#she flame on my prince til i

[halo2rat]

[historicalasiandramas]

CLJ Recaps

TW: child abuse, torture, self harm, gaslighting

Orchid thinks she's in an ep of Scooby Doo while I am in hell. I hated this episode. I hate what the writers are doing and I hate Orchid for constantly ignoring DFQC's boundaries.

Shangque tells her that he doesn't really know much about the murder of DFQC's father. The only thing he know is that forbidden magic was performed, and apparently no one else has ever been able to do it before.

He says that the ritual is recorded in an ancient, secret book and is extremely difficult to perform. It was also extremely difficult to watch, and guess what! We get to see it happen again :)

Ofc Orchid wants to know where the book is and SQ tells her: in the late Moon Supreme's room. Which has been burned to ashes. Let's go anyway!

Shanque and Jieli both try to stop her from entering the forbidden chambers. The punishment for being caught here is: branding, tongue removal, and torture til death.

He straight up tells Orchid that she gets away with shit that nobody else can, but the ONE thing that always sets DFQC off is his father. In 38k years, none who have offended Moon Supreme in regards to his late father have been left alive. Orchid insists that she wants to help ease DFQC's worries and this apparently moves SQ. Jieli babe, you're the only brain cell left!

Meanwhile, Moon Supreme himself is hardcore suffering. The accelerated healing of his Heart Tree has now caused the frozen tundra to reveal an ocean and sunlight. It's too much too fast, and it's causing him to have seizures and sweat. In his frustration, he goes directly to the source and attempts to burn the tree with hellfire. Despite being engulfed in flame, the tree continues to heal.

There's something about this scene, with DFQC slumped on the ground in defeat. Up until now, we've seen him defeat every foe and overcome every obstacle with ease. This is the first time the viewers see a weak and scared version of this man. He's used up his power and it didn't work.

And it doesn't stop the memories. Milf maid is apparently called Auntie Wu, and when it's discovered that she was the one who taught the young prince woodcarving and playing the guqin, the previous Moon Supreme decrees that she should be executed. While the young DFQC begs for her life, Auntie Wu remains graceful and still.

She brushes the tears from his cheek before being hauled away. In his anger, young!DFQC grabs the blade from the nearest guard and launches at his father, stopping just before the blade hits his neck.

Old Moon Supreme demands to know why DFQC didn't kill him. "Because you're my father," he says. We then see the young prince battered and bloody as he spars with his father, who calls him a coward and asks when he'll learn hellfire. He is physically abused.

Tormented by having to relive not only the physical but emotional pain, the present DFQC opens the door to a cave that reveals a very familiar iron maiden type device. He takes a deep breath, casts a spell, and then puts himself back inside. He'd rather go through the entire ritual again than feel. I absolutely hated watching this part.

Back to the Scooby gang, Jieli unsuccessfully tries to convince the other two that their search is a waste of time and they should go back. But there's one last place they haven't checked: the throne. Push the button, Kronk Orchid!

Turns out there's a secret compartment! Ofc there is. And in that compartment is a box that contains...the ashes of the book she was looking for. SQ says, "I told you so" in the nicest way possible and he and JL turn to leave. Orchid stops them with an important revelation:

I didn't make the connection between Orchid's powers and restoring the book until I saw that the box was made of wood. I forgot that paper is also made of plants. And her powers work!

Back in the torture chamber, we go from current day DFQC to when he first had his emotions removed. His younger version begs his father to kill him instead. Old Moon Supreme says that until his son forgets about parental love & brotherhood, he will not be released from the spell. He then questions DFQC to see if the torture worked. Young!DFQC answers that he remembers the vow to revive the Moon Tribe and crush Shuiyuntian. This pleases his father, who says there's only one more step to go.

The scene changes to a cavern of lava where father and son are sparring. This time, Old Moon Supreme seems winded and young!DFQC seems completely changed.

His eyes are cold and he is focused only on his victory. As he passes his father, the court members present kneel and declare him the new Moon Supreme for defeating his father in combat. And the theme song lyrics perfectly match the scene that unfolds:

As I said before, I'm really not interested in redeeming his father or finding out why he did anything but it seems like he thought that being alive was a stumbling block for his son's greatness. Personally I think that abusing your son is a bigger stumbling block, but what do I know? :)

Now that Orchid knows exactly what DFQC went through, she sheds a single tear and stumbles backward. Shangque also understands why his lord has been so unstable recently: because his Love Tree coming back to life means that DFQC's childhood memories also came back.

Orchid doesn't understand why Old Moon Surpreme would put his son through all this, and refuses to accept it. Why? This entire thing is none of her business! Despite Jieli repeatedly trying to get Orchid to leave, she continues rifling through the room for some sort of "clue" to her whackass theory.

Shangque even tells Orchid that she can't undo over 30k years of a grudge and should just walk away. But ofc she finds "proof": the guqin that young DFQC carved for his father, the ball he played with as a child, and a record written by an attendant who shadowed the boy and wrote about his daily activities.

She unravels the account to read from it and discovers something shocking:

Old Moon Supreme tested his sons' ability to wield the Hellfire Sword. Xunfeng couldn't even lift it, but Qingcang had no difficulty. That was when Old Moon Supreme realized that his eldest son was the only one other than Yannu who could wield the blade. Orchid goes on to hardcore project onto the old man, claiming he must have felt sad to discover that DFQC had such a lonely life ahead of him.

But then my girl Jieli reality checks Orchid. Thank gods.

Unfortunately what Orchid hears is "go ask him yourself." Which is something she can do! When they die, the spirits of both fairies and Moon Tribe members go to the realm at the bottom of Memory Loss River. One cannot simply walk into the land of spirits and strike up a conversation, though. All you need is a ranxi flower, but those have apparently been extinct for millennia.

JL's primary concern is always money, so she mentions that even a dead ranxi flower would cost thousands of spirit stones. This catches Orchid's interest and she asks if JL knows of any withered ranxi flowers. Guess what! There's one in the palace! Ofc there is.

Someone was able to obtain a dead ranxi flower and presented it to Xunfeng. It's being kept in the Pavilion of Spiritual Treasures. Orchid excitedly declares that they should go and get it! JL says there's no need since she's already stolen it. Why would she mention something is worth a lot of money and NOT have an interest? Unfortunately everyone in this gd show is weak to Orchid's puppy dog eyes.

After acquiring the withered blossom, Orchid attempts to use her magic to heal it. It proves resistant and JL isn't surprised. Orchid insists that if she can heal a Love Tree, she can definitely heal an ancient plant that lets you speak to the dead. While JL goes to take a nap in annoyance, Orchid continues to feed the flower her spiritual energy until it's late at night. She doesn't even notice that her wound has opened up again and she's bleeding.

JL wakes up and demands to know why Orchid is still trying before she notices the blood. While she attempts to force Orchid to stop, the ranxi flower suddenly comes back to life.

I assume that it only took a few drops of blood to revive the flower because it was Orchid's blood and her greatest power to unlock is purification. Naturally, since Orchid is bleeding, DFQC is too.

He seems to contemplate for a moment but then pulls his sleeve back down. You can see that he's wearing the jade ring and Orchid has kept the Heart-Hidden Hairpin on as well, so neither of them can sense each others' emotions.

When we jump back to the girls, Orchid is suited up to go for a swim that she might not come back from. JL warns her of the danger and asks what Orchid will do if she finds the previous Moon Supreme and he can't remember anything. She also says the same thing I've been saying this entire godsdamned time!

Sometimes it really isn't that deep! But Orchid says that she doesn't want people to misunderstand DFQC and thanks JL for worrying about her. Of course, Jieli herself doesn't admit that her love language is words of degradation and scoffs at the idea of being worried about Orchid. Moments later she tells Orchid to be careful. What's the Chinese term for tsundere?

After doing the MOST Sailor Moon-esque dive I've ever seen, Orchid leaps into the whirlpool and immediately gets tossed around by the current before steeling herself and pushing through.

The scene then switches to Xunfeng being prepared for his execution. He stares up at an empty throne, surrounded by lava in the very place their father was killed.

As DFQC is heading to the execution site, another wound appears on his arm and he decides it's time to investigate the mess Orchid has gotten herself into this time. It's apparently been 4 hours on the surface, and JL is worriedly hovering near the edge of the cliff when Moon Supreme appears. He demands to know where Orchid is and then immediately jumps in after her.

Orchid makes it to the Realm of Return to Ruin (Viki subs. I can't make sense of it either) and it literally just looks like a palace at the bottom of the river.

After all her bravado, Orchid now seems back to her timid self. She asks the glowing ball if it is the spirit of the previous Moon Supreme and it makes a chime in affirmation. The spell seems to require several steps. First, she needs the mirror JL gave her to make sure Orchid remembers this conversation when she returns to the surface. Second, she needs the ranxi flower. As she's preparing, DFQC grabs her wrist to stop her.

HIs voice is flat even though he asks what she's doing and tells her to go back. Orchid refuses, saying she has questions to ask. When he asks what questions, she admits that she intends to ask his father why he abused his son.

THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING! When DFQC raises his voice at her, Orchid falls silent. The spirit orb circles them and his voice becomes reflective. The father that seemed so tall and mighty in life is now nothing but a blip of light. He says that Orchid needn't ask the spirit anything.

He turns to leave, but Orchid is relentless. He clearly wants to drop the subject but she won't let him! It's driving me crazy how insensitive she's been this entire ep! She asks if Old Moon Supreme didn't love his son, why would he keep his zither? DFQC angrily retorts that the instrument was destroyed by his father's own hands.

Orchid presents the intact zither and he jerkily moves his head to stare at it, and then her. He states the obvious: "You broke into the forbidden palace." She admits that she did and begs him to let her ask since they're already here. He softly refuses and again tries to get her to leave, but Orchid goes back and places the ranxi flower on the throne to summon the previous Moon Supreme.

DFQC remains still as a stone but doesn't turn around as the spirit takes human form. He asks how long he's been there and Orchid tells him it's been 30,000 years. He then turns and asks who she is.

With this wig, he looks SO much like Xunfeng! Orchid simply says that she was sent by his son, and Old Moon Supreme immediately assumes that she's talking about Qingcang. The first thing he asks is if DFQC has wiped out Shuiyuntian.

DFQC sounds annoyed but not surprised. It's always, "Have you committed genocide yet, son?" and not "How are you?" Orchid then presents the zither and asks if the old man recognizes it. He recalls that DFQC gave it to him on his birthday, but he destroyed it. It made him sad.

Old Moon Supreme tenses when DFQC yells and he finally turns around to look his father in the eyes.

The episode ends with the old man looking at his adult son and whispering his name. It would be funny if the ranxi flower acted like the Speak with Dead spell in D&D and Old Moon Supreme disappeared after 5 questions. Alas, this seems plot integral.

[sinnhelmingr]

❛ I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. ❜ - Alys // @arcanedreamt​

Even now, smoke pushed ever higher into the sky. The flames own offspring seemed willing to make a hasty retreat, climbing into the heavens themselves til the early evening became midnight on the horizon. None had escaped the flame, save the newly-occupied fortress. The Dragons would, doubtless, need a seat of command in the Riverlands.

If there was any Riverland left standing when the Dragon-Prince was done annihilating what his ancestors had conquered.

What must Alys see in such dire flames? Was there a ceaseless buzzing in her brain t match the ache in Hel’s lungs? Pulling the woven blanket tighter against slender shoulders, she turned her attention back to her lady.

“Nor will you have to,” she said, a slow, sly smile shifting the terrain of her marred face. Stepping back from the edge, the Wildling drew closer to the door, to the promise of warmth and comfort within. Her breathing was damned if she went, damned if she stayed, with fresh air at a premium. “If you have seen something, only tell me, and I will avoid such a fate. If it is only a feeling...”

It was not warmth, or comfort, or any other civilized notion that drove her away from the balcony. Hel fell contently into Alys’ shadow, as accepting of the shade as she was with a caress or kiss. Gloved fingers tucked back raven strands, exposing flesh still untouched by age or struggle. Her mouth longed to reach it, though Hel pressed it into the shape of words instead.

“Let me reassure you of my place -- here, with you, no matter what Lord might rule the stones or King command the land.“

[slashingdisneypasta]

Disney Villains who deserve their own movie? Disney Villain who had best plan and should have won against the hero? Your first Disney Villain crush? Is there a Disney Villain everyone seems to like, but you don't? (Can't think of more questions, sorry)

YAYYyyyyy questions. I woulda answered this one quicker but I wanted to try and do them in order but today I said screw it ha ha XD Thank you for these! ^^

Disney Villains who deserve their own movie?

I would LOVE to see one about Chick Hicks (I swear to god, he and Strip had some kinda friendship at some point. I mean, Chick has come in second behind him MANY MANY times, but while he feels totally comfortable crashing other cars- he only does it to Strip when he's at the very end of his tether. He even seems to talk himself into it. "I am not coming in behind you again old man'. Its like he's convincing himself, a bit)

Oogie (That could be a cool, I dunno XD Why is he imprisoned?)

Or Silver (He DESERVES one, like you asked. And? Its pirates? What's cooler then that. Plus Silver is just an awesome character; Plenty to explore) XD

Or even Sykes or Prince John (It can even be a sympathetic one, for him. As long as you give Sheriff of Nottingham a cameo, showing he's always been a dick). OR MOTHER GOTHEL? She for damn sure has had an interesting life.

Oooooh, or McLeach!

These are all villains who, aside from Oogie, could have a sympathetic streak if Disney really wants that. They are also all mostly WHOLLY underrated.

Disney Villains who had the best plan and should have won against the hero? Facilier comes to mind. I mean, if Lawrence hadn't loosened the lid on Naveen's jar, he never woulda gotten out, they would have had a constant source of Naveen's blood+Have him out of the way permanently, Tiana never would have known the Shadow man was part of this, and the plan would've ran without a hitch! Dr Facilier just maybe should have put Naveen on a higher shelf XDD 😅😅

Your first Disney Villain crush? OFFICIALLY, Hades. Cuz I remember watching Disney's Once Upon a Halloween when I was, like, 5-7 and that was my first ever sighting of Hades- I had no idea what movie he was from and he was only even there for like 5 seconds but I was twitterpated. It wasn't til I was like 13 that I actually discovered Hades and he became my official first Disney Villain crush, and not for 5 more years after that until I realised that the blue flaming guy I liked for a hot second when I was a kid was HADES, but yeah. Hades.

UNOFFICALLY THOUGH, it was Jafar. He is the reason I ended up obsessed with Offender (+ Also cuz of Hades), and definitely now Freddy (The puns and the gross pervy-ness? I just grew up and picked a grown up version). It can all be traced back to him, he and his creators are at fault for my terrible taste in men, and this definitely happened before I ever saw me even a lick of Hades, haha XD 😅 But he's unofficial because little me refused to admit her crush to herself until much later and we decided we don't care XD

(Captain Hook was 3rd- then Clayton. Then my brain just exploded and I just loved them all.)

Is there a Disney Villains everyone seems to like, but you don't? Used to be Maleficent, cuz I feel like people only started to love her when Angelina Jolie took the roll and she was traditionally beautiful, and not green anymore, and sympathetic. It annoyed me.

I have an appreciation for Mal now (All versions, including the Descendants one. She's good!! Love her!!).

Nowadays for me, its Loki. I just don't see the hype. He's so predictable and boring. I cant. I would watch the show though, cuz Owen Wilson.

[dashedwithromance]

Secret Moments In A Crowded Room - Princewitch

okay so DISCLAIMER im scared to post this because we’ve never really seen romantic wrath before so idk if people might think this is OOC but i wanted princewitch fluff desperately and cant wait til october. inspired by the teaser quote she released yesterday and ‘dress’ by taylor swift

-

The ball raged on around her, dancers swirling around impossibly fast, flashes of fabric catching the light of the serpent scones. On and on, all without her. Her husband sat to her right on his larger throne, staring into nothing. They had exchanged all of five words that evening.

