#their tail handed to them by some demonic creature trying to escape the depths of the After

[justawrites]

I love the whole "Narinder and the Bishops are angry gremlins plotting against the Lamb to get their crowns/godhood back" thing but I think it's infinitely funnier to imagine them immediately upon descending doing the equivalent of sitting on a beach sipping piña coladas declaring themselves retired while the Lamb runs around like a headless chicken with the barest idea of what they're supposed to be doing as a god

[triskhellion]

The Depths: Chapter 1

Rated: Explicit (eventually) | 1.5k WIP

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Tags: POV Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles, Sea Creature Derek, Alternate Universe, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, PTSD, Norway

(Getting Together, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Sexual Content)

Summary: Stiles travels around Europe to try to escape his demons. He goes to Longyearbyen because the sun won't set for months and has an unexpected encounter at the bay.

Mead Moons prompts: Becomes, Buck, Claiming, Midnight Sun, Ritual & Strawberry. @sterek-and-stuff-events

Chapter 1: Adventfjorden

The black sand beaches of Iceland were a spectacular sight, the quiet, solitary beauty of Landeyjahöfn and the crystalline otherworldliness of Jökulsárlón Lagoon, its banks strewn with glacial “diamonds.” Cold and captivating.

Stiles stayed on the southern coast of the country for a nearly week, but it wasn’t far enough for him, the shadows still deep and capable of hiding monsters. Now he was in Longyearbyen, on the island of Spitsbergen in the archipelago of Svalbard, over 500 miles north of the Norwegian mainland and equidistant to the North Pole.

The ocean called to him no matter where he’d gone on this journey, ever since he fled with a backpack and a shiny new passport. It didn’t matter that the water was frigid and foreboding even in the summer, that he currently had on multiple layers for today’s high of 46 degrees, which felt colder still from the wind.

He’d been here for a few days now, repeatedly visiting the same stretch of Adventfjorden. Advent Bay.

Sometimes it felt like he was being watched, could swear he caught movement in the rippling waves, but that was nothing new with the echoes in his mind. Call it figments of his imagination, products of hyper-vigilance and paranoia or straight up hallucinations. Little slips in reality between consciousness and dreaming. As long as it wasn’t that. As long as it wasn’t him.

He bought strawberries from a fruit stand outside the market, small and ripe and red. The kind that were sweet like candy instead of the giant, watery fruit that stores back home so often sold, grown to survive being shuffled across continents rather than for flavor. These were for eating within days of harvest, would spoil if in the blink of an eye, but so worth it if you were lucky enough to have a taste at the right time.

Stiles took his little carton down near the water’s edge, watching the tide come gradually closer. Between plucking off the green bits and eating them whole he’d occasionally bite one in half and run it over his mouth like lipstick, staining the flesh there red like his fingers were. Like his hands would always be. 

When he came back to himself again there were people coming out of the water. 

People. Coming. Out of. The water.

Not divers in wetsuits that he’d missed seeing before somehow, but a dozen or so…humanoid creatures who were all bare chested except for some jewelry and miscellaneous accessories. 

He looked around to ask “Are you seeing this shit?” but then he realized that there was no one else on the beach. As if the half dozen or so other visitors had gotten some psychic memo to depart. Everyone, but him. How long had he been staring at his hands, transfixed?

The sun wasn’t noticeably lower in the sky than it was before, though of course it wouldn’t actually slip beneath the horizon. That was the whole point of this latest detour on his odyssey, months on end without night. Well, fewer than two left since it was now the end of June, a bit more than halfway through, but a welcome respite for however long it could last. Not that the nightmares couldn’t find him the daylight, but it at least made his wakefulness less terrifying and strange no matter the hour. 

Until this one.

Most of the sea people stayed at least half submerged, but one stepped onto the shore. What seemed like a man only with jet black legs and arms and a tail. 

Stiles sat there frozen as he approached, a shiny, crinkly looking fabric draped around his hips and between his thighs in greens and browns with stripes of red. He immediately thought of nori, which made sense since he was 99.3% sure it was made from seaweed. 

There was a grayish tone to the pale, too smooth skin where it wasn’t the color of a moonless midnight. On his face and throat and most of his chest and abdomen. The palms of his hands and the underside of the end of his tail, which was long and thick and had flukes like a cetacean. A bristly black mohawk reminiscent of the crest on a Roman optio's helmet was the only hair that Stiles could see, what appeared to be eyebrows actually flexible darkened ridges instead. The Sea Man, er, Sea Dude, stopped before him and silently held out a large, semi-webbed hand. Stiles stared into piercing pale eyes before turning to where the entourage watched them intently. 

