology instead of the r*pey as shit parts, the Mycenaeans can eat my shorts, and a world were Minoa became the predominant power instead of Greece would be an amazing world to live in.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. Pink out. 

[91percentpynch]

the raven cycle x all for the games crossover part one - ronan and the ravens

i dedicate this to leni, as she sent me fanart of ronan lynch in a raven uniform and we started to talk about this. you probably won‘t see this, but this is for you. trigger warning: mention of abuse, mention of scars, mention/ hinting of rape, description of physical abuse at the end!! if i should add any warnings let me know!!

ronan joined the ravens because niall fucked up the moriymas and it was giving them one of their sons or dying

well we all know niall is a narcist so obviously he chose a son of his instead of his own death

declan figured that out pretty fast and immediatly volunteered so that niall would let ronan and matthew live in peace

but niall had other plans - he chose ronan: attitude problem and dreamer? he would surive the cruelties of the nest

declan told ronan, promised him to keep him safe, to not let niall take him away

declan tried to save him, really did try, but in the end he was just a teenage boy and their father? well he was their father, powerful dreamer, narcistic asshole, stubborn without limits

one night when declan and ronan go to bed, declan in ronan‘s room like every night since they heard from the deal, their father came in their room and got ronan

declan didn‘t notice, he slept too deeply - one of niall‘s dreams, so he would get ronan without declan noticing

when declan noticed however he screamed and cried and woke the entire house up

matthew didn‘t understand why his older brother cried in the room of the middle child every single day since the day ronan mysterically disappeared

riko tries to break him, because investments don‘t have feelings, they aren‘t human

little does he know that ronan doesn‘t have feelings, he doesn‘t have a heart you can break

besides that he lived with niall lynch long enough to know what pain feels like - after all their father gave them boxing/ fighting lessons and taught them how to handle pain

ronan is a backliner, he is jean‘s partner

jean and ronan grow really close

ronan promised to keep jean safe and unless declan ronan masters and sticks to his plans

he does everything to get riko‘s attention - disrespecting him, not showing up to practise, not doing as he was told

riko tried to use jean against ronan only ONCE - one of the only regrets the king of exy had in his sorry life

when riko tries to use that against him, ronan protects jean by fighting riko

this ends in riko torturing him

ronan doesn‘t mind

ronan is a dreamer in this universe

only jean knows about him

ronan dreams jean and himself things against the pain

ronan is actually super good at exy

almost as good as kevin

kevin has a crush on ronan

ronan doesn‘t care, because kevin is not his type

his type is adam parrish - starting dealer from the palmetto foxes

when they marked him, he tried to get a feeling of what the color is like, so when he went to bed he got himself a tattoo of his own

on his back, a maejestic raven, two boys kissing, surrounded by the forrest in his dreams

he hides it as good as he can from riko - for jean‘s sake because yes he fought him once and he might have left him in peace but you never know with that psychopath, do you?

and so he goes through the days, pain blurring them all together, jean always waiting for him in their room

„you don‘t have to do that, you don‘t have to take all the pain for my mistakes“, jean whispers in french once again.

„jean, moi soleil, i promised you to keep you safe. i‘m not my fucking brother. i never lie. i keep my promise, i will keep you safe. and if that means that i have to entertain our favourite dickhead, i will gladly do that“, ronan replied softly.

„i don‘t want you to be in pain“, jean admitted quietly.

„jean, you idiot, i am always in pain. either in my dreams or in this hellhole. but at least seeing riko furious is fun, unless my dreams“, ronan‘s eyes slowly wandered to his scars on his wrist.

jean just takes ronan‘s hands and holds them - their secret promise to never leave each other‘s side

eventually they fall asleep, jean‘s head on ronan‘s shoulder, ronan‘s head on top of jean‘s dark brown curles

they get woken up by a furious riko

ronan wasn‘t able to hide his tattoo fast enough, riko already saw it

„how dare you? how dare you disrespecting your master you piece of shit?“, riko yelled.

„which master? all i see is a little dickhead with a napoleon complex“, ronan replied calmly, looking riko right in the cold, dead dark brown eyes.

riko didn‘t take these words well and went straight for jean

„i would think about touching him twice if i were you. i don‘t know how you see it but i‘m roughly a foot taller and i know how to box. I wouldn‘t take my chances there. one more step towards him, one funny look and we‘ll find out“, ronan said calmly, „whatever you want to do to him, do it to me. i‘m a lot of fun. don‘t like my tattoo because you‘re an homophobic brat? well try burn it off me. take a knife and cut it off me. i don‘t care, i‘m a big guy, i can take it. however we don‘t want the other dickhead to know i might not show up to practice because my back hurts and oh, how my exy will suffer under that. probably gonna send someone to me in the shower again, oh how creative“

riko however didn‘t listen and took another furious step towards jean, hatred and madness in his eyes, which only meant once: brutality, torture, no limits of his anger

ronan out stepped riko and put himself in front of jean „go as far back as you can. sit down on your bed, face to the wall“, ronan said to jean in french, the other boy did as he was told, not knowing what else he should do

it was one of these times where ronan asked himself what that boy did before he arrived three years ago. how he surrived so long. obviously he saw his scars and ronan blamed himself for every single one of them. technically they weren‘t his fault, he wasn‘t here. but his brain stopped working properly when it came to the people he loved, he cared about.

he took his chance, the moment of suprise on his side and punched him right in his face. when riko tripped over his own feet ronan didn‘t hestiate and kicked him in the stomach. riko was never used to abuse, he was never beaten, never kicked, so he fell to the floor, holding his stomach, trying to catch his breathe

again ronan didn‘t hestiate, he took jean and ran for it

ran without any goal, without any orientation, he didn‘t plan this through, he just knew they didn‘t have time

„run, if you can make it without me, you run! do you hear me jean? run!“, he whisper-shouted at the other boy as they made their way through an dark corridor

„i won‘t leave you behind. i‘ll go with you, or not at all. he will kill you if we don‘t make it“, jean replied, anxiety making his accent thicker

they were just about to run around the corner when kevin came into their way

„what are you guys doing?“, he asked innocently.

„oh we‘re on a romantic fucking walk, watching the sunset asshole. we‘re fleeing. from your nice little cult. we‘re going. and if i find out you tell someone what we do i will come back and murder you princess. now either move out of the fucking way or join us for all i care. but if mr dickhead king of exy finds me, he will murder you, so i would really appreciate you making your decision fucking fast shithead“, ronan whispered fastly and furiously.

„i‘ll go with you, i‘ll bring you out“, kevin says in french.

ronan knew he didn‘t have the time to question day so he followed him, jean always close, ready to fight anyone who would be a danger for him

kevin navigates them through the labyrinth of the nest fast, always in the shadows, carefully that they won‘t be seen

somehow they managed to get out of the nest, but they didn‘t stop, they couldn‘t, not if they wanted to live

„did any of you actually plan this through?“, jean asks nervously

„of course i planned that riko would walk in on us sleeping together in one bed, where my back with my secret tattoo is exposed, where i then beat and kick him, take your hand and run like my life depends on it. and while i was at it i texted day ‚hey dickhead wanna go on an adventure;)‘ with my non-existent mobile“, ronan replied annoyed

„i actually did plan that sometimes, for fun. thought i might wanna visit my dad, thought i might wanna change teams. you know, riko gets harder and harder to stan with his perfect team bullshit and bla bla bla ronan and jean are not worthy your attentin bla bla bla stop talking about jeremy knox bla bla bla i will show you how that feels like bla bla bla being forced to sleep with riko bla bla bla“, kevin said quietly, they almost didn‘t make the words out.

„i thought he wouldn‘t do that to you, asshole“, ronan replied softly, „as much as we love a good talk about shared trauma, how did you plan to get away from here“

„actually no“, kevin said.

„how long do you think we have until mr dickhead is coming out here with his shithead uncle to kill us all?“, ronan asked calmly.

„i‘d say not long? five minutes the longest“, kevin replied.

ronan could physically feel jean‘s anxiety

„jean, it‘s gonna be okay, give me two seconds“, ronan replied. „i‘m gonna lay down now. if they come, jean you run. run as fast as you can. take them down. don‘t let them catch you. day? help him, i swear to god if i hear you didn‘t i will come visit you and i will not be as nice as riko“, ronan sadi to kevin, with a cold smile on his lips

over the years ronan learned how to control his sleep, how to fall asleep fast and dream something fast, this would work

ronan carefully lays down, closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. he repeats this a few times. quickly he falls asleep and thinks of the car his father owned. a black bmw. the memories might not be nice ones, but they need a car and this was the only one he knows by heart. carefully he touches it, checks if everything is alright and when he is sure it is, he wakes up, holding on to it like his life depens on it - which in this case it literally does

just in time to furious shouts he wakes up

the car next to him and he quickly gets in

„i recommend getting in if you don‘t want to you know get murdered by the japanese mafia shitheads“, he says calmly.

„you- you“, kevin tries to say.

jean just gets in the car and forcefully pulls kevin with him

„we have time to talk once we have some miles between these psychopaths and us day, so shut your pretty mouth and get the fuck in“, ronan says.

when the doors are closed ronan goes for it

he obviously does not know how to drive, but this was one of his dreams and his dreams never failed to suprise him

the car goes the moment he puts his foot down on one of the pedals, it doesn‘t have multiply gears, just one and it works

„to make this short: i am a dreamer. that means i can take shit out of my dreams. that‘s why jean and i could play. well, i don‘t know how you two losers surrived so long without me, but i will keep you safe. i don‘t lie. i‘m gay. you are not my type, so don‘t even try to hit on me. if you hurt jean i willl murder you, i don‘t who you are, i don‘t care what you are, hurt my family and die“

„i‘m your family?“, jean said, his voice barley more than a breathe.

ronan doesn‘t have to turn his face around to see the silent tears running down the face of the french boy

once again ronan wonders how jean deserved this life, this beautiful, sarcastic, yet kind soul

„of fucking course asshole, you‘re the only motherfucker who can handle me“, ronan replies.

„okay enough sentimental bullshit and emotions, day where are we going? have we planned that as well?“

„palmetto state, to my father. well he doesn’t know he‘s my father, but i guess he‘ll love two backlliners and a kevin day - second best striker in the united states“

„palmetto state it is. hope they‘re ready for the mafia to come visit to get us“, ronan replied, a small smile on his lips as he thinks about all the new possibilities and hopes he now dared to dream for

[faewhump]

Unseelie Pet: 1. Prologue

While involuntarily attending a ball at the Unseelie Court the human Alex meets Lord Malachi. Charmed by the beautiful and alluring Fae, Alex only realises his true intentions when it’s already way too late...

Masterlist Next

Warnings for this part: mentions of torture, drugging (faerie food)

The moment the Unseelie Fae smiled at him across the room Alex knew he that was in deep, deep trouble. Of course he’d been in trouble before already, it was impossible to deny that with the lesser faerie that cornered him, but in truth it had started even before he’d come to the Unseelie Court. After how horrible his experiences with the Unseelie Lord Rían had been, he’d sworn himself to never seek out the fair folk ever again and to just stay out of the woods all together for good measure. Following his escape from the Court, he had tried his best to stay hidden, and for about ten years the faerie world seemed to have forgotten about him. But of course it hadn’t stayed this way.

About a week ago an old acquaintance of his had delivered a message from the Seelie Court which they served, offering him a favour in exchange of his services as a spy at the upcoming equinox festivities at one of the Unseelie Courts. Apparently, they had feared that any faerie spy of theirs would be detected immediately, and so they needed a human who already knew their way around and therefore wouldn’t attract attention. Of course Alex had declined, no favour they offered was big enough to make him consider ever setting a foot near such a place again, but eventually the thinly veiled threats against his family and friends had convinced him.