She did not blame her husband for his coldness, not truly. If their positions were switched, and she had been forced to marry a random demon while still loving and grieving her murdered spouse, she doubted whether she would even manage civility. Pride continued his business, barely taking notice of his young wife, and she was glad, of that, at least. If he’d wanted her... a shudder snaked down her spine, curling in her gut. Her mind still echoed with the unnatural violation of Lust’s magic, and the thought of another demon prince perusing her like that was foul. There was only one prince she wanted, and his sin was wrath.

Dancing in Hell was nothing like she’d seen on the streets of Palermo. Nothing like the carefree dancing of Vittoria, so full of light and life and love that nothing seemed to touch her. Here, movements entwined with danger, every dance a flirtation with living death. People danced with weapons, exchanging daggers and rondels and rapiers like secret lovers. Jewelled garrottes hung around every neck, poisonous pearls glittering in various ornate hairstyles. An unholy masquerade indeed.

Her own mask was a fine decoration of gold and jewels. Metallic serpents entwined across the mosaic-like surface, darker cracks embedded across it. The mask had arrived one evening at her rooms, wrapped in luscious velvet. No letter accompanied it, the only sign of the sender being a golden snake that slithered up her arm before dissolving into sparks. The decoration matched her dress, a similar mosaic of black silk, lace, and golden serpents. Truly befitting a queen.

Fury burned through her as she watched the revellers pass her by. They danced without a care, members of the seven houses intermingling freely. She wanted to scream and shatter the very throne she sat on. How dare they dance as if mere months ago, one of their own had not been taking the hearts of witches? As if she did not sit on a dead witch’s throne? A witch who still had not found justice, who’s body had been ripped to shreds in the cruellest way imaginable?

“Careful, little queen.” Pride’s voice rumbled in her ear. He still did not look at her, but leaned closer to whisper, “Lest the people learn your ungrateful thoughts.”

Closing her eyes to avoid murdering the demon she’d married, she took a deep breath. The air smelt like fire and spirits and the sweat of colliding bodies. Suddenly, the sight of it all disgusted her. The dancing, the drinking, the living, all of it. Selfish, she knew – others were allowed to live despite Vittoria being denied the very same. But she couldn’t help it. She longed for nothing more than her sister to live, even if it meant sacrificing her life to the demon beside her. There was nothing to be done, however. Her sister was lost forever.

The night dwindled on, interrupted by the occasional violent thought towards her situation. Though, as contrary as it sounded, not all was dark about her time in Hell. She had one bright spot, one flame in the dark. Something she kept locked against her chest for fear of discovery.

Casting her eye across the room, she caught the gaze of the hidden secret. Prince Wrath leaned against the wall from across the room, his eyes flickering as they locked with hers. He was dressed in a sinfully beautiful suit, a pattern of golden serpents slithering up the fabric from the floor. The snakes seemed alive in the firelight. Perhaps they were. A smug sense of satisfaction ebbed through her when she realised they matched. No one else would notice – serpents weren’t exactly an uncommon motif in Hell – but they knew, and it was comfort enough. With a movement, so small she nearly missed it, he tilted his head towards the exit.

A thrill raced through her, paired with genuine, loving excitement. They had not been alone in much too long.

Things had not always been so relaxed between her and the prince of Wrath. Her first few weeks in Hell had been spent furiously glaring in his direction. He’d given her the ultimate cold shoulder until she’d nearly burned from it. She’d been full of fury at his leaving her – at the humiliation she felt from having the human audacity to trust a demon. One day, when they crossed each other in a hallway heading to court, her temper had bubbled to boiling.

She remembered yanking him into a nearby room – he let her, she realised now – and yelled at him for the cruelty of leaving her alone. Of giving her hope and wrenching it away, like a child suddenly filled with jealously over a shared toy.

The sheer incredulity on his face was the first indication she was mistaken. He laughed, a sardonic sound coated in disbelief.

“I left you?” His voice was low. The walls around them seemed to thrum in response to his deadly power.

“I left you?” He repeated, “I gave you all the tools to summon me, witch, and you refused. Too good for my help, perhaps.  I have no more responsibilities to you. Our deal is done.”

Wrath turned to leave, but by some miracle, she managed to dart in front of him. Her body was pressed against the door, the cold stone mixing with the heat she felt roaring off him. Emilia should’ve been afraid, should’ve been trembling in her gifted boots at the sight of him, but she wasn’t. Why, she couldn’t quite tell.

His gaze burned into hers, but her own was just as powerful.

“I tried everything to summon you after what Envy did, and you didn’t come.” She hissed. The wrath of a prince was one thing, but hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. “You left me. I was foolish enough to believe you would ca- that you would come for me once, but I will not be fooled twice.”

The look he gave her was indiscernible. Equal parts rage mixed with... something lighter. If anyone else looked at her like that, she would’ve described it as hopeful. But demons did not hope, no more than they loved.

He was scanning her face with the focus of a battle-hardened warrior. Whatever it was he found made him take a step back.

“What did you do wrong?” He muttered, almost to himself.

“I did nothing wrong,” She couldn’t help but fire back, “I did everything correctly – even used the ring you left for me in the drawer.”

At that, he stilled. Stilled and stopped breathing entirely.

Then, as if talking to someone who’d sustained a head injury, he said, “I didn’t leave you a ring. I left you my house seal, solid gold, of course, but no ring.” He went on to describe where he’d left it – the top drawer beside her bed – but she already knew.

The conclusion settled in her stomach like a stone. Another feeling, one she didn’t let herself scrutinise, unfurled within her.

“Someone didn’t want me to summon you.”

“Close. Someone wanted you to think I wouldn’t come.”

A question hung in the air, so loud neither could bring themselves to give it voice.

Would you have come, Prince Wrath? Would you have come to my aid when I needed you most? When I needed to know you were alright?

Keeping those treacherous thoughts under lock and key, she focused on another facet of the curious mystery.

“Who would it benefit? And who would’ve known what to switch – the house was warded, was it not?”

Silence from her princely counterpart.  

“Would the wards collapse with your ‘death’?”

The look on his face told her all she needed to know. Someone had stolen into the house and replaced the seal with a ring to deliberately throw off their efforts. Which meant-

He hadn’t abandoned her at all. Given her the cold shoulder, yes, when he believed she’d forgotten all about him.

What a hellish mess this all was.

From that moment on, the demon and the witch had become begrudging allies once more. Wrath had been furious one of his brothers would dare interfere with his affairs, and she needed an ally, desperately. While it rubbed against her pride to accept help, she knew it would’ve been foolish to refuse. She would be a vengeful queen, but even queens needed council.

Their alliance had turned to friendship, then burst into royal flames as they look the leap to lovers. In the candlelight of a stolen moment, Wrath had held her with more care than she’d known possible. Still Wrath, still echoing that immense power of his, but softer, somehow. Not gentle, not truly, but tender. It was not love, but it was fire and anger and care all pieced together in a ball of desire.  

Which led her to that moment, as she stole away from her husband’s masquerade ball. She had stayed long enough, and the party celebrated nothing of importance. Rather a show of unity between her and Pride, a display of wealth and power.

As she left the throne room she realised she had no idea where her prince had gone. Back to his rooms? No, they avoided meeting there. Being caught together in casual rooms could be explained away as strategic briefings, but being caught in the bedroom of her husband’s brother... did not leave for much escape room.

Just as she was about to curse his name, a snake slithered around her ankle, causing her to start. Was that Wrath’s laugh, she heard? Looking to her feet, the snake stared back up at her, its golden eyes winking in the candlelight of the hallway.

Of course. Wrath and his dramatics.  

The snake made its way down the hallway, keeping close to the wall to be inconspicuous. It led her to an offshoot of the main hallway, then came to a halt at the final door. The serpent dissolved into golden sparks as they reached their destination. She knocked quietly before letting herself in.

Wrath lay stretched out across a dark velvet lounge, watching her entrance. His mask dangled lazily from his fingers, the ribbon used to tie it brushing across the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, a toned chest peeking out from the fabric.

Deadly, dangerously beautiful.

And hers.

“You look exquisite,” He strode across the room before taking her in his arms. His hands quickly untied her mask before tossing it to the floor with haste. He took in her form for a moment, then tilted his face down to capture her lips with his own.

No matter how many moments they stole, it was never enough.

His kiss was liquid fire igniting the flame of her desire. One hand rested against her back, with the other cupping her face. She gasped against his mouth, revelling in how desperately hard his body felt against hers. Greedy hands slipped up his chest to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Pulling the material away, Emilia broke the kiss for a single second to gaze at her lover.

Smooth, tanned skin met her eyes, followed by a swift appreciation of the hard strength that lay beneath his trousers. He laughed as he caught her gaze, knowing exactly what she was admiring.

He kissed her again, this time grabbing the backs of her thighs and lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. The taste of him- Taste was her speciality, but there were no words to describe how perfectly Wrath kissed her.

After too long and never long enough, the lovers parted for breath. He still held her against his chest. In this position, she was the perfect height to rest her head in the crook of his neck. Their breathing echoed through the room in perfect harmony.

She could feel every rise and fall of his powerful, tattooed chest. Such lethal power contained within his body, yet he held her with all the tenderness the world could offer.

“You know,” He mused, “We never got to dance.”

“Are you asking?” A sly smile in his direction.

“Yes. Witch, will you dance with me.” He said witch the way men said love. She looked down at him, grinning.

“No. I can’t dance.”

He laughed. Such a bright sound for one bathed in darkness.

“Liar.”

“Fine. I don’t dance, because I��m awful at it.”

A teasing hand ran down her back.

“I’ll teach you.” At her raised brows, he continued with, “A queen must use every skill in her arsenal.”

Lowering her to the ground, he held out his hands for her to grasp.

“Place your right hand in mine, and left against my shoulder.” Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat roaring off him. When she did as he instructed, he pulled their bodies together until not even an inch separated them. Emilia was fairly certain this wasn’t part of the dance, but she wasn’t going to interrupt. She quite liked this position, pressed against the prince of Wrath, his breath rustling her hair. His hand settled against her spine.

“This next bit is the most important, do you hear? It is crucial even that beginners like yourself get this right.” He teased, and she scowled back at him, though they both knew it was merely in jest.

“Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down her scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented, and forget everything else. Except how much you want to kiss me.”

She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down her spine, drawing her a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.” As he spoke, they started to move. Slowly, he stepped back and followed. To the side, and she followed again. On and on, their little box pattern continued, until Wrath picked up the paced and spun her around.

A gasp left her lips at the movement, but before she could overthink and stumble, he caught her once more with a smile.

“Who are you, and what have you done with the moodiest prince of Hell?”

He shook his head at her words, huffing a laugh as he did. She felt the truth bloom in his chest, he didn’t have to say it. These borrowed moments, these secret trysts... it was happiness, rare as it was, that fluttered between them. They both knew it couldn’t last, but for now, it was real. In that moment, it was all that mattered.

“Teasing witch,” He murmured, and kissed her. Kissed her as if they were not members of two rival houses, as if she was not an unwilling wife to his bastardly brother, as if there were not a chasm of reasons to keep them apart. Tomorrow would bring hellfire, and perhaps regret, but tonight was theirs.

They kissed until night dwindled away into day, and their secret was no longer safe. With the promise of “soon” and an unspoken “I miss you”, Wrath kissed her once more before exiting her side.

The queen of Hell picked up her mask from where it had been tossed across the floor, and stood still for a moment, taking a deep breath. The moment had passed, and she was no longer just Emilia, a powerhouse in her own right, and friend and lover of Wrath’s.

She was the Wicked Kingdom’s vengeful queen, and she would find her happiness once more, or burn the world trying.

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[welllpthisishappening]

falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title. 

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once. 

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually. 

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer. 

To Killian’s chest. 

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover. 

With her, especially. 

She closes her eyes. 

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes. 

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite. 

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that. 

Stupid, really. 

“I told you that I get it; what you did today, and that part’s definitely true. But, uh, the rest of it. That I would have done the same thing? Total lie, right? I mean, I did it. That’s what happened.” Nothing. Just flickering flames and the quiet hum of a TV, neither one of them has been interested in actually watching all night. Emma doesn’t even know what channel they’re on. For all she knows, the remote’s in the kitchen. 

She counts inhales. Tries to keep her exhales measured, most of her face still pressed into the collar of Killian’s shirt as it is. And it takes about five full seconds before his hand moves, starts tracing a calm line up her spine, following that path until he reaches the base of her neck and the goosebumps that have already exploded on her skin and oxygen is overrated anyway. Holding her breath as soon as his fingers card through the ends of hair is basically instinct at this point. 

“Felt wrong to point that out at the time,” he mutters, “all things considered.” “Been kind of a long day.” “Reuniting with long-lost relatives will do that.” Scoffing is not the best reaction. Nothing about this is funny. Includes far too much death and dismay, and Emma’s gaze flickers up. Of its own accord and something much deeper, like the absolute refusal to accept a world where he does not exist. 

Goddamn Captain Hook. 

She loves him so much sometimes she thinks she’ll simply burst with the force of it all. 

It’s a gross thought, honestly. 

And they’ve already spent far too much time in the hospital today.

“Is he ok? Li—” Cutting herself off, Emma grits her teeth, but one side of Killian’s mouth is already tugging up, and the kiss that lands on her forehead is as soft as anything. Maybe bursting isn’t so bad, actually. So long as she can come up with another word for it. “God, that’s so weird.” Killian hums. “Indeed.” “Thoughts, feelings, et cetera?” “Vast. And none of them particularly pleasant.” “Seems fair. That sort of day, huh?” “Indeed.” They need more blankets. Need more things that are theirs in a collective sort of way, but that’s a dangerous and disingenuous train of thought, and Emma’s fingers twitch towards the fire. To ward off the sudden chill that’s settled between her shoulder blades, and it almost works, but it does absolutely nothing to help the sway of her stomach and the acid lingering in the back of her throat, threatening to burn far more than what these meager flames are able to do. 

“Should have finished high school,” Emma mumbles, “then I could choose more accurate verb tenses from my inevitably vast vocabulary. Did. Have done. Would do again, several thousand times over.”

“That’s the future tense.” None of his words come with any kind of pointed emotion, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see the tightness that lingers in the corners of his mouth and the way he’s holding his shoulders, straight as a line, and some joke about rigging that she no intention of making, and the furrow between his brows makes every muscle in her chest twist. Ache too, for good measure. 

With the promise of everything she wants to say and everything she hasn’t or can’t and—

Fuck magic, quite honestly. And the rules no one’s bothered to mention until now. Seems like poor planning on everybody’s part. 

“You heard me.” “I did,” Killian agrees lightly, and his hand has never actually stopped moving. It’s nice. Steady. Something Emma can almost nearly time her breathing too. “I would also choose that particular tense. If given the choice, that is.” “Do you not think you have that?” “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. I’m rather partial to the option of whim, you see. Pirate and all that. We don’t much abide by schedules and fated decision.” “Seems like it’d be in the by-laws.” “Well, by-laws by their very nature are rather contradictory to the entire pirate notion, but you’ve got the gist of it at least.” Emma laughs. Doesn’t quite regret the sound, even as out of place as it is — just presses it into the edge of Killian’s shirt and the buttons he never bothers to do, trying to brandh the smell of him and the feel of him into every corner of her memory and she’s not really sure what happens after. Once the prophecy is fulfilled, and all that. 

She’s got too much unfinished business. 

To totally leave this particular plane of reality. 

She doesn’t mention that either. Not when the crux of that business is breathing steadily under her hand, and Emma can’t remember when she moved her hand, only that Killian’s warm under her touch, and he’s always so much warmer. Than just about anything else she’s aware of. 

“I thought you were dead.”

Of all the things Emma expects to happen in the midst of this night and this moment — and it’s really not a very long list, admittedly — that did not even make the cut. Wasn’t a consideration or a fledgling idea in the back of her mind, several different vertebrae almost audibly objecting when she jerks her head up. To find Killian staring straight ahead, lips not much more than a thin line across his face. 

Seriously, the rigging jokes almost write themselves. Which is more than Emma can say about her clearly piece of shit list, as metaphorical as it might be. 