He dropped his head to stare at his own skin once more, still ruddy from dried juice. Again his sense of time went wonky, his mind skittering and skip-skip-skipping like a smudged dvd. In his peripheral vision the creature began to fidget and he glanced up to see discomfort on the somewhat reassuringly discernible features. Huh. Stiles met that keen gaze and exhaled slowly, reaching out to him with his left hand while popping the last two strawberries into his mouth with his right. Why the fuck not? At least whatever this was would be interesting. 

The flesh was warmer than he expected and he marveled as the rubbery, alien extremity surrounded his and he was pulled to his feet like he weighed nothing at all. 

He was led toward the water, which duh, he should’ve expected, and stopped several feet away. The creature didn’t let go, but didn’t drag him either, just stared at him with an unreadable expression. Stiles looked back and forth between the bright, little settlement behind him and the murky, unforgiving expanse ahead. 

With shaking hands he started unzipping his jacket, warm fingers finally slipping away to allow him to take it off. He was glad that he left his phone and wallet tucked away back at his cheap, four person room at Gjestehuset 102. Quickly, he removed everything except his T-shirt and underwear, shivering immediately. It’s not like more layers would keep him warm where he was going and it’d only make moving around harder. 

You really think that’ll be a concern? 

He threw his bundled up clothing back up the beach as far as he could, but doubted that he’d ever wear them again.

The creature took his hand once more and he gasped when his feet touched the water. Fuck that was freezing. Intellectually, he knew that it would be, but nothing could compare to feeling it. On his ankles and calves, his knees and thighs. His whole body clenched when he waded further still and he was pretty sure that his balls had been permanently relocated inside his body. The others watched him curiously as he hyperventilated, teeth chattering.

The chill was already deep in his bones and he wondered how long it’d take for hypothermia to set in, trying to remember what he’d read before. What was it about water and the air temperature? Five degrees or so above the daily low? If that was the case it was probably around 40 degrees. And 40 degrees meant... 

He tried to visualize the chart in his head. 40 degrees meant 10-20 minutes before muscle weakening and loss of coordination. It had only been one or two so far, right?

When it came up to his stomach the fear kicked in, the natural dread land animals had for the depths from which they once came, but could no longer call home. The ocean held no mercy in its heart for its endemic children much less those long estranged.

Stiles tried to calm himself, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Cold shock, right. That part should go away soon. Breathe. In and out, in and out. Nice and slow, bring it down.

They suddenly drew to a stop and he opened his eyes. The Sea Dude was already gorgeous, but then he smiled and it was brilliant. Breathtaking. 

If Stiles was a normal person he would’ve swooned or something, but he’d known too many killers who loved to smile and he couldn’t help thinking Anglerfish-ass man despite the whole not being a hideous abyss dweller with a dangling lure thing. (Or was he?) It was kinda too late for second thoughts, though. 

The smile fell from that overcast sky-hued face, replaced by what appeared to be puzzlement and then concern. Long fingers connected at the second knuckle rose toward his temple and Stiles tried not to flinch. 

There was a sensation of tendrils slither-swimming through his head like octopi, multi-limbed and picking through his disparate thoughts. Twisting into nooks and crannies. Words that weren’t words echoed in his head as the creature frowned.

I’m not going to eat you. 

Strangely enough Stiles hadn’t truly thought that he would, though he probably should have given it real consideration after his run in with the wendigo. He was assuming more of an inexplicable murderous ritual if harm was intended rather than wanting him for the merman snack bar. Perhaps a drowning fetish.

The creature shook his head with exasperation, a reaction that Stiles was all too familiar with, but then he let out a musical, effervescent laugh and grasped his hand again, tugging him further into the deep. 

Come.

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

"i wish you would write a fic..." where Krogan is some sort of demon or infernal deity and Viggo is a human offered to him as a sacrifice

Souls

Rating: Mature

Characters: Viggo, Krogan, Hiccup & the Dragon Riders

Pairings: Viggo Grimborn/Krogan

Summary: After Viggo is finally captured by the dragon riders, the riders wish to put an end to Viggo's reign of terror on them by sacrifacing him to a god. However, the god in question doesn't want Viggo's blood.

A/N: This is a modern au that has transferred over into that era from a more canon timeline. The reason why you will soon see.

Viggo stared hard at the group of riders. He had to admit, they had bested him, they had beaten him into submission, had stolen everything from him, including his face. It had been marred by the burning heat of acid from that vaat he'd fallen into in a desperate attempt to get back what belonged to him.