Despite how jarring it was to be surrounded by faeries again, at first everything seemed to be going well. He had snuck into the beautiful palace without any problems, and due to his purposeful walk all faeries simply assumed that he was nothing but a servant running an errand for his master and paid him no mind. He had successfully infiltrated the main ballroom, where he inconspicuously listened in on the conversations around, trying to find out where and when an attack on the Seelie Court was supposed to take place – in case such a plan even existed. Everything had been going so well, he had even managed not to think too much of the human pets some of the faeries held by their sides, but of course it couldn’t have been that easy.

No, the part where this awful experience had truly deteriorated was when Darerca recognised him. The lesser faerie had been one of Rían’s vassals and was quite intrigued to see her Lord’s escaped human sneaking around at this Court, promptly deciding to confront him - and so Alex had suddenly found himself cornered by one of the faces that still haunted his nightmares. He’d tried his best to bargain with her, but Darerca seemed quite set in her objective to punish him for his escape by torturing him to death. The faeries that had overheard their exchange curiously turned towards them, excited for the prospects of a promising entertainment. That was when the Unseelie Fae joined them.

“Excuse me,” he said, elegantly sliding up to Alex as the surrounding faeries moved out of his way. The man’s immaculate glamour clearly marked him as High Fae, not a single of the many faerie traits he surely possessed showed, making him look almost perfectly human.

“Lord Malachi,” Darerca said, standing up a little straighter.

“Darerca,” Malachi greeted, his cultured voice and easy smile sending shivers over Alex’s back. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing,” Darerca replied a bit to quickly. “This human belongs to Lord Rían, so I wanted to have some fun with it, give everyone a show.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” Alex protested. He immediately regretted his outbreak when the High Fae’s dark eyes turned on him, the intensity of their gaze almost palpable on Alex’s skin.

“Hmm, it seems to disagree,” Malachi remarked, and Alex bristled at being referred to as an ‘it’. “Besides, Rían has been gone for a decade now, so any claim of ownership he might have had doesn’t hold much weight if he isn’t here to defend it.”

Darerca looked like she wanted to object but didn’t dare to disagree with Malachi. All the faeries that had waited excitedly for Alex to get tortured had dispersed again, clearly afraid to get involved in the argument. Alex swallowed, this Lord Malachi must be a very, very powerful and high-ranking Fae to evoke such strong respect.

“Come with me, human,” Malachi said in a tone that brooked no resistance and turned to leave.

“No!” Darerca called and stepped forward to block Alex’s way.

Malachi turned back slowly. “Is there a problem, Darerca?” he asked and raised a perfect eyebrow.

“Of course not, Lord Malachi,” Darerca pressed out, grinding her teeth in anger, but didn’t move again when Alex walked around her to follow the High Fae.

Throwing a nervous look back at Darerca Alex quickly followed Malachi through the ballroom, faeries moving out of the Fae Lord’s way respectfully, and on along the entwined corridors of the palace. Alex’s stomach churned with nervosity, although Malachi had saved his life he knew better than to assume that his intentions were good. For all he knew, the Fae Lord simply wanted to torture him in private instead of allowing Darerca to do it in public, but he couldn’t stop the quiet hope that he merely wanted to cause mischief and would let him go just to annoy the other faeries.

After walking in silence for a while they came to a halt in front of an ornate gate, which Malachi unlocked with a golden key.

“After you,” he said politely and held the door for Alex.  

Wary, but unwilling to antagonise the Fae, Alex entered a spacious sitting room. There were comfortable looking couches and armchairs strewn around with a low table holing all sorts of delicacies in their middle. As all rooms in the palace, this one also seemed strangely alive, the wood of the walls and furniture looked organically grown, and Alex could even see greened twigs sprouting in a corner.

“Please, take a seat,” Malachi said, settling himself in a high-backed armchair. Alex gingerly sat down on the couch across him, muscles wound tight and ready to jump up any time.

“You must be horribly hungry,” Malachi stated. “Please, eat.”

He gestured towards the richly laid meal between them, flashing the frightened human a charming smile, and Alex suddenly was overwhelmed with how breathtakingly beautiful the Fae was. He had jet-black hair and equally dark eyebrows, his unnaturally pale skin almost gleamed in contrast, and he wore some of the most elegant and noble clothes Alex had ever seen. His face was smooth and ethereally handsome, looking to be about Alex’s age, but Alex knew with certainty that in truth it was closer to 300 than to 30. Of course his insane beauty was probably only due to his strong glamour, hidden underneath it there would be inhuman Fae traits of unknown horrors.

“Come on, eat,” Malachi repeated, his pose open and suggesting hospitality.

Alex hesitated, he had experienced the bewitching effect faerie food had on humans first-hand already and knew that he shouldn’t take the risk of it dulling his senses. But he couldn’t deny that he was quite hungry, and the food just looked so good. Besides, refusing Malachi’s hospitality would be extremely impolite and a clear affront, especially after he’d saved his life.

Slowly Alex reached out and picked up a small bread roll from a basket, carefully taking a tiny bite. He closed his eyes as the explosion of flavour hit his tongue, the bread roll was perfectly crisp and fluffy, the warm grounding taste of the dough complemented perfectly by the mixture of spices. He must have forgotten how irresistible faerie food was, everything tasted so much more intense and delicious, from the bread and meats to the fruits and cheese, even the water was cooler and more refreshing than it had any right to be. At first he tried to eat only as little as possible, but soon found himself unable stop and didn’t even pay much attention to the Fae watching him with a slight smile.

“What is your name?” Malachi asked, breaking the spell of the food for a moment.

“A- Kieran,” Alex said, his mind thankfully still quick enough to remember to give his fake name. He had felt so smart and invincible when he’d come to the fair folk a decade ago, just because he’d thought of a fake name to use, but had quickly learned that even without the absolute control real names gave them, faeries were incredibly dangerous.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kieran.” The Fae inclined his head. “You may call me Malachi, for now.”

Alex smiled back, the effect of the faerie food was finally sinking in, calming him and making everything seem even more intense and pretty. His initial fear and anxiety had all but passed, he felt warm and safe, only a small voice nagging at the back of his mind told him to resist and stay alert, but why would he listen to it? There was nothing to worry about, Malachi had saved him and was so nice to him, and he was so beautiful…

“You’re so beautiful,” Alex mumbled, looking away embarrassed when he realised what he’d said.

Malachi’s smile widened. “Why, thank you. You are an extraordinarily adorable human as well.”

Alex blushed shyly, only vaguely registering that maybe it wasn’t a good thing to have so much attention from a powerful Fae.

“Is that why you saved me?”

Malachi chuckled. “Partially, yes.”

“What will happen now?” Alex asked. “Will you just let me leave or bring me back to the human world? Or do you want to make a deal?”

“You want to leave already?” Malachi acted surprised. “Why that? Have I not been an accommodating host? Wouldn’t I deserve some more of your company?”

Alex licked his lips, nervosity starting to bubble up under the faerie food induced calmness. “Thank you for your offer, Lord Malachi, but I really should go.”

Malachi clicked his tongue and stood up. “The way outside is such a labyrinth, a little human like you could get lost easily.” He slowly walked around the table towards Alex. “And I would be quite sad if you left so soon. After all, I haven’t had a sweet human pet in such a long time.” With that he leaned over Alex and brushed a thumb over his cheek, still smiling.

Alex froze, the Fae’s touch felt almost electrifying, and he gradually began to realise the scale of the mess he was in.

“No, no, I have to – I want to go,” Alex stuttered.

Malachi gently placed his index finger upon Alex’s lips and said, “You can't always get what you want, little human.”

Alex was locked into place, unable to move, and he knew that he’d be panicking right now if it wasn’t for the faerie food he’d made the mistake to eat.

“Don’t worry, Kieran,” Malachi said. “I will take good care of you.”

The Fae’s unwavering smile was the last thing Alex saw before everything went dark.

[morganrhodes]

Behind the Scenes of Falling Kingdoms

It’s been a minute, my friends! I don’t have any shiny news to share with you at this very moment, but I thought I’d check in and say “hi!” and share with you a little something that Falling Kingdoms fans might find interesting.......

The original ending of Gathering Darkness!!

I’m going to put a spoiler break here, since there are spoilers ahead! ***********

Some people ask if I knew exactly how the story was going to end as I started it. Nope! I sure didn’t! I learned a lot as I wrote each draft, about the world, the characters, the magic, the mythology. This is an excellent example of how the series could have gone in a VERY different direction halfway through the series than it actually did.

Oh, and this is obviously before any proofreading or copyedits, so it’s pretty raw, but I hope you enjoy this peek behind the scenes!

Note: in this original draft, Felix working against them from the get-go. He’s lucky he was so darn fun to write or he would have gotten the ax! Literally and figuratively! 😂

***

Original Last Chapter of the first draft of FALLING KINGDOMS #3: Gathering Darkness

They approached the gates set into the north face of the stone wall. It was almost amusing how much the compound resembled a very small and very poor version of the City of Gold. This was the City of Dirt.

           The chieftain had lived high enough here, though, compared to the majority of Paelsians. Thanks to the hefty wine tax on every bottle produced that had gone directly to him, this wasn’t surprising.

           But the chief was dead now. This Paelsia was an orphan, ruled by default by the King of Blood.

           Jonas didn’t waste any time. He shoved open the gates and went inside, a path he’d walked months ago when he’d been granted audience with the chief.

           “Is it true you were involved with the chief’s daughter?” Lysandra asked. “She danced with snakes, didn’t she?”

           “Very well, too.”

           “I’ll take that as a yes.”

           “Who told you that?”

           “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

           It must have been Brion. Jonas almost smiled at the memory. Laelia Basilius had been a shallow girl, but it hadn’t been completely unpleasant to work his way into her good graces—and her bed—so she’d introduce Jonas to her important and influential father.

           “She had her uses.”

           She gave him a sour look. “I wonder if she feels the same about you now.”

           “Last I heard, she thought we were betrothed.” At Lysandra’s look of shock, he laughed. “We’re not.”

           “Let’s hope your paths never cross again in case there’s a wedding to attend.”

           “That is definitely something to avoid at all costs. Besides, I’m not interested in her as part of my future. I have more important things to accomplish. Where do you think we should do it?” At her sharp look, he couldn’t help but grin. “The ritual.”

           He hadn’t been able to coax a smile from her today, which didn’t surprise him that much. It had been a difficult journey from Limeros as they tried very hard to beat Felix to this location. They hadn’t seen any sign of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.

           Lysandra scanned the area. There were dirt paths leading off to a labyrinth of small cottages and Chief Basilius’s large villa in the center. “How about that clearing?”

           The clearing was the location of the chief’s bonfires, feasts, and nightly entertainment. When Jonas had been here last there had been several very beautiful topless dancers entertaining the chief.

           “Why are you grinning?” Lysandra asked.

           “Just dealing with a few memories.”

           “Deal with this.” She handed him her dagger. “I cleaned it especially for you.”

           “You’re not volunteering this time.”

           “You’re so good at making yourself bleed, why would I want to get in the way? Why? Do you want me to do it this time?”

           “No.” Jonas took the blade from her, found a spot on his forearm this time, and sliced. This was the fifth time he’d done this so it was a familiar pain.

           He crouched down and with the blood that welled from the cut, he drew the spiral symbol for air on the parched ground. “Let’s hope it works this time.”

           Lysandra gave him a tense look as a breeze picked up, circling around them in a whirlwind that made their breath catch. Jonas used a new piece of cloth to bind his wound, his gaze tracking around the area.

           “Jonas, over there.” Her voice was tight. She pointed at a spot where the bonfire had once been, now only a scorched circle in the center of the clearing.