“I don’t—” “—When I saw you,” Killian interrupts, and none of the words shake. Come out like a stream of consciousness and memories neither one of them have able to shake yet. Or talk about. Can’t possibly be healthy. “Chained to that stone, blood dripping into my mouth, and then all of a sudden, there you were. Worried I’d simply dreamt you up, couldn’t imagine how you looked quite that lovely in that hell hole, otherwise.” “Oh, that’s kind of insulting, actually.” “Hair like the bloody sun.” “Better,” Emma murmurs. Reaching up, her fingers tangle with the charms around his neck. Pieces of luck and trinkets she hasn’t learned all the stories to yet. The idea that she won’t makes her nauseous. “You told me ‘you shouldn’t be here.’” “Aye, and I meant it.” “Because you thought…” “Living people don’t often appear in such a God awful place, do they? Not without something tragic happening, and my mind was impressively efficient on that front.” “Which one is that?” “Every threat that’s ever lingered, every person I would have gladly run through if it meant you were safe. Half of goddamn Camelot.” Emma might snicker. Killian’s arm tightens, though. And that’s all she’s really worried about. “I think I could have taken Arthur. Y’know if it had come to that.” “Likely not a very good swordsman,” Killian nods, but that’s only so his lips can trace Emma’s temple and the top of her hair. More than once. Like he’s still making sure. “Pampered prince—” “—He was totally a king, babe. That’s like...the most basic Camelot knowledge.” “Ask me in five minutes if I care at all about anything to do with Camelot.” “Should I time it, or…” He scoffs. Presses another half dozen kisses to any spot he can reach, and he can actually reach a fair amount of places. Emma’s impressed. Swooning too, but also pretty impressed. “I kept thinking about you,” Killian says, softer than the last few words have been, and it sounds like an admission and another promise, and it’s weird that it can be both. At the same time. “This house. What it was and wasn’t. All those possible verb tenses.”

“I’m sorry.” “Ah, that’s not your fault, love. None of this is, really, but—well, it did make it so seeing you, realizing you were there...left all of those thoughts crashing down around my ears, so to speak. Falling apart, like an avalanche of what hadn’t been and what I still wanted so desperately. No matter what Hades did.” “Stupid stubborn.” “I believe there’s something about a pot and a kettle in this realm.” “Don’t have that cliche in the Enchanted Forest, huh?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Maybe you just didn’t go to a good college.” “Tell me every Greek word you know,” Killian challenges, and Emma rolls her eyes. Ignores the first few flutters of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. “It didn’t seem fair.” “Which part?” “All of it is also rather vast, but mostly that if you were there, then it happened again.” Narrowing her eyes, Emma tries to piece together those letters and the syllables they make, only to be marginally annoyed when she can’t make sense of them. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. 

She might have to go get Tylenol soon. 

“Losing you without fighting, without challenge the goddamn reaper myself, was worse than anything He could have done,” Killian continues, and he doesn’t have to be more specific. “Worse than whatever pain I’ve ever suffered. Cut off twenty more limbs; it wouldn’t even come close.” “Do you have that many?” “Your humor lacks a little something; you know that, Swan?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” He noses at her hair. Drags the soft hum of what could very well be either an agreement or the opposite, or maybe even the sort of deep-rooted understanding that’s allowed him to sneak his way into the center of everything, across her skin. The specifics don’t matter, only that Emma’s magic roars under her skin, an inferno, and a symphony, meeting the challenge that no one has really laid down yet. 

“Do that again,” Killian mutters, a low chuckle as Emma’s scratches at his side. 

“I’m not sure I can, honestly.” “Pity.” “Something like that, yeah. And you’re not totally right, you know?” “Ah, and that’s almost rude.” “I’m serious,” Emma says, “that’s—none of that was your fault either.” Tilting his head only ensures that several strands of hair he still hasn’t bothered to cut fall almost artfully across his forehead, and Emma is grateful to a variety of gods, Greek or otherwise, that Killian doesn’t mention how much her hand shakes. When she tries to brushes them away. His hook finds her wrist instead, cool metal against freezing cold skin, and the state of her tongue is going to be a problem. Large as it is in Emma’s mouth, making it all but impossible to properly swallow while Killian’s lips sweep the bend of her knuckles. 

“Charmer.” “Aye, that’s my endgame.” There’s not enough room between them for him to run his hand across his face like Emma knows he wants to, and part of that isn’t really a bad thing, but the rest just seems like another entirely unfair thing, and Emma knows the rest is coming. Makes tears burn her eyes all the same. “They were just...gone, you understand? No chance to do anything about it. One moment they were living and breathing. Then Liam was dead. Slumped in my arms in the corner of a cabin he was supposed to spend the rest of his career in. He—he would have been a very good captain.” “So are you,” Emma says, fierce and determined, and Killian kisses in the inside of her palm. She’s moved her hand again. To cup his cheek. 

“For a time, maybe. But then she was gone too, and I thought I could feel it, you know. The exact way her heart crumbled in his hand, tiny bits of dust that I never wanted to blow off the deck. Like some of her still managed to stay. Is that—” The muscles in his throat move, jaw clenching, and Emma has to blink. She hopes the moisture on her cheeks isn’t tears. She’s not sure what’s a better option, really. “Must sound daft.” “No. I—I get that too.” “Do you?” “Not the only one who’s watched Rumplestilskin hold the heart of someone you loved.”

He can’t be holding his breath. His chest is moving much too quickly, but the burst of air that all but flies out of Killian is enough to ruffle the ends of Emma’s hair and possibly even dry some of the tears she’s still refusing to acknowledge, and she can’t get closer to him. 

She makes an admirable effort all the same. 

Like occupying the same few inches of space will ensure that she stays there. 

“Did you—” Killian starts, looking almost pained as the words war for his voice on the tip of his tongue. “Did you like her?” That didn’t make the list, either. It’s entirely possible that Emma is just garbage at making lists. She nods. “Anyone who loves you as much as I do is fine with me. Better than, even.”

His expression shifts again. Light lingers in his gaze, cautious hope, and misplaced optimism, gears whirring in his head that Emma can’t almost convince herself she hears. Her verb tense was on purpose that time. 

That’s a confidence boost, all things considered.

“She was something fierce,” Killian says, sounding reminiscent and not as sad as Emma has worried he must be. “Once she got away from him. Could get a grown man to do her bidding with a single look, the kind of glare that’d set you on fire from the inside out. It was—they loved her too. Men on the ship, would have followed her to the ends of the Earth if she’d asked. Probably even if she hadn’t.” 

His next inhale becomes an exhale almost immediately.

“She never would have asked,” Killian adds, almost entirely to himself, but then his eyes are back on Emma, and they’re a little glossy and just as blue and she’s holding her breath now. “She liked you too, I know it.” “I think she thought I was crazy, actually. Gold didn’t really have much tact in the...introductions.” “Ah.” “Right?” “Right,” he echoes, a pale imitation of her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks ache. From smiling. Legitimately smiling. Huh. “But I suppose that’s part of it, though. She was there again, and I—” “—I’m sorry. For...for all of it.” “Still not your fault, love.”

“How did you know?” she asks, and her voice doesn’t sound much like her either. Wobbles and warbles and some other word that fits the alliteration. “About me. And not being…”

“Dead?” Killian’s eyebrows jump. “Strawberries.” “Excuse me?” “That soap you use in your hair. Smells like strawberries, or strawberry adjacent maybe. Manufactured just a bit. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world.” “Backhanded compliment.” “No, no,” Killian shakes his head. His hair moves again. “It’s not. It’s—well, it’s you, love. Smells like everything that you are and—”

“—I’m manufactured?” “If you let me finish,” he chides, and Emma all but yanks her lips behind her teeth, “It smells like home. Smells like falling asleep next to you and a distinct lack of blankets.” He nips at the tip of her nose. She scoffs again; that’s why. “And your distractingly cold feet, and leather jackets, and how the smell clings to the collars, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve worn them. Lingers on your pillow too, and the fronts of my shirt. You fall asleep against me quite often, you know that.” “Can sleep anywhere,” Emma reasons. “Might be my greatest talent.” “I don’t know about that.” “If I call you charmer again, will you hold it against me for lack of synonyms?” “Tell me how charming I am again.” Emma scrunches her nose. “Now it sounds like my dad.” “Let’s leave the prince out of this. He’s only a prince, aye?” “Far as I know, yeah.” “Good, good. Strawberries, love. Touching you helped too, though. If we’re being frank.” “Anything except blunt force honesty seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Killian nods. Slow and measured, like anything else will snap this tenuous peace, and maybe they can just sleep on the couch. Getting up is an impossible prospect right now. Maybe they can make out a little before they fall asleep. 

“It’s a very big house,” Emma whispers, and they should really figure out a schedule for conversations like this. Talking about it all at once is exhausting. 

“It is.” “You don’t want to expand upon that?” “Oh, I want a great number of things I shouldn’t,” Killian admits, “but as much as I appreciate this fresh round of honesty we’re engaging in, the false hope would—” “—There’s no such thing,” Emma interrupts. “False hope. It’s an oxymoron, ask my mother. And I think you should get some sort of crew again.” “How would you suggest I populate such a thing?” She shrugs. Nearly hits Killian in the chin in the process. “Untold stories. Dwarves.” “I will not have dwarves on my ship.” “See, I knew you’d have opinions. And there was a possessive pronoun in there that time.” “Was there not before?” “No,” she says. “Just called it the ship. Like it’s not the most important thing you have.” “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s cheeks warm. “That was very smooth.” “Someone did guarantee I was a very good captain earlier.” Space continues to be relatively minimal between them, but Killian’s nothing if not adaptable, and he works with what he’s got. Swinging Emma’s legs perpendicular over his, she’s nearly sitting on his lap, an arm slung over his shoulders, which makes it even easier to get her fingers into his hair and his head to rest against hers, and he takes another deep breath. “I know you understand, Emma,” he says, soft and serious, and she doesn’t bother doing anything except cling to him. With everything she’s got left. “All of it, from the very start. So I don’t think I’ll apologize, actually. For what I’ve done, or what I’d still be willing to do. I won’t give up on you, do you understand me?” “Didn’t,” Emma says, only a little optimistic that’s the right verb tense. Maybe she can get her GED, or something. Before all of this ends. “In Camelot, or after. Accept or acknowledge, and I probably would have—” 

Announcing that killing Gold for what he’d done to Killian regularly crossed her mind in the twenty-four hours or so before they finally made it to the Underworld doesn’t really have the right sentiment for this conversation. Far too violent, and just as honest. 

She’d consider killing him now, too. 

For everything he’s doing, and everything he hasn’t, and she should have shoved him in that river. 

Killian doesn’t smile. At least not in a way that reaches his eyes, the same ones that are looking at Emma again, all blue and earnest, and his shoulders shift. When her fingers graze his chin, more than stubble there because, she imagines, spending a day or so underwater with a sibling he only sort of wants and kind of knows doesn’t leave much time for facial-type grooming. 

It’s a good look, though. 

Most of them are, in Emma’s experience. 

“This entire time,” she continues, “you haven’t given up on me yet.” “Works both ways, darling.” “That one crosses realms, huh?” “Pick up things spending so much time with you.” There’s nothing extra in the words. No sap-filled sentiment or promises she’s only a little hopeful will become actions. And they haven’t talked about the rest; might not even have time, but Emma will let herself think about all these empty rooms anyway, of the exact shade Killian’s eyes go when he stands at the helm, and she hopes he doesn’t cut his hair. Not yet, at least. Longer strands make it easier to touch him, to leave a lasting mark, and settle into his center the same way he’s taken root in hers. 

They fall asleep on the couch. 

[achliegh]

The Princes and The Frogs

Chapter 2

Pro, Chp 1

Alright y’all, this is not your normal little fairytale. I repeat NOT NORMAL HAPPY GO LUCKY FAIRYTALE, this is blatantly much darker than Disney. Even though those movies are pretty gruesome if you think about it, this also will not have any musical numbers but it is still based in NOLA. The time period is going to be modern. Sorry if this isn’t your cup of tea.

TW/CW: Voodoo, Dark magic, Dark thoughts, Kidnapping, Unwanted sexual attention, Smut, Arguing, Drama, Questioning Sexuality

@domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Voodoo has deep roots in New Orleans. Being introduced to the soil through the hard work of the slaves forced to be there, it was one thing the disgusting men that kept them there could not take away from them. Bringing together communities like moths to a flame. It was beautiful but like anything, it was demonized. Someone always has to ruin it for everyone else, and use it for their own desires- or to seek revenge on others. Evil minds bring shame to the community as they ask the spirits to cause destruction. Voodoo’s belief is that there is one God, but that God does not interact with the everyday lives of the people, instead the spirits do. One can become a priest or priestess but the best are giving a gift to call on the spirits at the snap of their fingers. A family gift given to every other generation of a family who has those deep rich roots. You can call the shadows from their hiding places with chanting or rituals, they give the gifts of potions and magic but always at a cost…

Logan put down the pamphlet he was reading about Congo Square, which was a meeting place for the enslaved people of New Orleans to gather and socialize as well as practice the art of Voodoo. He and Finn were exploring today so every little pamphlet his friend could get his hands on in the hotel lobby was on their table in this little restaurant they were in. It was called Knut’s, not nuts Finn got a lot of side eyes when he said the name but the owner, a tall blonde woman with electric blue eyes, had laughed kindly at them and corrected them. Her name tag said Eloise on it and she chatted with them while pouring coffee.

“Is there creamer and sugar?” Logan was looking through the little condiments after he shoved the pamphlets away to drink his slowly cooling coffee. He just found little tubs of jam and a bottle of tabasco. He saw Finn roll his eys as he read through the menu.

“Just ask when Eloise comes back around, she's nice and will tell you how nasty your coffee is” Jumping a little Finn did not expect to get a plastic mini tub of jam thrown at his face. He gives his childish friend a look and puts the Jam back. “Baby.” He takes a sip of his black coffee when a Picture on the back of the menu catches his eye.

It was a picture of a little boy, smiling big with a front tooth missing, his eyes were the same as Eloise in that shocking blue and his hair was blonde and curly. His dimples took up most of his round cheeks. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt with the restaurant's name on it. Below the picture it says

Have You Seen Me?

Missing Since: February 11th, 2011

Leo Knut

He furrowed his brow and frowned, he had never seen a missing person's picture on the back of a menu and this kid had been missing for eight years… a brick landed in his gut when he thought about the possibility of getting his kid back. He kicks Logan under the table and shows him the picture.

“That's terrible” Lo takes the menu and looks closer at the picture, this kid was absolutely adorable. He sighs and sets the menu down as the bell above the door rings. He instinctively looks up and a shiver crawls down his spine. The man that walked in was huge, about 6’4” and was built, his dead brown eyes looked around as his shaggy and uncut hair stuck up in every direction. He sat down at the table next to them saying nothing at first. His baggy black clothes matched the bags under his eyes and Logan could tell this name has broken his nose before.

“Morning Kuny” Eloise came over and gave him a sad smile. She gave him hot tea. “The usual this morning?”

“I don't have money til tomorrow, tea is nice” The man had a thick Russian accent and a gap between his front two teeth.

“Well, then. It’s on the house.” She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed then walked away to give his order to the chef. The man, Kuny, looked over at Logan and noticed how he was holding the menu.

“Leo?” He gestures to the picture. “He’s Eloise and Wyatt's son, I lost my Nado the same year a week later.” He smiled sadly at them thinking of all the happy memories He and Nado had shared before he disappeared. Looking back to his tea he opened a small container of jam and dumped it into his tea, stirring it as it melted.

“What happened?”

“The Shadowman.”

[sparklyfairymira]

Prompt & Fic Updates (Updated 5/9)

Because I have a lot of fics and prompts upcoming, here is a list so you can see what's in queue and when my WIPs are set to update. Generally speaking, I will stick to this schedule as much as a I can, though it might change from time to time.