"You know he can probably hear you hissing at each other, right?" Astrid hissed, turning her head back to glare at him, her blue eyes burning with rage.

The two other blonds laughed at her, however.

"So? Who cares? Once he's sacrificed he won't be able to tell anyone anyways!" The female twin gave a chortle of amusement.

Viggo stared hard for that moment, swallowing thickly in panic. What were they doing? He stared down at his knees, which had been lashed together by rough ropes, that rubbed on his flesh through his jeans like angry snakes.

"Ruff, you can't be serious." Astrid hissed back. "Come on, he could escape!"

"We'll just catch him if he does." Ruff snapped back.

"And besides, I doubt he could with how tightly Hiccup tied him." Tuffnut responded, before looking forwards. They fell into a lapse for a moment, as Hiccup came back into the clearing, toting a large book, and some miscellanious offerings for the something they were trying to call.

"Drag him to me." Hiccup ordered.

And with that, Viggo squirmed when the last two grasped his arms, and dragged him towards the center of the clearing.

With that, Haddock set the book down, and he himself sat down. He opened it, and began to chant loudly. The words twisted through the air, sung a deep hole in Viggo's chest.

There was a rustling in the breeze, it changed directions, whistled and howled. The name carved into his chest screamed with agony, as slowly, the wind shifted, solidified into a large, dark blot in the branches of an old oak.

The blot grew limbs, and clothing swirled around the shape in eerie, smooth glittering clouds, as slowly, it grew, and stretched down to the ground.

A long tail thwipped the air, its bladed tail slashing a hollow, metallic echo in the empty forest.

Wings, with long, white shimmering feathers stretched out behind the creature, as it slowly stepped into the light.

Viggo blanched, his heart fluttering in his chest.

The... thing... had taken the form of a tall, dark-skinned man, with hair that was made of tight, onyx curls that went down to his thighs. A beard matched the hair, however it was cropped close to the man's chin, and was impeccably groomed.

A pair of brown eyes sat in his lids, dark, soulful and wise with a delicate kindness and innocence that Viggo would not have associated with the powerful, muscular body that was covered in scars that marred olive flesh.

Slowly, the... godly... creature turned his head down to stare at Hiccup, who gestured to Viggo.

"The agreed sacrifice." Hiccup stated slowly, putting his hands out towards Viggo, who watched the god's glittering garments blow gently in the breeze. They were thin and gauzy on the top and bottom, and showed off a muscular torso, split by a thin scar along his stomach.

"Yes..." The voice pulsed with a cool, calm energy. It was kind, almost... paternal, calming, as the god's cool gaze shifted to Viggo, and quietly inspected him.

Scruitizingly, the gaze dug into him, little filaments dug into his mind, searching, deeper, into his very depths. A small ripple of confusion that was not his own delved into his mind, however the tendrils were grasped onto by another part of his own soul. Bubbling memories- that should have not existed- that same man, dark, his eyes pained, innocence lost. He knew this... god... not in this life, but his embrace was familar.

'This one will not be killed by my hand." The god said slowly, inclining his head slightly.

"You're a god of death, though! He's slaughtered dragons for his own gain!"

The god, Krogan, raised his head.

"No. He is one who shall not be harmed by myself. Nor anyone else." Krogan slowly padded his way over to Viggo with bare feet that made flowers spring up under each step he took on the mossy ground.

He settled onto his haunches, curling a hand around Viggo's chin, which he gently rubbed on his cheek.

"It has been so long, my love," he crooned softly. "I had nearly lost hope to ever see you at least once more."

Viggo's soul pulsed in his chest, and he instinctively leaned in. The god cut his bindings, allowing Viggo to embrace him in the familair warmth from Krogan's body.

With that, Krogan allowed him to pull him into a smooth, loving kiss, as the world seemed to dissolve around the two.

