#scythe chuckles like he has something up his sleeve

[non-binaryweirdo69]

Welcome to Scythe out of context: this is streamies

[wormstacheangel]

26 pls 💙 imma sucker for angst

hi anon!! you knew exactly what you were doing when you chose this. decided to make it worse <3

#26 Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

they were going to die in that room. they didn't have a way out this time but something was still shining in dean. it wasn't hoped--no he looked defeated-- he was accepting their doom with grace.

his body was relaxed as he took a step closer, a heavy sigh relaxed his shoulder as their eyes meet. the pounding at the door kept pace with the pounding in his chest but cas continued to watch deans expression soften.

so beautiful.

how can this be their end? how can this be the end of dean winchester when his life has only begun? when freedom was just around the corner.

he wanted that for him. he wanted him to have that. savor the freedom they have been fighting for since their faithful meeting. one of them should.

cas could feel his vessel--no, this is his body. this is him.--become stiff at the words bouncing around in his head. he needed to say them, taste them on his lips at least once before death takes him one way or another.

dean was standing in front of him now, eyes wide and watery but still so bright. filled with life. a soul that was dragged through a life of heartaches and literal hell and still comes out the other side being the glowing with intense passion.

love.

"cas." his name said in a watery whisper. his heart ached watching his love cry openly in front of him. "i gotta say something."

he didn't know what those words could be but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear them. he's family. he's a brother. he's a best friend. he is everything to dean except what cas wanted to be. he accepted that already. accepted that his feelings are just more stowed away crap--as dean would say-- and he had to move on.

but this time maybe his feelings will save them.

an angel feeling--an abomination in itself--is what's going to save dean winchester.

"i love you." the words slipped out of his mouth so quickly, ready to come out alongside him. he felt lighter as his body filled up with warmth. he chuckled, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile as he watched dean's eyes widen. he said it again because he can. because it may be the last time. he said it again. "i love you, dean."

"cas, what are you-?" the pounding at the door stopped. billie was inside the room and the gurgling of the empty at their other side, trapping them. dean looked around until he grasped the situation. "cas. cas. please. please don't do this. "

"goodbye, dean."

cas placed a hand on dean's shoulder, ready to shove him out of harm's way. billie was taken first, the sound of the scythe hitting the floor bounced off the walls, and cas knew he didn't have much time. he would be next.

eternal sleep waits for him but at least he got to say it. he got to tell dean.

the empty's quick grip jumped out of the portal and cas closed his eyes, accepting his faith, but the cold grip never got him.

"cas!" dean screamed from where he was pushed and cas turned to see the horror.

no.

"dean!" cas ran to take a hold of dean. "no! no!"

this isn't what was suppose to happen. he was supposed to live. dean is supposed to live!

cas could feel his grace burn inside him, giving him more strength to tug at the human that clung to his body. dean had his arms around cas's neck, face hiding into his neck like he always wished but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

"what are you doing? take me! you are supposed to take me!" cas screamed.

an eerie bubbling voice answered back. "i take your happiness, castiel."

"no!" please.

the pull got stronger and they were being dragged closer to the portal.

"just...just let me go." dean muttered into his skin. "cas. save jack. save sam."

"not without you."

"forget me! do your damn job and be a fucking hero." dean grip started to loosen while cas only tightened his. the goo was now up dean's waist and quickly rising. dean pulled away just enough so their faces could be mere inches apart. "save the world one more time. for me."

"dean."

"save our family."

"i-i can't!" cas struggled, feeling his grace weakening the longer he tries to hold him. "i need you with me."

"you got me." dean dipped his chin forward and their lips meet in tear-filled soft kiss.

cas could feel the darkness wrap around his hands as it raised up dean's body.

a small gasp escaped dean's lips and when cas pulled away from the kiss he watched in horror as goo covered the light of his life.

"dean!"

he continued to grip at the familiar jacket but he could feel it slipping.

"no!" this wasn't supposed to happen. this is not how it was supposed to go. dean wasn't supposed to- "please!"

give him back. give him back. please. please.

gone.

dean was gone.

cas pounded at the wall. a plain wall that didn't look like it just took everything from him. "i love you!" cas punched at it until brick started to fly. "please! i love you!"

cas eventually fell to the floor, sobs shaking his body.

he just killed dean winchester. he just killed him because he fell in love.

angels really should not feel.

it's too painful.

Doing These send me some writing prompts <3

destiel: #15, #22 , 26, #17, #20

megstiel: #29

saileen: 33

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Corpse, Cake, and a Cuppa (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is Death and Crowley is the serial killer who keeps murdering to catch a glimpse of the ethereal being he fell in love with. (1714 words)

Notes: Written for the above Halloween prompt from @new-endings/M.A.D.#8943. Human Crowley au. It’s kind of gory, I’m not going to lie.

Read on AO3.

“Jesus Christmas!" Aziraphale yelps, tiptoeing through the thick pool of red coagulating on the concrete. Threads of it cling to the soles of his shoes when he lifts his feet as if trying to drag him down. Aziraphale has seen a great deal of blood in his time. None of it has been pretty. But this is especially gruesome.

He wonders if that’s for his benefit.

"Look at... look at this! Look at all the… !” Aziraphale takes a pause and breathes in deep, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to his forehead. Tension causes a vein to distend and throb - quite the feat since, as a non-human entity, he shouldn't be able to experience this kind of pain. Or so he thought. In the thousands of years he's roamed earth reaping souls, he's finally found the one mortal who can give him what humans call a migraine. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. “Could you please just… stop already?"

Crowley grins, thrilled giddy by the arrival of his intended audience. “No,” he replies, shoving the slicked head of his filthy ax deeper into the severed spine of the fresh corpse at his feet.

Aziraphale grimaces as the blade lands with a resounding slap. 

That ax of Crowley's gets on every one of Aziraphale's nerves. It's effective for its purpose but positively unsanitary. It makes his skin crawl every time he sees it.

Crowley lifts it slowly, eyes Aziraphale menacingly.

Eyes his nice, clean coat, Aziraphale realizes.

“Crowley!” he warns, putting both hands up in defense. “Don't you dare... !”

But Crowley doesn't let him finish, hoisting his ax higher with part of the dead man's torso attached. He doesn't need to do anything after that. The torso falls from the blade and splashes down in the pool, accomplishing what Crowley set out to do.

“Holy... GAH!” Aziraphale leaps back to avoid the spray. He frowns at his clothes when he sees he wasn't quick enough. "Look what you've done! You’ve made a mess of my coat!”

“Improved it, I’d say,” Crowley snarks. “Given it a pop of color.”

“I've had this coat for ages and hadn't collected a single stain! Not one! And look at your shoes! Ruined!" He gazes down at Crowley's feet in despair. "I actually liked that pair.”

“Really?" Crowley tilts his head, batting his eyes innocently. "You didn't tell me that.”

“Yes, well... " Aziraphale busies himself fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Praying he’s swift enough to save the fabric, he pats at the specks on his sleeve "... it’s not my place to tell a homicidal maniac that he looks fetching in snakeskin, is it?”

Crowley pouts, his lower lip jutting out, making him look comically childish despite the streaks of blood running down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. He glances around, trying to work out what's wrong. "What? What is it?"

"You're being mean."

"How am I being mean?"

"You're calling me names."

"Accurate ones, yes."

"You sound disappointed."

"You think so!?"

“B-but... but why? I took your advice!" Crowley argues. "I changed me m.o.!”

“I didn’t give you advice! I said you should stop killing innocent people!”

“I did! This guy?" Crowley plants the heel of his sopping shoe into the dead man's crooked neck for emphasis. "He weren’t innocent! He was a serial killer, too! He just happened to be shite at it!”

"I can see that." Aziraphale peers into the vacant eyes of the man on the ground, spirit buzzing beneath his skin, waiting to be reaped. But Aziraphale is in no rush. In the choice between filling out paperwork and shooting the shite with Crowley, surprisingly, he chooses Crowley. 

Or maybe not so surprising, Aziraphale muses, biting his lower lip and indulging in a private chuckle. He rolls his eyes in disgust at himself right after. What are you doing? Stop that!

"Besides, I'm doin' you a solid!" 

Aziraphale scoffs, snapping back to his senses. "How do you figure?"

"You're Death, ain't ya? I'm keeping you in business!"

"I don't know if you've read the papers lately, dear boy, but humans are dropping like flies thanks to their own stubbornness and stupidity. You're slap in the middle of one of the worst pandemics in history, but instead of doing what you can to stay safe, you lot spend your time arguing over petty b.s.! I won't wear a mask! It's against my rights! I'm not taking the vaccine! It'll make me sterile! There is no disease! It's all a big conspiracy! Meanwhile, in the states, some orange lunatic has everyone drinking bleach! Believe me, I hardly need your help doing my job!" 

“Oi! Don’t lump me in with those prats!”

“Why not? You’re not wearing a mask, I see.”

“Don’t have to. I got my shot. And I keep me distance.”

“But you’re covered in blood! Did that man you dismembered have the virus!? You don’t know!” Aziraphale cringes at words that sound far more like concern than scolding. Which he should be doing. Scolding and ridiculing, and possibly calling the police.

But he won’t.

If Crowley were thrown in prison, it would be harder for Aziraphale to find an excuse to see him. Aziraphale has yet to decide if that’s something he wants, but either way, he’d prefer it not be at the expense of another life.

"Fine. Whatever. If that's the way you feel about it... " Crowley grumbles, letting what remains of that statement die as embarrassment rises to his cheeks, settling beneath the red already there. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his face away. 

Just like a child, Aziraphale thinks. 

And as with a child, Aziraphale should have nipped this in the bud much, much earlier - like when Crowley realized that he could summon Aziraphale whenever he wanted by upping the frequency of his murderous antics. 

This, to date, is his twenty-seventh kill.

Aziraphale doesn't know how Crowley spotted him. He's pretty adept at avoiding human detection. But after victim number eight, Aziraphale turned around, scythe in hand, and there he stood: tall, gangly, bizarrely besotted, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at one in the morning. Aziraphale thought Crowley was a run-of-the-mill psychopath looking for attention, seeing Aziraphale as a hapless dolt to play cat-and-mouse with, not knowing for one second who he was dealing with.

Not only did Crowley know exactly who Aziraphale was, but he had taken a considerable shine to him.

Aziraphale humored the man when their paths crossed so he could get on with his work, never for one minute considering the consequences. Thinking back on their past interactions, Aziraphale can pick out the hints Crowley had been dropping.

Aziraphale played right into them, and he could kick himself over it.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Aziraphale quipped dryly after Crowley had beheaded some poor, down-on-his-luck fool. "I'm going to start thinking that you have a thing for me."

"Finally!" Crowley tossed his arms in the air. "At this rate, I was going to have to murder half of London and spell out the words ’Will you go out with me?’ with their bodies. Do you know how time-consuming that would have been?"

Aziraphale had written that comment off as a morbid attempt at humor. 

Now he feels like an imbecile.

He’s going to get an earful from Gabriel if he ever gets wind of this. Aziraphale has been able to cover up the increase in London deaths by blaming the pandemic. But once people get their acts together and things calm down, he’ll have to come clean.

There’s a serial killer roaming the streets that has a serious crush on him.

Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh as he comes to a decision.

A bad decision.

He's going to regret this. He knows he's going to regret this. 

But will he really though?

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, still moping with his nose in the air. He examines him at depth - his sharp features, his debonair style (hiding beneath a litre of blood), his devil-may-care attitude, his rowdy sense of humor. If he were another angel, or even a demon, Aziraphale would have asked him out already, body count or no. 

So what is he waiting for?

It’s not entirely unheard of, an angel dating outside their dominion. And as for the moral issues of dating a murderer, well, Aziraphale is an angel. He has a responsibility to bring sinners to the light, help them see the truth. That can be done anywhere, not just in church - on a street corner, in a diner…

Back at his flat.

Besides, he and Crowley have a lot more in common than Aziraphale did with his last paramour, an angel he had dallied with solely for the fact that he was guardian of comestibles.

It seemed like a match made in Heaven, so to speak.

Far from it.

“Look - if I let you take me out for coffee, will you stop the gratuitous bloodshed?”

Crowley all but gasps when that question leaves Aziraphale’s mouth, the grin growing on his face transforming, becoming less maniacal and more… normal if that makes any sense. "One cup of coffee. That's all I ask."

"Then come along. Here… “ Aziraphale snaps his fingers, cleaning Crowley thoroughly before he takes his arm. “If you're good, I'll let you buy me a slice of cake.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m a very slow eater. And I figure the longer I stay with you, the more I can keep an eye on you."

“Deal. But, you know," Crowley starts, his tone so filled with teasing he’s on the verge of giggles, "if you, say, spent the night at my flat, you could keep an eye on me for hours. Think of all the people I wouldn’t be able to kill.”

Aziraphale smirks, amused that they both had a semblance of the same idea. “You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“More so than you bartering human lives against a cuppa and cake?”

Aziraphale shrugs, but he doesn't relinquish Crowley's arm. He does, however, relieve him of his ax so he doesn’t get any ideas along the way. “Fair point.”

[maaaddiexo]

The Within Series | Legolas Greenleaf

Book 1: The Devil Within - 1.8

Mainlist | Serieslist

Nyx of Tyndall does not know love or kindness. Cursed at a young age by a jealous witch, Nyx has lived a life of solitude and death.

Until Gandalf the Grey requests her presence and uncontrollable skill in assisting a young Hobbit across Middle-Earth with nine others to destroy a ring so powerful all fall victim to its evil.

Not only must Nyx face Orcs, demons, and creatures she’s never seen before, but also the devil inside. Controlling the devil is the key to finding freedom in a spell that can’t be broken. But it will not be so easy for Nyx when every obstacle she faces pushes her to an edge she cannot return from.

Chapter Eight

Nyx marched through the halls of Rivendell angrily. Flight of stairs after flight of stairs she went until she was at the highest lookout point the Elves of Rivendell had built. The sound of water cascading down the mountain drowned out the sound of blood pumping angrily in her ears, but she could still feel it nonetheless. She crossed a small arched bridge in front of waterfall. The mist that came off put out the smoke on her cape.

Nyx discarded her cloak angrily, throwing it on the floor and kicking it away. Her face burned with anger and she rubbed her face, frustrated tears running down her cheeks. Not even a week she’d worn the ring and already it had torn down the defenses she’d spent over a decade building up. She braced herself against the stone balcony railing.

“Focus, Nyx. Like Gandalf taught you.”

“Milady Nyx?” An Elf stood timidly at the top of the stairs. Clearly, he knew he was interrupting something. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”

“Tell Elrond and Gandalf I will not be attending. They will understand.”

The Elf hesitated and then bowed. “Of course, Milady Nyx. Would you like to have it sent to your room?”

Nyx hesitated and then nodded curtly.

The Elf bowed once more and then descended the stairs quickly and Nyx felt her knees give out, splitting when they hit the stone. Her fingers gripped the stone spindles and her head rested against them. Nyx couldn’t find it in herself to move. Not even as the sun began to set and the temperature dropped.

Nyx was tired. She could go no further.

��⍥⍥

When Nyx woke up the next morning, she was still on the outlook, her cloak wrapped around her like a blanket with leaves in her hair.

Someone was touching her shoulder. She saw the familiar staff before she heard the voice.

“My dear, why sleep on the floor when you’ve been offered a bed.”