A HEART PERMANENTLY BOUND TO YOU

BELLARKECAVE

Chapter 3 (Final): 6/23/21

BETWEEN THE FIRE AND THE FLAME

CLURPHAMY

Chapter 3 (Final): 6/30/21

WAIT 'TIL I GET MY MONEY CH 1

BELLARKE/MINTY/HARPHY Chapter 3: 7/7/21 Chapter 4: 7/21/21 Chapter 5: 8/18/21 Chapter 6: 9/1/21 Chapter 7: 9/13/21

HE'S NOT THE ONLY ONE (WHO HAD A SECRET TO HIDE)

BELLARKE/MURVEN

Chapter 2: 7/14/21 Chapter 3: 8/9/21 Chapter 4: 8/25/21

YOUR HEARTBEAT NEXT TO MINE

BELLARKE

Chapter 7: 6/25/21 Updating every Friday

UPCOMING PROMPTS

See below the cut for my upcoming prompts

FIND ME IN THE DARKNESS

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: 6/26/21

Seelie Princess Clarke is set to marry Unseelie Prince Wells, her childhood friend as has been arranged since their birth, but there is nothing less in the world that she wants to do. So she decides to run from the court but somehow ends up in the Shadow Court—somewhere that no Seelie should ever be. But then she meets the King of the Shadow Court Bellamy and something is drawing her to him. Bellamy can’t believe his luck with one of his subjects shows up at his door with a Seelie Fae and not just any Seelie, it turns out, but the Seelie Princess. He thinks that he’ll be able to use her to finally have his court recognized by the other two. He wasn’t expecting her to be his soulmate but as soon as their eyes lock, he knows. And he knows that he can never let her leave him.

COLD SWEAT

ROARKE

Expected publication date: 7/3/21

Clarke is a nurse who works hella late nights in the ER and walks home. She’s attacked one night while walking home — nothing happened because a (tall, muscular) stranger happened to be nearby and pulled the guy off her. But the man in question, Roan she learns, tells her that if she’s going to walking home in the city at night she should learn how to protect herself. So she signs up for a self-defense class...and Roan ends up being the instructor. He teaches her how to defend herself, and she starts growing more confident in herself in general. Confident enough to ask him out after class one day. Let’s just say they never make it to their dinner reservation.

TIL DEATH

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: 7/10/21

Clarke falls in love with Bellamy the moment she lays eyes on him. He's smart and handsome and has a fire inside of him that she finds mesmerizing. Sure, he's always been secretive, but his secrets are a small price to pay for his love. But then she learns what those secrets are, and suddenly the price doesn't seem so small. He's not what she thought he was, and even though she loves him, she plots to take him down

JUST KEEP BREATHING

BELLARKE/MINTY/MURVEN

Expected publication date: 7/17/21

Their group consists of six. Bellamy, a convict with a thirst for revenge. Miller, a sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager. Monty, a runaway with a privileged past. Raven, a spy known as the Wraith. Clarke, a Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums. Murphy, a thief with a gift for unlikely escapes. Somehow they managed the impossible heist only to be backstabbed and Raven to be kidnapped. They get Raven back and they get their revenge but nothing ever comes for free. "We were all supposed to make it, " Monty says softly. Maybe they'd been naive but they had never questioned their survival—no matter how dicey the situation seemed. But Bellamy is dying in Clarke's arms—the only place he wants to be—and Raven is telling her that she has to accept it. Only Clarke knows that she doesn't have to. She may not have the jurda parem but it's already changed her powers. She can do this. She knows she can. She pulls on all of the power that she can and forces it into Bellamy's body as the last breath leaves his lips. Or a Six of Crows AU that picks up at the end of Crooked Kingdom with slightly different results.

REMEMBER THOSE WALLS I BUILT (WELL, BABY, THEY'RE TUMBLING DOWN)

BELLMORI

Expected publication date: 7/19/21

Emori isn't the sentimental type. When you grow up the way she did, you tend to learn to not get attached to things. When you get attached, that opens you up to loss. And she's had about all the loss she can handle. But then she meets Bellamy. He's a grad student at NYU, this hot book nerd whose hair is always a mess and who comes to her bar to do homework like some sort of weird. Says he grew up basically in a bar, and the background noise helps him focus when his apartment gets too quiet. And he's...not her type. He's got kind eyes and his hair is always a mess and he's getting a master's so he can teach history and he wants to travel the world to see all of the places he's going to teach students about in person. He wears his heart on his sleeve and makes stupid jokes and chats with everyone he sees. Meanwhile, she's got hard edges and a rough exterior no one's ever gotten close enough to even try to crack. Well, no one until Bellamy. And the closer he gets, the more she starts to think maybe the risk of opening up is worth the reward...

WELCOME TO TEMPTATION

BELLARKE/CLURPHY/ROARKE

Expected publication date: 7/24/21

Riot Night changed Clarke’s life forever. A gang war between the Grounders and the Reapers had reached a head that night. The first riot began at the abandoned amusement park where Clarke and Raven were attending an underground MMA fight. Clarke makes sure that Raven gets away but finds herself in danger only to be rescued by three extremely attractive mystery men. Three mystery men that framed her as the ringleader of Riot Night. It’s eleven months later and she is coming back to Arkadia for the first time in the eight months since she was acquitted of all charges. As she arrives at her mother’s house she discovers that the three mystery men are her new housemates and they have no intentions of leaving. Now all that she desires to revenge—no matter the cost. When she finds herself in danger it is her new housemates that vow to keep her safe. Can Clarke learn to trust Bellamy, Murphy, and Roan? Does she need to trust them to sleep with them? Because it has been a long eleven months of celibacy and they are all stupidly hot. Based on the Madison Kate series, a reverse harem enemies-to-lovers story involving lots of sex and lots of violence.

Will be added to WIP list w/ expected publication dates after the first chapter is posted.

THE AFFAIR

MEMORI

Expected Publication date: 7/31/21

Murphy is married to Clarke Griffin, a hotshot doctor who's on her way to becoming the youngest chief of surgery ever at Arkadia Memorial. But their marriage is more show than anything these days, and neither of them is in love anymore. She's constantly at work, and he's left to his own devices. That is until he meets Emori at one of Clarke's hospital galas. The affair they startup is supposed to be fun, a bit of distraction from Murphy's otherwise mundane life. But then real feelings develop, and he isn't sure how he's supposed to tell Clarke that he thinks he's found the one...and it's not her.

IT'S YOU (IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU)

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: August

Clarke, Princess of the Arkadian ocean, and Bellamy, Prince of the Mecha sea, were not supposed to ever meet—let alone fall in love. There were engagements to uphold, treaties to sign, and wars to win. But they do meet and they fall in love—deciding to leave it all behind. Before they can run away together their two kingdoms unite to banish the princess and the prince to separate oceans, to separate their souls, despite the sea witch's warnings. But soulmates always find a way back to one another. Can Bellamy and Clarke find each other and right a wrong from centuries ago?

Will be added to WIP list w/ expected publication dates after the first chapter is posted.

THE ANIMAL AWAKENS

LINCTAVIA

Expected publication date: August

Growing up Octavia never understood why the foxes would follow her around. It wasn't until she hit her teen years that she learned that she was a Kitsune—the Queen of the Kitsune. In a world where the supernatural is viewed as evil, she has to learn how to rule her people but also how to live in the world into which she was born. Lincoln is a dragon shifter—a warrior with one purpose: wipe out the Kitsunes. He doesn't know why their two people are at war but he has never approved. When he meets Octavia it is easy to forget that their people are enemies. Can true love overcome everything for these natural enemies?

PIECE BY PIECE

LINCTAVIA

Expected publication date: August

Octavia's father left when she was just six years old, leaving her feeling unloved. It is her big brother Bellamy that picks her up and helps her put herself back together again. He is the first man to show her that they don't always leave and that she isn't unlovable. Octavia begins modeling in her teens and her father shows up under the guise of catching up and getting to know one another—but really all he wants is money. Luckily her stepdad Marcus is there to help her put herself back together again. He's the second man to show her that they don't always leave and that she isn't unlovable. When Octavia meets actor Lincoln she is cautious, afraid to put herself out there but he wins her over. And then they're married and starting a family. When she gives birth to their daughter she vows that she will never be like her father and it is Lincoln that shows her what it truly means to be a father. Inspired by "Piece by Piece" by Kelly Clarkson

REVENGE

CLURPHY

Expected publication date: August

Clarke and Murphy grew up together and they caused a lot of trouble together in their teens. They left Arkadia as soon as they were both eighteen and set out to make lives for themselves. They turned to robbery for an easy way to get some cash, but then a job goes wrong and Clarke gets caught and Murphy just runs. She’s spent the last six years in jail and he’s never once come to see her. Now she’s out and she wants revenge. But as soon as her eyes land on him, all those old feelings come back and she can’t decide which is stronger—her love for him or her need for revenge.

NOT EVIL, JUST HURT

LINCTAVIA

Expected publication date: August

When Octavia discovered her powers to control the weather she had been excited but a little overwhelmed. She tried to teach herself how to use them since there were no sorcerers or sorceresses in her village. Unfortunately, she’d lost control and massacred her entire village—her mother and brother included. When she was found out they tried to kill her, spewing hate and telling her that she is a monster. So she became the monster that they accused her of being. Years later when she meets a soldier named Lincoln who has been injured, something happens that she never expected—the ice around her heart begins to melt. Lincoln isn’t afraid of her and he is kind to her. She doesn’t understand it but she finds herself falling hard.

CUTS DEEP DOWN THROUGH YOUR CHEST (INTO YOUR SOUL)

BROARKE

Expected publication date: September

Bellamy and Clarke have been married for five years and they're just as happy as the date they got married. They love their jobs, their dog, their friends, their life. When Clarke's childhood friend Roan begs Clarke to be his date to his mom's wedding, she and Bellamy decide what's the harm—especially with Roan willing to foot the bill and pay her for her time. Bellamy's only condition is that he goes to. Roan agrees which should be the end of it—until the couple realizes that they're falling for Roan.

CITY OF CLOUDS

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: September

Clarke found the staircase in the middle of the woods—a place she’s been a million times before and it had never been there. Something was drawing her to them and as she climbed and climbed, clouds began to appear around her. When she pushes through the door she finds herself in a whole new world. Bellamy welcomes her to the City of Clouds and explains that the only way she could have found her way there is if she was looking for an escape. Clarke doesn’t want to admit it but she was looking for an escape from the pressures of her life—her mother’s expectations and pressure to marry Finn. It was all just too much. The City of Clouds is beautiful and she’s never known a place like it. And she’s never known a man like Bellamy before. And now she’s not sure that she ever wants to go home.

HOT & COLD

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: September

Clarke, the Winter Queen, has only ever known cold and logic. Bellamy, the Summer King, has only ever known warmth and emotions. When their two realms suddenly start bleeding into one another they have to figure out how to stop it. If they happen to fall for one another in the process, who can blame them? Can he teach her how to feel? Can she teach him how to use his head and his heart?

THE CRUEL PRINCESS

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: September

Bellamy Blake was seven years old when his mother was murdered and he and his sister were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, and Bellamy desires nothing more than to belong there but many of the fey despise humans. Especially Princess Clarke, the youngest and wickedest daughter of the High Queen. To win a place at the Court, Bellamy must defy her and face the consequences. Consequences deep down he's not ready to face—like falling in love with Clarke even though he can't stand the mere sight of her. A Cruel Prince AU

FORBIDDEN

MURVEN

Expected publication date: October

The sorceress of Arkadia, Raven, has only one job—to keep Prince Murphy alive until his coronation. There have been multiple attempts against his life and it has been decided that she is best equipped to protect him. She takes him far from the palace so that she can protect him. What she wasn’t expecting was to fall into bed and then in love with him.

BORN WITH TRAGEDY IN HER BLOOD

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: October

Clarke is the beloved queen of Arkadia and when Azgeda declares war on Arkadia, she is right there beside her soldiers fighting. During a battle, she is wounded and she’s not sure that she will survive but a man rescues her and nurses her back to health. Bellamy tells her of the chaos that the world has become since she went missing—water turning to blood & crops dying. It seems that there is some kind of curse on the land. Clarke immediately tries to drag herself from bed but she can’t even stand. Eventually, he agrees to see her home so that she can right their lands. And if he’s a little bit in love with her, who can blame him?

SOULMATE AU

BELLARKE/MINTY/MURVEN

Expected publication date: October

A continuation of chapter 39 of "We are all caught in the in between (Of what's real and what's a dream?)"

CONTINUATION/EPILOGUE OF A WALKING DREAM OF LIFE AND LIGHT (HATH LEFT ME BROKEN-HEARTED)

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: October

A continuation/epilogue for my fic A waking dream of life and light (hath left me broken-hearted)

SUPERNOVA GIRL

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: October

Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century AU — Clarke grew up on the Ark with her parents and loves everything about her life in space. But after getting into trouble one too many times, her parents are sending her to spend some time on Earth with her Aunt Diyoza. To say Earth is a huge culture shock would be an understatement. But things begin to look up once she manages to make some friends, especially Bellamy, the cute boy who is fully fascinated by her life living among the stars. Everything is actually going great until Clarke discovers something that puts life on her beloved space station in jeopardy.

DARK MAGIC AU

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: November

Arkadia, once a prosperous land filled with magic is slowly crumbling beneath the darkness that spreads from the forest that borders their lands—the magic all but lost and forgotten. As the darkness spreads, Arkadians begin to sicken and die. Following his mother's death and his sister falling ill, Bellamy decides that he shall brave the darkness and destroy Wanheda. Wanheda, the Commander of Death, used to have another name—Princess Clarke of Arkadia. In order to keep her people and her lands from being overwhelmed by evil, she took it upon herself to keep the darkness at bay. Into the forest, she went and made her home in a tower far from anyone and everyone that she has ever known. For centuries she has taken the darkness into herself to save her people and it has slowly been seeping into her soul until she has forgotten her former self. Now all she knows is the darkness. Can Bellamy save Arkadia and Clarke?

WEREWOLF AU

BELLARKE

Expected publication date: November

Clarke bought a little cabin in the woods so that she could get out of the city. She just can’t do all of the people and all of the constant going anymore. Everything is going well until she gets bit by a wolf and then on the next full moon, she turns into a wolf herself. She’s scared and confused—not to mention lost—when the black wolf finds her. She immediately knows that he’s like her—a werewolf. He helps her through the night until they fall asleep under the stars. When they wake up naked, she finds out that the black wolf is a very hot guy named Bellamy who has a proposition for her. Bellamy was born a werewolf, a gene passed down by his mom. He was raised as part of the pack and Marcus, the pack leader, was training him to take over when the time came. But then another pack came and killed most of their pack. Those that they didn’t kill they took prisoner—his sister being one of them. The only reason he’s alive is that Marcus had sent him out of state to meet with another pack. He knows that the wolf that bit Clarke is in this pack because he’d been watching her when she got bit—he just hadn’t been fast enough to stop it. Bellamy tells Clarke that he can help her get revenge on the man that turned her into a werewolf as long as she helps him get his people back. She doesn’t hesitate, her thirst for revenge and blood running too deep.

MERMAID AU

LINCTAVIA

Expected Publication Date: November

Lincoln sets sail one week following his wedding to Octavia, promising to return in six months, leaving her with nothing but a paper boat. It's been two years and everyone thinks he's dead. But then rumors reach her of a man who looks likes her dead husband, swimming in the sea—with a tail instead of legs. So she steals her brother's boat and sets off to find her husband.

UNTITLED

BELLARKE/CLEXA

Expected publication date: November

Clarke finds herself in love with two people: Bellamy and Lexa. Neither of them can stand one another and it's probably at least in part due to the fact that she refuses to choose between them. Tired of the pair's fighting she tricks them both into coming over at the same time and tells them that she will not choose. If they cannot get along then they can both leave. It's either both or neither of them. Reluctantly they get to know one another and realize that maybe the other isn't so bad.