[ticklish-touch]

I’m With You in the Dark

Last year, I made a poll seeing who would be interested in reading a story about my tickle monster Rags meeting my favorite character in Deltarune, Jevil. Even though I got a very positive response overall, I... chickened out. :’D I've always felt very self-conscious about writing fanfics, especially ones involving my OCs with canon characters. I grew up with other weeb friends who thought fanfic in general was very cringey and taboo. But at the end of the day, as long as people aren't writing about shipping real-life people or kink shit with minors, they have the freedom to write what they want if it helps them express themselves. Ever since last year, Jevil has become a very important character to me. There are hundreds of wonderful creative interpretations of him and his possible backstory; and, as someone who has depersonalization spells, existential thoughts about reality & the universe, enjoys making other people laugh even at my own expense, and a chaotic inner voice that constantly tells me "AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING NICE, DON'T YOU JUST WANNA GO APESHIT??" this little gremlin has become a comfort character; one that I also highly enjoy cosplaying. And, frankly, what better year to post a story about nihilism than 2020?  👍   So, this is just a "what-if" scenario, if someone else besides Gaster with some degree of omniscience was able to show the poor jester that there's more to life than just waiting for the Void to take over. And if anyone takes anything away from this, I just want it to be the hope that things will get better. You are allowed to be hopeful, and happy, and make positive connections with people even if you've had harmful experiences with people over past mistakes from either side. We're in this together; you aren't always going to be alone, your suffering won't be in vain. This, too, shall pass. So please, stay determined. Happy Halloween, everyone!!  🎃 🦇 👻 🤡 Story below the cut!

       The mischievous Nightmare felt a peculiar pull at his mind as he lurked through the foggy darkness in search of another playmate: A chaotic soul resonating with nearly as much feral playfulness and craving for laughter as his own. But there was something...Off. This mind, this essence, was splintered and broken, re-mended into something different... A shadow of its former self. Joy and mischief and enthusiasm for the world, replaced by existential dread and loneliness...

         The silent cry for help brought Ragaeli to a reality he'd never been in: One of the many infinite parallel dimensions to Earth that existed in the endless void of spacetime. At a brief glance, he could see there was a race called Darkners. They seemed to be the joy of childlike imagination brought to life; living, breathing checker and chess pieces, puzzle pieces, stuffed toys and squeaky mallets and lego blocks.

         And, within a card castle not unlike the story of Alice in Wonderland, deep within a huge cell locked by powerful magic, a rotund little jester with a black and purple wardrobe was bouncing about, creating myriads of dazzling diamonds, spades, hearts and clovers. He appeared to be an imp with a J-shaped tail, a round noseless face, pointy ears, deep black pits for eyes and serrated, lemon-yellow teeth stretched into a smile as he laughed gleefully to himself.

        The Nightmare split open a doorway of crackling energy, leaping through, landing on the indigo striped ground with a THUD. The floor was very plush and unsteady, like the inflated floor of a bouncy castle. "Weellll now, it sure seems like a party in here~ But what kind of party only has one guest, hmm?"

        Immediately, the small jester jumped, his head launching out on a spring coil like a Jack-in-the-box. "AIYEEE-!! What, what?! Who are you? Did...Did you escape too??" He glided over to the tall figure, eyeing him over. At first, his lips twitched and seemed as if they were going to form into a frown. But instead he responded with a forced grin. "Uee-hee hee, I see, I see... It seems they've finally replaced little old me~!" He bounced up on his tail to flick playfully at Ragaeli's chest bells, spiraling around him to tug at his flaps, hair and spandex. "Hmmm, not bad~ And you can't go wrong with being a stripey lad; I guess the Kings have some taste after all! But where is your hat?? A jester with no hat is like a witch without their cat!" He glided around behind Ragaeli and his eyes widened. "A hand on your tail?? Now that's just excessive!!"          "I must say your rhyme scheme is really quite impressive~" Ragaeli giggled, his head turned 180 degrees to look down at the jester.          Jevil couldn't help but giggle too. "Uee hee hee, why thank you, thank you~!" He hovered upside-down in front of the larger monster, summoning a deck of cards, shuffling them up. "The tales must be true, that each suit has two. A black and a red...I always assumed the other must just be dead!!" He snickered, making the cards disappear up his sleeve, then turned back upright, folding his arms, his purple tail lashing about behind him like an agitated cat, his tone twinged with jealousy. "Well since they've decided that red suits their court more, you'd better not be a bore! To replace me is to replace the wittiest of all the players in this castle full of nay-sayers!"