Nyx looked away. All around her were burnt leaves and grass. Her fingertips were black with ash. She’d spent a long time trying to control her anger the night before. And though she hadn’t burned down a gazebo, Rivendell wasn’t completely unscathed. “What time is it?”

“The Council is about to begin but Frodo refused to start without you. He insists you be part of the meeting.”

Nyx frowned. She wanted no part of the Ring and its journey, wherever it led. Not after what it did to her in less than a week. She felt the anger in her, glowing bright. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly.

“Come on. Up you get.” Gandalf helped Nyx to her feet and began to fret over her, pulling the leaves and twigs out of her hair and brushing down her cloak. “That’ll do.”

Nyx frowned and self-consciously pulled her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. They descended the stairs quickly, Nyx trailing behind the grey wizard. “Gandalf, I do not want to go with the Ring.”

“You do not have to. But attend for Frodo’s sake. Here,” he grabbed Nyx’s scythe and placed it in her hands. There was still dried blood on it from the last time she used it. “Come.”

Everyone was already seated in the Council Room and Nyx moved to stand behind Frodo’s chair. He smiled gratefully at her over his shoulder. She tried to smile back but wasn’t sure how convincing it was.

“Strangers from distant lands,” Elrond began. “Friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall.”

Nyx found Aragorn’s eyes across the circular room, fear brimming in her eyes. Her gave her a calm smile before turning to look at someone else. The Elf from the day before. They shared a familiar look with one another. A look of familiarity and friendship.

“Each race is bound to this fate – this one doom,” Elrond continued. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

Frodo stood on shaky legs, looking at Gandalf and then Nyx behind him. She nodded encouragingly at him. He reached into his pocket as he walked towards the small stone table in the middle, octagonal in shape. He placed it on the stone gently but still, everyone heard it thud, like a boulder hitting the bottom of chasm.

Immediately, the Ring began to hum and sing, and everyone sat forward in their chairs, drawn to it. Except for Nyx. She took a step back in fear. Her fingers began to warm.

“So, it is true,” a man murmured. He stood up slowly. “In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west, a pale light lingered. Voices crying. Our doom is near at hand.” He moved closer to the Ring. “Isildur’s Bane is found.” He reached his hand forward. “Isildur’s Bane.”

“Boromir!” Elrond shouted. The man stood up with a fright, shaken out the Ring’s lure, and looked to the sky in shock as it began to darken.

Gandalf stood, reaching a hand to the sky. He began to chant in Black Speech.

Ash nazg durbatulûk

Ash nazg gimbatul

Ash nazg thrakatulûk

Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

Nyx stared at the Ring, reciting the translation under her breath. It was the inscription on the Ring.

“One Ring to rule them all,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all

And in the darkness bind them.”

With Gandalf’s word, the sky brightened as fast as it darkened and everyone sat back down except for Nyx, who had no seat.

“Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris.”

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond,” Gandalf said to Elrond. “For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west. The Ring is altogether evil,” he reminded the people in front of him.

Boromir shook his head. “It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay! By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!”

“It cannot be used against its true master,” Nyx said angrily. “All it does is pull the evil from within and make you a monster.”

“And what do you, a mere girl, know about the Ring?” Another man spat at her. The rage bubbled in Nyx and her fingers did more than warm. Someone laid a hand on arm. Gandalf.

“Nyx is right,” Aragorn said. “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

“And what would a Ranger know of this matter? You are no more experienced than the girl!”

“This is no mere Ranger.” Nyx watched as the silver-haired elf stood up. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Aragorn and the Elf did know each other.

“And it would not be wise to insult Nyx,” Elrond added. “For she has the nasty habit of catching fire.”

“Witch!” A man hissed. Nyx glared at him, her eyes flaming orange. It was one of the few tricks she’d picked up over the years. The man gasped and then fainted, and Nyx smirked. She swore she heard Gandalf chuckle too.

Boromir looked at Nyx and then Aragorn. He chose to focus on the latter. “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to throne of Gondor,” the Elf added. Nyx winced. Salt in the wound, if you asked her.

“Havo dad, Legolas.” Nyx glanced at the elf as he obeyed his friend’s words to sit down. So his name was Legolas.

“Gondor has no King,” Boromir said. “Gondor needs no King.”

“Then what does that make you?” Nyx wondered.

Gandalf spoke before Boromir could respond to Nyx’s angry words. “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

“You have only one choice,” Elrond added. “The Ring must be destroyed.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” The Dwarf with ginger hair and a thick Scottish accent stood up and swung his axe. His axe should have shattered the Ring. Instead, the axe splintered into pieces and the Dwarf was thrown onto his back.

Frodo flinched, grabbing for his head. Sauron’s Eye flashed in his mind.

Nyx dropped to the ground, feeling a stabbing pain in her chest as images flashed in her mind. White hair. Fire. A blade dripping in blood. Somebody screaming. She coughed and black liquid splattered onto the stone. Ichor. Her cheek burned.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.”

Nyx wiped at her lips with the sleeve of her dress and stood up on weak legs. Gandalf offered her his arm.

“One of you must do this.”

There was silence all around.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir argued quietly. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.”

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?” Legolas demanded. “The Ring must be destroyed!”

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it!” Gimli argued.

“And if we fail, what then?” Boromir added, standing up. “What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli stood up – not that it made him any taller. “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!”

The other Elves stood at Gimli’s insult and, soon enough, everyone was standing and yelling over one another. Frodo sat still, staring at the Ring as it called for him.

“Nyx?”

“Yes, Frodo?”

“I think it needs to be me.”

“Are you saying that because It calls to you or because you are strong enough to fight Its call?”

“I’m doing it because I don’t want to do it. Everyone is fighting to be the one because they don’t want somebody else to do it. I just want it done.”

Nyx smiled. “Then say so.”

Frodo’s announcement went unheard the first time. And the second. Nyx huffed and grabbed her scythe, which she had placed on the ground at the beginning of the meeting. She lifted it and swung it down against the concrete as hard as she could. The blade embedded itself in the concrete until no more metal could be seen. The crack echoed all across Rivendell and across the ponds and ocean, bouncing off the sides of the cliff. The Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Wizard stopped arguing instantly.

Elrond sighed indignantly. “Why must you always break something when you visit?”

“Because you ignorant and stubborn men never listen. Now, shut up and sit down. All of you.” She stepped back as Frodo stepped forward, swallowing thickly. His hands were so sweaty.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though…I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins.” Gandalf gently touched the young Hobbit’s shoulder in reassurance. “So long as it is yours to bear.”

Aragorn stood. “If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will.” He walked across the circular room and knelt at Frodo’s feet. “You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow.” Legolas moved to Frodo too, passing Nyx on the way.

“And my axe,” Gimli promised.

Boromir stepped forward slowly. “You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.”

Nyx stared at Boromir a moment longer. She didn’t like the way he spoke to Frodo, and she certainly didn’t like the faraway look in his eye.

“Heh!” Something brushed the side of Nyx’s skirt and she watched as Sam jumped from behind some bushes and ran to Frodo’s side, crossing his arms. “Mister Frodo’s not going anywhere without me.”

Elrond looked down at Sam in both disappointment and pride. “No, indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not.”

“Doing some gardening again are we, Master Gamgee?” Gandalf asked with a pointed look in his eyes.

Sam looked down at his feet awkwardly. Nyx smiled.

From the other end, someone shouted. “Oi! Wait! We’re coming too!”

Nyx bit back her laughter at Elrond’s expression as the two cousins rushed to stand beside Frodo as well.

“You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!” Merry insisted.

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing.”

Merry looked at Pippin. “Well, that rules you out, Pip.”

Pippin looked offended. Frodo turned around to look at Nyx, who was standing separate from the group.

“What about you, Nyx? Will you come with me?”

“You want me to?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Aragorn said. “We could use a dragon in our company.”

Nyx smiled. For once, the name she’d been given wasn’t be used in anger or fear. “Then you shall have her.”

“Ten companions. So be it,” Elrond announced. “You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

Part 1.9 ➺

[safrona-shadowsun]

Seeking

{ A follow up to @thefirstperished' story here. This takes place for Safrona in Warcraft: Shadowlands, canonically set just before the discovery of Korthia. }

"Excellent, most excellent," the Mistress of Darkhaven spoke of her Favored Guest, who had donned corseted red velvet and a decadent jeweled cloak by her insistent request. “Just the right fit too. I knew it too, didn’t I? A riding robe and cloak are efficient I’m sure, ah, but look at how you shine now. You wear our colors deliciously well.”

Safrona continued to patiently present for the Venthyr host who aided her now, and had been since the Courier had made her want known to attend the famed Ember Court of Revendreth. Mihaela regarded her now with a critical look touched with some longing. Her long, spindly fingers were dulled by the cool touch of lightless silk and lifeless, ashen skin. In the void elf there hummed a heartbeat, unspoken sins and power, and in the Venthyr there itched a curious desire to at last touch it. Yet the Venthyr were also made of etiquette and formality. Her hands instead splayed with the paused question of permission: “May I?”

After an eye of consideration, the Courier indicated her permission for her host to touch her hair as she wished. Despite feeling suddenly like a living doll the Venthyr was doting on with each gathering stroke of her braid, Safrona kept her attentions to the ledger of expectations for her visit to Court, and more notably presenting her own request. “I managed to contract the Maldraxxi minstrel for entertainment and locked in the invitation to the Ardenweald Emissary this time. That’s on top of the Sinner I’ve dragged along.”

“More horses?” Mihaela inquired with a note of disappointment. Her hands did not stop the experimental arrangement of hair around the elf's head. “Sinrunners are divine, my dear, but the Court certainly has their fill of horses."

"Not a horse," Safrona shook her head. " 'Sinner' as I am meaning one of those loyal to Denathrius, delivered directly to the Court's hands."

"Impressive. You take an interest in what the Court of Harvesters do, clearly. But largely a situation another Inquisitor can handle. You give the spotlight to another when at Court, you will need it on yourself to guarantee a boon."

"...is what I am not already doing for Revendreth enough to ask for one favor?" The Courier swallowed the months of weariness that had built into easy irritation with the tedium of gaining favor in the Shadowlands. At least she was not required to enter the Maw with these final preparations. “I know what I seek. Who I seek. All I need is the opportunity to find it there, no more.”

Mistress Mihaela slowly smirked, sensing the suppression of the void elf's nerves. "I'm sure the Court will appreciate your efforts. But you are hardly the first Maw Walker that has curried favor with them, and you will not be the last. You and your Broker friends are professional and useful to be sure, but the Court recognizes the allure of presentation as much as it does dependability. You are very interesting to the eye as is. And your request is personal, it seems."

The Venthyr revealed a brilliantly glimmering thread of gemstones that were fed the supernatural presence of flowing anima, attempting to thread them now through the elf's long, burgundy-colored braid. "We should make sure all eyes are drawn to your many facets."

Safrona grew self-conscious for the decadence given her. "This may be a bit much, don't you think?"

The Venthyr clicked her sharp teeth together, admonishing. "Don't be coy, dear girl. Make sure you bring out that pretty little scythe too. They will want more than a little "courier" at Court."

……..

"...and this "demon" as you call it, how magnificent! Clearly obedient." A Venthyr gentleman observed the felhunter Safrona had summoned to the Court grounds. As Mihaela had foretold, the new blood would gain attention, if not fascination. "Is it formed from your own blood, anima? Or a simple form of enchantment? I have never had the pleasure of investigating this species myself."

"Oh Barnabus! Stop pestering the girl about her pets!" Another courtly countess spoke, lightly placing her long, taloned fingers on Safrona's sleeve. She grinned toothily as she gained the void elf's eyes. "We need to know so much more about you, Maw Walker."

"And that glorious scythe!" Another at court joined at the side of the "Courier". "That is a weapon with a story I hope you intend to regale us with."

"Or you could save the chatter and appease dearest Barnabus with a Sinstone reading, hmmm?"

Two laughed while the Inquisitor glared playfully at his companions, extending his decorated sleeve for the void elf to take, arm in arm. "Do not tempt me more than I am, friends."

Polite and patient as she could be, Safrona let herself be lead around the Court by her company as they wished, asking pointed questions - the Venthyr took absolute pleasure in talking about themselves, or hearing their own voices. A gentle arrogance that worked to her own favor, as it kept her from needing to expose more of herself than was necessary. Her want, her desire needed to be aimed at the right party.

As she was lead to a cul de sac of the Ember Court, Safrona continued to listen to her guiding company, affording them smiles and a chuckle here or there to ingratiate their small biographies, their teases. Her eyes strayed however, wandering the new section, the new set of gaunt, vampiric faces that looked so much the same.

One face stood out in immense familiarity among them. Safrona paused within the makeshift little coterie, thought she felt her heart skip its beat. Lingering like a corner shadow, she would have recognized him by sway, by step, no matter how the facets of Death had touched him. Pure elation and relief flowed from her, a tumble of flame in the dark that reached for her Soulsinger.

It was the sudden closeness of one of the Venthyr that abruptly cut into her elation, locking her into physical place with a sudden wave of discomfort. "You smell like blood in the night, and...destruction, my dear lady." The Venthyr's voice spilled away from mere curiosity to something disturbingly wanton. "How very interesting…"

The Void Elf's discomfort knotted in her stomach, but it quickly evolved into a swirl of offense, and defensive backlash. Yet she was in control. Nothing outwardly changed in Safrona but her position, and the domineering stance of her figure as her voice came.

"That would be because I am at my core, destruction. It is what I know, Sir. It is all I have known for a long time. My sins are numerous in the light of all of it."

Safrona began to step away from the circle of curious Venthyr, glancing the way of the First of the Perished. In his mere presence, she felt stronger, certain of herself. Every word spoken next she hoped he heard.

"You can know I am a monster, an anomaly that has been absolved to hunt, harvest and deliver other monsters to their place, eat the dark of the world so the innocent can have their reprieve. If I am a Sinner you look for, then so it should be. I no longer regret what I was to be what I am now." Safrona abandoned the attention of the Venthyr, and gave hers solely to the lingering figure with her approach. He was everything she had come to find.

There was a sense of disassociation, a sense of shattered realities broken from time and space. A part of him had felt familiarity to an event like this but held no recollection of such a thing. He wasn't sure why he had been called here nor why he was asked to attend; hell, he wasn't sure why he even remained there. Standing quietly off to the side, the Hybrid stared out across the dead expanse of the Ember Ward, saw the sun blasted landscape that was more ash than dirt. That feeling of being out of place crept up on him, the feeling as if eyes were staring down upon him much like the crowds within the Arena.

It wasn't a voice that broke that feeling but the sudden warmth and ache that filled his chest, an ache that elicited a wince from chapped lips and gritted teeth. Fingers dug into the black speckled flesh of his chest as he fell to his knees, glancing around behind in search of what or who was forcing this feeling upon him. Staring out across the crowd, it was merely a sea of faces that were drenched in colors that all appeared muted greys.

Until... A singular being emitted an effigy of shadowed light among a sea of unknowns; a warm, inviting light that almost beckoned him toward it. " Who are you...", he spoke softly to himself, the being's visage not fully coming into view.

Elation quickly dampened as her Soulsinger seemed to crumple before her, cringing away in her eyes as if she had invoked an aura of fear. She knelt with him, gently reaching to touch the fingers he clutched to his chest. Precious touch, the gentle worship of calloused fingers she went without for much too long. Yet there was no relief, no sense of home here. Only the lost look of a broken man, wondering why she caused him pain.

The circle of Venthyr whispered among each other just behind the pair of souls, a background to the solemn silence Safrona fell into.