UPCOMING OTHER

TRY AND STAY OUT OF YOUR HEAD SERIES (MURVEN HOLIDATE AU SERIES)

Holidate AU. FWB. June holiday. Expected Publication Date: 6/28/21

Holidate AU. FWB. July holiday. Expected publication date: 7/12/21

Holidate AU. FWB. August holiday. Expected publication date: 8/23/21

[felidlycanthrope]

Little Slice of Heaven

zuko x reader

disgusting tooth rotting fluff

I’m reposting this jawn because my old blog got hacked! If you liked or reblogged before please do so again- I want friends xoxo gossip girl

The soft glow of the morning light filtered through the flap of the tent. It was surprisingly humid for an air temple- so high in the mountain’s you’d think the breeze would be cool. Although, a clear factor in the warmth of the air could be the sleeping form of my boyfriend.

His hair had gotten longer over the past few months. He seemed to be becoming more and more like his intended self as it did- I know he understood that to some degree. He understood a lot more about himself after travelling with us for around a month or so.

“What are you thinking about? I know that face.” His eyes fluttered open. Golden irises blended with the rising sun’s light, studied me. He reached out to move a fallen strand of hair, calloused hands whispering a trail as they left.

I did the same, albeit in a slightly mocking manner. I smiled and replied, “just about how proud I am of you. And about how far we’ve come in the past couple of months.”

He smiled a little half smile- almost a smirk but not quite- as he replied: “You were thinking about me?”

“I’m staring right at you, why wouldn’t I be thinking about you? I’m also kind of thinking about breakfast. Does that soothe your ego?” I laughed, pulling the pillow under my chin to look up at him.

“Nah, don’t think so,” he said, doing the same. “I’m glad to make us up something if you’d like.”

“The others will probably be waking up soon, though, and it’d be annoying to cook for ten instead of two. Plus, I wouldn’t get this pretty little moment for as long as possible. Let Aang or Katara do it.” To cement my point, I gently pushed him onto his back as quickly as possible. I wrapped my arm around his waist, the other around his arm. I laid my head on his chest. As if his body acted of its own accord, his free hand lifted a few tendrils of my hair before moving to stroke my head. He offered his other hand, laced his fingers with mine, as if fitting a puzzle together even though you’ve done it hundreds of times before.

His heartbeat sped up for a brief moment as I did this, but slowly subsided back to normal. I could hear his breathing hitch for a moment- he was trying to calm his heartrate.

“It’s cute you still get nervous,” I assured him. “If you’re not comfy, we can move.”

“No I’m fine. It’s not nervousness. I just had a bad thought, that’s all,” he responded quickly, though not changing the pace of his stroking. He squeezed my hand- a gentle reassurance.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.” He kissed the crown of my head gently.

The sound of his heartbeat intermingled with the rising sound of the early birds- both the avian kind and the airbender-waterbender kind. Aang’s light footsteps shuffled a bit more than usual across the cobbled floor to where Appa was. The hay rustled as he dropped it in front of the sky bison’s sleeping form. He stirred for a moment, but seemed to fall back asleep.

“You think anyone’s awake yet?” I heard Katara whisper right outside the tent as she began to collect a bit of firewood from the pile beside our site.

“Probably not,” Aang replied in a lowered, but mostly normal voice, “but we should probably keep it down a bit- Prince Emo over here definitely isn’t a morning person.”

“I don’t think he’s an any kind of day person,” Katara giggled. I heard the rustle of the logs, and the rustle of a sleeve being pulled away from imminent “danger”.

I craned my neck to look up at Zuko with a stifled laugh. He lifted his head specifically to roll his eyes before allowing his head to hit the pillow dramatically.

“Prince Emo, huh? Well, you can’t say he’s wrong.”

“I kind of want to go help now just to make a point,” he murmured.

I wrapped myself tighter around him. I twisted my foot over his leg closest to me and under his ankle farthest from me. “Nooooo, you can’t leave me,” I moaned. “Then we’ll have to actually do stuff. I don’t wanna do stuff.”

“We don’t have to do stuff. We can go find a spot in the woods and just go right back to sleep. I didn’t want to strain myself or Aang so we decided not to do any training today.”

I looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “When is your sneak attack scheduled?”

He chuckled; the vibrations reverberated into my own chest as his rose and fell. He lowered his voice a little more. “Not til after dark. ‘M gonna try to get him to use a lantern flame.”

“There it is.”

“But it’s not for a while. We’ve got the whole day to waste.”

“Let’s just waste it away in here,” I muttered, “then we don’t have to deal with people.”

Katara’s voice pierced the little slice of heaven we’d created. “Am I setting a place for the two of you to eat, or what? You guys are the worst whisperers,” she groaned.

I rolled over dramatically, letting my arm flop against the ground. I sighed, “I’m kind of hungry. Breakfast, then back to sleep. I like breakfast foods.”

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, exasperated already. He lunged forward, pulling himself up as tall as he could. He offered a calloused hand. I shoved my blanket off and took it, following suit and reluctantly exiting my little slice of heaven.

[logan-is-noggin]

Anxious beauty Part 4

word count:2239

warning: violence, fighting, character death

Patton, Janus and Remus rushed into the room just in time to see the very edge of Virgil's cape disappear and the passageway turn back into a fireplace. " how! What! Who? Where's Virgil?" The three spoke over each other. Janus thrusted his arms out to halt the other two. " this has to be Logan. He must still be trying to bring about the curse he placed on him years ago." They all blasted their wands at the flames, streams of yellow blue and light green combated the flames until the flames died and they could turn the hole into stairs. They rushed up the tower until they stopped in their tracks. Patton dropped to his knees and cried " we're too late!" Remus and Janus passed Patton and went straight to the body. Remus cradled Virgil's bloodied hand already drying. Janus studied the broken key in his other hand. " the key!" He said showing Patton " Logan was watching us all this time." Patton had crawled over to the Prince as well and was held his head in his lap. " he's still breathing guys." Indeed, Virgil was taking deep even breaths so slow he could have been mistaken for dead. " what do we do now blue?" Remus asked. Patton pointed to the bed up the last two steps. " there. Bring him there." They all lifted him onto the bed. Patton folded his hands over his chest. Then he took the pieces of the key and tossed them out the window. " what do we do now? Tell the king? Go after Logan?" Janus pondered. Still staring out the window Patton shook his head. " we don't know how long Virgil will be asleep for, a few hours? days? Years? We need to make them all sleep. That way no one will know what happened." They agreed on the plan, then turning themselves small, they flew throughout the kingdom, casting a sleeping spell on everyone in town, including the two kings

Patton stretched and yawned after he stopped telling  The story. " alright kiddo, it's pretty late. We can finish the story in the morning." Roman looked distraught as Patton took the snacks into the kitchen to clean up. Instead Roman glanced over at Logan who had been reading a book while listening. Out of nowhere, Roman launched himself at Logan.

Patton dropped the bowl in the sink when he heard Logan's distress and ran back to find Roman on the ground yelling " how could you do that to my Prince you friend!" While shaking him. Patton got the two separated and as Logan straightened his glasses he said " I'm beginning to regret allowing you to use my likeness in the story Patton." " Roman, apologize to Logan. For the last time, you know how the story goes. You've watched the movie more than anyone. heck you've even acted out the story in the imagination!" " I know. And I'm sorry teach. I just get extra passionate. Especially about my favorite Prince. Other than myself!" Patton shook his head and Logan bid them goodnight as he sunk down to his room.

After breakfast everyone, including Virgil, who hadn't been around for the first parts of the story gathered to hear Patton tell it's end.

Roman rode into the forest. Using clouds instructions, he found the cottage easily.  Surely if father would meet him and see how perfect they were together, he would annul their betrothal. A marriage certainly wasn't the only way to unite their kingdoms. He reigned rose to a nearby peach tree where she happily started to munch the sweet fruit. He knocked on the closed doors. Calling into the darkness " cloud? I've returned." He pushed open the door walking into the main room of the house. Only to find someone sitting in one of the chairs. Twirling his glowing staff. With a hand on his sword, he approached the table "Ah, young Prince Roman. I was wondering when I got to meet you." "Surely we have not met. How can you know me? I am looking for my beloved. He lives here. His name is cloud." Roman said warily. Logan rolled his eyes while giving a sinister chuckle. " that really is the stupidest name I've heard for anyone. Much less... a Prince." " what are you saying?"   " I'm saying that your love of water evaporation, is Prince Virgil. Your true betrothed of your youth. I'm afraid however. It is too late for you two to ride off into the sunset." " what have you done you monster!" Cried Roman. Logan just laughed as he disappeared.

Roman was enraged that he stormed out of the house and back to his horse. Then with haste he rode out of the forest. He saw three lights fly past him before turning into full sized men. " you are Prince Roman?" Janus asked. They all seemed out of breath and very worried. " I am. Who are you?" " we are the three fairies. We raised Prince Virgil away from the palace in hopes to keep him safe from the sorcerer Logan's curse." "A lot of good that did" Remus added. " thank the gods! I just came from the cottage. Logan was there. What has happened to my Virgil?" " Logan's spell has taken effect. Virgil stabbed his hand and has gone into a sleep. So we too have made the kingdom sleep until we break the spell." " you must lead me to him so i-" A crash of thunder and bolt of lightning struck Thomas's castle from a swirling band of clouds. " I'm afraid you must defeat Logan himself before we can save Virgil." So the four raced back  until they found that the castle was covered in thorny vines that stretched for miles, blocking any hope of rescue. " there! I can see Logan atop that rocky ledge." The four raced to the base of the plateau. Roman had to stand on roses back to catch the first hand hold and used it to pull himself up. He turned back when Patton called. He used his wand to summon a large shield that shone silver with a red strip diagonally across. He tossed it to the Prince. "Sadly our powers can not be used for violence. It is the oath we swore. You must defeat him, Prince Roman." Roman climbed and climbed having hooked the shield to his belt til he reached the landing Logan was on. " stop this madness and return the kingdom as it was. Or taste the wrath of my sword!" He shouted, unsheathing his weapon, the shield in the other hand. Roman lunged forward, ready to slice the witch. But Logan threw a handful of magical blue fire towards him. He thrusted his shield out in time to hear it fizzle away. He charged on, Logan swept around toward the opposite end, leaving Roman nearer the cliffs edge. They fought on. Roman and Logan both sustaining blows from the other. Logan retreated. His eyes glowing light blue. As too the air around him began to shine. " let us see how you fare against my true form!" He cried as the magic overtook him and he began to grow. Larger and larger. His skin turning hardened by scales black and blue. His arms turning into wings, tipped with blue claws. His back growing long and spines tipped the ridges. A tail with similar spikes reached out behind him. Finally his face elongated into a snout and sharp teeth whose force could easily break bone.

" Dragon witch!" Roman uttered in shock. He couldn't let himself be distracted at the feat his kingdom needed him. Virgil needed him. With a great cry he charged the monster, sword pointed out. But had to cover with his shield as the Dragon breathed a shot of blue flames down. He forced himself to keep running under it. Trying to look for a weak point. He was hit by the creatures tail and thrown, hitting the stone hard.  His sword scattered out of his grip and off the edge of the cliff. He cried for the fairies to help him. While he could only hold his shield in front to protect himself. Remus was the one who flew up with the sword in hand. The weapon seemed to flow with its own magic. Roman grabbed it and charged back into battle. His sword his the beasts sides but the scales made for little damage. Roman circled the Dragon, making it take the position closest to the edge. The beast reared up on its hind legs to attack. When Roman cried out as he hurled his sword through the air. It caught the beast in its chest and the sound of its roar was the loudest thing any of them had heard. Losing its balance, the Dragon formally known as Logan, fell to the ground below, taking Romans sword with him.

On his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, Roman took account for any injuries. A few burns on his hands and face. His outfit too was singed. But it was worth it. Patton was soon at his side. " all you alright Prince roman? You're hurt." He waved the fairy off as he shaking stood. " that can wait Patton. Will you help me down to rose? Logan is gone, we can finish this." With Patton flying and holding onto him they got down the cliff easily. Rose was a few yards away from where they left her, " where are your compatriots?" "They flew ahead to try and clear away a path through the thorns once you lost your sword." " I am grateful for them." He reached a hand Down" ride with me, let your wings rest." Patton held onto Romans shoulders as he urged rose into a full gallop. Soon they could make out yellow and green sparks as they blasted away the thorns. Roman noticed that the vines were withered and dark now that he that spawned them was no more, they broke easily. Roman charged through, the three fairies clearing the way in front.

Once at the fallen drawbridge, Roman left rose at the gate and with the fairies guidance, found his way into the tower.  Once he reached the landing, Roman stopped in his tracks. Sure, the fairies had told him about what had happened to Virgil. But seeing him. Laying on the bed perfectly still aside from the slight rise and fall of his chest. Roman approached the bed. Looking down . He felt guilty that his Prince, his cloud, had been put through this. All because he put the pieces together in time. Roman knelt on one knee next to the bed and slowly leaned forward. Placing a kiss to Virgil's lips. At once, color came back to his face that before had gone slightly gray. His eyes squeezed shut before opening. Roman caught him when he threw himself into Romans arms. Words couldn't express the relief to be together again. They just held each other until the more pairs of arms took over embracing Virgil as well.

An hour later found Virgil and Roman back in the chamber Virgil was originally brought to that afternoon. Romans injuries had been tended to as well as a new royal suit. The wound on Virgil's hand had disappeared as if it never existed. Once Virgil had woken, so too did the rest of the kingdom. The fairies had gone to the kings to announce Virgil and Romans arrival. Patton hinted to them that all would be explained in time. While music from the throne room could be heard in the distance, Virgil stood at the window. Looking down at the guests arriving. " why didn't you day something? That you were a Prince, and your name?" Roman said from behind him. " when we met, I had no knowledge of my royal status. The fairies never treated me as royal. I was just... me. And I suppose I was nervous about sharing my true name. You probably would have laughed." He said crossing his arms. " of course I wouldn't. At first, I was ready to break off the marriage to Virgil, in favor of cloud. I imagined he couldn't be too upset to be in an arranged marriage." Virgil turned to face him " while you are right that I was unhappy to marry someone I did not know. If I knew you had left me for some peasant in the woods, Logan's fire would be as a candle next to my anger." Roman laughed. " none of that matters now." He placed kisses on Virgil's hands before a knock on the door drew their attention. Patton entered, bowing neatly to the pair. " they're ready for you guys." " well, are you ready?" Virgil asked Roman? " Not quite." Roman went to the corner of the room, scooped up Virgil's crown and brought it back. He placed it lightly on his brow before extending his arm which Virgil took. " now I'm ready."

"And they all lived happily ever after." Patton ended. Virgil sat from his usual spot on the stairs. " why'd you make me the princess?" " as, didn't you enjoy the story virge?" Patton asked. " yeah yeah it was fine. But why was I the princess?" " because you're the fairest of them all!" Roman said grandly, joking about the emo sides complexion. Virgil and Logan groaned at the pun as Virgil left for his room.

[sinnhelmingr]

😶 are there any other Greek cthonic deities that you’d go for after dating Charon, or is it just his direct family that’s weird for you now? // anonymous

First, it had been his mother. Most enchanting, most terrific, a mere glimpse of Mother Night had grasped Hel’s heart in a vise. Fumbling, childish attempts at favor were met with patient -- and wholly disinterested -- care. Boundaries were put up. Nyx could be many things to her, even an object of worship, but never a partner. It had become especially impossible once a particular prince had cottoned on and put his flaming feet down about his newest friend’s affection for the only mother he had known to that point. Still, Hel knew she would think fondly of eyes like liquid gold, and a slow, cold smile that set a fever in her bones til the day she died.

Then, it had been the Prince himself. A fleeting game, foolish attempts to bind themselves to each others realms. The proposed marriage was spurned by others and, in time, perceived as folly by  both parties involved. Though Hel loved him, she certainly did not, nor would she ever, love him like that.

Her first loves brothers were beautiful, but not her type. Sleep’s slow work could not abide, and something of Death was too cold, too perfect. Some might call them a better sight than their elder brother, but Hel could only agree to a point.

And then there had been the very root of all things, winged, many-eyed, hidden from all but those bold enough to seek them...