           Something was there, the sunlight glinting off of it. A crystal.

           A moonstone.

           His chest tight, Jonas pulled another cloth out of his pocket and approached the crystal, bending over and picking it up without the surface of it touching his skin.

           “It didn’t bother Felix,” Lysandra said.

           “I’d rather not take any chances.”

           “That’s it, isn’t it?”

           “Unless there’s another crystal about to appear out of absolutely nowhere after I bleed on the ground, yes, this is it.”

           He wouldn’t risk this one. He had to get it somewhere safe until he could make contact with Cleo. She probably wondered where he’d disappeared after claiming the Earth crystal. He hadn’t realized he’d be dealing with a traitor like Felix.

           Still, one crystal was better than no crystals at all.

           Lysandra clutched his arm. “Jonas…”

           He glanced at her with surprise. “What?”

           “We have company.”

           He turned slowly, his heart sinking, to see that she was absolutely right. Of course, he expected to see that Felix had caught up to them.

           Felix was definitely there. But behind him were at least twenty guards in red uniforms.

           And King Gaius himself.

           “You were right, Felix,” the king said. “Here he is, the infamous Jonas Agallon, the murderer of my beloved wife and queen.”

           “Oh, your highness,” Jonas said, sounding a great deal more confident than he currently felt, “everyone knows that was a lie. Aron Lagaris killed your wife. He was your kingsliege, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t he? Sounds like someone who took orders extremely well.”

           “I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to do with you.” The king’s gaze shifted to Lysandra. “Or you. Shall I take you to my dungeon again and risk some last minute escape that disappoints a crowd thirsting for a show of blood? Or shall I kill you here and be done with it?”

           “Deal with me however you want,” Jonas said. “But let Lysandra go.”

           “Not a chance. She will die at your side, rebel.”

           “Sorry, Jonas,” Felix said, shrugging. “You gave me no choice.”

           “Really. No choice at all other than this?”

           “The cost of a raven to send a message from Limeros to Auranos was steep, but I believe it was worth it in the end. If I hadn’t, the king and his men never would have arrived in time.”

           “That would be a shame.”

           Jonas wasn’t sure what to do, how to maneuver his way out of this. He could handle a few guards, certainly, especially with Lysandra at his back. But twenty or more? And there was only one entrance into the compound unless they wanted to scale the twenty foot walls, and that entrance was currently blocked by a small army.

           “The crystal,” King Gaius said. “Hand it over.”

           “That’s not going to happen.”

           The king looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face showed signs of strain. He appeared much older than the last time Jonas saw him.

           “Felix,” he said.

           “Yes, your majesty.”

           “Where is the Earth crystal?”

           “I have it in a safe place.”

           “Why isn’t it here as we agreed?”

           “I want an assurance that you’ll pay me.”

           “Don’t insult me, boy. Of course I’ll pay you. You’ve delivered to me the means to claim two crystals and also apprehend Jonas Agallon, you will be paid very well indeed. Now tell me where the Earth crystal is.”

           Jonas eyed Lysandra. Her attention was totally focused on Felix. He knew that she liked the mercenary despite everything that had happened, that she thought she saw something more in him than Jonas did. Jonas had thought he’d seen a true friend in Felix, in the beginning. But he’d been fooled. He refused to be fooled again.

           “Can you use it?” Lysandra said to him under her breath.

           He glanced down at the piece of moonstone he’d wrapped in the protective cloth. There was a strange shadow within it, much like the Earth crystal. A strand of darkness that swirled around and around. “Felix couldn’t do more with the other crystal than the most minor magic. It won’t help us here today.”

           “Then we’re dead, simple as that.” She reached down to take his hand in hers, finally giving him a shaky grin although her eyes shone with emotion. “It’s been good to fight at your side, Jonas. It started a little rough between us, I know, but I mean that. You’ve become so important to me…I hope you know that.”

           “No, Lys. Don’t talk like that. We’re not giving up yet.”

           “Maybe I’m more of a realist than you are. There’s no way out of this.”

           “Let me make this very clear, Felix.” The king’s voice was brittle, angry and impatient. “Tell me where you hid the crystal and I won’t have to take you back to my dungeon and torture the information out of you.”

           Felix’s brows shot up. “You’d do that?”

           “Oh, yes. I would do that. Do not challenge me, boy. I have not had a pleasant week, to say the least. I came out here, leaving the sanctity and safety of the palace for this wasteland that I despise, so I could claim what you promised. I will not leave here with only one crystal in my possession.”

           He flicked a finger at a guard, who pointed his sword at Felix’s throat.

           “Huh,” Felix said. “Will you look at that, Agallon? I guess you were right after all.”

           “Idiot,” Jonas growled. “Nice of you to finally realize it.”

           “I do have a theory about the crystals, though.”

           Were they really having a conversation right now, moments before the king unleashed his guards to slaughter them all?

           “Oh? And what’s that?”

           “One crystal doesn’t work too well on its own. But two, on the other hand—” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the piece of obsidian. “That might work better.”

           King Gaius inhaled sharply at the sight of it. “You lied to me.”

           “Yeah, I really did. Jonas, catch.” Felix tossed the crystal at Jonas and he caught it in his bare left hand.

           “Damn it. Fine, I’ll try.” Jonas discarded the cloth so he could hold the piece of moonstone in his other hand. “All right, anything would be good here. Anything at all.”

           He had no idea what to do now to harness the magic. He was no sorcerer. He’d only started to believe in magic in recent weeks.

           However, there was that whispered rumor in his family that an ancestor had once been an exiled Watcher.

           Jonas gasped as something stabbed at him through his hands. “What—?”

           The crystals began to glow like hot coals. He tried to drop them when the burning pain intensified.

           “Jonas, what’s happening?” Lysandra gasped. “What are you doing?”

           “I don’t know. I’m not trying to do anything!”

           A band of light began to snake out of the crystal and wind around his arms, tightening like boa constrictors. The bands of light wrapped around his chest, his throat, swirling like a tornado all around him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was only the searing pain and the sensation that he was being torn apart.

           He realized he was screaming a moment before the pain ceased.

           He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body ached, as if he’d been struck by lightning and then mauled by a pack of wolves. He was surprised that blood didn’t drip from every part of his body.

           The crystals were gone. Someone must have taken them while he suffered. He pushed against the cracked ground to get back up to his feet, casting a worried look toward Lysandra. She stared at him with shock rather than the concern he expected for what he’d just endured.

           Then he glanced toward the guards, the king, and Felix.

           Instead of surging forward and killing him where he stood, each of them, one by one, sank to their knees until only King Gaius and Felix remained standing.

           “What are you doing, your majesty?” Felix growled, but he didn’t move his gaze away from Jonas. “Kneel.”

           Stunned, Jonas watched as the king did exactly that, lowering himself to his knees, his jaw tight, his expression one of utter and absolute shock.

           “What is going on here?” Jonas managed.

           “The crystals,” Lysandra said, her voice strained. “Jonas…your hands...”

           His hands? He looked down at his hands. On his left palm was what appeared to be the brand of a spiral. On the other, a circle within a circle.

           The symbols began to glow.

           “You’re a god now, Jonas,” Lysandra whispered. “The god of Earth and Air. And even the King of Blood kneels before you.”

**

Right? Verrrryyyy different indeed! I’m glad I didn’t go in this diection, but the idea of the poor winemaker’s son becoming the most powerful being in Mytica certainly did have its charms. ❤️

[clansayeed]

Bound by Choice ― III.i. A Funeral and a Pyre

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ PART III ⥽

— Virginia, 1857. It was supposed to be their chance at freedom — their Shadow Kingdom. Instead it has become a battlefield. Tensions rise as the nation whispers of civil war and humans and vampires alike learn even freedom demands blood. No more will they pray to be saved. Not when the Shadow eclipses the Dawn.

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Trinity will always be fighting for their freedom. The Godmaker has made sure of that.

WARNING: this chapter contains mature sexual content

[READ IT ON AO3]

Virginia, 1857

They get a fair distance from camp before it dawns on them both. They aren’t far enough.

Perhaps they have been spending too much time around mortal-kind. Not that either man would admit it.

So a fair distance goes just a little but further. Until their ears cannot pick up the din of tin flatware and the crackle of the fire. If they cannot hear their companions then they, too, cannot be heard.

The canopy is thin this time of year — summer long-gone and autumn welcomed in its place in falling leaves and nights that leave bitter fingertips come morning light.

Fingertips that, now and finally blissfully alone, come together in barely-there touches. They know the other’s touch as well as—if not better than—their own. Proven as much in the surety of their actions. In the wordless way their foreheads come together and share the things that should repulse them; the dirt and sweat and gunpowder clinging in vain.

But they know better; know one another better know themselves better than to think something as temporary as the earth beneath their boots could lessen their inevitable desires.

The rugged palm of his forever comes up to hold Cynbel’s cheek — to capture this moment in time and bring it to the reverent place where they keep every other.

Distraught are the souls who are unknown of such rapture, he thinks — and pities them, that they may try to take their god into themselves in words and scripture, but know flesh is beyond them.

He’ll never know what blind faith feels like. He walked in to his faith with eyes wide open and led by a divine hand.

Supplies are low—have been for some time though that is a thought for any time but now—but they make due. Use blood and spit and take their precious time while grass tickles their bare skin. At one point a dead leaf crumbles under Valdas’ palm and the pair laugh at the sight. Find joy in the little moments even after all these years.

And oh, how many years there have been. How is it that each time is as familiar and as new as their first had been? How is he so lucky?

Valdas stills inside of him; eclipses the sliver of the moon overhead as if he was not already Cynbel’s sky and stars. “Does my lovemaking bore you?”

What a ridiculous question. “Never.”

“Then what has you both beneath me and so very far away?”

Ah. He nods, feels the catch of twigs in his hair absently. Runs long fingers up the canvas of Valdas’ outer thigh before gripping it tight to hold them together as only lovers know.

“Do you know something I hate about this continent?”

Valdas barks a laugh. “I know many things you hate about America, my darling. You never waste an opportunity to make that abundantly clear.”

“Fair point.”

“But for the sake of the vice-grip you have on my cock, what do you hate about this continent, Cynbel?”

As amusing as it would be to torture them both for hours upon hours… They just don’t have that kind of time here.

“There are no ruins. No crumbled temples or ill-kept shrines. Well… none that have not been bastardized by invaders but —” but he, too, would seek release at least thrice tonight, “— and somehow the lack of such things makes me miss them all the more. It makes me miss your altar all the more, my Holy One.”

He smiles as recognition can be found in the dark eyes overhead. In the curve of Valdas’ smirk and the way he rolls his hips and brings them together near-seamlessly.

“While I too find myself reminiscing on such glory days —” the man beneath him keens in pleasure, body scrambling desperately to keep him inside but unable to deny him, “— I don’t let them take priority over the now. Especially when now is equally glorious.”

Valdas punctuates the word with a jerk of his hand, stroking Cynbel in something akin to haste. A direct opposition to his leisurely fucking. And while the contrast is good enough to bring his devoted progeny back with him to the present something unfamiliar lingers.

Hesitation. Doubt?

“It… is found equally so Cynbel… right?”

Perhaps before he would have taken such a question as insult. Would have disparaged his god for believing him to be anything other than in a constant state of growing love for him. Before all of this.

Before the war.

Thankfully for them both Valdas knows better than to take his lover’s silence as an answer he may not wish to hear. Resumes his pace and lets it build — lets them build. But his patience has a limit. Cynbel would know… he’s been the test of it for millennia now. He will have his answer before the night is through.