[excitedlysuffering]

How You Met- Black Butler

Trying something new! Since Netflix only has the first season of BB💀I’ll only be able to write for these three and maybe Grell until I get my hands on the manga. Enjoy!

Ciel Phantomhive~

You suppressed the urge to sigh and roll your eyes as yet another man, who you didn’t care to know the name of, asked you for a dance. Generally, you didn’t mind balls and parties, you had a love for dancing, after all, but tonight your heart just wasn’t in it.

Tonight’s ball was at the Phantomhive manor, and as grand as it was, you couldn’t help but be on edge. Not only did something seem off about the environment, but you had overheard your parents talking of finding you a betrothed, much to your utter and complete horror.

“No, thank you, I was actually going to take a break…” The well-dressed man’s face fell, but you stood by your claim and walked to a nearby table and sat down. You dragged a gloved hand down your face, already exhausted even though there was plenty of party left.

You watched as couples in bright, happy colors waltzed around the room, laughter, and music permeating into every fiber of your being, which, oddly enough, seemed to worsen your mood.

“Not one for balls either?” A rather stiff voice asked you. You whirled around, startled, a hand on your chest. Your eyes widened as they landed on the Eart Phantomhive himself. “E-Earl! Oh, no, no, I’m just a bit tired is all. Everything is wonderful!” He waved a hand. “I dislike these events quite a bit as well. And Ciel will do.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’m (Y/N), it’s great to meet you, Ciel.” He lent a hand out to you. “You as well, (Y/N). Would you like to accompany me to the gardens? I often find myself there to escape these things.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you placed your hand in his and let him guide you outside the ballroom. An adventure with the elusive and mysterious Ciel Phantomhive seemed infinitely better than staying in the stifling room.

Sebastian Michaelis~

Your Death Scythe, two sai, made a cut across the body of a British soldier. As usual, thanks to the fallout of that blasted fallen angel, you were on overtime and had to clean up a palace full of almost dead guards and the like.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Your head snapped up and away from the cinematic records. You froze as you met the typical red eyes of a demon, a particularly smug-looking one at that. “I suppose this was your doing?” You asked flatly.

His smirk widened, confirming what you already knew. “My master asked and I did, however, if I had known that they’d send you, I would’ve done this on my account.” Your eyes rolled behind your Shinigami glasses.

“I’m busy, demon, go bother someone else.” After marking the last man for death, you stood up, sheathing your sai.

“Oh, but you fascinate me!” You gave him a suspicious look. You hadn’t even done anything besides what every Grim Reaper did daily. “Sure.” You prepared to take your leave, but the butler dressed demon appeared in front of you. “You remind me of a cat, aloof, graceful, petite, such a supple body…”

You backed up, mildly disturbed by the ravenette. “...Okay…” He shook his head, breaking himself out of his cat daydream. “I never did get your name, miss?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“I believe it is courteous to introduce yourself before asking me to.” His smirk widened imperceptibly. “Ah, my apologies, miss,” he replied, not sounding sincere in the slightest, “Sebastian Michaelis is what my master has named me.” You shrugged. “Name’s (Y/N).”

Just as he was about to respond, a younger voice rang out. “Sebastian! Don’t be tedious, let’s get going.” You smirked, “Best obey, your master, Sebastian.”

He let out a light chuckle, bowing slightly. “I suppose you’re correct. We’ll meet again, Miss (Y/N).” Then he was gone. A sinking feeling in your stomach told you he had met what he said.

Adrian Crevan (Undertaker)~

London was a cruel place to live for someone who had been dealt a bad hand in life, you know that better than most. After your family had perished in a boat accident, you had lost your home and everything in it. Your only choice was to find a job so you could afford a decent enough place to live.

That was how you found yourself in front of the Undertaker’s shop. This was your last option, but it seemed that fate was against you as every other place had turned you away. Pushing aside your nerves, you walked in the door, squinting in the dim lighting.

“Um, hello? Is anyone here?” You heard footsteps and saw a grey-haired man walk into the room, a biscuit in between his lips. “Oh, hello, dearie~!” You waved shyly as you stepped further into the shop.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had any job openings available? I’m willing to do whatever is needed…” The undertaker giggled, clapping gleefully and you sweatdropped. You’d heard that he was on the… stranger side, but you weren’t quite expecting this.

“Oh, my, an apprentice! What’s your name, dearie?” You sighed in relief, happy he hadn’t yet turned you away. “I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you…” You trailed off, realizing that you didn’t know his name, only his title.

“Just call me, ‘Undertaker’, everyone does,” He giggled. You offered him a small smile, his optimism somewhat contagious. “Alright then, Undertaker, is there anything I need to do in order to get the job?”

His grin widened, seeming to take up the whole area of his face that wasn’t covered by his bangs. Could he even see? “Just one small thing is all I ask! Make me laugh and the job is yours~” You blinked, not quite processing the odd request.

“Make you… laugh?” He nodded eagerly, his sleeved hands clasped together. You racked your brain, trying to think of something that would be sure to make the man laugh.

Before you could say something, the slightly unhinged man burst out laughing, to your confusion. “D-did I miss something?” He only laughed harder, clutching his torso and stumbling all over the room, but managing to avoid the coffins scattered all over.

“You were thinking so hard, dearie! Guess who got the job~” A thrilled smile replaced your confused frown as giggles erupted from your lips, the sounds joining Undertaker’s own laughter.

[mr-humphries]

Might as well share this here. It's just a roleplay I did with myself over on BB Amino to cure my boredom, so dont expect it to be good fJFJEK

Peak my oc too 😩✨

_________

To be sent on a late soul collection was one thing, but the task of elimination was just baffling. Charlie would much rather be at home with that chonky little cat of his instead of being released on a life or death mission that could leave him extremely injured. But he knows better to disobey the higher-ups. Adjusting his glasses, Charlie remained cloaked in the shadow of a building, keeping his eye out for the target he was sent to rid of, one Alan Humphries, the fallen grim reaper who miraculously reappeared after the events of Crystal Palace, despite his partner having taken his life and 1000 souls were accounted for.

Whatever that blasted Undertaker has done with him, its messed up the entirety of Dispatch, dealing with taunts and attacks from the very same "reaper". And he was a good one at that. He was someone Charlie felt no reason to fight with.

He didn't have a say in this anyway.

Charlie flipped through his collection book, still awaiting the appointed time. Even at the slightest sound, he was on alert, a hand on his (cloaked) scythe, prepared to strike when he gets the chance. If only he was smarter than that, then he wouldve seen what was coming. A scythe. Right to face.

"Fancy seeing your face around here reaper," he taunted, while Charlie staggered and readied his own scythe, looking around in every direction "a fresh face like yours would make you someone fun to toy with" A grip on Charlie's shoulder startled him, making him spin around and attempt to attack whoever's behind him, which failed, and sent him flying into a corner. "Honestly mate, surely they would teach you better than that at the academy," a scythe blade pressed up to his throat "it's a little pathetic."

Charlie dropped whatever was in his hands and held them up, almost surrendering "I'm not sure what you want me to say, Humphries"

"Come on, what's with the formalities? I may be out hunting the Dispatch for my enjoyment and the sake of being rewarded quite generously, but you dont have to be formal about it, its weird-" Alan rolled his eyes, which had no real discernable colour, mainly faded or Grey, before peering back down at the reaper "so. What do you want?"

Charlie simply glared at the reaper standing above him, despite his short height, he was quite intimidating. "I want nothing from you-"

Alan scowled, pressing his scythe harder on Charlie's neck "come on now, you dont have to lie to me. I'm not a parrot. I wont be repeating anything to anyone else, but I will take something personally. So tread lightly regardless." Alan flashed him a soft smirk, just loving the defeat in Charlie's eyes. "I was sent to rid of you"

"Did Spears send you?"

"The Higher-ups sent me-" Charlie stopped glaring to stare into the wall beside him "I didnt want to be here, I had to go against my own will." Alan snickered at Charlie's remark "what's so funny about that?"

"The fact that Dispatch would rather save their own skins sending someone so under qualified for the job," Alan pulled the scythe away from Charlie, crouching in front of him with a smirk "Its kind of sad really... that they dont actually care for you and send you for a sacrifice~"

"You say that as if it's a terrible thing"

"Terrible? No no, better for me, but quite selfish indeed..." he chuckled.

"so, what I'm getting from this is Higher-ups are afraid of me?"

Charlie hesitated, "I wouldnt say afraid-" Alan groaned in response "you dont have to e going and defending them. They sent you out here to rid of me, and look at where it's getting you. Not very far."

"Regardless of what theyve done, I'm still alive like this because of them. I still have a bit of faith if getting redeemed, is that so wrong?"

"Oh you poor thing... thinking theres life after death... a redemption waiting for you just beyond the horizon," Alan got up, giggling, before a deadpan look came across his face when Charlie didnt laugh too "heaven doesn't exist, lad. All that waits, is hell, no matter how hard you work. Lower your expectations a little, 'kay?" Alan's smiled reappeared "now, if it's up to schedule I suppose we'll be meeting again. I'm free at 6 on wednesdays if your rather settle this over dinner," Alan turned and began to leave, waving him off "ta ta I guess."

Charlie quickly got up, stumbling as he ran after him "now hold on just a second!"

"Eh?"

"You work for undertaker- you mention he'd give you a generous reward for slaying the Reapers, right-?"

Alan raised an eyebrow, prompting Charlie to huff "you know, for a dangerous person you're not very considerate-"

"Why do you wanna know?"

Charlie remained silent for a moment, fiddling with his jacket sleeves before answering "just wanted to know."

Alan kept an brow raised, thinking for a moment "what do I get in return for this information, Junior?"

"anything. I'll let you have me. You can kill me, bring me back, whatever. I'll do anything. Justblet me know what Undertaker has."

Alan held a sceptical look on his face "... you know what, because you've been such a good sport. No. I'm not telling you a thing, itll be more torturous to live out that sad little life of yours- none of your business really."

Charlie glared "oh come on! I offered you whatever I can think of!!"

The "reaper" laughed "AH, BUT YOU THOUGHT I WOULD TELL YOU!"

"what's wrong with you?!"

"tell you what, right, I'll compromise with you. I'll tell you what you want, but you have to tell me everything about Dispatch, dates, times of everything. With your shocking combat skills, you're most likely in general affairs..."

Charlie looked down, huffing "deal."

Alan smirked and chuckled, "good." He maneuvered in front of Charlie, knocking the scythe from his hand, taking a real tough grip on his tie and waist to pull him in close, whispering into his ear "when our deal is through... and Dispatch is completely out of commission... I can finally take back what was mine. My Eric~ and, oh, I haven't seen him in years. I'm sure it would be nice to catch up... wouldn't you think?" Charlie's eyes widened "and when hes finally returned, I can finally knock sense into that Michaelis, for making such a big deal of 1000 souls... it's what got My beloved killed after all." Alan let out a dark chuckle, making Charlie shiver, suddenly gasping for air when his tie was tightened around his neck, watching as Alan backed away "and you wont be getting in the way, correct?"

Charlie shook his head vigorously, choking for air when alan let go and the tie loosened slightly "Good. You're a great listener. Let me know when we shall meet again. Doesnt matter where, I'll always find you." 

Charlie kept choking for a moment, tearing up slightly as he glared up at the other, "I-I'll find out what I can- we'll meet tomorrow..."

"Glad you're cooperating. Til we meet again." He waved to Charlie, before walking off and leaving him to loosen his tie completely and try to breathe once more.

Oh how screwed he was.

[daiseukiis]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ┊ 03 ┊ 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 ┊ 05

⠀

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'VE NEVER SEEN TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS, WELL, YOU'RE BOTH JUST DOWN RIGHT UGLY THOUGH."

'an unregistered high grade cursed spirit?! is she the one that set this up?!' fushiguro stands his ground as his fists clench hard, sweat dripping the side of his forehead.

"excuse me?! did you just call me ugly?!" kugisaki points her finger at the cursed spirit, a tick mark over her head. the female cursed spirit just smiles, tilting her head to the side and pissing the sorcerer more than she needs to be.

"your hair must be dyed, you look like a tangerine sweetie."

"i'm gonna kill this bitch!"

'is that what she's concerned about?' fushiguro sweatdrops as he watches the tension unfold between the two girls.

"kiyara! itadori!" he yells out to the two as he runs to their direction, ignoring kugisaki and the cursed spirit's argument.

"i'm fine! thanks to him we got out in time." kiyara admits as yuji let's has hand unwrap around her waist. fushiguro bit his bottom lip and clenched his fists, guilt somehow sipping through his body. 'what the fuck...'

"you're a cursed spirit right? did you make this mess?" putting kiyara down itadori gets up and picks his cursed weapon, eyeing down the teenage looking cursed spirit.

"pretty, right?" her hands take the skull of a human which was positioned at the corner of the stage. she stares at it in fascination and traces her finger along its boney jawline. "i mean, all the curses you killed used to be human."

"what?"

"they were once human, just amplified their fear with my cursed energy and killed their souls. then, i turn them into my little puppets." throwing the skull right in front of the sorcerers and having a chain stab through it. planting her butt on the auditorium's stage, crossing her legs over each other and look down on the sorcerers.

"a cursed spirit that can turn humans into curses..?" their eyes widen, getting ready for battle. they watch as the thunder which struck behind her illuminated, her mind controls the chains that float above her body as she continued to gave the shamans a cocky smirk.

"usually i only kill those that don't have much time left in them, because i see how long you'll all live like a shinigami." she points her her green forest eyes that turn red in a single blink, shrugging her shoulders. "but that got boring ten years ago."

"and it looks like your time is up. die for me."

the cursed spirit's hand went up in the air, black mist formed within her grasp as it started to shape a scythe. in seconds it materialized into one that was decorated with skulls and red flowers. her one swing made shivers go down their spine.

in a blink of an eye the sorcerers disappeared from the cursed spirit's view causing her to be taken aback, confused by the change of scenery. while kiyara used her cursed energy to make illusions of them, their real bodies scattered and were unseen to her eyes.

"apologies, i forgot to introduce myself. i'm yoruko, to let you know who'll kill you." she stands up on the stage, grinning as she puts her scythe and hands behind her back. yoruko sways her body playfully and smiles mercilessly.

"now here's a pop quiz! what do humans fear the most?" her chains scatter to the gym floor, bringing her off the stage and onto the main floor. yoruko approaches the illusion of a trembling kiyara and fushiguro on the ground, her emotions not even once running wild and single handedly spinning her scythe.

"is it the sea? the dark? death is one of them, most definitely! but what else?"

'we need to escape, this cursed spirit is out of her mind!' fushiguro eyes kiyara who was right across the gym floor away from him. he glances over to itadori and kugisaki who were together, mouthing to leave and get help from their sensei since they were the closest to the doors.

"humans fear the unknown."

kiyara leaps from her spot to go head on with yoruko from the side, her hands instantly grip on to her daggers to attack her. but in just that second, a chain stabbed through the girl's side.

all three's eyes widen when they watch as the metal pierced her body just as fast as it came out. fushiguro's blood went cold, his heart dropped and sunk to the bottom of his stomach to see kiyara throw up blood.

the illusions which she set up disappeared like mist, making them all seen to yoruko's bare eye. she chuckles, staring at kiyara who stumbles back to where she was with a hand on her stomach. she makes eye contact with yoruko after coughing up blood, a foxy smile grazing the cursed spirit's lips.

"i can still see your soul."