Gently tracing the vein at her brow with her fingers, Hel sighed. “Not after, no. Before him, perhaps, had I been allowed, but certainly not after.” Golden hair and verdant eyes flickered across her thoughts, pink blossoming across the goddess’ cheeks. Hel’s palm kissed her eye in embarrassment, face turned to the floor.

“I would not say it would be weird for me. I think the others always took more umbrage than I did about my.... Southern pursuits.“ So, too, would Charon’s mother. Her rare modern visit to the House always saw the elder Goddess with a strange light to her golden eyes, a slyness that Hel could not decipher except as patient bemusement.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XV

Their trek into the ruins began. The heels of their shoes clacked against the stone as they descended down a long stairwell. Noctis, as per usual, was in the lead. He kept from running headfirst into the ruins and possibly running into a horde of daemons. With careful footsteps, he and the others took their time descending the stairwell. Halfway down, Prompto glanced over at Aranea. "Those guys your friends or something?" He asked, referring to the two men who were by her side earlier.

"You appeared to be on good terms," Ignis commented.

"Who-Biggs and Wedge?" Aranea questioned. "They're more "subordinates" than they are "friends," but I trust 'em all the same."

"At least you have someone you trust within the ranks of the imperial army," (Y/n) stated.

"It's hard to trust anyone within the empire, even if you are on their payroll."

After a lengthy trek down the stone staircase, they finally reached the bottom. Prompto was more than ecstatic to finally step off the stairwell. "Finally... I thought it'd never end. The people here, they must have been fit." Looking around the room, he noticed the faint glow of the crystal shards hanging on the walls. "Huh? Er...who left the lights on? Maybe the owners are still home?"

"No," Noctis answered.

"We never get warm welcomes," (Y/n) added.

"I doubt we can expect one here," Aranea said.

"Indeed. Stay sharp," Ignis advised.

Checking the area, they headed to the small hallway to their right. At the end, they only found a dead end. Returning back to the previous room, they headed down the left hallway. In the adjacent room, more smaller hallways branched off in different directions. Noctis checked one of the rooms and was nearly crushed by the ceiling caving in. Luckily, (Y/n) had grabbed his jacket and yanked him backwards just before he could be buried alive under the rubble. He thanked her and the two left the room.

Next, they headed down the hallway located across the way from the room with the collapsed ceiling. "Man, all these rooms," Prompto said as he walked ahead of them and towards the next hallway.

"Hey, don't wander off," Noctis scolded the sharpshooter.

"You might end up walking into a horde of daemons or being crushed by debris almost like Noctis was," (Y/n) stated as she sprinted after him.

She tackled him out of harm's way when a small portion of the ceiling collapsed and skeleton daemons fell through the hole. They landed near the couple and were ready to pounce, but the spirit manifested fiery throwing knives and tossed them with precision. Each one hit their mark and caused the skeletons to stumble backwards. Noctis, Ignis, and Aranea disposed of the weakened daemons while (Y/n) helped Prompto off the ground. She flicked him on the forehead once he was back on his feet. "Ow!" He whined.

"Try to think before wandering off," she sighed.

Prompto rubbed his forehead with a pout. "Yes, ma'am..."

Aranea noticed their interaction with a curious glint in her eyes. "Are those two...?"

"Yeah," Noctis replied.

"Firefly and blondie. Who would've thought."

Because of the pile of debris, the group could only proceed left down the hallway. Entering another open room, they were ambushed by skeletons and a reaper. Aranea was the first to act. She swung her lance, targeting the reaper as it stalked towards them. While she dealt with the scythe-wielding daemon, the others focused on the skeletons.

Noctis performed a warp-strike on the last remaining skeleton, killing it. With all the daemons dead, they moved forward and entered the large, open central area of Steyliff Grove. The sight that greeted them caused their jaws to drop.

"Beautiful beyond words..." Ignis gaped in awe.

"That is pretty neat," Aranea said just above a whisper.

Prompto's eyes drifted towards the ceiling of the central chamber when he spotted a strange shimmering. He gasped in shock at the sight of what seemed to be a lake suspended in the air. "Look up!"

Everyone did as the blonde shouted and looked up. Their eyes widen in shock and astonishment at the shimmering water above. (Y/n) took a step closer to the railing and leaned over it to get a better view. "Is that...a lake?"

Aranea also expressed her surprise. "Whoa-If that's the water's surface..."

Prompto, who'd taken his camera out to take a few pictures, blinked in bewilderment. "Wait, what? Does this mean we're underwater?" Taking a closer look, he saw fish swimming through the water. "Whoa. There's even fish."

"The hell is this place?" Noctis muttered.

"Can we truly be submerged?" Ignis mumbled.

"It does seem harder to breathe," Prompto gasped, lowering his camera.

"I don't think that has to do with the lake," (Y/n) stated.

Noctis' azure gaze remained locked on the suspended body of water. "Like seeing a dream."

"Gladio is seriously missing out," the marksman retorted.

"Probably not his thing."

"Now, now, you can never tell," Ignis said.

"As much as I would love to admire the view for hours upon hours, we've got mythril to find," the spirit chimed in.

Aranea nodded in agreement. "Firefly's right. Let's get moving."

Walking a little ways down, they came across a balcony that overlooked the central area. When they went to check it out to see if it could help them gain their bearings, a pack of skeletons and crème brûlées ambushed them. Like the previous battles, the daemons proved to be nothing but an annoyance than a challenge. The group was able to annihilate them all without any issues.

Moving away from the balcony, they arrived at a portion of the pathway that had crumbled. As they stood at the edge and searched for a way across, Prompto couldn't help but express a strange feeling that overcame him. "Huh. Something bothers me about this spot."

"What is it?" Noctis asked, curious as to what the blonde was bothered about.

"Have we been this way?"

"I don't think so," (Y/n) answered.

"Something overlooked?" Ignis asked.

"Not a hundred percent sure..." Prompto mumbled, peering down at the level below.

After looking around, Noctis saw a narrow ledge they could cross to reach the other side. He offered to go first and didn't hesitate to cross. Prompto nervously watched the prince as memories from greyshire glacial grotto filled his mind. He swallowed nervously and tried to ask, "Can I just-?"

"It'll hold you," Noctis interrupted, already knowing what he was going to ask.

"Famous last words," Ignis remarked.

Once Noctis, Aranea, and Ignis crossed, (Y/n) nudged her boyfriend towards the ledge. "C'mon, Prom. It's your turn."

"Right..." Prompto hesitantly approached the narrow ledge. He crossed with slightly shaky legs, but made it safely across nonetheless.

(Y/n) was right behind him and also had no issues crossing. She patted the photographer's back with a minuscule smirk. "Good job, Prom." Said boy pouted with a groan before following after Noctis.

When the path abruptly ended, they backtracked a little ways and entered the stairwell. As they made their way down the steps, Aranea groaned, "Daemons. 'Til death do us part."

"Practicing your vows?" Ignis asked.

"The army swore their oaths a long time ago."

"What does the empire seek here?"

"Specimens-and we're stuck harvesting them," the ex-mercenary answered.

"Specimens?" Prompto parroted.

"Daemons."

Emerging from the stairwell, they walked to the opposite end of the current level they were on. While crossing another extended part of the pathway, more skeletons and crème brûlées manifested.

"These things are getting annoying," (Y/n) huffed, burning a single crème brûlée and exterminating it.

"Couldn't agree more, firefly," Aranea responded, slicing through a skeleton.

Following the successful battle with the daemons, they headed down the path and found another stairwell. Prompto, remembering what the ex-mercenary said earlier, asked her a question. "So what's all this about the army and daemons?"

"What do you think it is?" Aranea scoffed.

"Nice! I love guessing games!" He sarcastically remarked.

"You never were good at them," (Y/n) chimed in.

"I'll say," Noctis commented.

Aranea was slightly amused at the party's banter, but she decided to explain why the empire needs daemons as they exited the stairwell and made their way across the next level. "Turns out the empire makes weapons out of them."

""Weapons"?" The marksman reiterated.

"Yeah. I'm sure you've seen your share by now. Something not quite right with the empire lately."

"It's not just lately," Noctis remarked.

"True. Maybe it's time I left."

"Really?" Prompto inquired. "What would you do if you left the army?"

"Whatever I want. I was a mercenary once. Maybe I'll round up my men and hunt daemons for cash?" She pondered.

"That's a...heck of a plan."

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by another horde of daemons. (Y/n) clicked her tongue in annoyance, creating a large fire vortex and sending it towards the enemies before the others could summon their weapons. Her powerful spell burnt some daemons to a crisp while others were tossed over the railing and fell to their death. She lowered her hand as the flames consuming it extinguished.

Aranea was impressed by the girl's powerful spell and huffed out a chuckle. "You spirits really are a force to be reckoned with."

"Sorry, I'm still a little mad from my short chat with Callyx earlier," she confessed.

"You were being too generous with his eye. Next time, take one of the bastard's arms off."

The guardian smirked in merriment. "Maybe I will."

Continuing their trek, Ignis asked the one question that was brewing inside his head as they located a strange door. "What about the empire strikes you as "not quite right"?"

"The emperor and new high commander, for starters. Then there's that charmer of a chancellor and that asshole of a guardian he has. I really can't stand those guys," Aranea replied.

Entering the room located in the other side of the engraved door, they were greeted by a large room with branching paths. There were bridges spanning across the vast room with a lower level beneath. Noctis approached one of the bridges with caution, but was stopped when hearing Prompto ask, "Is it safe?"

"Not everything's gonna-" Noctis' voice trailed off when he took a single step forward to cross one of the bridges, but a section of it collapses. "Whoa..."

Prompto had been looking at another bridge when he heard the crumbling noise. "What?! Did something collapse?!"

"Calm down, Prom." (Y/n) approached the edge of the collapsed bridge and glanced down at the floor below. She noticed an entrance to another hallway. "Falling to the lower floor might not be a bad idea."

"Guess it couldn't hurt," Noctis replied.

Carefully, the group hopped down to the lower level. They walked through the doorway the guardian had located from the upper floor and down the lengthy hallway. As they cautiously proceeded, Prompto shattered the silence hanging over them. "You smell that?"

"Smell what?" The prince inquired.

"Treasure. The nose knows, dude."

"Now that you mention it..."

"Let's not forget our purpose here," Ignis chimed in.

"Well, aren't we technically here for a specific treasure?" (Y/n) questioned, glancing over at the tactician.

The bespectacled man thought for a few seconds and adjusted his glasses before replying. "I stand corrected."

After traveling through another room, defeating another horde of daemons, and locating a stairwell, they were back on the upper level. They gained access to the adjoining room that had almost the same convoluted layout as the previous. Now they were presented even more paths to choose from. They could either remain on the current floor or venture to the two below.

Everyone left the decision up to Noctis. He decided to test the left path. Just as they were about to cross the bridge, an iron giant suddenly manifests.

"Saw that comin'!" Prompto shrieked.

"To arms!" Aranea shouted, summoning her lance.

Before any of them could attack, the iron giant smashes its fist into the bridge. It crumbled and sent Noctis and the others to the level below. Everyone stumbles slightly from the fall but quickly recovers as the iron giant from above jumps down and more daemons spawn.

"Here comes the big one!" Prompto bellowed.

"Right on cue," Ignis remarked as his daggers were consumed by flames.

"And it's got friends!" The blonde yelled as he shot one of the crème brûlées.

"Livelier by the second. C'mon then!" Aranea leapt into action and targeted the iron giant. Noctis disappeared and reappeared randomly, performing warp-strike after warp-strike on any daemon that crossed his path. (Y/n) favored her fiery throwing knives and helped Aranea fight the iron giant. Ignis and Prompto focused on the crème brûlées.

Once defeating the pack of daemons, the stonework of the shattered bridge floats into the air and seemingly begins putting itself back together. Noctis gaped in shock at the sight. "Huh? What the-?"

"Did that bridge just repair itself?" (Y/n) asked.

"It sure looks that way," Prompto said.

Looking for a way back up, they found a stairwell leading up to the upper floor. The marksman, after traveling up and down stairs for hours now, was becoming slightly loopy. "Never too many stairs! I got a bad feeling about this." He then begins signing to himself. "Stairs they go on, forever they go on, on and on and on..."

"He's gone," Noctis muttered, listening to his best friend sink into a shallow pit of insanity.

"I think we lost him a while ago," the guardian stated.

Back in the upper level, they cross the bridge that repaired itself. From there, they traversed through a hallway and wound up in a room with reapers and crème brûlées. (Y/n), who'd been focusing on one reaper, failed to detect the second one stalking towards her from behind. She disposed of the reaper just in time to turn around and be batted away by the scythe of the other reaper. She grunted when her body slammed against the ground, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the daemon. In the blink of an eye, she transformed and pounced on the enemy.

Using her sharp fangs, she tore it from limb to limb. Her tails flared outwards as she killed the reaper. When its remains vanished, the anger from her body vanished and she relaxed. Her tails that once protruded into the air were now limply laying against the floor.

Being the only one comfortable enough to approach the fox, Prompto strolled over and placed a hand on the side of her neck. He stroked the black fur and noted how her ears twitched. "You kinda went overboard there. Everything good, (Y/n)?"

The spirit turned her head, gold-slitted eyes boring into Prompto's. She reverted back to her human form once his hand fell from her neck. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Still thinking about Callyx, huh?" Aranea asked. "Bastard must've really gotten under your skin."

The (h/c)-haired girl stared down at the floor. "You've no idea..."

Walking down another flight of stairs, the group was back in the central chamber of Steyliff Grove. They found a bridge spanning across the way, leading to the other side. As they were crossing, a pack of daemons manifested in the middle of the bridge. They blocked the group's path and they had no choice but to fight.

The quintet wasn't overwhelmed by the daemons and easily pushed them back before defeating them. Safely on the other side, they follow the walkway until they enter a circular room. From there, they proceeded down a windy hallway with small rooms attached to it. The many rooms and smaller hallways were slightly confusing to the group.

"It's a crossroads," Prompto said, glancing down the hallway before looking into the small room down another hallway.

"Which way?" Aranea asked.

"Whichever way leads to the treasure," Noctis stated, trying to decide which way to go.

"If only we knew that..." Ignis mumbled.

"Welp, guess we bumble on," the marksman responded.

"Keep the bumbling to a minimum."

"How about we stick to the main hallway then?" (Y/n) suggested.

"May as well," the prince replied.

Deciding not to venture into the small rooms, Noctis followed the girl's suggestion and stuck to the main hallway. They were forced to fight against daemons as the hallway would be blocked by metal bars whenever they walked into an ambush.

Another hour passed before the group reached the end of the prolonged corridor. They were finally at the bottom level of the central chamber. Seeing how vast and open the area was, Prompto spoke up. "Ooh, spacious. There's sooo gonna be a big nasty here."

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Aranea said.

Walking into the large chamber, they only made it a few feet forward before a quetzalcoatl noticed them. It stood on a bridge above and analyzed them for a few seconds. Once deeming them a threat, it swoops down and begins attacking. Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, and Aranea conjured their weapons while (Y/n) transformed.

The guardian acted quickly and dodged the quetzalcoatl's lighting attack. She leapt up into the air and landed a little ways from the beast. Using her tails, she manifested a large fireball. Tossing it, she nailed the quetzalcoatl in the side. Her attack did some damage, but not much.

The quetzalcoatl targeted the fox. It ignored the others completely as they attacked it. The beast flew up into the air and shot another lightning spell towards (Y/n). She dodged it and jumped as high as she could and sunk her fangs into its left hind leg. Using her weight, she dragged it down to the ground. The quetzalcoatl tried to shake her off, but she didn't budge. Next, it tried another lightning spell. She was unable to dodge in time and took the brunt of the attack. This forced her to unlatch her jaw from around the creature's leg and stumble backwards with a painful cry.

As she went to back away further, its tail slammed into her side and sent her flying. Her body collided against the wall before falling to the ground, causing her even more pain. She could feel the internal wounds and the external ones. Her body laid limp on the ground, the sound of her blood rushing filling her ears.