And he does — his golden son’s spite showing through in that he withholds it until Valdas falls atop the length of him, utterly spent and not in the least bit sated. Sweat and orgasm smeared between the places they long to knit together. To become one.

“It is not.”

The body above his tenses, readies to pull away. But it is only in things like this that Cynbel can refuse his Lord and Light. Only in the ways that ensure they are kept close; that they are kept whole and together.

Valdas pulls his head back enough to look up with guarded eyes. Sees mirth reflected back in dim pools of blue and the frustration he feels isn’t unknown to either of them. Though it is usually reserved for their beloved third.

Cynbel cards his fingers through Valdas’ dark hair and continues, “It can never be equally so, never in all our years. Because, my petulant divinity, each time with you is made ripe with age, seasoned with our years and the things we have done together, done with Isseya.

“It is never the same. It is always better.”

It is how they came to start and how they will end.

Though, he thinks — and lets himself fall back into the embrace of the earth with his religion hovering atop him, enveloping him; keeping him safe and giving him purpose in this endless labyrinth of eternity, if they are truly so blessed it will not be for many years to come.

Cynbel always makes sure he is the last of their regiment to enter the mines. Not only to ensure the safety of his beloveds but because it gives him the chance to see the barest ridges of sunrise over the steep Virginia hills. He waits until his eyes burn and send tears tracking hot down his cheeks — and then just a moment more.

He is never more glad of having no need to breathe than he is here. The newest among them still cover their mouths with scraps of cloth as though it is the coal around them they must fear, not the circumstances in which they have found themselves.

Especially to those such as the Trinity. To have wandered the freedom of the undiscovered world only now to cower under piles of stone.

One way in, one way out.

One more thing stacked against their favor in this their war for survival.

The hard-packed dirt makes it impossible for him to settle comfortable. Cynbel tries his best to find distraction in something—anything. And would be lost if he did not have the beauty of Isseya to gaze upon in the black.

She removes her hat and goes about the same routine she always does come morning light. Removes each of the fastenings that pin up her hair with the same care she used to give to the finest silks and fastenings of pure gold. The uniform she wears now does not do her justice — rather the opposite. She makes the ill-fitting coat look worthy of royalty even now.

“You’re staring.”

His smile is biological; instinctual. “Can you blame me? You know I have a weakness for pretty things.”

“Indeed…” she cards through her hair; lets the waves rest and he couldn’t possibly find her anything other than ethereal, “as I know they will be your undoing. You linger too long, Cynbel.”

Yet even as she says it she leans against him. Emotions are beyond the touch of flesh, now. And in this dirty hole no better than the coffins they have avoided for two thousand years… he cannot imagine doing it without her comfort.

“Yes yes — save it. I’ve heard it all before.”

“When you were feeding regularly. And I don’t chide you for stealing a moment away with our beloved—really I don’t. But you’re both fools for choosing not to conserve your strength.”

Their eyes meet in the dark. Held in a gaze of mutual longing… before he throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tighter against him. “Careful, Iss’. You almost sound responsible.”

“Someone has to be, what with you two wandering the woods like incubi.”

“What happened to the fun Isseya? I miss her.”

“Piss off…”

Their words may sting but all is soothed in a kiss. Long enough to make the vampires trying to sleep on the other side of the tunnel shift in discomfort — because she still is his darling minx at heart. But without her clear head they might not have lasted this long.

“Where is Valdas?”

Cynbel rests their foreheads close. “First watch.” Immediately he feels Isseya’s anger — holds her ever-tighter to ensure she doesn’t do anything brash. Not much for them to do stuck in here as they are, but he understands. “This is why he did not tell you. Relax, my love, please. We would not be here if it was not a secure place to hide from the daylight.”

The day watch is something they all must endure at one point or another. Such is their duty to the regiment; a task that discriminates on nothing and asks only that you do your part. As they all are doing their parts in this war.

And, as he is quite sure Isseya will agree, he rests easier knowing the one on the front line, the first defense between a den of sleeping vampires and the onslaught of the Order, is someone he would (and has) trusted with his life for thousands of years before.

For example — the scraggly boy who sits across, whose head keeps lolling around from slumber only to wake himself back up — Cynbel would rather place his fate in the hands of, say, Kamilah Sayeed. That boy looks like he can defend nothing.

But surely he looks no better. Starving as he is and now with a night of rough passion to further sap his strength.

One more day of this and they will reach Charlottesville. Hopefully with enough moonlight left in the night to sate their hunger. Even the thought of a neck, warm and not-necessarily-willing, underneath his mouth leaves him craven.

Isseya sees the needless torture in his eyes and at the very least it helps to know he isn’t alone.

Falling asleep is the hardest part. While Cynbel hasn’t slept alone in over a thousand years he isn’t exactly accustomed to sharing quarters with more than his lovers. With more than those he know intimately. Now he is expected to share the daylight hours meant for rest with complete strangers; their faces and stories ever-changing, one swapped out for another with every battle and every loss. More losses than he cares to think about — even if the dead have no one to blame but themselves for their fate.

But like all things it is made easier with her presence. Her touch, her breath on his neck. The Children of Valdemaras cling to one another among the rest and know that they are together.

And together they are made immortal.

It is rare to find a church in disrepair in these times. Faith seems to have an endless strength with which to carry humanity. And with which to draft them for battle, he thinks, and knows he isn’t the only one who finds a twisted sense of satisfaction as they pass the church’s boarded-up front doors.

Charlottesville. The last safe place left for their kind in the colonies — though even those were but a sliver of the developing nation that called itself America. While most cities and towns would be found with barren midnight streets it is the opposite here. Cynbel’s roaming eyes take in clusters of evening gatherers, are taken in themselves by the very same, and they simply know.

They were all summoned by the same man after all.

Even in the midst of a war for their very survival Cynbel finds it hard to believe the Godmaker has even the slightest capacity for compassion. Once upon a time it was simply fact that Augustine cared for naught but his ambitions. But over time all facts from the Old World were becoming irrelevant; laughable superstition even.

He would amend his beliefs, then. Allow for the same leniency Augustine had shown them no more than a decade ago — the wolves let back among the rest of the pack to ensure their species would continue. Would have a chance to continue.

The lists of names in smudge-free care that hang in the foyer, however, would challenge those beliefs further.

Near a dozen frames hang on either side of the corridor stretching back into the heart of Augustine’s Manor. He recognizes the handwriting to be the same from the missive which drew them all to Virginia in the first place. Takes in each name as passively as he does the faces of the flock.

What good does it do him to idolize the fallen? No longer will they accomplish anything worth being honored for.

Isseya’s hand brushes against his; a subtle comfort in unfamiliar territory. One he returns in kind.

“Remember,” she says to him, says to Valdas half a step ahead of them both, “all of this will be worth it in the end. Our freedom will be sweeter than the spoils of this war.”

Still, Cynbel’s upper lip curls in distaste. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then look it, perhaps?”

The last page must be a recent addition. The lacquered frame shiny and new and without dust, the wall around it smelling of fresh paint. And inside — a memorial not-yet finished, the last name still an aching distance away from the bottom of the page.

Hung in effigy and removed when the time comes to grow the collection of the dead.

“It’s these names…” Cynbel catches his reflection and stops; takes in the gaunt hollowness of his eternal youth in the protective glass, “they mock me — they mock us all.”

Valdas watches him with an unreadable expression. “They are the fallen.”

“They are the weak.” He corrects, in that moment made no more than men on equal standing.

“Weak enough to fail; to die. There is no honor in only being remembered after you’re dead. Honor me in life—demand more of me than I have already achieved. Instead of… idolizing me in my failure.”

Battles bring out in him the thrilled hunter. Wars, however, have made him old and temperamental.

Valdas’ hand finds his, laces their fingers together sure and strong. Isseya’s soft hand on his cheek is the only thing that drags Cynbel’s eyes from his contempt and to them — he could never look at them in such a way and they know it.

“We are fortunate then to never have to worry about such things.” She reminds him. And it is enough.

Together the Trinity is led onward. Passed what must have been built as a polished office but instead serves better purpose as a war room. Papers and maps strewn on every available surface and then some. The toll war takes on even those as seasoned as the Godmaker brought to life.

One map is hammered into the wall obscuring a painting of some kind. Knowing Augustine — one of his many portraits sacrificed for the ‘greater good.’ He recognizes landmarks and the border territories of Virginia’s surrounding states all hidden underneath spools’ worth of colored yarn acting as… as…

Ah, he understands after the office and map are several paces abandoned. Dark wax seals acting as markers for battles Cynbel himself had participated in… had fled from against everything gnawing hungry at his gut…

Far more losses than victories. Their supply routes bottlenecked — then extinguished. Fewer and fewer safe places to hold down fort through the long summering days to come. Battle after battle has blinded him to the truth now laid bare; unavoidable.

The Order is winning.

The air in the dining room, when they arrive, is a stifling heat. The smell of gas lingering high towards the ceiling. Antique candelabras—remnants from the Old World—stand vigil over a feast of kings. Sweet breads still steaming and the ashy aroma of well-bred meats. Vegetables no doubt from the fields they had just passed through on their journey. All decadent — all utterly wasteful.

All no better than a table of writhing maggots and soured mold in the face of the real hunger that consumes them.

“Valdemaras — how kind of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Of course the Godmaker’s first words are a snide remark. Cynbel expects nothing less. But to bite the hand that feeds now would be suicide. He bites his tongue instead.

The King and Queen of Vampires take up either end of the long oak table. Guests — an unexpected and certainly unwelcome surprise — litter across the length of it. He can smell the blood in their wine glasses. Reaches out to cut his nail into Isseya’s palm to keep himself in check.

Cynbel doesn’t have to look up to know Augustine is looking upon the pair of them, Valdas’ only children, with disdain.

“I believe I told the messenger boy the nature of this meeting.”

Valdas nods; his chin raised among his lessers but eyes downcast in the face of his Maker. “A meeting of officers, yes. The message was relayed in full.”

“Then explain yourself.” Why are they with you, the question unasked. That he still has to ask in some form or another after all these years…

“Where I go they will follow. Always.”

Always.

But this war has changed more than the Trinity — it has changed the so-called ruler of their people. Gaius’ noise of discontent is only brief; stifled with supper. He waves to an empty seat on his right. “Enough time has been wasted in anticipation of your arrival. Join us and send your ilk elsewhere.”

“I would see them fed after the long journey.”

“Very well.”

Though their devotion is like a brand upon their shared skins — their love as famous as their cruelty, as infamous as the bodies left in their wake — Cynbel and Isseya don’t allow themselves the pettiness that might come with the way Valdas takes his leave of them. They must play their role as their Lord and Light plays his. All of it an act; dancing around a carnival faire for the Godmaker’s amusement.

When the curtain closes they will be free of him. Valdas ensures it with every placating act. He is willing to sacrifice for them — how could they do anything less but the same?

They wait until he is seated. A young boy approaches with a pitcher and pours their beloved his fresh meal. Their eyes meet over the head of a bearded officer and Cynbel knows his beloved will not consume in front of them. In solidarity.

“Leave!” Augustine barks; they do not give him chance to do so twice.

They arrive at the end of a funeral. Isseya recognizes the sight of ashes catching on the breeze; carrying whoever they once were far off and to a better life than the one that failed them.

How very… human. The sight of it nearly ruins his appetite.

In front of a dozen or so gathered stands a lone man. In his hands rests a plain box bearing no carvings or paint. The dead as nameless as the living.

Together they have no intention of stopping — when Cynbel feels resistance in their held hands he even looks at her as though she’s gone a touch mad.

But his beloved girl’s focus is cast over the field of grass to the ceremony. A furrow he does not like crinkles restless on her brow. They keep their distance but, for all intents and purposes, join in.