'kiyara's faded doesn't work!' fushiguro tries to run towards her, ducking the chains which yoruko effortlessly aimed at him. she lets out a small tsk out after seeing fushiguro make his way to kiyara, grasping her body in his hands and glaring at her.

'at this rate, we'll all die!' kugisaki slams multiple nails at yoruko who only deflected them with her scythe, the bored look on her face as she gracefully spins her body with her weapon. the moment her eyes opened again, she was once more stuck in kiyara's faded which annoyed yoruko.

"stupid sorcerer, you really think by changing my sight you can escape?" a scowl shows her face, circling the black scythe in her left hand before swinging it behind her back.

while yoruko was impared, itadori took this as a chance to counter and up their chances of escaping her and possibly catching up with their sensei.

just as he was about to swing the slaughter demon at her, she maniacally smiles and presses her hand on itadori's stomach. "let me spread your fear!"

the moment her body came into contact with his, her field of vision completely changed, not just that but also the atmosphere that sent bone chilling senses up and down her spine.

'w-what the...' skulls. all yoruko could see were cattle skulls piled up with a man that sat atop the dark space. her body stares up to come face to face with pink hairー the same face which itadori had yet at the same time bore markings.

"isn't your head high, brat?" his voice made her frozen body act, scramming to the ground on to her knees.

"i-i'm sorry!" yoruko stutters loud and clear, until realization hit her. "wait, who are you?!"

"it seems you have a death wish." he was the undisputed king of curses ; sukuna.

yoruko instinctively detached her hand from itadori after seeing through into his soul, causing her blow to be little to no effect on him. her chains drag her out of his point of reach while she puts her free hand over her pounding chest.

'i need to keep my distance from that boy.' she still can't shrug the feeling of fear that runs through her veins when she touched itadori. it was as if she was alive again, the feeling she lost many years ago came back in the flesh of a teenage boy.

she felt alive.

'did she see sukuna or something?' itadori ponders, raising his brow as he saw the momentary fear that bared on yoruko's face, but it didn't take more than a second for her to regain her posture.

just before she swings her scythe down on itadori, lightning appears right before it could touch a single hair on itadori's body. yoruko steps back in shock, "what the fuck?!"

"lightning?" all four watch as the golden substance glowed in the middle of the floor. the light was so bright they started covering their eyes. a black figure dropped from the ceiling as the cape flew through their body.

'i didn't even feel her presence!' fushiguro's eyes lock to the back of their savior, the black veiled jingasa that covered the majority of it's face was still hidden under black fabric. by simple deduction he concluded it was female, the size of her figure and the heels that clicked when she landed on the gym floor.

her hands shape into claws, from her side and up in a diagonal manner lightning manifested from her fingertips. the golden light carved into the ground and made it's way to yoruko in incredible speed.

'it's getting closer! shit!' yoruko curses the sorcerer as she continues to delfect the lightning to bits, only for it to suddenly turn into water when her scythe hacked the lightning to pieces. she furrows her brows, finishing the last one and pointing her weapon at the figure, "who are you?"

'wait a sec... lightning and then water?' kiyara squints her eye lids while trying to move her body, but fushiguro quickly looks down in haste. "be careful! you'll lose blood like this!"

"i'll be fine, trust me." she assures him by putting a hand on his shoulder, sending him a smile that made fushiguro's heart churn. amidst the fight kiyara ripped her own school sleeve and tightly ties it around her waist in attempt to stop the bleeding.

"she's the masked shaman... shousen." kugisaki watches intently with the others, her eyes see how fluid her moves were when it came to dodging both scythe and chains. it even looked graceful to her eyes.

'i can't touch her soul without being burned or electrocuted!' yoruko leaps back to gain distance between her and the masked shaman, gripping her scythe in frustration. all she's done so far was get her chains melted, hands burned and electrocuted every time they came into physical contact.

"who?" itadori cocks his head to the side, he was amazed at how the sorcerer easily made the cursed spirit back off.

"she's a first grade sorcerer that never shows her face, we don't even know her real name." fushiguro explains with wide eyes, he still couldn't believe that someone like her was there to save them.

"all we know she's qualified to become the youngest special grade one sorcerer! that's girl power for you." kugisaki adds on filled with admiration.

"so you guys know her?"

"it's the first we've even seen her."

'water? since when?' yoruko watches the ripples in the fluid that move to every step she took, her reflexion being tampered by the small waves. she couldn't help but think, what the hell was going on in this shaman's mind?

"fourth blessing, god's light." shousen's index finger lit up at the tip with a flame, and with ease she tossed it over to the water. yoruko intently watches as the flame acted like a match that would light up a torchー but it was completely different.

the hot flame fell to create a string of explosions that headed towards the cursed spirit. blowing up half of the auditorium and sending yoruko to jump out into the field. shousen uses her cursed technique to create air around her and the teenagers, making them all fly before placing them down on a safe platform.

"oil? no," yoruko coughs out, her clothes in tatters with burns and flesh wounds. easily she was able to regenerate her parts, wincing at the slight pain she was inflicted before sighing in relief.

'with the lightning she threw at me earlier it dug down underneath the gym. because of that she made holes that caused natural gas to leak up and contaminate the water. fucking smart bitch.'

"still alive? lady luck must be in her favour."

not even a single breath was taken, shousen stood right in front of yoruko. the mesh black veil continued to flow vividly. she stares up into her crimson eyesー ones that looked like the setting sun that reflect on the waters of the calm ocean. the cursed spirit couldn't see the full face of the sorcerer due to the black face viel that covered her, but it didn't matter. she was entrancing.

'she's fastー' yoruko couldn't even finish her thought when a fist flew at her gut, sending her across the field and her body hitting a rugby pole. before the cursed spirit could even process her next move, she was barely able to block shousen's kick to the head covered in lightning with her scythe. 'she'll kill me!'

jumping to the side and away from shousen, yoruko's scythe turns into mist once more and disappears from her hands. panic starts to rush over her body, this was bad for her. "i need to get out of hereー"

"oh what do we have here, a cursed spirit?"

"another one?!"

tags ; @to-move-on-means-to-grow @hq149

notes ; lmao i actly posted smth

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DO NOT REPOST 、 MODIFY 、 CLAIM WORK OR LAYOUT AS YOURS.

© MGUQIIS 、 2021

[ohwhenyouloveit]

‘A whip’, Zhou Zishu thinks, and immediately recalculates when he spots the ghost wielding the weapon. ‘Strings.’ Sharp enough to cleave through wood, undoubtedly sharp enough to cleave through skin and flesh.

He takes a dive forward, trusting his feet to fly through the familiar steps of his qinggong. Every meter between him and his foe is a disadvantage, the long-distance weapon superior to his sword as long as Zishu cannot reach him.

The strings come for him again and Zhou Zishu ducks beneath them, still fast, still difficult to catch. The lethal weapon doubles back and he draws his sword in a swift arc around him, deflecting the hit. The shock reverberates through his entire arm. But he has finally reached the ghost standing beside the door and –

A dagger comes flying at him, just as he prepares to cut down his wire-throwing foe, accompanied by a maniacal chuckle. A second ghost comes into view, just as Zhou Zishu desperately dives to avoid the blade. It still scratches his shoulder, blood starting to seep through his robes.

He draws his own dagger and throws it mid-movement. Instead of watching his new enemy yelp and dance out of the way of the blade, he draws Baiyi over the string ghost’s throat. A fine line of red opens up on his skin but Zhou Zishu has already moved further, has cornered the laughing ghost in the corner of the room.

He will not – steps, right behind him, several of them. Zhou Zishu abandons his goal and turns on his heel, dancing back to face two, three – five other ghosts. He curses below his breath. Taking on six foot soldiers at once would not be a problem to him but the ghosts’ stance and their clothes hint at something more. They must be leaders, he concludes, or – part of the Ten Ghosts.

He recalls the pitiful amount of information his men had collected about the valley’s highest ranking ghosts. He glances at the ghost that had wielded the strings, lying motionless on the ground. He would be a fool to underestimate them.

Zhou Zishu draws back towards the middle of the room, his prince at his back and his enemies in front of him. Two of the ghosts look like reapers to him, dressed in black and white. Another one, looking more fragile than the others, has two identical braids lining his face but he leers at Zhou Zishu in a way that makes him wary.

The ghost with the green lips attacks first. The dagger that he wields requires that he closes the distance between Zhou Zishu and himself, fast. Zhou Zishu is faster.

He knocks the ghost to the ground and jumps back a second later, as a scythe and two daggers come blazing at him. They come at him from two sides, with perfectly synchronized movements that betray that they are used to working together. He dodges and blocks the reapers’ blades, quickly realizing that he cannot give too much ground.

Instead he watches for weaknesses, and finds one. The white reaper lifts his blades too high when he draws back, leaving the bottom side of his hands unprotected. Zhou Zishu waits for the right moment, and strikes. With a yell of pain, the white reaper drops one of his blades, stumbling back while clutching at his hands.

Movement behind him. Zhou Zishu turns and ducks, barely avoiding the blade that swipes towards his chest. He steps back, swiftly, and realizes that the ghosts have surrounded him. Green lips has recovered from Zishu’s blow, and the others have used his distraction to cut off his way out – and his way to the prince.

Zhou Zishu wips out another dagger with his left hand and clears the space around him with a wide arc. His legs strengthened by a burst of Qi he somersaults over them, and – his back free from enemies once again – attacks.

It’s clear from their fighting that the whole group is not used to fighting together but it does not matter in the end. Their sheer number makes it difficult for Zhou Zishu to focus on taking one of them down, and each of them is a good fighter on his own.

Before long, his sleeve has been ripped apart. His shoulder is bleeding sluggishly, and a barely- missed cut has drawn a line of blood over his cheek. Nonetheless, he stands his ground. If he will die protecting his prince, he will. He’ll take at least some of them with him.

He swipes Baiyi towards the ghost with the leer, and spots – at the same moment – a dagger angled at his stomach from below. Knowing that a hit like this will be fatal he dives back, losing his balance.

“Stop,” a foreign voice suddenly speaks, and the ghosts drop back, several of them nursing the injuries Zhou Zishu delivered to them. He blinks, and raises his eyes towards the man standing in the entrance, dressed entirely in red, his dark eyes accentuated by red eyeliner.

“Well, well, well,” the Ghost Valley master says. “Aren’t you causing my ghosts a lot of trouble?”

Previous part First part

[saltnhalo]

inspired by @c-kaeru‘s gorgeous death!Dean artwork

When Castiel wakes, everything is quiet.

He’s standing on the road, the asphalt cool under his bare feet. Above him, the stars twinkle, and the full moon washes everything in a silver light that lends an ethereal quality to Cas’s world.

He doesn’t quite remember how he got here. It’s all a little fuzzy, and he frowns as he tries to remember what he was doing before now—ten minutes, five minutes, even thirty seconds ago. His thoughts slip just out of his grasp, always dancing out of reach.

Someone runs past him.

They move slow, as though time is slightly off-kilter, and there’s a hazy quality to their movements. Castiel has to really focus on them for the waviness to stop. Where are they going? And why are they moving with such… urgency?

His gaze follows them, and he looks to where they’re heading, to the motorcycle that’s tipped on its side in the middle of the road, scrapes marring the paintwork. It seems familiar, and as he looks at it, he swears he can feel its vibrations, the smoothness of the leather seat, the wind whipping past him.

But whoever is running doesn’t stop at the motorcycle. They keep going past it, towards something that’s lying in the road—leather and fabric and deep red washed out by the silver moonlight, and—

Oh.

Oh, god.

Castiel takes a step back, gravel biting into the sole of his foot. He can feel it, but it’s muted somehow, just like everything else is, just like whoever ran past him didn’t acknowledge him because they couldn’t see him.

Because he’s dead.

He doesn’t want to look, but he can’t look away—all he can do is stare as the person kneels beside his body, phone pressed to their ear as they mouth frantic words that Castiel can’t hear. It’s… surreal.

“You doin’ okay?”

Castiel starts, looking away from the scene for the first time in… well, he can’t really tell any more. He’d assumed that he was alone here, cut off from the world in time and space and almost every aspect, but the voice… it had been talking to him.

And sure enough, standing by the side of the road and watching him in the moonlight, is a man.

The first thing that Castiel notices is that his feet are also bare. He’s dressed in dark pants and a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, gold jewelry decorating his fingers and his wrists. The fingers of his left hand are curled loosely around the shaft of a scythe slightly taller than he is, and he seems to lean against it, his body loose and languid and relaxed.

The first question on Castiel’s tongue had been, Are you dead too?, but, well. The scythe definitely answers that.

Tucked behind the man’s ear is a single white-gold lily, and a golden amulet hangs around his neck. He watches Castiel like he can see him, like he understands him, like they truly exist on the same plane.

“I’ve been better,” Castiel replies quietly—there’s a hint of sarcasm to his tone, because who the hell asks that kind of question to someone who’s just died, but his voice also shakes as he says it.

After all, it’s not every day that this kind of thing happens.

The man’s lips quirk up into a smile, and he shrugs one shoulder as if to say, fair enough. “What’s your name?” he asks, and although there’s a quietness and a calmness to his voice, it also rings with barely-hidden power.

“Castiel,” Cas tells him. “You?”

“Dean.” The man twists his wrist, and in a flash, the scythe disappears, replaced by a gold-glowing tattoo on his left forearm. He pushes his hands into his pockets, still watching Castiel with that calm, piercing gaze. Even from a few feet away, Castiel can’t tell if his eyes are green or gold.

“What, didn’t like being called ‘Death’?” Castiel asks—because of course his fallback is to make an ironic joke when faced with a deity he’d never thought existed. “Figured you’d change those last letters into a slightly more normal name?”

Death—Dean—snorts, and thank god he seems amused by Cas’s idiocy, because if he’s about to be taken to some kind of afterlife, he probably shouldn’t be pissing off the person in charge of his fate.

“It was a happy coincidence,” Dean says with a chuckle. “Never really thought about it until now. Of all the people I’ve collected in my time, you’re the first person to ever make that joke.”

Castiel can’t help the quick twist of his lips into a wry smile. “You mean not everyone reacts to their own demise and the concept of the afterlife like this? Shocking.”

Dean levels a finger at him, ring glinting a silvery gold in the moonlight. “I like you,” he says with a grin. “You’re coping with this surprisingly well.”

That sobers Castiel somewhat, and he looks back over his shoulder to where his body is now shielded from view by a police car, the silver landscape broken up by flashing red and blue. “As well as one can when faced with something like this,” he says quietly. When he looks back at Dean, his expression has sobered.

“I know, Cas,” he says. “Any questions you have, anything you want to talk about, just say. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Castiel thinks for a moment. All his emotions feel… distant, at the moment, as though he’s feeling them through a layer of glass, but his own grief still aches deep in his chest. “Is my family going to be okay?” he asks, his words quiet and voice cracking on the last syllable.

Dean nods, the corners of his mouth pulled down in sympathy. He must be used to questions like this. “It’s always hard to lose a loved one, Cas,” he says gently. “But time heals all wounds. Your brother will struggle, but ultimately, yes, they’ll all be okay.”

Cas closes his eyes for a second against the sadness that washes over him at the thought of his family. This isn’t how he’d wanted to leave them, but it’s not like he has much of a choice now. It’ll take time, but they’ll be okay.

And so will he.

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I’m good. No more questions. Wherever you’re taking me, let’s go.”