Prompto had watched the entire thing with a horrified expression. He shouted her name and lowered his pistol, running to her side with a potion in hand. Noctis, Ignis, and Aranea kept the quetzalcoatl busy while the marksman assisted the injured fox. He fell to his knees beside her, shattering the curative over her. He gently placed a hand on her side as he watched her wounds heal. When her breathing went from shallow to deep, he knew she was okay. Sighing in relief, he got to his feet just as she did. His cerulean eyes remained glued to her, his hand bunching up in her velvety fur.

(Y/n) turned her head and nudged her nose against Prompto's cheek to reassure him before reentering the battle. The boy watched her join the others, gripping his pistol tightly. He also rejoined the fray and shot a few rounds at the quetzalcoatl.

In the midst of the battle, Noctis and Ignis were struck down by the beast. Aranea, (Y/n), and Prompto covered the two while they both used phoenix downs to recover.

Aranea leapt into the air with her lance and dove towards the quetzalcoatl with the sharp tip pointed at its spine. When her attack landed, she dealt some heavy damage and caused the beast to stumble over. It fell on its side and became vulnerable.

With a combined attack from everyone, they were able to defeat the quetzalcoatl. Its body fell limp as everyone stepped away from its corpse. (Y/n) returned back to being human as Noctis wandered deeper into the central chamber. He located the mythril they'd been searching for and put it in his pocket.

Seeing the prince had claimed the mythril, Ignis adjusted his glasses. "That concludes our business here."

Prompto glanced over at the ex-mercenary. "Say, Commodore."

"Aranea," the older woman corrected him.

"You said the empire uses daemons to make "weapons"?"

"Listen-you've seen magitek troopers, right?"

"MTs..." Noctis muttered.

"They're born from daemons, in a lab," Aranea explained.

The marksman rubbed at his barcoded wrist. ""Born from daemons"..."

(Y/n) looked towards the blonde and noticed his strange behavior. Her expression remained stoic, hiding her true emotions. She wondered if he had managed to learn the truth about his existence or was simply just scratching his wrist. Her fists clenched and unclenched, worried about him. Her attention was drawn back to Aranea when she spoke, her jade eyes focused on Noctis. "Darkness is coming. If I were you, I'd watch my princely ass. Uh-"kingly" ass."

"Will do," Noctis replied.

With that, the group left Steyliff Grove.

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[secret-engima]

So I am dying with laughter over your Clouds and Moonlit Skies AU, honestly are so much fun! Loving how you portray everyone :) However I have to admit it is sending my mind spiraling with what ifs & can't stop thinking about Sephiroth (& Cloud too) being reincarnated in Nifheilm earlier. With Sephiroth getting suspicious of the Nif Mad Scientist and snooping til he finds Prompto. After which he's like 'Fuck it. Baby Gloud-Me Clone, this is the Gods telling me it's arson & murder time again...'

Glad you enjoyed!

And yeah that would be a ... pretty interesting AU actually. Seph is reborn in Niflheim and can immediately tell Something Is UP, and then when he’s old enough he starts snooping and finds ... Cloud. And he knows it’s Cloud, he can FEEL it, in the air, in the slightest tingle of magic, in the way the baby’s blue eyes are too-intelligent and desperate.

Sephiroth cradles the child close to his chest, cooing softly, promising destruction and death to all who hurt him like this. The lab goes up in flames with Besithia already dead and thoroughly stabbed in his office. Sephiroth leaves the lab with a baby in each arm (because you commented on them being reincarnated “earlier” so my brain spiraled off into what if Cloud was reincarnated as a different clone and now has bby Prompto as a twin sibling so we’ll go with that?). Seph is, obviously on the run because he’s going to be wanted in all of Niflheim if they ever recover enough footage to know it was him, and he maybe blows up a few more installations and labs for good measure before escaping to Lucis held territory with his not-as-healthy-as-they-should-be-but-hey-he’s-flying-blind-here infants.

Luckily, he runs into some Galahdians within like- ten minutes of getting to shore and when they make appropriately outraged noises at the condition Seph’s rescues are he openly admits that he has zero clue how to take care of babies, he rescued these two from “savage animals” and has been trying to keep them alive as best he can with zero info to go on.

The Galahdians take one (1) look at this obviously Nif born white-haired, grey eyed maniac with a too big sword strapped to his back and bags the size of craters under his eyes and go, “Welp looks like we have a new Clan idiot now.”

Seph is immensely grateful for their help, even if it means them putting a braid in his hair and insisting he’s family now? He’s pretty sure that’s now how the Lucian adoption system works but whatever. He’s more then happy to abandon his reincarnation name and go back to being Sephiroth, now with a clan name tacked on.

In case you’re wondering, that clan name is Ulric. Because Nyx happened to be there while on leave, visiting Lib’s family that lives outside of Insomnia with his best friend when this madman drifted ashore with an infant on each hip. And ... and Nyx is the last Ulric, he knows that, he also knows that he should not adopt lightly, considering he’s the last Ulric Chief. But there’s something in the man’s eyes, a wildness, a predatory glint that reminds him of the Coeurls and of storms, or hunting in the jungle with just a kukri to protect him and he ...

Offers. As impulsive as ever, following some instinct he can’t name. Offers Clan and family, protection and aid for the children, belonging for the Nif refugee where none will ask questions (better another Galahdian trickling in then dealing with the drama of someone fleeing Niflheim). Lib hisses at him because CAUTION NYX IT’S A THING but Sephiroth agrees in a heartbeat and Nyx weaves the Ulric braid into shoulder-length silver hair.

So yeah, Seph moves into Little Galahd with his two kids Cloud and Prompto (Nyx named Prompto after finding out that Sephiroth has just been calling him “Child” because he has no idea how to name anything not already named Cloud) and ends up joining the Kingsglaive for money (after being convinced that yes, the Ostiums will happily babysit for as long as necessary and YES they will remember his long list of things to look out for with Cloud).

Sephiroth makes ... an Impression on the glaive during his training and trials. He fights like a wild-cat, deadly and fast and instinctive, already acing most of the tests without any magic, and the other recruits could swear that sometimes his grey eyes flicker to slitted green as he dances through combat training. He’s let in and soon there are two Ulrics to terrorize the battlefield (and also a bit of a mass panic among the Ostiums who now need to find him a Braincell to join the glaive because Lib is NOT able to contain both Nyx and Seph).

Sephiroth’s Braincell turns out to be a spitfire of an Ostium, a woman who has known the joys of punching things since she was in the cradle (ie Tifa, because if in this AU Seph was born in Niflheim then Tifa was born in Lucis/Galahd). She joins the glaive and Captain maybe pulls his hair out a little at having a recruit who refuses to use any weapon but her fists, but then it turns out her fists work REALLY WELL and also she keeps Sephiroth in line so she gets a pass.

Sephiroth and Tifa size each other up warily, memories and lifetimes between them even though it takes Seph a while to remember the spunky punch-happy woman Cloud had on his team. They get into one nasty fight where it looks like they might actually be trying to kill each other and then afterword Seph takes Tifa home to meet toddler Cloud.

Zack ends up trundling into the training grounds when he’s about 3-4 years old, takes one (1) look at Sephiroth warping his way across the ground like a silver blur and starts screeching for him, nearly pitching head first off the balcony in his efforts to get to “Seph” while a servant panic grabs him. Sephiroth abandons the course to come over and by the time Regis gets down there because someone called him about this, Noctis is happily perched in Sephiroth Ulric’s lap, babbling away and tugging at long silver hair while Sephiroth hums in indulgent amusement. Regis apologizes for the interruption, Sephiroth says it’s fine, he has two sons at home who are this age. Noctis shrieks louder and Sephiroth answers like it was a question and not unintelligible noise, “Their names are Cloud and Prompto.”

Somehow Regis finds himself setting up a playdate between the prince and this glaive’s twin sons and Noctis gloms onto the twins within 0.05 seconds of meeting them (Prompto is a treasure, never asking how Noctis and Cloud already knew each other, or why they cried as they hugged, or why Cloud calls Noctis Zack, he just rolls with it and they adore him in turn as their joint bby brother).

[occultdreamland]

Find the Right Card -- 1

He stands at the entrance of your small abode, presence all consuming and demanding of your attention. By the colorful robes draped over his shoulders, to the many rings that adorn his fingers; you need not have an idea of who he is to know him.

“Come. Sit down.” Your voice breaks the steady silence, the whisper of calm breeze the only other that accompanies you. His eyes are only on you as he sits, graceful as one of those show horses you see from time to time. “What brings you here, My Prince? To such a place outside of your own, I’ll specify.”

“Your name is on the tongues of many under my employment. I wonder what a witch has collected so much of my mens’ spare time,” He says, his eyes cold and never leaving yours. It brings a chill to your spine.

You give him a pointed stare; “A witch I am not. Scryer is a better, healthier term for me.”

There is a pregnant silence.

He tilts his head to the side, jutting his jaw out in a way that you can discern as unjustified arrogance, “Tell me, what is it that those soldiers do to speak of you so highly.”

“They tell me their name before they dare enter my dwelling, as a start,” you quip, letting your gaze break from his as you gather your collection of markless tarot decks, displaying them in front of him, eyes now expectant on his pale face. “Be my guest, however, and pick the one that draws you in. Don’t dwell too long, they like to tell their own story. A story that may not be what is the truth.”

“I believe I came here for an answer, not a story, wench.”

“Is a story just as viable as an answer, My Prince?” You bite your tongue at the name he bestowed upon you, but it is not unusual for men to say such things.

Finally, his eyes break from you, and the relief you feel is insurmountable. He is quick to pick a deck, two fingers laid lightly on top of it as he pushes it toward you. You hum, a lick of a smile reaching your lips. While not your best deck, it certainly suits him. Cleaning away the other decks, you open the one he presented to you, scattering them around the table in a circle, making a mess of the card order and bringing them back into a clean stack.

“What type of spread will you be requesting, My Prince?”

“I asked for information, and I shall receive information. Will I have to tell you any differently to get what I want?” He says.

You raise your head in acknowledgement. You begin to release the cards into the spread you have chosen, all ten cards set into their positions, with the second card being placed on top of the first and the other eight others being placed where they belong.

The Princes’ eyes sit on the spread, dissecting the back of every card as if he already knows what they are.

Your fingers rest on the card beneath another, and you carefully reveal what it is. It’s the Knight of Coins; reversed. “This is the present card. Tell me, what does this card tell you?”

He scowls and rolls his eyes. “It tells me that I’ll be riding a horse. Staring into the horizon with my sword drawn.”

“That’s what you see. I want to know what this card tells you.”

“How will I know what the card tells me when I do not know what it means?”

You cock your head to the side with an expectant huff. “This spread tells of your past, present, future, with your past and present challenges, and the outcome. This one tells of your present, and the card speaks of wasted energy and money. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me that you’re a waste of my time.”

You laugh, something that surprises you. “If I am a waste of your time, you can always leave, my Prince.”

But he doesn’t budge. And he stares at you. Again.

“I will let you think for a moment. It’s always good to reminisce on this card.”

Another beat, and he still looks at you like a caged and hungry dog stares at a slab of meat. You continue, lifting the card that had sat on top. “The challenge, the Magician reversed. My Prince, to be up front, what have you to lose? A loved one, your position in the court, maybe the power over the men you command in these dire times?”

This card speaks to you, this time, telling you that you have many, many things to lose shall you upset this man. However, you also know that he hears the same thing, the way the energies between him and the card bend and wave before your eyes.

Finished with his speedy introspection, he looks up at you, his eyes demanding a continuance of this process. You lift the third card, it sits to the left on the two card pile, and it tells you of the past. The Empress, and you tell him as much. “Nature is our mother, she is a mother to me just as she is to you. It seems you have been a disobedient prince, and she will correct your actions like a mother would to her own child.” It was a risky jab at him, but said in light humor. It doesn’t seem to bother him; his skin as steel as his own blade.

Next is the future. The upright hierophant. “Ah, something that should please you greatly, my Prince. You will be a great scholar, and if not that a man of great intellect.”

“I am already a master of the blade, what else do I have to accomplish in my life?” He says, baring his teeth as if the card insulted him.

“But are you a master of politics? Of the on-goings in the court and the well-being of the people you will rule over? Or of the briars that line your great castle gardens? There are many things outside of war, my prince.”

You turn over the next card, goals and aspiration, a reversed ace of wands. It tells you what you already know. “You are resisting change, resisting the thing that brings you to the best outcome.”

He bites down on what you assume is a fiery retort, and you let it slide. He is beginning to taste bitter; a sign that he is up to no good in your home.

“Have you any say, my Prince?”

“None that concerns you, lowlife.”

Yet you continue, your drive of knowledge on this man a once in a lifetime deal. This card is the foundation of him, what makes him who he is and what drives him to his goal. Nine of Cups, upright. You pull a face(How immature of you! You were trained better than this!) and it upsets the Prince. 

“I now know why my men are so enamored with you, now,” he barks, standing from his seat so fast that it knocks it over right onto a case of valuable oddities, making you stand as if you are fast enough to catch a falling section of the wall, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach, “Your sorcery will be punished, witch! And do not think that my words are as empty as those cards. We will make sure that your presence will leave this town like you never existed--you and your collection of harlots!”