The leader’s voice carries rich and sweet over them all.

“It is from Her blood we are made anew; given strength and life where there was none to be found. But with each life born another must depart, for only She may live forever. And in that eternity we must believe She will be there to welcome our fallen friend, that She will accept the gift he now gives — Her strength no longer needed in this life.

“In these ill times, my brothers and sisters, the journey seems an unending path. But with each departed Her power grows… And I believe that by the end of this war it will be enough to see Her risen again, to bring Her to us in our darkest hour. Have faith beside me and She will see it rewarded.”

Cynbel would recognize such a reverence anywhere — bastardized by the New World though it may be. Of course the Godmaker had taken upon himself an opportunity that could not be passed up. The First Son of Valdemaras can’t say he wouldn’t have done the same in Augustine’s shoes.

Everyone needed something to believe in. Someone in which to rest their faith when they believed their destiny out of their own hands.

Not all were as lucky as Cynbel and Isseya. Not all were able to see the living face of their god and know the surety that came with it.

Not all yet understood that none could make their path but themselves. Divine intervention would not come unless one took it by the reins.

Or… in Valdas’ case, anyway, the fangs.

“Must we really house ourselves among these fanatics?” Whispers his darling, and Cynbel’s nod is a reluctant one.

“Better than a mine shaft.”

“And not with our heart.”

“He will join us soon enough. Rather in this life than in the home that Augustine would no doubt set aflame if we even tried.”

The look he gives her is rueful enough. Presses a solid kiss to her frown because he hates the sight of it, truly, and they leave the mourners to their invisible Goddess and Her empty promises for the promise of temporary peace.

Inside the barn has been converted into barracks for their like. Windows covered in layers of cloth and boarded up for good measure. Anything to keep the numbers of Augustine’s army. The Trinity exchange looks and know they are of the same mind; that to stay in such squalor is, as he said, “better than a mine shaft” but not by much.

They used to rest their heads under endless skies. After that with headboards of marble, of gold. Sheets beneath bare flesh woven by expert hands until they bled… and then more. Certainly more than the thin cots of stuffed hay and threadbare blankets they take up in this hellish space.

The blood is fresh enough to still be liquid in the bowls they take but only just. It curdles on the back of Cynbel’s tongue to the point where he has to hold Isseya’s hand near-breaking to stomach it. And on an empty stomach it refuses to settle — makes him feel sluggish and not at all satisfied.

Isseya coaxes Cynbel to sit on the edge of a bunk near the back of their quarters. Lets him hang his head while she comes up from behind and eases his uniform from his shoulders. That her touch does not immediately excite him is a testament to how hungry he truly is — but she knows him well enough by now not to take offense.

She’s seen him in the heat of the slaughter after all. Let her nakedness be a canvas of blood of which he was a master on par with the greats of the Renaissance.

They have before and they will again. Together. A trinity.

Though the closed-off space makes it impossible to know for certain Cynbel is sure he can feel morning dogging at the heels of the vampires who finally join them. Their things already resting by besides, some sharing a bucket of well-water to wash old blood from their bowls; they have called this place home for longer than the lovers.

The contentment of their routine disgusts him. The ageless thumbs pressing into the base of his spine eases that hatred only just.

She works him as she always has — down to the bone and further still. His muscles gone pliant under her touch, craven for it to continue. Desperate for the solace only she can provide.

Hands that once slaughtered her own family in the name of the Made-God and his Firstborn… that would have soaked endless stretches of land in blood if it meant appeasing them.

They pretend to sleep before they really are. He pulls Isseya on top of him and she doesn’t resist in the least. Here at least they can sleep comfortable even if it only ends up being the barest definition of the word.

Cynbel hears a whisper that might sound something like “They’ll break the cot that way,” but he’s hungry, he’s exhausted, and damnable hells he’s horny too and Isseya’s no prude but neither of them are in any fit state to be working themselves up right now.

So he lets it slide. This time. But his generosity has its limits.

They’ve gotten so used to the darkness of the mines during their slumbering hours that seeing sunlight stream through one uncovered sliver in the barn thatching is jarring to say the least.

But it reminds Cynbel of better times. Some happier — some not. But all of them better. Better than this hell he cannot even find contentment in. If it were a hell of his own making, perhaps… but it is not even that!

“What are you thinking about?”

The bunk they’ve taken is several cots away from the last of the vampires. And Isseya — his darling girl knows exactly how to whisper so their better ears cannot hear. Usually used for things of a far more seductive and sultry nature… but it works, too, in this.

“What would you wish me to think of?” She smacks his chest none-too-lightly and his laughter isn’t without a cough or two.

“You know that’s not how this works.”

“Fine, fine —” he relents and her heart leaps against his chest in victory, “— but you of all people know my thoughts are rarely so simple.”

He laces their fingers together, would rather she simply find what she wishes inside of his mind. A memory or dream that could take them far away from here and, ideally, with their beloved Lord.

They’re both too hungry, too weak for that. And without Valdas wrapped somewhere around or between them it just isn’t worth the energy.

“You like to think yourself so complicated… but I know otherwise.”

“Oh do you now?”

Her touch slithers downward, grasps him cheeky and knows even weak he can still get it up for her. “I do.”

He can have all of the silent moments he wishes… but she won’t rest until she has an answer — and that means neither will he.

“Oddly enough I was thinking to when we met you, Valdas and I.”

Such a fussy subject when it comes to his darling girl. Some days she enjoys thinking of the last act of her humanity to be anything but. Others… well there’s a growing concern for where exactly she’s grabbing… and how long healing might take in their current state.

So he can’t help but sigh in relief when she finally speaks.

“What brought that on?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Cyn…”

“What does it matter? It’s not as if we could go back to those times. Free of war… of pollution in blood and land. Before the forsaken fucking Order took a fucking continent for their own.”

And there it is. Cynbel raises his chin enough to see the sparkle of knowing, of understanding in her eyes. He may not be as skilled as they in the psychic arts but what he lacks there he makes up for in his memory. In all the things he’s learned and practiced… and one thing he can never forget—will never forget—is the happier times. The simpler times.

“You could not have known their intention to sail to the New World. None could.”

“No… I know that.”

“Then why do you linger on it?”

“I caused the actions that led to this, did I not? Paris, my love, Paris. It put them on the Godmaker’s heels and moreover put him on those of the Colonies.”

It’s a rare kind of talk from him and Isseya knows it better than any. Has her propping herself up on splayed palms and a dark concern in her eyes still like stars…

“Remorse is not like you, Cynbel.” Her curls tickle at his cheeks.

“Think of what we could have been doing these last years. The gifts we could have given you — the ones you and I could have bestowed upon him. The wonders of the other side of the world where all this… nonsensical fighting is beyond us.”

In Valdemaras’ name… what is that look in her eyes? Frustration but… pity? Psychic though he may not be he knows her. She’s angry at him. Why the fuck is she angry at him?

“You spend one breath taking the blame and the next calling it all ‘nonsensical.’ You contradict yourself, my bloodsoaked lover.”

“You know I’m better with actions than words.”

“Yet words show your true colors. Not just red… spare me the guilt, Cynbel. You feel nothing for this conflict but what it has cost us.”

Through his furrowed brow… he relents. “Yes. Yes that’s… that’s true.”

“Only it isn’t enough for you to say it. You must mean it, too.”

He doesn’t have to push her further. Knows exactly what she means… But what they both know is that certain things are just out of their control.

“I will,” he swears; and like pack animals they butt heads, nuzzle their noses, the intimacy of the moment temporarily granting their wish to live outside of time… outside of the things that keep them bound to all this madness, “just as I will spend the decades to come making it up to you—to Valdas—to you both.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear on my life.”

Then Isseya’s hand is in his hair, golden bright on her olive skin. She forces him to meet the same eyes that have served as the doors of death for legions. “Swear on something that matters to you.”

Cynbel hesitates only in that he would loathe for her hold on him to end.

“I swear on your lives. Yours, and His.”

“Again.”

“I swear on your lives.”

She leans down and licks the outer shell of his ear. Immediately takes it back with a sharp pain… Cynbel watches in rapture at the sight of her pulling back to swallow the cartilage whole.

“Again.” The Priestess of Valdemaras demands through bloodstained teeth.

As if he could ever deny her looking like that.

“I swear on your lives.”

“Hey, hey here he is! Over here!”

“Cynbel! CYNBEL!”

“Help me lift this —”

“— HEAVE!”

Laying there choking on ash—ash from hay, from old rotting wood, from his dead kind but not his kin—gives Cynbel a strange kind of perspective on immortality.

He’s never been a fan of self-reflection.

Relief hardens into confusion, into anger at the sight that filters through burning eyes and tears. Not the face of his beloveds but someone else. Cynbel recoils because the mere possibility of death, even a terrible death such as this, is better than what seeing a strange face as his rescuer implies.

Perhaps I am already dead, Cynbel thinks as the face laughs above him, because none other than the Devil himself would separate them, would laugh and revel in his misery. I deserve Hell — for that I could not kiss them one final time…

“What disappointing rumors, Old Blood!” The Devil says through pearly fangs, “that the infamous Golden Son would need rescuing by one such as I!”

The words force Cynbel to stir. Yet… why would he? Why should he? Surely they are each in their own separate voids, to be cut off from one another their eternal damnation…

“Hey—hey! Come on now!” A few harsh smacks to his cheek, stinging offsetting the burn of flames under his heels. Hadn’t he worn stockings to bed…?

“You really gonna let your grave be a damp barn in Charlottesville, Old Blood?”

Unfortunately the Devil has a point. Always knows how best to tempt the vices of sinners.

“My… my bb-beloveds…”

“— would have my head if I walked outta this barn without you.”

Begone, tempter. Please.

Though Cynbel can’t help but wonder where the Devil truly lies this day. Is he the face above shrouded in smoke and flame, the one that hauls the smoldering remnants of a rafter off of him? Or is he the ones who tells him to turn away from the choked-out light of day and slumber deep?

No… no he has seen Hell before—

Hell was watching them swept in a manic crowd and to an uncertain fate.

Hell was screaming, begging through skin splitting open watching her lips whisper a silent “I love you, goodbye.”

Hell was the broken will of a God who would sacrifice every ounce of his pride for his first and only loves.

No. He is Cynbel of the Riedones and he has seen Hell every time they have been beaten and broken against the hard edges of the world. He has walked through those flames and been made molten; hammered into something stronger. This fire, too, will strengthen him.

It has to. For them.

When he reaches out there’s a hand to grab him. To help pull him and the smoldering husk of the rafter up and bat it aside.

The face of the Devil isn’t what he’d expect. But Cynbel doesn’t give himself time to linger on it — some things are a bit more pressing.

They make their way through the chaos; the air like burned molasses. When the Golden Son realizes he is the one slowing them down he only pushes himself that much harder — refuses to be left to die in this… this madness.

Everything is supposed to feel better once he’s left the burning barn behind, so why does he still feel alight? Cynbel looks up and has his answer — eyes stinging the same way they did in the last moments before the mines swallowed them all up.

Daylight.

And if he had hoped for salvation once they were clear of it, he’s sorely mistaken. It isn’t just the barn but the entire field; everything scorched as far as his watery eyes can see.

“What—” gasping for air like he needs it, but what he needs is blood, “—happened?!”

The other vampire scans the smoky horizon with dark eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know. We woke up, everything aflame… the lands reeked of oil. We couldn’t even find cover in the nearby forest — whatever this was it was planned.”

He knows the rage that laces the man’s words. He’s felt that kind of rage — been it incarnate — and were he able to he would feed from it, let it seep into his pores beautiful and righteous.

But even the thought of raising his hand to a sword saps energy from him. His rescuer will have to do.