Dean grins, teeth white in the moonlight. He seems to almost float across the ground as he crosses the few strides between them, stopping within arm’s reach of Castiel. He holds his left hand out, his scythe glinting against tanned, freckled skin. An offering. An invitation.

Castiel doesn’t look back at his body.

Instead, he holds Dean’s gaze, takes his hand, and steps with him into the unknown.

[saintheartwing]

Undertales of Friendship: Beware the Man Who Speaks in Hands

Frisk was not having very good dreams.

Over and over, he would find himself descending down, down into the dark recesses of the "True" Laboratory beneath the normal place where Alphys had worked in the underground. The walls a dark green, a chill running through the air, a faint fog all around his feet as he nervously stepped past patient chair after patient chair. Over and over again he'd approach the sinks in the back of the room, turning them on to get the key one of them had inside them, hoping to flood the sinks and for the key to either float up, or the pipes beneath to burst open to get what he wanted. Yet that always gave way to the sight of that...THING coming out of the third sink.

A cute little round, cheery face, twisting and bulging and morphing into a monstrosity with a horrific laugh, large black eyes with pinprick white pupils gazing back. A tongue lagging out of one of many mouths, eternally crying and bleeding-black eyes on a whispy, curved tail like a scythe. This...this odd, strange, faintly melted specter of many faces looking back at him, three in a row all rising up from the sinks, mouths opening and closing and all speaking at once, and saying the same phrase again and again.

"LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET."

Frisk knew what it meant. Sorrow itself teaches. And he knew what these things were. Pieces of what had once been the Royal Scientist of the Underground, WingDinG Aster, aka Gaster, as he preferred to be called. More bestial and darker traits had risen up in this little "Mini-Me" of Gaster, and they were really only interested in one thing.

"Come join the fun."

"It's a real get together!"

"Become one of us! One of us!"

"You'll be with us soon." The Memoryheads intoned, as more heads sprang up around Frisk, knocking him back as they bulged and popped, Frisk shivering as the Memoryhead closest to him intoned in a dark voice.

"Sorrow itself teaches."

"Teaches what?" Frisk asked. And again the Memoryheads would get closer...closer. "Look, I-I don't want to join in the fun!" He insisted. How many times had he done this before, only to be ignored as they leapt on him and-

But now it was different. Now they merged together, popping and squishing into one, growing larger and larger as an enormous black maw opened slowly and a voice faintly echoey in tone rang out.

"I only want what's mine. And you have a part of it."

"Wh-what's that?" Frisk asked, a gigantic head now staring down at him, white pupils gazing deeper and deeper into him as Frisk found himself sinking, going further into the endless black that was engulfing him-

And then he awoke, Fluttershy the Pegasus gently dabbing a cloth over his head as he sat up on her couch, glancing about her little cottage. "Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, Frisk, sweetie, you fainted in the middle of feeding the chickens outside. Is it too hot for you? I don't know why you always wear a long-sleeve shirt." Fluttershy sighed a little, waving a hoof in the air. "I mean, blue does bring out your eyes, but you must get very hot."

"No, it...it isn't that." Frisk muttered, holding a hand to his head as he cringed. "I keep having these bad dreams and I haven't slept well lately."

"...dreams?" Fluttershy murmured. "Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who could help with bad dreams." She offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hooves together and beaming.

And indeed, a quick letter from Spike was sent out, and Princess Luna of Equestria was soon back in Ponyville, happily meeting with Frisk as the tired, ragged-faced, scarcely-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open child moaned, rubbing his head as he laid on the couch in Fluttershy's home. Fluttershy handed him some golden flower tea, another very popular dish brought up from the Underground thanks to the kindhearted Toriel, and Luna thoughtfully looked him over, dark blue eyes gazing intently at him as Sans, who was also there to look after the kid, gave the kid a hot dog. Or rather, a hot cat.

"Ugghhh. I'm sorry, Sans. I don't feel like eating it."

"geez. ain't even hungry enough to have one of my specialties? now I KNOW somethin' ain't right with you." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "maybe a joke'll cheer you up. what do you call a guy who gets run over? tired."

Fluttershy, Luna and Frisk all slooooowly turned their heads to directly look at each other, then at Sans, saying absolutely nothing. "..."

"...wow, something IS wrong with you. not even a chuckle." Sans commented with a surprised look on his face.

"I can see his soul's aura. It is plagued with bad dreams. Something has a grip on him." She reasoned aloud. "Frisk, I ask of you. Tell me EVERYTHING thou dost remember of thy dreams. It's most imperative."

"I'm dreaming of these...amalgamates. Melted-together things, pieces of a person that used to be. They're called Memoryheads because they're...well, they're like living heads that are the embodiment of a memory of a man." Frisk said, his tone sounding just as exhausted as the child looked. "A man named Dr. Gaster. He used to be the Monster Kingdom's Royal Scientist...and he was Sans and Papyrus's big brother."

"Whatever happened to him?" Fluttershy softly inquired.

"He fell into his machine, into the time/space continuum and now's in pieces."

"what Frisk here means is that he's at a PIECE conference." Sans remarked wryly.

Many, many, MANY miles away, something stirred. A very furious growl turned into a roar as a cracked face snarled out high and loud enough to crack every glass window in Canterlot. Which it DID.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BONEHEAD SAID THAT!"

"OW. OW. Sans, that joke was so bad it's physically hurting me, OWWW." Frisk moaned out, Luna whacking her head against the nearby wall over and over again, Fluttershy covering her face with one hoof as Sans nonchalantly shrugged.

"maybe you're right. guess I should leave and make sure you get some-"

"DON'T YOU DARE-"

"PIECE and quiet."

"OHHHHH." Frisk groaned, writhing on the couch as Sans exited the house, laughing uproariously as another pained groan echoed out from miles away in Canterlot.

"Ugggghhhhh. How detestible. He should put more backbone into his pu-" Princess Luna began to say before cringing. "Oh sonofa-"

"HA!" Sans laughed.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't Frisk who was in the most danger. No, that dubious honor went to Papyrus, who was hard at work in his new job as a guard for Princess Celestia in her palace at Canterlot. Well, "work" is a strong word. Because currently, he was, along with the other guards, enjoying a nice game of charades with her. Celestia was pantomining a clown to demonstrate the circus, though the guards couldn't quite pick up on that, least of all Papyrus. Then again, perhaps the other guards DID realize it, they just couldn't speak over Pap's VERY loud voice.

"OH! OH, YOU ARE A FLOWER! NO, NO WAIT, YOU ARE A PATIENT FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM! NO, NO WAIT! A MAGICIAN! YES, I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE A MAGICIAN! IS THE WORD MAGIC?"

Celestia chuckled a little, Papyrus happily bouncing up and down in the throne room as she cheerily smiled back, some of the other guards jabbing each other in the side, snickering a bit at his childish exeuberance. It was really quite adorable.

But then the room began to get dark and cold, a chill settling in as Celestia realized that she could see her breath right in front of her. She gasped, quickly looking around the room as the expanse all about her began to convert into utter shadows, and she narrowed her eyes. Was this Discord playing a prank? It couldn't be Sombra, he wasn't around anymore! What was going on?

"...PaPyRuS..." A voice whispered, its voice haunting and echoing as Papyrus stiffened in shock, Celestia looking over in his direction before inky blackness began to swell around him, Papyrus struggling to get free of the darkness that was engulfing him. He let out a gasp, trying to push the other guards away so they wouldn't get sucked in, Celestia racing towards him.

"NO! PRINCESS, STAY BACK! I DO NOT WISH YOU HARMED!" Papyrus insisted, the blackness carefully pinning his arms to his sides as a form rose out of the black, its face skeletal, one black crack running up its right eye, another running down towards its mouth on the left as it gazed over Papyrus, bony hand clasping Papyrus's cheek. "DO...DO I KNOW YOU?"

"You don't remember, Papyrus?" It spoke. "I remember everything about you. Everything."

Papyrus's mouth gaped open slightly, Celestia taking a step forward, eyes intently narrowed as her horn glowed. "You release him NOW. I will not allow you to harm an innocent."

"I only want what's mine." The being said. "I need...to make USE of you." It told Papyrus.

And with that, the inky blackness exploded outward like a bomb, Celestia reeling back along with the guards as she gasped, glancing around...

Papyrus was gone.

AN HOUR LATER...

Sans was calmly sitting on a bench in the park, leaning back and doing nothing. Just the way he liked things. Calmly sighing, he looked up at the sky, and the clouds idly passing by as he saw Papyrus approaching off in the distance, dressed in his normal attire and eagerly sitting down next to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Papyrus asked Sans.

"well, i like to watch shapes in the clouds. that one looks like a flying dragon, see?" Sans said, pointing with a bony finger up at a draconic-shaped puffy cloud that looked like it was belching out 'flames', Papyrus nodding in agreement.

"OH, YES, IT DOES INDEED."

"and that lil' one over there looks like a mother duck, and the other ones after it are lil' ducklings."

"LIKE THAT CUTE LITTLE BIRD THAT LOVES TO CARRY PEOPLE OVER RIVERS?" Papyrus inquired.

"yeah. we gotta treasure that bird." Sans agreed with a calm, respectful nod.

"MAY I TRY ONE?"

"of course, paps." Sans said with a wink, Papyrus rubbing his long chin before pointing upward with a red-gloved hand.

"OOH! THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A WOUNDED DERPY WITH SMOKE COMING OFF OF HER WINGS-"

KRAKKA-THROOOOOM! Derpy Hooves crashed hard into the market, a cry of "MY CABBAGES" echoing out through the air as a loud "Sorry' echoed out soon after, Derpy limping by them, angrily holding up an exploded mailbag, complete with the shredded remains of what had been a suspicious package and cake frosting and cabbages all over her body, Sans raising a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked her over.

"what happened?"

"It's a SICK world we live in with SICK PONIES!" Derpy shrieked, grumbling darkly as Papyrus shook his head back and forth.

"WHAT A SHAME. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND MAIL THROUGH THE POSTAL SYSTEM."

"yeah. i'm guessing that was a Boom Boom Cake of Pinkie Pie's."

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

"cuz she's got a real explosive personality."

Silence for a long, long time before Papyrus wryly remarked "...I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BROTHER, BUT YOUR JOKE JUST...BOMBED."

Sans stiffened a little, slowly turning his head, as if truly seeing Papyrus for the first time, his mouth agape in surprise as Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder...with incredible weight behind it. "you're not paps."

"NO...I'm not." The being that was not Papyrus said. "You know who I am, Sans. And you know why I'm here. You understand why."

"gaster, come on, he's just a child-" Sans began to say, Gaster's stolen form shaking its head back and forth solemnly.

"I'm not going to harm him anymore than I've harmed Papyrus. Or that I'll harm you. I only want what's mine." Gaster explained."Now come. It's time for all of us to be one big family, Sans. The way it should be." He intoned kindly, as Sans felt a large embrace engulf him, the shadows swallowing his form as he fell deeper, deeper, deeper into the abyssal black around him...

And then, within a few moments, there was only what appeared to be Sans on the bench as he made his way back towards Fluttershy's cottage. "now then...third time is the charm."

...

...

...

...Frisk was still on the couch, fast asleep as Luna held a hoof to his head, focusing intently, her lips slightly pursed. Fluttershy stood nearby, biting her lip as the light softly filtered in through the window, bathing over Frisk in soft golden light as Luna cringed.

"This is serious. An immense block is inside his mind. Whatever's inside him has placed a mental barrier that I cannot easily break through. I will need additional help, Fluttershy." Luna sighed at last, removing her hoof from Frisk's forehead before steepling her hooves, lying back in the chair she was sitting on. "He will have to be taken to Zecora."

"taken to ol' stripeybutt, huh?" Sans's voice rang out as they turned, seeing he was stepping out of the closet, Fluttershy gasping as she slightly jumped up in the air. "what? c'mon, Fluttershy. nothing wrong with a couple skeletons in your closet. everybody has 'em."

"I take it you could simply...shortcut your way to Zecora?" Princess Luna mused aloud as he looked Sans over, the skeleton giving a cute little wink, showing off a faintly royal blue glowing eye as Frisk was softly hovered through the air and over towards him. "However are you able to do that?"

"ahhh, blue magic runs in the family, really." Sans the Skeleton remarked with a shrug. "both my brothers got different mastery over it. But Paps's spirit's tied to the trait of Bravery, so his magic comes off more orange. Me, I'm patient, so mine's light blue." He remarked with a shrug, unzipping his blue jacket as the sleeping Frisk was caaaarefully lowered down, down, and soon, was perfectly positoned right in front of Sans's form. With a little smile, Sans zipped his jacket back up, Frisk now warmly tucked away in the jacket almost like a mother kangaroo with her baby joey, as Sans patted the sleeping child on the head. "theeeere we go. all snug as a bug in a rug."

"You've been waiting to do that to him for a while, haven't you?" Fluttershy asked with a smile. "I can tell."

Sans gave her a big grin. "oh, you've no idea." He said, reopening the closet. "i'll see you two later. got a lot to do." he remarked before popping into the closet again, Fluttershy smiling before suddenly stiffening up. Something hadn't been right. What had he said? "My magic's light blue".

...but Frisk had been surrounded in a royal blue light.

"Princess Luna, I think something terrible has just happened." She realized aloud, wheeling around and looking into Luna's eyes. "We need to find Ms. Toriel immediately."

Meanwhile, Frisk was still tucked away inside the jacket as Gaster-Sans calmly walked down the forest path, heading to the abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, the old castle of Princess Luna and Celestia. The castle was long overgrown, its steeples crumbling and cracked with trees around it drooping and saddened, everything about it giving off the air of dejection and abandonment as Gaster's borrowed form approached the front of the castle and pushed the doors open. Little Frisk was still fast asleep, Gaster's stolen form looking quietly down at Frisk, biting into a lack of bony lip.

He felt guilt. Frisk had been nothing but kind and loving to monsters like him. He'd freed his kind, he'd given his brothers something to live for again. Such a dear child.

"I..." He hesitated, gently stroking Frisk's brown-haired head. He just looked so cute, all tucked away tight and warm and safe in his jacketed body. "...he's just a child..." He murmured.

But he wanted to be whole again so dearly. To just be himself. Before he'd only been able to hold onto the material world in little bits and pieces, barely able to manifest for more than five minutes. But now with Sans and Papyrus sampled...

And soon it would be three with Frisk. Out of everyone in the Underground, four had the strongest physical connection to him. He'd been scattered in pieces across the Underground, and had barely managed to scrape enough of himself together for this wild, desperate plan. He needed four souls, and the pieces of himself within them: Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys. With Papyrus, his physical form would become more stable. With Sans, his mind would get more stable. With Alphys, he could get back his Soul. And with Frisk would come his heart, his compassion. He needed that. He needed to feel again. To just love someone.

"You're only feeling remnants of a man who once was." He murmured to himself, gently taking Frisk's sleeping form out of his jacket and laying him on a table as his visage began to shift, growing taller and darker. "You don't truly feel guilty. All you feel is a shell. Intellectually, you know you should feel disgusted. But you don't truly feel it. With the child claimed, you will. With the child claimed, you will feel again. Be almost utterly whole again. It's everything you want, isn't it?"

He now stood tall, a large skeleton in a dark cloaked robe with a silver undershirt, his form lean and faintly thin. A black crack ran up his eye, another running down to his mouth from the other eye, his skeletal hands having large holes in the center as he gently laid one on Frisk's head. "Believe me." He spoke softly to Frisk. "I'm truly grateful. With this, I'll be whole again. And you'll never be alone." He offered, shadows beginning to rise around Frisk as his SOUL was exposed...