Your eyes widen, and for the first time in years, you feel what it is like to know an abyss of fear.

~~~

Those armored men, the men under the name of Prince Maksimillian, destroyed your home, tore apart every tapestry and crystal and orb in your possession, burned your books and every tarot they grabbed their hands on. You remember screaming at them, restrained in the bruising metal grips as they tried to secure you into the carriage filled with all of the other scryers and readers in your village, weeping at the destruction of their home and from being torn from their families. 

It took two men to restrain you, and a third to knock you out after threatening to curse them and their children after you saw a bag of your cards being thrown into the growing pit of flames.

You sit in the corner of a crowded cell, shackled,�� curled with your knees to your chest with an elderly woman pressed against you. You had given her an odd stare before, but her old eyes only blindly mistook you as her young grandchild. Even then, the cell was pressed for space, maybe twelve people shoved in here. Most of them women, you count three heads of men, two of whom mere children.

You all sit there for maybe two days, there is no light here, but the guards rotate shifts at about an hour and a half each… the math kind of ends there, though. You’re a seer! Not a mathematician! It all confuses you to the point you start to doubt the time from the start til they begin to take out women and it becomes more spacious in the cell. 

By the end of one of the guards shifts, where there are only five others beside you in that cell, a man in silver armour seemingly grabs you from the room, holding you by your chains, pulling you along the dim corridors. He takes too many turns, definitely a mistake in the construction of the building, and it wouldn’t surprise you that this level of the jail was meant for that. You aren’t surprised execution is about to come to you, but the screams of men and women that puncture your ears startle you to near tears.

But you are drawn away from those horrible noises, at some point, and then taken up many, many flights of stairs, taking you higher and higher until you stand in a gold gilded room, the High King’s Throne empty while Prince Maksimillian obtains the smaller throne right of his fathers. He lounges on it, a leg propped up on the knee of the other with a hand lazily holding a goblet. He looks pleased to see you.

“You finally brought the right one,” he says, and it’s the first time you hear a humorous tilt in his voice. It’s not directed to you, of course, but to your guide, your escort. The prince raises an eyebrow, a face he must make often because the knight releases you and leaves.

The doors slam shut, and you are left alone in this vast room with the prince.

You are unsure of what to do, for the first time in a while. 

Prince Maksimillian takes a long sip from his drink. “Do you know why you are here?” 

“N-No, my Prince-” 

“I do.” He is blunt, but relaxed, languid. “And I don’t want to tell you.”

“My Prince-”

A smile graces his lips, and you wonder if you said something wrong, “I don’t like such formalities. Maksimillian will be fine. Maks even better.”

“M-Maksimilian, my Prince- why am I here?” You ask, a tremor in your voice.

“You intrigue me, scryer.”

He doesn’t even know your name!

“And you are of a breed I have never been introduced to. One with the spirits, with the unseen. You are a seerer, and an elegant one at that. It’s something that this court needs to show them the things that they have never seen before.” He accentuates himself with the waving of his cup, “And not only that, but my father - oh, my father - needs help that only you can provide. Well, not just you, but you were chosen out of all of those old hoots and hags. Hand picked- by me! An honor most of our knighted will never see out of me.”

There is a silence that sits between the two of you. You are speechless, and you wish you had your personal tarot with you to separate and divide these emotions to make sense of what’s going on. But all of that was burned, gone in ash. It will take you years to accumulate what you had before, the connection with your crystals melted and the love you and your decks shared now gone, soot a black snow in your river side village.

“But…” you whisper, looking down on the floor, unable to hold his interested gaze. It’s the first time he seems to take an interest in your words, “You destroyed my decks, the thing that made me the thing you saw. I can’t just… take a new deck and expect to be the same. They had personalities! That’s why that deck had called out to you, because it knew what you are, and could tell us the closest truth of you and your objective. I can’t get the same result without getting back what I lost...”

Maksimillian huffs, “I am the first born son of the High King of Rosodour, the face of the wealthiest Kingdom of the land. I can assure you that there will only be the highest quality materials bought for your shows.”

You stutter, eyes widening in disbelief. “My abilities are not a show!”

“Your presentation is, however,” Maksimillian continues, now leaning forward, his elbows propped against his knees as he places the goblet next to his feet, “I can give you back what you lost in the round-up, but all I ask is that you soothe the hearts of the people in my court even if it risks doing more harm than good in the long run.”

“I can’t accept this!”

“I was not asking you.”

“Prince Maksimillian, this isn’t right!” You plead, almost dropping to your knees, “Even if I do as you say, regain the trust of all of those cards, I won’t be able to live as a fraud! Like one of those harlots in the brothels!”

He sighs and buries his face in his hands, “Accommodations have been made for you. I can show you to your room, or I can have one of the maids or servants take care of you. I will send for someone to take note of what you need for your craft.”

[thegildedlady]

Old Friends

Gray dawn broke over Stormwind City. The last stars hung dimly in the sky overhead as more and more light slowly filled up the dark spaces of the human metropolis. These early morning hours were when most of the city’s working folk made their way out of their modest homes and trudged towards whatever task awaited them. The streets were just crowded enough that Kordya Pavlov could pass through them undetected. The layer of sleep still sitting on most overnight guard’s eyes gave her some protection from recognition. Normally she tried to avoid delving this deep into the city, but today Kordya had her own task to attend to. An old friend was expecting her, and she hated to disappoint.

As she cut through the back alleys of the Old Town, Kordya began to smell the coal ash chugging out of the Dwarven district. Right about now the smiths and craftspeople would be stoking the flames from last night’s embers, ready to start a hard day’s work all over again. The smell bristled in her nose and she shook her head to expel it. Kordya walked on by the Dwarves at work, not stopping to admire their constant drive or revel in a hard day’s labor.

“At least I’m not breaking my back like those chumps,” she thought to herself, as she tried to ignore how badly the smell of coal reminded her of a long lost home.

She finally reemerged at the canals, where the coal scent was blown away on a sea breeze funneled through the entrance to the harbor. She inhaled deeply, letting it wash the earth off her as she hurried down the street. The sky was turning from deep gray to lavender, and she would need fleet feet to make it to her destination by daybreak.

Kordya looked down from the ramparts and saw a large crowd gathered at the base of the docks. A wooden platform and gallows had been erected in the looming shadow of the gilded lion’s head protruding from the stone wall behind it. Before the Prince pulled a classic Wrynn Disappearing Act, he kept the gritty practice tucked away inside the stockades and far from public scrutiny. Ever since the regency began, the High Exarch has had no such issue and resumed public executions. A hanging would always draw a crowd, and served as a not so subtle reminder of what fate awaited those who would flee from the Crown’s justice. The bleak scene caused dread to settle in her gut like she’d swallowed a stone, heavy and uncomfortable. She pulled her hood up over her mop of copper curls and began her descent. Kordya disappeared at the edge of the spectators just as the provost began to read the sentence.

“Let it be known that Frederick Albert Lafollette, of the village of Lakeshire, has been convicted of the crimes henceforth stated: Fraud, thievery, assault, arson on five counts, murder on two counts, and piracy against the Alliance Navy. For these crimes, by order of High Exarch Turalyon, he is hereby sentenced to hanging by the neck until he is dead.”

The crowd booed and hissed as the crimes came one after another. Kordya had shuffled her way closer to the center where she might get a closer look. A giant of a man, Frederick looked like he could rip clean through the ropes binding his hands in front of his person, should the desire strike him. He had been worked over, that was clear even from where Kordya was standing. His eye was blackened and his nostrils were crusted with dried blood. Though he stood in the face of his own demise, his expression was serene like a meditating monk. To the strangers gathered to watch him die, he was just another criminal. To Kordya, he would always be Freddy.

Suddenly, a gloved hand pressed against the small of her back. Kordya went stiff as a board, her fingers hovering above the pistol slung around her hips. Before she could cause a scene, a quiet voice spat out an explanation from just over her shoulder.

“Don’t get hasty now, Kordy. It’s your ol’ pal, Earle. You ain’t wantin’ to lose two old scarabs in a day now, are ya?”

Kordya whipped her head around to match the voice to the face in her mind. Earle was already older than dirt when Kordya first met him some ten years ago. Now he was brown as a nut and wrinkled like an old saddle bag. He smiled a leathery grin, his few remaining teeth hanging down to match the tufts of white hair poking out of his ears. Earle was wearing a tattered hide cloak, and pulled his hood up to match Kordya as he took his spot beside her. She did not mind his closeness, but wished he had taken a dip in any body of water before showing up today. The pink hues of the sunrise behind them gave a faint glow to the early morning mist still hanging in the air and warmed their backs as the minutes dragged on.

“I wasn’t sure anybody else would show up,” mumbled Kordya.

“Oh, s’no trouble for me. I been stayin’ down round the cemetery, so I make it out to most of the hangin’s.”

“You got a room or are you roughing it?”

“You know me, kid. I’ll let you take a guess.”

Kordya nodded curtly. She got the picture. The two stood in silence for a while- unsure of what to say to the other. They were not the same people who had formed a comradery all those years ago. What tied them together in the past was just that; the past. Their time with the Blue Scarabs wasn’t a pretty memory for either of them. If nothing else, the hollow feeling that came along when reminiscing about those days was one thing that they actually had in common. Being here for Freddy, of course, was another.

The provost held his palm up to silence the crowd’s jeering. When the noise had settled, he continued reading from the scroll in his hands.

“If Mr. Lafollette should have any last words, speak them now.”

Freddy’s gaze was cast over the crowd and out to the sea, where deep blue waters crashed against the rocky shore. He cleared his throat with a rumble, and Kordya held her breath.

“Tell my mother I’m sorry, that it ain’t her fault I ended up the way I did. And tell her I’ll get even with Pop for what he did to us, when I see him in hell.”

His voice called out clear and true and his gaze squinted against the rising sun. A flash of copper caught his eye and dragged his attention down to the crowd, where two familiar faces looked back at him with recognition and sorrow. When Freddy realized who he was looking at, he smiled sadly. Kordya smiled back, but felt the hot sting of tears welling behind her eyes.

“We’re here for you, Freddy. We came. You don’t have to do this alone,” the words screamed in her mind, but there was no need to say it out loud. Freddy understood it all, just from the way she held his gaze.

The hangman looked shrimpy compared to his charge. Freddy had to lean down, rather courteously of him, to let the hooded man slip the brown sack over his head. The crowd murmured as the priest read his last rites. A noose was fashioned around his neck, the provost signaled the hangman, and the trap door fell out from underneath Frederick Albert Lafollette. The snap of his neck would echo in Kordya’s mind for the rest of her days. He died quickly, the sheer weight of the man mercifully sped along the process. Cheers erupted from the gathered spectators as he swung. It made Kordya hate them all for their cruelty. Earle gently squeezed her hand with his boney fingers and tore her away from Freddy’s fate.

As the sun crept higher in the sky the crowd slowly trickled away until only a few remained. Kordya and Earle waited on the fringe, each had nowhere else to be. The guards had taken Freddy’s body down and wrapped him in a dirty shroud; it took five men to lift him into the crypt keeper’s cart. A Gnome with lime green hair was arguing with the driver about its destination, and the ruckus was drawing all sorts of attention.

“Fifteen gold pieces!”

“Get lost, Gnome.”

“T-Twenty! Twenty gold pieces for the giant!”

“I done told you once, I’m taking this corpse to the graveyard. He’s not for sale.”

As the cart pulled away, Freddy’s body in tow, the green-haired Gnome shook his tiny fist and cursed the driver’s name. Another Gnome, this one with hair the color of candyfloss, was trying to calm him down.

“We can’t let such a specimen escape! We should follow him, wait til the burial is done, and then-”

“Think very carefully before you finish that sentence, pipsqueak.”

Kordya pressed the barrel of her pistol down onto the top of the green one’s skull, and cocked it. He dared not move from that spot, but still could not stop his limbs from trembling. The little wannabe-bodysnatcher reminded her of a tiny, yapping dog. One flash of Earle’s smile was enough to send the pink one running. The old man set to emptying the Gnome-sized pockets in the vicinity as Kordya spoke.

“Listen, I’m a reasonable kinda gal. I know you weren’t thinkin’ of doing something to our dearly departed friend’s body. Cause if you were, well…”

She dropped to one knee and slid her gun down the back of his lime pompadour to get within earshot.

“I’d have to hunt your little friend down, and make the two of you into a new pair of boots for them to bury him in. It’s the reasonable thing to do, for a guy like Freddy. He’s a big guy! I’d say you’re about as long as his foot…” Kordya eyed the trembling man up and down, and sized him up as if she might actually be serious. It was enough to scare the color from his previously rosy cheeks.

“N-NO! I wasn’tgoingtodoanythingyouHAVEtoBELIEVEme I- I- I-”

With a kick of her muck-covered boot, she sent the Gnome stumbling to the ground and freed him from her hold. “Scram. Now.” she ordered. He did not waste time. The Gnome skittered away as fast as his legs could carry him, Kordya and Earle watched as the tiny speck of green disappeared into the distance. The old man snickered a bit, but the somber occasion still sat heavily on both their shoulders. Kordya holstered her pistol and kicked the dirt in the Gnome’s direction.

“Good riddance, son of a bitch. Vultures! He’s barely even cold, and they’re tryin’ to scrap him for parts.”

“You got that little feller pretty good, Kordy. I’d say you ain’t got to worry about Freddy now.”

She let out a shaky sigh she didn’t know she was holding and fumbled for the brass cigarette case she kept in her shirt pocket. Kordya scraped a match across the stone walls and lit up two, one for her and one for Earle. Before handing it over, she met his gaze.

“Promise me you’ll make sure they get him in the ground, and that he stays there. At least for tonight.”

“I ain’t much of a fighter no more, but I’ll keep watch over ‘em. Course I will, Kordy.”

She bought his time with a smoke they shared on the ramparts. Neither spoke again until the cigarettes had burned down to nothing. Earle snapped his fingers as the thought hit him.

“Aw shit, kid. I almost forgot! Freddy let me in on a big score comin’ his way, somethin’ he ain’t never saw before. Gimmie anothern’ and I’ll tell you what it is.”

He waggled his eyebrows, focus locked on the shiny brass case. Kordya smirked and tugged two more sticks from her stash.

“I see you ain’t lost the touch.”

“I worked a lot of jobs in my years, but I never did nothin’ for free.”

He winked at her and popped the little rolled paper between his lips. After taking a couple puffs, Earle got back to the proposal.

“Fred was tellin’ me all about this big time job that falls into his lap, right? Some E-thereal feller in fancy armor wanted him to pick up some products for buyers and deliver ‘em to where they’s goin’. Only catch is, the feller’s real secret. Freddy said he was part of some kinda cartel, but not one he ever heard of.” He took a long drag, then continued. “You know where Freddy’s old place was? That might be a good place to start.”

Kordya had already risen to her feet before he could finish talking. She offered a hand to pull the bag of bones up off the steps, which he gladly took. Earle placed a hand on her shoulder before she could set off.

“Good luck, Kordy. Don’t get caught.”

“Thanks, Earle. You too.”

The old friends parted ways having savored the moment, albeit brief, after all these years. Earle kept his promise, and watched over their fallen comrade through the night like a toothless guardian angel. Kordya had caught the scent of her next payday, and there was no stopping her now. She couldn’t wait to get back to the Mogu.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Memes from Tori Amos's "Scarlet's Walk" Album, Part One of Two

Well he lit you up

Well he lit you up like amber waves in his movie show

He fixed you up real good

He fixed you up real good til I don't know you anymore

I don't know you anymore

From ballet class to a lap dance

The pool side news was that he would be launching you

You gave it up

He's got a healing machine

It glows in the dark

There's not a lot of me left anymore

Just leave it alone

If you're by, and you have the time, tell the Northern

Lights to keep shining - lately it seems like they're drowning.

Then you started to guess there was someone else

So I went by, 'cause I had the time, and told the Northern Lights to keep shining. They told me to tell you they're waving.

I was talking to you and I knew then it would be a lifelong thing

I didn't know that we could break a silver lining

I'm so sad

Like a good book, I can't put this day back

I rode alongside you then

For me to take your word, I had to steal it

Something about the open road

We're just impostors in this country you know

We said we'd fake it

I almost smacked him

Seemed right that night

I don't know what takes hold out there in the desert cold

These guys think they must try and just get over on us

All in all was a pretty nice day

You could taste heaven perfectly

I didn't think we'd end up like this

Nothing here to fear

I'm just sitting around being foolish when there is work to be done

Just a hang-up call

So we go from year to year with secrets we've been keeping

You say you're not a Templar man

Seems as if we're circling for very different reasons

I agree with this in part

Something is with us

Pluck up the courage, and snap it's gone again

Can someone help me, I think that I'm lost here

Lost in a place called America

Thought I knew you well

Thought I had read the sky

Thought I had read a change in your eyes

Woke up to a world that I am not a part of except when I can play it stranger

I can play it stranger

After all, what were you really looking for?

I wonder, when will I learn?

Blue isn't red, everybody knows this

Guess I was in deeper than I thought I was

I have enough love for the both of us

I left my life. Tried on your friends. Tried on your opinions.

I put our snowflake under the microscope

Maybe my wish knew better than I did

Now I'm finally in

The party has begun

It's not like I can feel you still

You can call me one more time, but now I must be leaving

Found her at the end of a chain

Time to race

Just keep your eyes on her

Get me [NAME] on the line

You must crack this

You must go in again

Carbon made only wants to be unmade

It's double diamond time

Not saying not charmed at all

Not saying that you weren't worth the fall

I was alone when I knew it was real

I knew I had come to the line

You said you could drive all night

I let crazy take a spin

I let crazy settle in

Kicked off my shoes, shut reason out

Let's just unzip your religion down

I craved it all

You carved my name

Paper tigers scare me and came alive

Heard that you were once temptation's girl"

As soon as you have rearranged the mess in your head, he will show up looking sane, perfectly sane

Greed is the gift

This is the tie that will bind us

Don't make me come to Vegas

Don't make me pull you out of his bed

I am vigilant

It will not be you on the menu

Don't make me pull him out of your head

It could be done and it has been done and I think that I am up to this

"What will be will be" over my dead body

My old flame was a jester and a joker

They called him the prince

Prince of black jacks and of women and of anything that's slipped into his hands

You can have all this, except for me

Lady Luck is my mistress

I'll know that it's you by the taste on my lips

I could slip through your net

I know you know every desperado and sharp shooter i

You say that I can't see behind the mask of those who call themselves the good guys in this

So are you with me or not

This time decide

She's been gone, have you seen her?

Leaving me our fading flame

Yeah you think about that

It matters now to you and me

It matters now to you and me, what you believe in

I'm taken in

I know your people have suffered time and time again

But what about, I ask you now, the innocents on both sides?

Give me a bloodless road

Tell me, why does someone have to lose?