And if he is as weak as he is…

But Fate doesn’t let him entertain the thought. Perhaps they know the chaos he will reign should such a thought come to pass… should it be true.

“CYNBEL!”

The very sound of her voice pulls him forward on a tether. He breaks away from the man, learns a little too late he doesn’t even have the strength to stand alone—

But she’s never let him fall before. She doesn’t now.

“Iss’…”

Isseya pushes the ash-covered hair from his eyes and the fire that prickles on the edges of his vision is nothing like the fire he just left behind. Cynbel’s lungs are raw but give him the blessed ability to sob in relief. They will burn out here, exposed.

And as they pull back from a kiss of peeling lips and dry tongues they share the same thought. As they always have.

They will not burn without him.

“How did you—”

“I couldn’t —” her voice chokes in her throat, she chokes on the air, “— I was too weak. Too—too weak and…”

She’d fled for help. Even now, especially now, it pains her to admit weakness. His unbreakable darling girl… And she thinks she has to look away, to shed her tears alone?

Their second kiss is harder; more a demand of her. They have demanded so much of one another. To die, to live… to be…

“We must find him.”

“We cannot— not alone.”

But the vampires at her back, stragglers relying on luck as a means to an end? They aren’t worth the time to waste.

Isseya looks over Cynbel’s shoulder, barks an unfamiliar name like an order—like the General she should have been. “Ambrose!”

Cynbel watches as his rescuer turns with a grim face. He recognizes the man, then. How the smoke reminds him of the ash from earlier that night. The leader of the ceremony.

Ambrose waves away a scout and approaches. “You should find shelter before you take to the sun, the both of you.”

“We will do nothing without our own.”

“Not even die, apparently.” Before he can continue there’s a whistle; through the haze they can see the swish of horse tails, the creatures riled and desperate to escape the oncoming blaze but held tight by the vampires clutching at their reins.

Ambrose shakes his head; makes to leave them to their own devices. “Your choices are your own. I have no time to argue with Old Blood! Not when there are others who need me.”

“Ambrose, quickly!” calls one, heaving himself on one of the load-bearing steeds, “The fire’s took up the main house and the well is emptied! We’re wastin’ time!”

The Trinity reach as one — weak as they are but still stronger than the likes of these. Grasp with the weight of ages and bear down on the man before he can take flight.

“What are you—let go of me!”

Cynbel snarls with bared fangs.

“What house?!”

But they already know, don’t they? They already know.

[sparda3g]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Chapter 164 Review

You see the chapter’s cover? That’s the illustration of two slayers slowly walking down the lane after a hard work. That’s their life in the nutshell, and it has grown more painful time after time. This chapter however have something else in mind. Rather than tormenting the fans, this was a welcoming change of pace and tone that had me laughing, grown to like that one character even more, and highly entertained. That is until the cliffhanger hits me hard with reality.

The chapter’s cover is nice, but it’s a sad reminder of what took place earlier. It was excruciating. I assumed the rest of the chapter would be more torture and suffering. Fortunately, it wasn’t and honestly, it’s much needed after two painful battles. It fits the nature of the series to have a comical moment in-between the situation. At that point, there was no ongoing battle, so it’s fitting to cool down. Jumping ahead for a bit, the upcoming battle will serve as a different style of combat that is puzzling, fresh, and fun.

The scene with Tanjiro and Giyu is amusing. They have regained consciousness, but they are still bleeding. As troubling that sound, the interaction is funny. It’s comical for how Giyu is trying to stop it, but because it won’t, he will have to cauterize the wound, which Tanjiro is dumbfounded. Giyu says it with a straight-face; the man is used to this wound. Poor Tanjiro is still new to this; better pray the bleeding stops. I like how he acts like a rookie, following his command like a trooper like, “Sir, yes, sir!” It got serious with the reminder of Upper Moon 1 and 2 are still around. Well then, a raven got good news for them.

It’s reassuring that Doma is really gone and the news spread to everyone. That way, it can raise the momentum for slayers, encouraging them that they can win. Tanjiro takes the news as such, which gives him hope that they will win. I don’t know if that’s setting up for a big surprise, but let’s hope he’s right to feel this hopeful. Another character takes the effect as well, but we’ll get to her in a moment. Basically, it’s an encouraging news that they all needed. Will it be easy? With the amount of sacrifices and pain, it won’t be.

I was immediately hyped when Kanroji appears on panel. I started to review the weekly chapter late and I have a lot to say about her, but long story short, the last arc made me like her a lot. I thought her first impression was a bit questionable because I didn’t know how she will be utilized on love and stuff, but the last arc made me a fan. It’s her charisma, charm, and personality that convinced me. This chapter is no exception, and the battle looks promising to be different from the rest, but in the same level of entertainment.

She and Iguro spot Upper Moon 4, Nakime, in which he notes how fast Muzan chose the next successor alas replacement. As mentioned earlier, the news of Doma’s death inspired Pillars, so Kanroji was affected. It’s good that she was inspired by Shinobu’s sacrifice, but she goes headstrong really quickly. Right to the point the door slam to her face by Nakime’s control; a sign of her power. I’ll still credit her for trying, but it was irrational. After she recovered from Iguro and a pep talk to get her mind straight, the real fun begins.

The battle is different from the usual clash that involves with physical contact. However, it turns out to be an amusing ride that certainly fits the tone with hilarity ensue. It’s really cool to see how the danger comes from a labyrinth rather than the demon herself. It’s a crazy puzzle game with buildings keep on shifting by her control. It’s also really cool how Kanroji and Iguro have to dodge and keep up the pace. While the sequence takes up the spaces, it keeps the tension flowing.

Kanroji steals the spotlight in many ways. For starters, her athleticism is really impressive; carefully stepping away from falling. It’s only when she gets pushed upward that she needed to react quickly, though it’s funny how she was like, “Ah! I’m going to get crushed!” Her reactions only get funnier. Thank God for her sword, she destroys the building. Amazing how gravity actually applies here, hence her struggle to budge; I’m used to series ignoring it. The best part is her second round at killing.

One of her strong perks is how energetic she is but in the right level of charm and humor. She feels so smart for figuring out Nakime’s ability, so now, supposedly, this assures her victory. I was ready to laugh out loud for a repeat, especially since the setup is nearly identical. Hell, I thought she would fall for the same trap, despite her determination, but she impresses me with her smooth evasion. That means she got this, right? Nope. She falls for a new trap that sends her out of the tower. Womp womp…

I’ll give her a credit for keeping up the pace and not foolishly repeat the same mistake. That said, she failed big time. That pouty face is priceless. That is a face that says, “…God dammit…” I laughed so hard at the whole scene, let alone her reaction. Her falling is funny as well. She is too precious to die. Iguro tries to take a stealthy swing, but no good for Nakime is quick to move the building. He said it best: her Blood Demon Arts aren’t deadly, but dammit to hell, it’s incredibly annoying. The battle just started and I find it pretty amusing already. As long it makes for hilarious reactions from Kanroji, I’m perfectly solid. I definitely can’t say the same thing for the cliffhanger however.

This chapter was more light-hearted tone with plenty of humorous moments. While the danger hasn’t escalated yet, the battle has proven to be another tough challenge. Then, the cliffhanger happens and the mood drastically shifts. As fun as the whole shifting buildings is, it is affecting elsewhere as well. Case in point, Tokito gets shoved away from Gyomei. Where does he land? In front of Upper Moon 1. I have serious bone-chills from the mere sight of the two. We already lost a Pillar; the possibility of another is pretty convincing. I’m not saying Tokito will die, but the chance is up there. For now, we can expect a terrible beating, and that alone is frightening to think about.

This was a pretty amusing chapter. There were plenty of fun interactions and counters from start to near finish. The action was a lot of fun and a nice change of pace. Kanroji had me rolling with her reactions. Seriously, that face was gold; all thanks to fine humorous artwork. The ending however changed the tone really quick as soon as Upper Moon 1 meets Tokito. It might escalate drastically if Tokito is someone he knows, which hinted at the very end. It’s exciting for sure, but horrifying nonetheless.

[pastlechips]

Chips List of Horror

Hi I’m Chips and I adore horror, so this is going to be a huge and I do mean huge, list of my favourite horror manga, anime and Asian horror movies. If you enjoy the genre but could do with something more to read/watch then look to  this list as it include lesser known series.  Right at the end I’ll add in all the popular/well known ones without detailing, just assume I think they’re decent series since I’ve added them in. I will be doing a western version of this: TV series, comics and movies etc in the future. Disclaimer: These are my personal opinions on this, so don’t get stroppy because I like something if you found it to be bad.

Manga:

Anything by Itou Junji-

He’s well know in the horror sector, a lot of short story collections and they’re always fantastic. I don’t want to ruin anything so just go and check him out, his most well know works include Tomie, Yami no Koe and Uzumaki. A lot of his stuff is really surreal or contains body horror, you’ve probably seen a couple of his horror panels floating around tumblr from time to time.

I am Hero- It’s brilliant, yes it’s about zombies however goes down a slightly different route and has some genuinely interesting characterisation. Ousama Game (Renda Hitori)- Not to be mistaken for the other manga with the same name...I love this one and it will be appearing later in another section, it’s got a lot of gore and some mystery thrown in. It’s a survival horror than involves and classroom of students that need to follow the kings orders and play his games, or death. Gantz- Honestly I adore this, it’s so different and the plot...oh boy be prepared to be taken on a ride. Fair amount of gore but reasonably used and has a nice cast of characters... I’d describe it as Sci-fi horror but very unique.

American Ghost Jack- It has horror, supernatural elements and even a little bit of romance. It was very intriguing, I quite liked it actually and it’s an easy read. I’m sure I read that there was going to be a sequel but don’t quote me on that. Real Account/Real Account 2: They’re parallel stories, gosh darn I enjoyed this one. I just really love survival horror type scenarios, it’s kind of crazy with lots of gore and I really like the main cast.

Apocalypse no Toride- It starts off in a prison and then everything goes to shit, it’s got zombie elements and sci-fi elements (think hive minds)  and honestly it’s fantastic. I adore all the characters and to be honest I keep praying this will one day be made into an anime.

Online-The Comic- Another one that’s interesting, to do with video games but with horror/gore and mystery thrown in. It’s actually really good, let’s just say I’d hate to be thrown in to this kind of scenario. Wouldn’t you hate a game that could kill you?

Bio Meat- So basically the usual, humanity is stupid. They use science to make creatures that eat rubbish and then is killed off for meat. Let’s just say it’s a terrible idea and most of the blood on the pages is from humans.

Tenkuu Shinpan- This has gone under the radar and it really shouldn’t of, it’s brilliant. Skyscrapers, murders in masks and a person deemed ‘god’ of that world. It’s fantastic with some awesome characters and gore. 

Hakaijuu- Oh look another one about creatures trying to kill humanity with lots of gore in, is it the end of the world? Maybe... What can I say I’m a sucker for apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic horror. Torikago no Tsugai- A group of people trapped in a place, solve puzzles or die. They’ve got to solve the mystery of the birdcage or die trying to get out, very simple but nicely delivered.

Dolly Kill Kill- Alien insects, dolls....murder of a large amount of the human race...people getting abilities and a fight for the survival of the human race. It’s very interesting, very gory and very fun to read. Nemuri No Fuchi- It’s surreal and supernatural, it’s very good with a very different plot. It involves and labyrinth, a little girl and some people looking for answers.

Green Worldz- What if the apocalypse was actually plants? Not seriously, this sounds stupid but is actually fantastic...The creatures, the plant structures are incredible, the gore is on point and the plot is fairly good This is a really nice read. Dolls Code- Guy wakes up, memories gone in a school of criminals, six other boys have each had a body part taken. They have to figure out who the puppet is to get them back and graduate. It’s really short and sweet but good none the less.