Gaster flinching as he reeled back, cringing as he clutched at his chest, feeling his remnant of a Soul, his pale imitation flinching. Damn. The soft light of Sans and Papyrus within him were objecting. They were almost utterly overpowering him. Perhaps he couldn't claim the child yet. He'd need more raw power. Perhaps Alphys would do. Her Soul was rather weak-willed in comparison, and would provide the boost needed.

Ah, well. For now he could at least do one thing with the child. Carefully lifting the child up, he placed him between the folds of his coat as he buttoned it up more, the little one nicely tucked away inside him as he softly enjoyed the gentle movements of Frisk turning ever-so-slightly in a peaceful slumber. Sighing, Gaster sat down against a nearby wall, and softly drifted off to sleep himself to join the child in dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED...

[synvamp]

HAPPY PLACE 5

This was hard to write... I went ahead because it helped me to feel happy for a little while. I hope it gives you some joy too my sweet fair gamers <3 

Slow burn, lots of flirting and fluff - it’s time for a dinner date

(Part One HERE)

Title: Healing

Fair Game – Part Five / 5? More?

Rating: M

---xxx---

  The meal was relaxed, easy. Talking to Clover was effortless somehow. It almost felt weirdly like being alone. The meal was good and the fire leant warmth and comfort. Qrow enjoyed watching the light change on Clover’s face. He was so clean cut… too good to be true.

  I’m a terrible influence, thought Qrow happily. I’ll fix him up.

  “Tell me about Harbinger,” Clover said, leaning forward.

  “What, you two on a first name basis now?” Qrow asked.

  “After sparring with you I looked it up,” Clover looked away.

  “You really need to get more hobbies,” Qrow said, enjoying the attention just a little.

  “I’m good,” Clover smiled.

  “Well… there isn’t much to tell. I made it myself. Took forever but worth the time. We get along pretty well.”

  “Yourself!? The file didn’t say that…”

  “Nice to know I still have a few surprises up my sleeve.”

  “But it’s so complex! How did you get the choke on the shot gun so tight? Why don’t you use the scythe when you’re sparring? How the hell do you just wave it around like that? It must weigh a ton!”

  “Easy there, soldier. One question at a time.”

  Clover looked at him, eyes shining, “I can’t even remember what I asked.”

  “You told me you were smooth but you’re just a dork,” Qrow said, with affection.

  “I only look like a dork next to you. It’s not my fault you’re Mr Cool. How am I supposed to compete?”

  At that moment a passing waitress tripped on a piece of the carpet and drenched Clover in soup.

  “Yeah, I am just SO cool,” Qrow sighed.

  “Ah,” Clover scrunched his nose up as he scraped peas off his black shirt, “no dessert then I suppose.”

  “Oh Sir! I’m so sorry! I don’t know wha..” the waitress cried.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Qrow said, standing, “I think we were leaving anyway.”

  Clover grabbed a napkin and helped to clean up the mess while Qrow, true to his word, paid for the meal.

  Clover held the door for Qrow to leave and they fell in step easily, auras keeping them warm in the biting snow. Clover reached out and took Qrow’s hand. It felt strange to have a hand bigger than his wrapping his fingers. Reassuring.

  “So, you sick of all the bad luck yet?” Qrow asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Yeah, I asked for that. What are we up to now? Two rubble slides, two falling grim, one lightning strike, the stampede, one giant hole in the ground and…”

  “One bowl of soup,” Clover said cheerfully.

  “You don’t sound bothered,” Qrow sighed, the warm fingers squeezed his hand.

  “I’m not. It doesn’t matter what the world throws at me. Nothing has even scratched me.”

  “The soup got you pretty good.”

  Clover looked down at his shirt, “Yeah ok, I am completely saturated.”

  “How do you think the teams are going?”

  Clover stopped walking, sensing the change in mood, “I think they’re going well. They have all learned a lot from training together. Blake and Yang did a combination move yesterday which sent Elm flying. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

  “Yeah, they’re smart girls,” Qrow said, not meeting his gaze.

  “They’ve had a great teacher,” Clover put a hand out and cupped his chin, lifting it so he could look Qrow in the eyes.

  “When will you stop going on about that?”

  “When you acknowledge how great you are.”

  “Ok. I’m amazing. There.”

  “Hmmm,” Clover smiled, “Think we can work on your delivery,” he leaned forward and Qrow lifted his chin. The kiss was tender, sweet. It made his chest hurt feeling Clover wrap his arms around him, pull him into his warm embrace.

  Finally Clover stepped away, “We should get you out of the cold.”

  “I’m not the one covered in pea soup.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m invincible.”

  “That so?” Qrow asked.

  A piece of masonry separated from the building above them. They both looked up, then Clover met Qrow’s gaze and smiled.

  “Hey ar..” Qrow started, panic rising in his eyes. The stone block dropped inches behind Clover’s head and slammed into the pavement, sending a cloud of dust and snow high into the air.

  “See?” Clover winked.

  Qrow just stood there and looked at him. He had never felt a greater urge to just hold someone.

  “You ok?” Clover asked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I might worry you. I’m actually very careful, though it might not look it.”

  “I’m not worried! Just don’t do that to me you jerk!” Qrow grumbled.

  Clover looked at him, “You are so cute when you’re angry,” he whispered.

  “And you’re cute with your ears still attached so come on, let’s get home,” Qrow said.

  ---xxx---

  “Can I clean myself up in your room?” Clover asked.

  “Sure… don’t want the Ace ops hearing us stumbling around this late?” Qrow teased.

  “Something like that.”

  Qrow walked in his door and hit a light, grimacing at the state of the place.

  Clover took off his shirt slowly, peeling the wet fabric from his chest. He held the shirt in the air and Qrow was momentarily struck dumb, Clover’s bare chest was a perfect map of anatomy, every muscle as defined as if it were sculpted in glass…

  “Uh… Qrow… where should I put this? Sink?” Clover waved the shirt in front of his glazed eyes and laughed, “I like it when you look at me like that. Maybe we should have dinner more often.”

  Qrow shook his head, “And let my bad luck ruin everything?”

“Once again, your bad luck is my good luck. I was beginning to think that I’d have to schedule a bunk inspection just to get in here.”

  “Man I would really fail a bunk inspection,” Qrow sighed.

  “Yes,” Clover nodded, a little grossed out, “Yes you would.”

  “Do you have a cloth that I can use to get the rest of the soup off?” “She really got you good, huh?”

  “It’s a whole bowl.”

  Qrow laughed.

  “That’s better,” Clover smiled, “I love hearing you laugh.”

  “Well, it might be a long time between drinks.”

  “I can live with that. Do you like pea soup?” Clover asked, one eyebrow twitching.

  “Not really. Why?”

  “If we don’t find something to wipe this off with soon, you might end up eating some of it.”

  “Just… come and have a shower. The bathroom is cleaner than…” Qrow gestured to the chaos.

  “Yes Sir,” Clover snapped off his salute and marched off into the bathroom, throwing his belt out the door as he entered.

  “You coming?” Clover called out, “There’s this one spot on my back…” “You are so impatient,” Qrow grinned.

  ---xxx---

  Qrow rolled over, a sleepy smile finding his lips before he’d even opened his eyes. The bed was warm with the heat of two bodies but as he stretched, he could feel that the other side was empty. Where’s Clover? He sat upright, panic clenching his gut.

  Clover was standing a few metres away, doing something at the sink. He was topless and even in the slanting morning light, he looked amazing.

  “Morning gorgeous,” he said without turning around.

  Qrow blinked and rubbed his eyes, “Wait… are you cleaning my room?” “I woke up early… didn’t want to wake you,” Clover grinned and held up a dish cloth, “I haven’t made much of a dent yet but I can always come back later…”

  Qrow pushed the sheets off and stood, remembering a little too late that he was still completely naked.

  Clover looked him up and down, “Well, good morning to you too,” he grinned. Before Qrow could figure out how to make his boner magically disappear, Clover had closed the space between them. He put his hands on Qrow’s bare hips and kissed his forehead. “It’s still early…” he whispered.

  Qrow’s bare chest touched Clover’s and his whole body thrummed with the rush of hot skin on skin.

  “I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to be late to the briefing. My boss is a real hard ass.”

  Clover lifted a few strands of dark hair from Qrow’s brow to look him in the eyes, “I’m sure he’d understand.”

  ---xxx---

  They were both late this time. It made Qrow laugh so much watching Clover stride in trying to be all Mr Professional. He had a big love bite on his neck that he hadn’t noticed yet.

  “Ok then, apologies for the wait,” Clover brought the screen up, offering no excuses.

  Yang kept waving and trying to meet his eye. After realising that she’d do this all day, Qrow looked. She was pointing at Clover with wild gestures of “what happened?”

  If you’re too young to figure that out, then I probably shouldn’t tell you, Qrow thought. Then again, what’s one more inappropriate story?

  “Huntress Xiao Long,” Clover’s voice echoed through the room, calm and in control, “If you could hold off for a few minutes the briefing will be over.”

  Yang snapped back in her seat, grinning.

  As soon as Clover stopped talking, Yang bounded up to Qrow and hurled herself into the next seat. “You two are suddenly very cosy!”

  “What can I say? I’m a friendly guy.”

  Yang lowered her voice, “I saw you smile before.”

  “You take that back.”

  Yang looked at him, assessing him with a critical eye. “You have it bad!” she cried, chuckling.

  “I hate mornings,” Qrow said.

  “You have it bad! It’s ok I won’t tell anyone but… no stories, ok? Just… no stories,” she pulled a face.

  “I thought you liked my stories,” Qrow pouted, mock-hurt.

  Yang nodded furiously, “Yeaaaaahhh we do! Of course we do! Just not...”

  Qrow laughed, “Alright kiddo, I’ll spare you the details, hey?”

  “Yeah! No worries!” she said hastily, standing and striding off.

  Ha! Finally managed to embarrass her! Ruby was so easy to shock but Yang… Sometimes he’d worried she was better with women than he was.

  “Are you ready to seize the day?” Clover asked, strolling down from the front of the room.

  “No. Why would you even ask that?”

  “I guess I forget who I’m talking to…” Clover got a little lost in those red eyes OH SO BEAUTIFUL WHY!? “…would you like to work in a different team today?”

  Qrow looked at him, puzzled. He doesn’t want to work with me…

  “You’ve already done the missions. The whole… clipboard thing? Remember that?”

  Clover laughed, “I can add you anywhere, no one will ask about it. Plans change.”

  “You sick of me already?” Qrow tried not to let the hurt into his voice.

  “No. Of course not, I just thought… We’ve been in each other’s pockets. I’ve been taking up all your time… Maybe you’d like…” Clover started to slowly turn red, “About what I said at dinner…”

  “What did you say?” Qrow asked, baiting.

  “You are so mean,” Clover continued to turn pink.

  “I’m sorry,” Qrow smiled, “but I have to be mean. You turn pink. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen…”

  Clover stepped closer and they stood together in the middle of the room, unable to touch but feeling all the same.

  “Uh… I guess we should go,” Clover gestured at the door, “do you want to… come with me?”

  “You’ve already put us together. Clipboard thing.”

  Clover shook his head, “I guess I did. Qrow, I…”

  “No. Morning. I’ve done enough. Come on Sweet Cheeks, lead the way.”

  ---xxx---

Part Six

[dragon-kazansky]

The hypnotist - Jervis Tetch x Reader

Summary: Time to escape and keep Gordon on his toes. Gotham is in for a long night.

Chapter 13 - The grand escape

The plan was set. It was time for everything to be put into motion. The sound of an alarm went off, flashing red in the little office where the warden was sitting. She sighed as she picked up the headphone and put the on, leaving her little office. The music played loudly in her ears. This was required for this specific patient. With music playing loudly, you wouldn't be able to hear him talk. Therefore, rendering his skills useless amongst you.

The warden walked down the hall slowly, the guards on standby in the hall nodding at her as she walked by. They knew. They all did. When in Arkham, especially since it's grand re-opening a few years ago, the staff got used to this kind of thing. Anything goes here in the asylum.

She reached a big red door, the door to his cell, on it was a warning sign to cover your ears. She unlocked it and opened it. The warden was met with his back to her. His hands were linked behind him as he looked out of the window. Upon her arrival, Jervis Tetch turned around slowly to face her.

"Get back in your box, Tetch." The warden told him.

Jervis said something, but obviously she couldn't hear him over her music. This was a good thing considering what he could do.

"Don't even try hypnotising me. I can't hear a word you're saying." She got closer to him.

Jervis' face turned one of anger as he glared down at the shorter woman. He knew that! This information wasn't new to him. Any one who came to his cell wore headphones to drown him out.

He continued to mouth words at her, doing some intense hand movements too. He held his hand up, dragged one facing down across his neck. It was an odd experience to the warden, but she didn't have time for this. Whatever show he was putting on, she wasn't interested. When Jervis saw that she wasn't reacting, he began to clarify what he was doing.

"I'm not talking to you!" He yelled. She heard that.

Still, she didn't react. She sighed as she stared at him some more. Jervis stood upright and pointed behind her.

"I was talking to her."

The warden turned around to be met with a colleague of hers. She was standing there silently.

"Geez, Tortuga, you almost gave me a heart attack." Her colleague didn't respond. "Wait, where the hell are your headphones?"

You peered around the doorway, headset on and music playing. You smiled at the warden and then at Jervis, who smiled back at you proudly. Giving the warden time to work out was happening, you slowly lowered the headphones to around your neck and leaned against the door frame.

"OK, that's long enough." You muttered softly, keeping your eyes on Jervis as the colleague slashed the warden's throat. It was quite messy.

You dropped the headphones and cassette player on the floor as Jervis came over to you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you passionately. You chuckled as you grabbed into his arms and looked up at him fondly.

"Come on, we have to get Jonathan. We don't have all night."

"Shame. I rather enjoyed that."

You shook your head, amused, and grabbed his hand, leaving the cell. The other warden followed blindly.

The hall was littered with dead guards. You had been rather busy while Jervis dealt with the warden. Now it was time to free your friends from the cells. You knew exactly where to go. This plan had been discussed and fine detail amongst the four of you. Tonight you would see freedom again.

Another red door. E-228. Jonathan Crane's cell.

Jervis knocked on it.

"Knock knock said called the cock, time to rise and wield your scythe."

Jervis let the warden unlock the door and push it open, the pair of you leaned into the room eagerly. There Jonathan sat, using his toilet as a cauldron of sorts. He was making something special and something very dangerous. On his head rested his scarecrow mask. Just seeing him sent chills down your spine. He looked intimidating, and the night had just begun.

"I fear I will require a moment more, Mr Tetch." His voice was masked, deeper and slower.

"Our night is fleeting, dear Mr Crane. It's wings, desperately beating."

Jonathan finished up his concoction quickly, scooping up into a jar. Both Jervis and yourself watched him curiously. He turned to look at the pair of you from his position on the floor, mentioning how carefully he had to work so he didn't spill any on the floor. It wasn't like it was something you could just go out and buy from the store.

"Shall we, Mr Tetch? Miss (Y/L/N)?"

"Let us be at pains, Mr Crane."

Jonathan led the way as Jervis followed, you behind him rolling your eyes at these two.

The final cell was a little more secluded. It was at the end of a long hallway, it's security more high maintenance than any other cell. If there was one person who was never meant to leave the asylum, it was this guy. They wanted nothing more than to keep him locked up for the rest of his days, away from the outside world.