Mouryou no Yurikago- What’s worse than zombies? Being stuck on a slowly sinking cruise ship and zombies. Oh yeah this ones a ride, some ecchi in it but over all a good read with some decent characters.

Kichikujima- They land on a island where there are some very horrific things going on, a messed up family and a lot of gore. They people...will they survive? I suggest anyone who’s not into the darker side of things not to read. Hideout- I don’t even know how to describe this one, let’s say it’s a captive horror with some mystery. It managed to unsettle me but  that’s a good thing. A bit of gore, a fair amount of horror and it’s worth checking out. Kyochuu Rettou- So it’s an island full of giant insects that view humans as prey and an airplane full of students who have crash landed there. It’s survival horror with some ecchi thrown in, if you can look over a lot of nudity/perverted shots then it’s a good read. I honestly don’t mind some ecchi as long as the plot is good. Gyo- I’m sure a lot of people have heard of this, the one with  fish in it. You know, fish taking over...fish with scuttling little legs.... No? Read it...I don’t think there’s anything worse than a land shark.

Kangoku Jikken- You want dark? This is for you, take someone of your  choice captive and do anything bar killing them that you want in a month. However if they guess your name, they win and will get the 10 million yen at the end of the month. This is a psychological gore fest with some very dark themes and it’s gone going, pretty good stuff.

Some quick fire horror collections:  2001 + 5 , Hyaku Monogatari, 8.1 Yamada Yuusuke Gekijou and  Kouishou Rajio 

Anime:

Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress- I freaking love this so much, it has a flesh eating virus and a badass protagonist who is far too lovable. I won’t say too much as honestly it’s just worth watching.

King of Thorn- This is an anime movie adaptation of manga but it’s perfect, they couldn’t of done better and flows the manga so closely. I’d say watch this, then read the manga. They’re both amazing, anyway it’s about medusa virus which causes people to turn to stone and  people ‘frozen in sleep’ to try and save humanity but they wake up when they’re not supposed to, it follows the story of a twin.

Shiki- A deadly disease that eventually kills sweeps a small village but the real lesson in this anime is that the real horror lies in humans. It revolves mainly around a group of teenagers.

Mayoiga- A village that can’t be found where you can live a perfect life and a bus full of people looking for it but when they get there, is this urban legend true or was the reason it couldn’t be found more sinister? It’s alright, a great lead up and ends up a little under whelming but a good casual watch.

Kowabon- It’s got ghosts and techonology, so there’s no escape from the horror and I think that’s the true terror. It’s got some nail biting moments and is a short enough series to binge.  (There aren’t many anime series that are really decent in the horror section aside from the more well known series which a will be putting at the end of these lists.)

Movies/TV Series (Live action not animated unless stated otherwise):

Anything by Takashi Miike- He’s been named a master of horror and for a good reason, his movies are disturbing, interesting and strange. Usually full to the brim with unique characters, the tales he weave are horrific but you won’t want to look away. My favourites include Ichi the Killer and Imprint. Though here are some more special mentions:

As the Gods will- If you don’t want to read the Ousama manga then the live action is fantastic, it’s nothing special plot or special effects wise but it’s very good for a watch and I hope there will be sequel to follow the manga plot further. It’s got gore and it’s got bizarre

Terra Formarz- It’s actually both a manga and anime series but honestly I didn’t like either, however watching Miike’s live action of it was enjoyable. A bit zaney but good none the less, an easy and interesting watch

Others- Audition, Three Extremes(The Box), Visitor Q, Gozu, One Missed Call and Over my Dead Body 

Train to Busan- I’m adding it in because it’s one of the best zombie based movies I’ve watched in a long time along with a protagonist you really route for, these movie has become fairly well known.

Old Boy- This is a classic and fairly well known but how could I not put it here, it’s got everything. Beautiful cinematography, a really intriguing plot and really is a thriller that glues me to the screen every time with some nice plot twists. Hansel and Gretel- A surreal but disturbing psychological horror with fantasy thrown in surround a man who crashes his car and stumbles upon a cottage with 3 children. A very unique take on the Grim’s tale and it kept me invested till the end.

Kuchisake-Onna- I’m sure a few of you will know of the slit mouth woman who carries around huge scissors. A live action movies about this legend and it’s pretty good, they sure made her look eerie. Suicide Club- Also a manga, it’s a good watch. Quite disturbing for some pepole with obviously dark themes/tones. Just... watch it if you wish. Guinea Pig Series- Watch at your own risk. Highly disturbing when they first aired, to the point where people thought there were actual snuff films. Obviously they’ve ages quite a bit but other the watch for any gore lovers.

Grotesque- Another one to watch at your own risk, this is what some people would describe as torture porn. A couple get kidnapped and tortured by a doctor to see how much pain they can for through for the sake of love. Nothing to spoil, just some outrageous gore... the ending ruined it a bit though. Noiroi- The Curse- Very bizarre and the old style of filming as a ‘documentary’ was so effective in delivering that creepy tone. This is one meant to make your skin crawl. Dumplings- I really can’t say much about this movie without spoiling it, it’s about dumplings that are said to keep you youthful but obviously there’s a lot more to it. Some disturbing themes.

More popular Asian horror to see(This includes a mix of all three media forms):

There are well known or popular, be aware that some of them may  just have horror  some themes or gore in them and won’t be purely linked to that genre alone. This will also be a mixture of movies, manga and anime in no order.

Akira, Beserk, Battle Royal, Ju-On, D.Gray Man, Another, Hellsing, Corpse Party, Gakkougurashi!, Elven Lied, Ajin, Ringu, Tokyo Ghoul, Highschool of the Dead, The Chasing World, Deadman Wonderland, Death Note Vampire Hunter D, Shinsekai Yori, Kukurenbo, Attack on Titan, Cello, The Tale of Two Sisters, 3x3 Eyes, Jojos Bizarre Adventure, Whispering Corridors, I Saw the Devil, Boogiepop Phantom, Violence Jack, Cindrella, The Wig and many more, please ask me if you need any suggestions for horror to watch.

[thekidultlife]

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon | Spy!Jeonghan

((btw, gif is my work also so yeah))

Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 1473

Genre: Angsty??? (Im not sure)

((Cold War AU, anybody? Hahaha I’m such a sucker for history))

Plaisir d’Amour…

The turntable was turned on early in the morning. Yes…I think that’s the title.

You scuffled through the incomprehensible labyrinth of bed sheets and pillows even though you were still in a blank daze. The mornings had begun to get colder and days were growing shorter as summer transitions to autumn in late August.

Where was I again?

Surveying the room, it finally dawned to you that you were already a married woman. Yet it was not out of love that you got married to a man who wasn’t even there when you wake up. Even so, I still cannot forget that night we first met.

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan, your soon-to-be husband,”

You hugged your knees closer to your body and touched the ring which was held by the necklace on your neck.

“I can do this…”

You can do this, Yoon...Y/N.

You eventually got the strength to remove yourself from the bed and exited the bedroom, robe in tow. The hallway greeted you with the great scent of an American breakfast—bacon, eggs, hot coffee. Despite being raised in China; you had already grown accustomed to the high cholesterol breakfast after several years in the US.

Yawning and rubbing your tired eyes as you lazily crept downstairs, you almost lost your balance among the art nouveau sculptures whilst entering the kitchen. The large circular cherry table which was their dining table was already set and the food was pretty much fresh from the stove.

The Yoon home was not grandiose but, definitely not mundane either. It was a simple traditional two-story American home with a spacious foyer and decorated with various artworks and crafts collected as a hobby by the head curator of the Smithsonian Museum, Yoon Jeonghan. Though it certainly is marvelous to some, but it may actually be an empty home for those living in it.

“Good morning, dear. You have drool on your cheek,” a familiar voice whispered from behind you and you immediately jumped in surprise.

You turned around and saw him all dressed for work—a brown vest with his shirt tucked neatly inside and matching brown pants. His coat was hanging loosely on his arms as he was holding today’s Washington Post. His hair which had gotten longer was still remarkably auburn but his locks fell softly on his forehead and together with all of that was his signature smirk which doesn’t seem to leave him. Yes, he is my husband, Yoon Jeonghan...unfortunately though.

Frowning, you replied to him curtly, “I’d rather not die here in the kitchen doorway, so stop frightening me, please.”

Yet no matter how many times you expressed your disdain towards him, he would simply laugh it off and he did just that as he sat on his place in front of the table.

“You seem to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he remarked, opening the newspaper which was on his hands.

“I did not, for your information. It was because I had to see your face so early in the morning,” you took a sip from the warm cup of coffee but then jerked after it burnt your tongue.

“Be careful, dear. I don’t want my precious wife getting hurt,” Jeonghan was glancing at you from the side of the newspaper with a smug smile, much to your chagrin. He just knew how to push your buttons—you weren’t even sure how he did—yet you knew he was simply doing it just to entertain his rather boring espionage life.  

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm and he simply chuckled. Why did I even agree to this?  

“I’m quite the ‘show’, am I not? Teasing me, torturing me…every single day.” In frustration, you finally asked as you angrily feasted upon the bacon and soft-boiled eggs. “If this is your definition of fun, then there is something clearly wrong inside that damn head of yours.”

Jeonghan folded the newspaper neatly after he heard your remark and propped his head with his arm on the table as he grinned. You were totally unaware that he was enjoying how you despised him, loathed him to the bone. Nonetheless, Jeonghan was still convinced that you were capable of forgiving him in the end and that was not what he hoped for.

“Have you ever realized how adorable your reactions are?” His unrelenting gaze was glued to you and it seemed impossible to escape those stares which had the talent of making your heart beat fast. You couldn’t pinpoint if it was because you were intimidated by him or because of the way he was looking at you.

“See? You’re making an adorable expression again,” Jeonghan laughed once more and pinched your left cheek, making you sneer and push his hand away before you could do any harm.

“Adorable, my ass,” you snapped at him, waving your fork with a piece of bacon at the end which eventually landed into your mouth. “You’re definitely psycho.”

Jeonghan simply raised his eyebrows at you in amusement, not offended at all by your harsh remark. He picked up his newspaper once more and continued reading the business section. You thought he would simply let your snide taunt slide, but you were hugely mistaken.

“Oh and so you know, I’m a sociopath. Find a better insult, darling.”

Jeonghan smiled at you but returned to his reading before he could enjoy seeing you puffing up imaginary steam from your nose in fury.

The only reason why this person irritates you so much is due to the fact that everything he does is an act.

The marriage is a front, a disguise, a disgusting lie.

Several months ago, Jeonghan was activated as a courier for the Soviet agents in Washington while you relay the information he collects to the GRU. In order to camouflage the illegal things you both were doing, the GRU arranged that you and Jeonghan must be married—in that way, you can easily give them the already encoded documents. However, unlike the other Soviet spy rings present in the US, the two of you were not fans of the Communist Party and are doing all these for your own reasons.  

“Can you get me Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’ later?” You switched the topic and turned on your business mode. That was your coded exchange that meant Jeonghan must collect the documents from the agents and that Moscow needed to have new information regarding the activities here. The Korean War is still waging till now after all. The USSR surely wants to have the war plans of US and Britain.

“Sure, anything you want,” Jeonghan gave you one of his benevolent smiles again which was obviously fake. He then patted your head and messed your already chaotic bed hair before standing up.

“You’re going now? Will you have dinner here tonight?” You suddenly asked as you stood beside Jeonghan who was putting on his brown coat.

“Oh my, did I just hear my dear wife saying you’ll miss me?” he replied while grinning victoriously. You immediately pursed your lips and harshly tightened his necktie until he choked. You knew it was a bad move to fuel his already overblown ego and someday, you hoped to burst this bubble of his.

“Shut up, Jeonghan. I’m trying to be nice here,” shooting daggers at him with your eyes, his immovable smirk seemed to have grown wider instead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be home by the usual time,” he walked towards the door yet as he was half-way out of the house, Jeonghan suddenly returned. “Seems like I forgot something.”

By the time he returned, you were already clearing the table of the empty dishes and was surprised to see him back with a concerned look on his face. You thought it must be some urgent matter but when it suddenly dawned to you, you rolled your eyes at him in irritation.

“Damn it, Jeonghan. If this is some joke again, I swear I’ll—”

What took you by surprise was when he suddenly seized your arm and pulled you closer for a kiss. It was simple and chaste yet it still rocked your being back and forth and when he finally let you go, you saw that there was a glint of playfulness in his almond eyes.

“I forgot my goodbye kiss,” Jeonghan murmured while grinning as your eyes were still wide with shock. “Wouldn’t that make us a convincing couple?”

And with that, you finally snapped.

“You…!” Your shoulders trembled in rage as you gave him a hateful glare. “Get your ass out of here already!”

“I will, I will! Well, see you tonight, dear!” he finally left the house while giving a winning snicker and you frowned.

And that ends the usual morning inside the Yoon residence.

Admin Hyeri

[letsliveblog]

Dragon Ball 011 - Your Death Machine Did Not Need To Be This Convoluted

I’ve been gone for a while, but I’m back!  Let’s liveblog Dragon Ball!

Ah, that’s right.  Last time, they were trapped in the dreaded Easily Escapable Room!  Let’s see what these world-renowned martial artists do when faced with their toughest enemy yet… a brick wall!

You guys aren’t even trying.

Mai.  Shu.  They have it on them, why on EARTH would they leave it in the car.

I watched you punch through these brick walls last episode.  I saw you do this.  Guys.  GUYS.

I know it’s not gonna happen, but I WANT it to.

This is just a nice little shot of the Pilafites.  Mai is so TALL.

This is why you guys are my favorite.

Yamcha and Goku finally try to punch through the wall, with disappointing results, which I can honestly forgive because then Goku makes this face.

Fist... lost to wall???

WHY THOUGH

Bulma casually disrespecting the new ruler of the universe, you go girl.

“Oh no, they took Bulma!!  One of us… probably liked her?  Right?”

(Goku liked her.  Tolerated her.)

“SWEET KARMIC JUSTICE THOU ART GOOD UNTO ME”

HA, betcha THAT got cut from the dub!

It’s going to be something childish and stupid, isn’t it.

Oh they are playing it up sooooo much as a sexual thing, it’s going to be something REALLY childish and stupid, isn’t it.

ADVANCED INTERROGATION TECHNIQUES

SHE’S NOT GONNA MAKE IT, SHE’S SURE TO CRACK

Okay but like, would he really make a bad emperor?  He tortures people by blowing them kisses, this is some Jelliah Jamb Land of Oz capital punishment right here.  We’re looking at a fairy tale utopia under this guy, just let him have this.

Also Mai can just up and marry me, omg.  (And look at Pilaf’s smug little blushy face, just let him have this.)

Yamcha is impressed with Bulma’s composure under EXTREME TORTURE.

When Bulma suggests some less… cutesy interrogation techniques, it is just too much for the Pilaf Pals.  “Toss her back in the cell, TOSS HER BACK IN THE CELL”

EXTREME, BRUTAL TORTURE

I feel like I should be taking more screenshots, but there is just nothing of visual interest going on in this episode.  The entire thing so far has been set in two tiny rooms with pretty static boring backgrounds of a brick wall, and a security monitor displaying brick walls.  This chapter was probably a lot more fun in the manga; being trapped in a tiny room doesn’t really translate entertainingly to animation.

Guess I’ll just screenshot cute faces ’til something happens.

Puar trying to escape the sleeping gas!  Cute?  Very.

Sleeping Yamcha.  Definitely cute.

Goku asleep on top of Yamcha.  The epitome of cute.

Pilaf falling victim to his own sleeping gas?  Not really cute so much as endearing, the little scamp.

Oh right, mortal peril and all that.

Mai checks between Yamcha’s legs for the balls.

An ominous shot of the full moon?  This is the were-monkey episode, isn’t it.

OH I HAVE BEEN PUMPED FOR THIS

First time in the show we get to see all the dragon balls gathered together!  This is a cool moment.

It cracks me up that they went out of their way to have this cool little case custom made JUST for this little reveal.  They don’t need this case.  They’re not going to keep the balls and display them or something, they literally just put them in there so they could take the lid off dramatically and show Pilaf.  I mean, I’m not knocking it.  They’ve got style.

Also, you went through all the trouble of getting a case for them but then you didn’t display them in numerical order??

Enjoy it, guys.  You earned this.  C:

Well no, you stole this.  But in my HEART you earned this.

Seriously, this is SUCH a cool moment.

Might want to make that wish reeeeal quick though, guys.  The protagonists are not gonna let you have this.  (Please though for real let them have this.)

No?  We’re just gonna keep staring?  Okay then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“Quick Yamcha, check between your legs!”

In a crisis, Bulma goes to Goku.  Mainly because Oolong’s untrustworthy and she barely knows Yamcha and Puar, but still.  At the end of the day, this is THEIR adventure.

Yamcha found the dragon balls!  Oh wait, no, that’s just Bulma’s cleavage.  Tragically, this does not lead to an adorably concerned Puar moment.

Oh no.  Oh no oh no, that’s right, that was Gohan’s.  That was the thing you were projecting Gohan’s spirit onto.  Oh Goku.  Oh Goku.  :C  You weren’t gonna get to keep it, but oh Goku.  :C :C :C

I feel like she cares less about Pilaf’s potential world domination and more about the fact that SHE could have used that wish to get a boyfriend.  Though to be fair, Bulma put a LOT of work into gathering these things.  She went on a miserable road trip, lost all her possessions, almost died so many times…  Yeah, no, I feel you, girl.  That was your wish and you worked hard.

Surely even the Stealing Dragon Balls From all Over the World with Pilaf Brigade isn’t THAT stupid.  It’s gotta be leading them into another trap.  I note, with grudging acceptance, that they still haven’t explained why they couldn’t break out of THIS trap.  Seriously.  Why.  It’s BRICKS.  You broke them last episode, I am NOT LETTING THIS DIE.

Okay fine, yeah, they are that stupid.  It only makes me love them more.

Hey, why haven’t you made your wish yet?  Does it have to be outside?  Like, will the dragon just not show up if you’re inside a building?  Or if it did, would the building crush Shenron, or would Shenron break through the building?  I can totally see some important story arc of this series come to an abrupt and grisly end because they accidentally summoned Shenron indoors and the ensuing mass of dragon spewing forth rapidly into a tiny space crushed them all.

Spoilers, they get away.

You guys are supposed to be martial artists, what the heck.  I can see Mai getting away, but Pilaf and Shu have tiny legs, come on.

Pilaf controls the deathtraps in his castle with an electric keyboard, and that is so delightfully convoluted and unnecessary.

Pilaf has a giant pinball machine in his castle specifically to kill intruders, and I am convinced this is the first time he’s ever gotten to use it because seriously, who else even knows he lives out here?  The man has no enemies.  He probably just sat around one day like:

“Mai!  Shu!  When I’m the ruler of the world, there will probably be many assassination attempts on my life!  We need to booby trap the castle!”

“Yes sir, Emperor Pilaf!  We’ll start digging some spike pits and-“

“No no no, what we need is a GIANT PINBALL MACHINE.”

“Uh, sir, that’s-“

“That I can control with a PIANO.”

He doesn’t even play the piano, he’s just repeatedly slamming his hands down on the keyboard.

Indiana Jones’n it.

Look I just… the scope of this is just…

He built a giant labyrinth.  To kill the people who escaped the pinball machine.  He could have just built the pinball machine with no exits, but no.  He went the extra mile and built an exit to a giant labyrinth where the pinball would chase you down and actually follow you around corners.  He could have just built a straight path that dead-ended, so the pinball would crush you, but NO.  He made CORNERS so you could DODGE the pinball, and then wired the pinball into his electric piano so he could make the pinball chase you AROUND THE CORNERS.

And THEN.  Despite the fact that the pinball can chase you around the corners, he makes it smash DIRECTLY THROUGH THE WALLS.  Of HIS labyrinth that HE built.  How much did this elaborate death machine cost you, Pilaf.  How many workers, how many hours of labor.  How many of those walls were structurally important in holding up the rest of your castle.

And THEN.  And THEN, he’s not done, NO.  He built a STAIRCASE made of GIANT DOMINOES, so you could run down it while the pinball chases you down and knocks over the dominoes behind you, BUT, and this is important, NOT ACTUALLY FAST ENOUGH for the cascade effect to catch up with you on the staircase, PURELY for the intimidation factor of making you do this.

And the staircase is set up so that the pinball can’t follow you into the next room, purely so that you’ll think you’re safe before a curtain dramatically pulls back to reveal ANOTHER PINBALL, for which he set up STRATEGICALLY PLACED SPOTLIGHTS

Which FINALLY leads you to a dead end where the pinball can crush you, you know, instead of putting it RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING AND KILLING YOUR ENEMIES WHILE AT THE SAME TIME SAVING YOURSELF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS WORTH OF EVIL LAIR DESIGN.

But does it kill you there?  No.  It traps you BACK IN THE EXACT ROOM YOU STARTED IN.  That was the twist all along.  This was never a deathtrap, it was just an overly elaborate Rube Goldberg device to stick them back in their cage.  Which… he has mechanical arms rigged around his base for.  He could have snatched them up and dumped them in here at any time, and he chose all of THIS because…

because it’s friggin awesome and he knows it

HEY GUYS IT’S A FULL MOON TONIGHT HAVE WE MENTIONED IT’S A FULL MOON TONIGHT??

THAT SURE WON’T BE IMPORTANT LATER

Ok but joking aside, can we appreciate how LUCKY our little cast of characters was that they timed this out the way they did?  Not just because it’ll save the day and help them defeat Pilaf at the last second, but because… well imagine if they’d taken just a few days longer to get here, and had the full moon rise during their road trip.

Just… picture that.  Out of little capsule houses, their RV destroyed, sleeping out in the desert under the stars.  They take turns taking watches; they’ve had bandits come after them before, after all.  Oolong and Bulma fast asleep, unaware, unwarned.

And Goku looks up.

OK YEAH MOVING ON

PILAF’S GONNA RULE THE WORLD, EVERYTHING’S GONNA BE A-OK

Man, I’ve been saying that all episode, thank you Yamcha.

I mean I know it’s not gonna work but somebody at least ought to be trying.

Also, Goku doesn’t know you know he knows that attack.  Is anybody gonna question that, or…?

“Goku.  Listen to me.  STEALTH.  GOD.”

“That doesn’t answer my question but okay.”

Wow.  That… actually worked!  I was expecting it to just ricochet off the walls or something because this is apparently the strongest brick known to man, but no, apparently this is just regular brick.  You know you could just do that attack about two or three more times and make the hole big enough to climb out of.

More creative use of shapeshifting powers, back when characters other than Goku were useful in this show.

Bulma if you make him do that in this tiny enclosed space, you’re all gonna have to smell it.

Batpig is cute.

DID WE MENTION THAT IT IS THE FULL MOON

Oh please let him have this.

I am legitimately sad that this episode is over, I was really getting into this.  So much hype for the giant monkeys.

So, will our hero Pilaf get his wish?  No!  But we’ll have to watch him fail next time we liveblog Dragon Ball!

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