That was too bad, honestly.

Without Jerome Valeska, none of this would be possible. He would be wasted being locked up in the asylum for the rest of his days, never to step foot on the streets of Gotham again.

Jonathan tipped the contents of the jar over the mechanism which controlled the security system on the cell door. It fizzled and sputtered angrily as he shut down. It's circuits were as good as fried.

The big yellow and black door with a skull on it began to hiss as the alarm above it flashed violently.

Jonathan, Jervis and yourself stood a small distance away, waiting for the mastermind of the group to come out.

The door was swiftly kicked open and Jerome himself stepped out of the smoke filled room, making his grand appearance. He stepped out into the hallway and stood there, pulling his sleeve up and looking as his bare wrist.

"When I say three hairs past a freckle, gentleman and lady, I do not mean five hairs past." He peered at you all with an intense stare. "Let's do better next time, hmm?"

Granted, you were all a little later than planned, but nothing could be done about that. You still had time to make a move and get out.

Jervis approached him with another rhyme, Jonathan moved to stand on the other side of Jerome. You inched closer to Jervis, not wanting to remain standing in the middle of the hallway like a lemon. The two you had just helped escape their cells began to start a petty disagreement with Jerome on their importance in this whole grand scheme. You rolled your eyes.

"Boys, boys, let's not squabble too early in our partnership, there'll be plenty of time to stab each other in the backs later, but for now, stick to Jerome's plan and everyone will get what they want." You smiled at each of them. They stopped squabbling and nodded silently. Jerome looked impressed.

"That's the spirit, boys. Think big- and kinky." Jerome grinned. He went to move forwards, but he stopped when he saw the other warden that had been following Jervis and yourself. "And lose the weirdo, she's giving me the heebie jeebies."

Jervis looked at the warden. "Your work is done, my dear. Your race all run."

"Glad to be of help."

She moved forwards, passed the keys to Jerome and then killed herself right there. You sighed as she fell to the ground and turned to the boys.

"Much better." Jerome smiled. "Now to free the rest of our cronies and blow this pop stand." He led the way down the hall. The rest of you followed. You had waited so long for this.

With an action as simple as turning a key, all the cells in the asylum opened, the doors unlocked. Everyone, no matter how crazy they were, was free to walk. Using this opportunity, they all headed outside.

Jerome walked with hands behind his back through the courtyard, a huge smile on his face. He was proud of his work. This was exactly what he wanted and he got it. Jonathan walked behind him on his right, Jervis on his left. You walked alongside Jervis with your hand in his. He was looking at you with a huge grin on his face.

"Finally free, my love."

"Who's going to stop us now?" You chuckled.

Many patients were lines up at the gate, holding bats and batons high in the air, making an arch for the four of you to walk under. These were the patients Jerome has recruited within the asylum. He waved at them as you all walked past. It was quite the exit that had been put together. It was all rather thrilling.

As soon as you passed through the gate, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Jerome turned around to face his crowd and gave a bow. The crowd cheered.

"Onward, march!" He called out.

Everyone moved out. Next stop Gotham.

The night wasn't over yet, there was much to be done. Gotham's white knight would be on the job soon.

Jerome had a task for everyone. There were things he needed to do, information he needed to find out. Jervis had quite an important task on his hands, and you went with him. He needed to hypnotise a lot of people to a very scary thing, the goal was to keep Jim Gordon off Jerome's back until further notice.

"How can hypnotise a mass of people without having to be there physically?" He wondered aloud.

"I know." You smiled at him and turned to look at the car parked beside you. "One thing people do when driving, or working late. You do it over the radio."

Jervis' smile widened and he was quick to steal a kiss, grabbing your hand and letting you guide him to one of the radio stations. When you reached the building you looked up. As someone who used to listen to the radio a lot when working late some nights, you knew exactly where to go.

"This one is quite popular in the evenings, I used to listen to it a lot."

"Wonderful, there is just one small thing I need to do. Wait for me, dear." Jervis headed back up the street and turned the corner. You kept your eyes focused on the end of the street, waiting for him to come back. You had no idea what it was he was doing, but you had total faith in him that it was all for the plan. Something drastic and just awful! Moments later he came waltzing back down the street to you, a smile on his face.

"What was that?" You asked curiously.

"All in due time my dear." He took your hand.

Jervis let you lead him inside where he went on to hypnotise the front desk, then the DJ. The booth was left empty. You sat down and to get the hang of the radio station.

"OK, I think you're pretty much ready to go. There's a song playing right now." You gestured to the fact there was music playing on the system which you hadn't cared for when you came in. "You press this here and the mic becomes live, you do your thing." You smiled up at him. Jervis chuckled as he swapped seats with you. You leaned over his shoulder and prepared to turn the music off.

With a nod of his head, the radio went silent.

Then he began to talk.

There was a thrill to knowing that dozens of people all around Gotham would be standing on their rooftops in less than a minute, waiting for the sign to jump off. Jim had his work cut out for him. This would surely buy Jerome a lot of time to do whatever it was he was doing, he was very vague about his part of the night.

You could hear staff members in the building pass the booth, heading for the stairs. They were going up. Right to the top.

When Jervis was happy with his work he pulled out a phone he picked up from one of the DJ's in the building. He dialled a certain number and looked at you with a smile.

He picked up.

"Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim."

You chuckled.

"Why so grim, Jim?"

You had no idea what was happening on the other side, and couldn't hear Jim talking as Jervis kept the phone to his ear.

"No games this time. Just some names and your own share of blames if you don't do what I tell you."

You leaned against the table and kept your gaze on the hatter. However Jim was answering was angering your beloved Tetch.

Jervis gave Jim an address, yelling it down the phone. He was upset that Jim didn't seem to believe him, which would be silly considering the stunt you all pulled tonight. Jervis hung up the phone and smiled at you, reaching for your hand and pulling you closer, you were basically sitting on his lap now. His long lanky arms snaked around you.

"I think he got the message." Jervis chuckled.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I hope so. Otherwise there will a huge mess to clean up in the morning." You snickered.

"Yes. Now, remember earlier when I left your side?"

"Yes. What were you doing?"

"Setting up the rest of the night's entertainment. Do you know what's on the street I told Jim to go?" His hand reached up to play with your hair.

"No."

"Nothing overly interesting. Other than a huge boulder waiting to kill to lovely newlyweds, after all, Jim isn't fond of weddings." He chuckled. "There was a celebration going on just around the corner. The guests are now on the rooftop and the bride and groom are waiting for their death, which will surely come to them." He smiled proudly.

"You really have thought of everything."

"You're helping." He pulled you in for a kiss.

"I spent so much time trying to bail you out and be with you and now we're here together. I don't remember feeling so happy before." You mused, quietly.

"Together always."

You smiled softly. Jervis urged you up onto your feet and grabbed your hand gently in his.

"Let's go pay him a visit."

You let him lead you this time, getting into the nearest car and letting him drive. When you arrived on the street, there was no sign of Gordon, but there were several cars parked around a hypnotised bride and groom. Above the couple was a boulder, about the size of a van. With just one word from Jervis, that thing would fall and crush the couple instantly.

Before you could even say anything, another car arrived. Gordon and Bullock climbed out of the car and made their way over, hoping to save the couple. At that moment, every car door opened and people climbed out, making their way to the detectives, stopping them from getting any closer. Jervis nodded at you and you both got out to face them.

"Lo and behold, the bold Captain Jim Gordon and his rusty caboose in tow." Jervis marched forwards, you keeping up beside him.

"You have us Tetch, let them go." Jim tried.

"Do you recall when I first came to this fair city, Jim? A balling mess. Wanting nothing more than to address the safety of my dear sister, Alice." Jervis glared harshly at Jim.

"What's the choice this time, Tetch? How do I save them? Just tell me what you want."

"WHAT I WANT IS MY SISTER BACK!" Jervis spat, his voice filling the void of the otherwise bare street. Your heart ached for him. "But you kept me from saving her. You gave me NO CHOICE, so no more choices for you either. No more saving."

Jervis turned around and tipped his hat to no one you could see. You turned around instantly and watched as the boulder was realised and fell harshly and quickly to the ground. The couple were nothing but a bloody mess underneath it. You felt Jervis' hand slip into yours, pulling you closer to his side as he wrapped an arm around you.

"Soon the bells will toll, Jim." Jervis began to lead you back to the car. "How many more will grow cold, Jim? Like your soul, Jim! How many would be flyers, dyers, splattered like poor Alice when the Gotham bells toll their full roll!"

The pair of you got into the car and drove out of sight.

"Where are we going now?"

"Back to the radio station. I need to remain there and keep giving them commands. Jim may only get in the way, one way or another."

Just as he said, you returned to the radio station. He sat in the chair and spent several minutes repeating orders into the mic. Your heart was aching from how upset he looked when he talked about Alice. If there was something you could do, you would do it to bring her back. Alas, there was nothing that could be done.

You would remain by his side and support him. Love him. Whatever he needed from you.

"Almost magic hour, Gothamites! Time to climb to the tippy top of every tower. When the bell strikes twelve, throw yourselves!" Jervis continued to chant orders to his victims over the radio. He was going to make sure Jim couldn't save them by getting near them. If he tried, they would fall.

You rested your hands on his shoulders as he worked his magic.

The click of a gun and the pressure of the barrel came from behind you. You let out a little yelp, not hearing anyone else come in. Jervis turned around quickly and felt his heart race at the sight of a gun being pointed at you, but he had faith Jim wouldn't take you from him.

"Shut up, Tetch."

Jim pushed you to the other side of the room, towards the wall. Jervis followed you, pulling you into his chest despite having a gun pointed at him the entire time. You both watched as Jim messed with the radio. He pressed several buttons and flicked a few switches before he picked up the microphone. He spoke, sending a message, asking if he was being heard. He was told he could be heard all over the city.

"Alright, Tetch. You're going to tell those people to step back from the ledge, no tricks. You go off script, I'll shoot pieces off you. So you what I say." Jim commanded.

"I would love to do as you command, Jim, but sadly I've tied my own hands." He chuckled.

"Your hands." Jim stepped forwards and you moved the side, getting out of the way. He grabbed Jervis by the neck and pushed him into the corner, pinning him against the wall. He moved his hand from his neck to his hand and held it up against the window behind Jervis and shot his hand, point blank.

You gave a scream and rushed forwards, but one look from Jim had you stop.

Jervis yelled in pain.

"I can't stop them, if anyone tells them to save themselves, they'll jump." Jervis hissed through his teeth, glaring harshly at Jim. "But you're more than welcome to try, Jim." Jervis ran to the mic and yelled into it, Jim held the gun up to Tetch's head. "Tell them anything, it will not matter when the bells start to ring." Jervis brought up Alice again, telling Jim how it was his fault his sister died.

You wanted nothing more than soothe him.

"Try and they die, stand by and they all try to fly." Jervis began to laugh, but Jim quickly hit him over the head, knocking him out. You hurried over to his side and brought his head into your lap, brushing your fingers through your hair and trying to keep our temper in control. Jim was rather scary when he was angry and you didn't want to know what would happen if you angered him yourself.

"I don't see what you see in him, Y/N." Jim muttered.

You didn't satisfy him with an answer.

Jim sat down in front of the mic and looked at the clock. In five minutes the clock would chime for midnight. His officers were asking what they should do.

Jim spent so much time thinking about it, those five minutes passed so quickly.

The chiming began.

"What do we do?" An officer asked again.

"I can't save you. Save each other. Save each other. Save each other."

You looked up at him in silence.

There was no sound.

Nothing.

Until, "it worked! It worked! They're stepping away!" Applause could he heard from the radio.

You turned your gaze back to Jervis and pressed a kiss to his head.

Slowly he began to stir. You smiled and continued to run your fingers through his hair. His eyes met yours when he blinked them open and smiled softly at you.

The pair of you were promptly arrested after Jim called it in and you watched as they handcuffed him and put on his muzzle, stopping him from talking. You were grateful the medics patched him up, his poor hand.  You were handcuffed and put into the back of the van with him, sitting across from him. The pair of you continued to look at each other.

At least Jim hadn't gone after Valeska and he had got no answers from either of you.

The plan was working perfectly.

The van drove for quite a way before things picked up once again that night. This had to be the most eventful night in Gotham so far.

You smiled at Jervis when the van was brought to a sudden stop. His eyes lit up and chuckled.

This was a part of the plan.

The doors were pulled open and in stepped Jerome, gone was the ugly uniform from Arkham. Jonathan was behind him, wearing his scarecrow get up. The pair of them looked dapper, to say the least.

"How do you like the new threads?" Jerome showed off his new attire. "Oh, speechless, I know." He pulled the muzzle off Jervis.

"You look a fight, Mr. Tetch." Jonathan began to undo the cuffs on him.

"Somewhat lame, Mr. Crane."

Jonathan turned to you and freed you. You once again found yourself in the arms of Jervis.

"Jim was kept busy with our ploy. Brings me great joy." You chuckled.

"Yeah yeah, you did great. Jonathan has his fear gas, I have my information, everything is going according to my plan." Jerome grinned. The job wasn't over yet. Jerome hopped out of the van and made his way to the driver's seat. The three of you sat tight, Jervis reaching for his which Jonathan has brought along.

This was just the start of Jim's problems.

Tags:

@mistressoftorture @fandombeehive @awyr @queenofmonstersanddemons@they-shot-me-with-a-knife @shokihomin

[changingourdestiny]

Coronation Part 3: Long Live the Queen

Summary:

With Marcia sealed in a mysterious Taken dome and a surprise Taken attack, the Dark Ops find themselves caught between a rock and a hard place. Meanwhile, Marcia speaks to Paragon for the first time in centuries.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“I’m starting to see why the Vanguard sealed this place off. This is like Mega-Gambit!” Blaze called out as she fired a few round at a Taken Legionary before muttering, “Here’s hopin’ Drifter doesn’t get any ideas…” Rae lobbed a Solar grenade at a group of Taken Thralls, “This makes no sense. First they were nowhere and now there’s loads of them!” “Maybe they planned an ambush?” Adam suggested as he rammed into a group of Taken Dregs before shooting his pulse rifle at a Taken Knight. “There’s no way the Taken are that smart!” Cayde replied as he activated his Golden Gun and struck down a group of Taken Goblins in seconds flat, “Plus, even if they were, how’d they know we were comin’?” “True.” Adam agreed as he fired a rocket at the Taken Knight, dealing the final blow to it as it dropped its sword. “I’m borrowin’ this!” Drifter grabbed the sword and rushed up to the Taken dome that had surrounded Marcia. “Uh, Drifter? I don’t think that’s a-” Rae went to warn Drifter but was cut off as Drifter took a swing at the dome with the sword. But as soon as the blade made contact with it, an invisible blast of energy was emitted from the dome, causing Drifter to go flying backwards. “…idea.” Rae finished as she sighed and fired a few fiery projectiles from her palm at a Taken Acolyte. “What the hell’s goin’ on in there…?” Drifter muttered as he glared at the dome. Meanwhile… Marcia faced Paragon with a surprised expression before looking to the side awkwardly, “So…I, uh…haven’t heard from you in a few centuries…” “You haven’t needed me in a few centuries.” Paragon replied, “Nor did I need to interfere with your life…well, until now.” “Not gonna lie here.” Marcia began, “I may have thought you abandoned me.” “Why would I do that?” Paragon asked, cocking her head to the side. Marcia just pointed to her corrupted arm. “Oh, Marcia…” Paragon chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t abandon you over things you can’t control. After all, it was my power that saved you.” “Wait…what?” “When you were taken, you’re body went into a limbo state – the Taken corruption and the Light you were born with fighting each other for control with the Light on the losing side. So I gave you some of mine, overpowering the corruption, but it was only enough to give you limited control of yourself. I was relived when I found out you were one of the Traveller’s chosen, even if you’re not fully trusting of the Traveller itself.” “So why are you interfering now?” Marcia asked, “Why call me here?” “Well…” Paragon began, lifting up her tail to reveal a strange orb of Taken energy balancing on it, “I saw the Taken War. I saw what Oryx did and the suffering the Taken brought to all races in the solar system. When Rae and her friends struck him down, the Taken were left without their king; without the keeper of their will. So they’ve continued to do what their king had always commanded of them – take and destroy. But I think I’ve thought of a way to turn the tides of this war against the Darkness…or at least, aid the side of Light anyway.” “I’m listening.” Marcia nodded. “You know of the Sword Logic that the Hive go by, yes? Since Rae, Blaze and Adam killed Oryx, one of them should have taken his place as king or queen. However, they didn’t, thus breaking the Sword Logic and leaving the throne open for the taking. Yet no one has claimed it, because no one had the ability to wield the powers Oryx had or knew how to achieve them. Thankfully, I was able to preserve a bit of the power here. And there is only one person I know that could wield the power without being corrupted.” “Y'mean...me?” Paragon nodded, “Marcia, Starlight of Tribe Claw, I want you to become the new ruler of the Taken. I won’t force it upon you, but this could shift things into the Light’s favour.” Marcia thought for a moment before speaking, “Why me?” “Pardon?” “Why save me? There’s nothing special about me compared to other Paragonialans. My Starlight abilities would just get passed on to another worthy Paragonialan. Why go through such lengths to bring me back?” Paragon chuckled again, “Young Marcia…you don’t give yourself enough credit. You are much more different than you realise. Think about it. While other members of your tribe were content to stay in safety, you sought dangerous. They thought they had all the answers, you knew there was so much more to know. While they shielded themselves in a bubble, you fought for their safety. They hid behind lies, while you sought out truths. Even if you were never recognised for it, you kept risking your life for your people. Not a single member of your tribe had the bravery and devotion you possess – traits you still hold to this day and carried with you when you became the leader of the Umbrialyx. You lead a group of rogues and misfits with honesty, devotion, courage and justice; the true traits of a leader…of a queen. Like I said, the choice to lead the Taken is yours, not mine. I will accept whatever answer you give me.” Marcia glanced between the orb and her arm for a moment before sighing, “The Darkness is gonna come for us anyway. It’s unavoidable.” Paragon nodded in understanding as Marcia continued, “However…even if it’s only for a while; even if it only prolongs the inevitable…I’ll protect those I care for. I refuse to keep hiding and watch more people suffer.” ——————————————————————— “GYAH!!” Rae winced in pain as a Taken Phalanx blasted her into the wall. It went to shoot at her but was stopped when a Void shield embedded itself in its head, killing it. Adam rushed forward, grabbing his shield as he went, and helped Rae back onto her feet. “Thanks, Adam.” Rae grunted. “No problem.” “Damn it!” Blaze cursed as she finished off a Taken Vandal, “There’s too many of ‘em. We can’t kill ‘em all!”

“Enough!”

A voice echoed through the court as the Taken suddenly stopped attacking at gazed at where the dome was…or once was. Cayde’s optics darted between each of the remaining Taken, “Uhh…why’d they stop attacking?”

“You guys might wanna see this…” Drifter called from behind followed by a faint tink as something metal hit the ground. Everyone turned to see what Drifter was looking at. Rae’s eyes went wide as she gasped at what she saw. Marcia’s Light-amplifier crystal was lying at her feet. She stood there, still in one piece, but she looked different. She wore a long dark purple and pink robe that was jade on the inside over a black, short-sleeved one-piece suit and had a large, pointed jade collar that reached up to her ears. The robe was sealed closed by a clasp in the shape of her insignia – a four-pointed periwinkle star with a jade curve going through it – and a periwinkle sash around her waist. A jade and periwinkle loincloth protruded from the sash that bared a completely periwinkle version of the insignia. The robe had ivory spikes curving around her sides – one pair below the sash pointing down and two pairs above it pointing upwards – and shoulder pads made of the same material. From the shoulder pads flowed a long, torn cape made out of a Taken Blight-esque material. She wore dark purple and pink gloves and dark purple, pink and jade boots with metal soles. The outfit showed her semi-corrupted markings in near-full view – parts were covered by the sleeve of her suit and her glove. In her hand was a scythe similar to the one she wielded in her Darklight form, except it was mostly greenish teal with a periwinkle dragon curled around the main pole and the insignia on the handle. The blade that was once made of silver energy with black markings was now made of Taken Blight with dark flames protruding from the top.

Marcia stared out at the Taken for a brief moment, a stern look on her face, before tapping the bottom of the scythe on the ground twice, “No fighting. The next Taken to harm a Lightbearer has me to answer to.”

Rae glanced back at the Taken and nearly did a double-take as she watched the Taken, one-by-one, kneel to Marcia. Rae turned back to Marcia who had turned her attention to her fellow Dark Ops. “So good news.” Marcia smirked, “My hunch was right, and it turned out to be outcome A.

Hail to the Taken Queen, baby!”

To Be Continued…

[verystupidrpgideas]

Stupid Playstyles for Classes - Barbarian

This won the poll, so I will be doing a stupid playstyle for every class, one at a time. 

Go with Path of the Zealot (Xanathar’s Guide to Everything) and choose to deal Necrotic damage. This is the first step to unlocking your true potential as a dumbass necromancer. You’ll want to be wearing clothes that give no armor so that you can get the armorless Barbarian perks - ideally, some spooky black magic robes and a skull for a hat. Your job is to leave nothing alive, and your ultimate goal is to exterminate life and raise everyone in undeath. Find any way to obtain some Wands of Animate Dead. Many of them. You need to have enough to last multiple battles - fill a Bag of Holding with them.

Secondly, you’ll need a way to be recognizable. Gain a scythe and enchant it with a cosmic purple - think something like this. This should only be visual, and simply to spread your name. Anyone lucky enough to escape alive will no doubt spread the word of a scythe wielding man clad in black who raises the dead. Try to use wands hidden up your sleeve in general combat, and avoid melee encounters. Raze the cities you encounter, and leave none alive. Conquer the world. 

You are stopped by a Paladin. “Stop, Necromancer! I must uphold my honor and slay you, to save the people.” He charges in with his hammer, shocked to find you deflecting it with your scythe and matching his blows. You chuckle and reveal a wand hidden up your sleeve, and your plan has succeeded. The Paladin is quickly slain and raised as your bodyguard.

Everyone thinks you’re a necromancer, but in melee combat you have Barbarian traits. Wands are so much fun!

Barbarian was harder to do, because the variance is mostly in how you bash skulls in, but I hope at least that this is a somewhat interesting read. Hopefully, future posts will be much longer. 

[shadowknight465]

Sun and Moon

He went back to the tree safe from harm, or what could be harm in his point of view. Nightmare still doesn't understand where the voices are coming from. He brushed it off thinking it was a result of being alone most of the time. Even though his feet were hurt from walking for a long time; he felt the energy coming back as soon he saw light golden cap with arms hugging two deep blue legs. He then took a deep breath as the dry grass tells his brother that he's here. Dream look up and saw Nightmare. Never knowing what Nightmare had seen before finding him.

As Nightmare sat beside him. Even when his eyes were closed he could easily tell that Dream is confused. Nevertheless Dream spoke to Nightmare. "What do you want?" Nightmare respond it with. "Just to talk." Dream looks down again. Nightmare always tells himself that he isn't gonna lie to his brother, but he feels like he needs to stretched the truth for a bit. Hopefully Dream will learn the truth sooner or later.

"Look, Dream,"

Dream turns his head to face Nightmare again.

"I didn't really mean to flip you." Nightmare then makes a fist to try to give his brother an example. "You see. I'm like a water balloon. I can build so much anger inside of me that I could explode unexpectedly."

Now this is the time to lie

Nightmare thought to himself. "And when you mention your friends, I got so mad and lied to you because you have friends and I don't." He then chuckles to himself while rubbing against his skull. "I guess I should get out of my shell more."

"Oh....Sorry." Dream responded, feeling guilty about something he didn't do. Nightmare thought to himself for second on how to make Dream feel better.

Dream always did say he want to cook with me...

"It's Ok, and you know what? I'll give you a cooking lesson. Would you like that?" He asked patting his brother shoulder.

"OK!" The golden eye light shine brightly. Nightmare smile to himself proudly, as he got up not knowing his brother is confused again. "Alright-y then," He said. "But first let me heal myself."

"Alright, brother."

As soon Dream was out of sight. Nightmare took all the wool out of his sleeves and nearly gasped from the blood loss. He's surprised that he didn't faint at least, that's what he thought. He went to his hiding place where he often use medicine practice on himself and took a piece of cloth and wrap it around his teeth.

Please God stay with me.

He then brew a healing spell in his black cauldron, and dive his arm in it painfully. Trying his best not to scream matter how much it stings his arm. As soon he was done. He catch his breath and look for a book about cooking so he and brother can make gumbo or stew. He grabbed the book that he needed and another dropped. He sigh in annoyance and went to put it back up, but when he read the title, he knows he didn't bought the book. The title read "Peace after Death". It didn't said who wrote it, nor did it had any information in the back. He decided when he has time he can read one or two pages see was all about. He pick up the book and hid it under his shirt, then went back to his brother while picking up some ingredients. Forgetting the mysterious book.

~~~~~

"Ok, Dream. Watch the fire while I get the recipe."

"And whatever you do. Don't touch it." Nightmare ordered sternly. It's wasn't because he doesn't trust Dream, it was because every time Dream is around with fire he always want to touch it, 'to feel the warmth.' His brother said as a excuse. After a brief few seconds. He felt something off.

Dream is being awfully quiet. I'm going to check on him

His suspense quickly turn to fear. He turnaround quickly yelling. "DREAM! DONT!"

"OUCH!"

Nightmare walked up to Dream disappointed.

One thing, he can't do one thing?

He thought.

"What did I tell you about touching the fire?" He demanded.

"Don't?" Dream squeak.

"That's right. And what did you do?" He reminded.

"Touch it..."

Nightmare sigh and went back to his studies to get some bandages for Dream. He felt a little lucky that no one has seen them, not because Nightmare will be in trouble. But because Dream will be accused of being a pyro warlock. If there's anything about him and pyro warlocks have in common is their love of fire. He blames the elders for introducing fire to Dream in the first place. Though he can see his brother being one of those pyro warlocks. Which to him it means he has to clean up all his brother's messes. Fire. One of the most dangerous elements known to so many races. Can be used for creation or distraction. It's also known for cooking meals and to guide the lost. But what's fire without its counterpart, water? The very thing that can heal in shape. To be transform into solid or gas. And to heal if you do it right.

~~~~~~

After Nightmare bandaged up his brother's hand. He sat in the back right beside him.

He thought about his deep thinking earlier and he decided he wanted to share that knowledge with his brother. Just in case.

"Dream, I think it's time to tell you the importance of water and fire." Nightmare turns to face Dream. "So listen closely, understand?" Dream nodded.

"You won't believe this, but both of them need each other like the sun and the moon. Let me explain. When water turns to ice, fire can thaw it out. When fire is out of control, water can calm it down. Although they seem different, they are the same in the way. Water was known to drown, to give life, to turn cold, and to heal. Fire was known to destroy, to bring warmth, to bring to light and to guide. They show us without one there can't be the other, they complete each other. Do you understand Dream?"

Dream nodded. "Of course, Brother."

Nightmare then chuckled for a bit. "You know you remind me of fire."

"Hmm?"

"You are always so bright and energetic." He answered. "Well you remind me of water, you are always so calm and gentle." He responded. Nightmare blush. He's not used to complements, not like his goody two shoes brother. "Thanks, I love you my Little Sun." He said.

" I love you too, Moon." Dream said. Nightmare turn to night sky.

Maybe I can teach Dream a bit of my interest.

He thought. He doesn't want to get lonely on most nights anymore. "Want to learn a bit about astronomy?" He asked.

"Yes, please!" Dream answered happily.

after three whole hours of talking about constellation his brother fell asleep on his lap. Nightmare pull his personal book from his inner rib cage. Hey, he got to protect his personal belongings.

June, 17, 1577

The small group of friends I met yesterday turns out to be traitors when they attack me. As they all beat me up one of them use their magic to make me break my own arm. When i was finished, they all wound up together and nearly blinded me by hitting my eye sockets with a big rock. It later cause me to be aggressive my own brother. However something strange had happened to me while I was trying to look for him. A creature I believed to be a massager for someone said they wants me to be their king of darkness, so I'll be safe from everyone's grasp, I however decline. Because I choose not to be like the people who abuse and manipulated us. Even after he left, I still feel like he's watching me from afar to see if I change my mind. And, a few other voices said they want me to be king. I theorize that if it's from being along for so long. When I finally apologized I told him that we can cook together after I tend my wounds. While I was healing up and planing to cook a meal with my brother, I discovered a book that wasn't mine reading "Peace after Death". It is said who or what is from, nor does it have a symmetry. Which made me wonder is this a gift from God or a temptation from Lucifer?

He then put the book away. And went to sleep. Not long after maybe four or three hours, he saw that he was in an starry night like area. He then look that himself and saw that he changed. Not like a demonic way, but like a spirit. Most of his color palette are shades of pastel bluish-purple. He looked up and saw similar lights from when he blacked out. As he slowly walks towards it, he can hear so many voices telling him to go on until he came to a blinding light. When it finally faded he discovered two beautiful gems. One shaped like the sun and the other shaped like the moon.

"Welcome back, Nightmare."

He looked and so heavenly figures each of them are white with a different color hue surrounding them. While their eyes are the same color of the hue and yet nothing no white or pupils.

Nightmare was so amazed that he can't describe it with words itself. "Is this a dream?" He asked when he finally got his voice back.

"No."

Nightmare suddenly got confuse.

"Heaven?"

"No."

Nightmare took a step backwards. "Hell?"

The leader of them walk towards him against his wishes. "This is a forgotten realm is call The Nerco Empire."

He look at everyone in awe. He never heard of such an empire. Especially a empire for the dead. As he was about to ask why they want him to be their king, he saw a humanoid figure dress in regal garments wielding a scythe pointing at him.

As if nobody paid attention, he heard it deep tone of voice saying. "Come."

He went to the opposite direction as far he could while screaming out for help. However as he got to familiar grounds nobody seems to hear him. When he reached to the tree where he and his brother were resting, he saw himself. He pause for a moment trying to think of an exclamation,  then he remember why he was running in the first place. And ran straight to his body.

He jolted up then looked around him to see a sleeping Dream. He sigh and released thinking it was a nightmare, then carry his brother back home.

~~~~

After he sat Dream down on his bed. All bright yellow and some hits of gold and later went to his bed he felt a sharp pain on his back. He brush it off as maybe he was hit on the back and need some rest. When he got back to his own bedroom which is different shades of purple he felt his right hand Burning up. He took a look at it and saw the sun-cut gem.

So it wasn't a dream after all...

He thought. He put it in one of his drawers and head back to bed.

Whatever he went through it'll be over soon right?

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