         "Hehehe, now, don't get your tail in a twist, I'm no replacement," Ragaeli playfully flicked one of Jevil's bells. "Name's Ragaeli, but you can call me Rags, Ragdoll, Ragtime, Rag-Tag, just don't call me boring, heheh~ I'm not even from this world, you see. Would you believe me when I say there are other worlds out there? Other dimensions?"          Jevil giggled at all the nicknames, then his face lit up, his annoyance quickly shifting to curiosity. "Oh yes, yes, I know it to be true!! He chuckled. "Your world, it is a game too? Or is it more "real" than what we can perceive?"          Ragaeli raised an eyebrow. "A game, hmm? I suppose you can say that," He smirked. "My world is, in a sense, "Not real" as well. Not to the people of Earth anyways. It's thanks to their thoughts and emotions, their hopeful desires in the depths of their darkest thoughts, that I exist at all. And because of that," His grin turned devilish and he rapped his fingers together in a comically villainous fashion. "I can appear to any of them that I want. I can play all kinds of games with them~ I have no limits to what I can do in my realm, and Earth itself is my playground, a game that will never end~"

         The jester listened with fascination, then cackled again, seeming elated as he bounced around in midair. "Oh I'm SO happy!! Someone else finally sees!! There is another who's been set free!!" Then his giddy tone turned to a snarl. "THEY didn't believe me!! THEY were all blind, blind!!" Magic energy crackled around him. "I ONLY wanted to HELP them!! I only wanted them to be privy to the danger, danger they would face if they didn't try to free themselves of this pointless rat race!!"         Ragaeli's brow furrowed. "Who's them? Who put you in here? A jolly little hellion like you shouldn't be locked away like this, 'specially if you think your castle's in danger."        Jevil quickly shook his head, puffing his chest out indignantly. "It is not I that has been locked away! They chose their own prison, they dug their own graves! The court wouldn't listen, they didn't want to play, and now for their bullheadedness THEY'RE the ones having to pay!!"

        The Nightmare latched onto the images flashing through Jevil's mind, learning bits and pieces about the royal court that ruled the dark castle. It definitely appeared that things were in disarray, and the court jester's loneliness bubbled into a well of resentment...         The continued rush of memories manifested into the image of a strange entity that came to the jester before his imprisonment: A ghostly creature, cloaked in inky blackness, with large round holes in his skeletal hands and a twisted grin frozen on his skull-like head, a single white pupil glowing out from the cracked eyesockets with a sickly light. Even the Nightmare, who had seen every hellish iteration of fear and hatred, knew that this...thing, was bad news. He existed, yet was nonexistant. He was fractured across all of time and space, yet remained trapped unmoving inside the Void. He was filled with hopelessness, bitterness, egoism, an unyielding ambition to drag anything and everything down into the same all-consuming darkness. An unfortunate victim of his own hubris, now a sociopath with cold disregard for individual worth except the desire to dissect everything and everyone he could latch onto. And it happened that Jevil, who craved mischief and adventure and purpose in his seemingly small role in the kingdom, was the latest test subject.         Ragaeli's hair stood up on end and a low, near demonic growl rumbled in his throat. "And what, exactly, did this thing show you?"         The growl made Jevil gasp, stopping him in his tracks, looking up at the large entity with trepidation. "H-He showed me everything, everything!! He showed me the beginning, the end of all things, he showed me the truth of this world and all worlds in the cosmos, that nothing is as it seems, nothing means anything, but because anything can be nothing, nothing can be everything--"          "Alright, enough, I'm stopping you right there, Lovecraft," In a swift movement, he tugged the rim of Jevil's hat over his face.         "YEEE- H-HEY!!" The frazzled jester fixed his hat, puffing his cheeks out at Ragaeli, his tail whipping about even more wildly.          "Whoever this Wing-dinged handy-man is sure isn't very handy if all he can do is fill your head with nihilistic nonsense," Ragaeli stuck out his tongue. "Sounds like someone who had a rotten time of it is now trying to ruin everyone else's fun."         "No, no, not at all!!" Jevil leapt on top of Ragaeli's head and perched like a cat. "Because of him, I can have more fun than I ever thought possible!! You'll see, you'll see!! They're bringing back the key!!" He giggled madly. "Three visitors, all questing in vain to bring an end to a game that doesn't matter, and once I am back inside their world of lies I will spread my truth everywhere and everyone will thank me!!" He cackled. "But first I should thank you for keeping me company~" He leapt off and glided in front of the Nightmare. From the center of his dark eyes, yellow irises began to glow brightly. "It's been so long since someone has lent an ear, so I'll show you my favorite game~"  In a flash, he launched a glowing diamond, sharp as a sword, at the speed of a flying bullet into Ragaeli's stomach.

         But the diamond disappeared on contact. Instead of yelping in pain, Ragaeli shrieked and doubled over as the energy shot a ticklish burst through him. "GYEEEE-HEEHEE!!"         Jevil looked baffled. "...What, what?? Laughter?" He tilted his head, summoning a spinning barrage of clubs that shot at Ragaeli's legs, chest and sides like machine gun ammunition.         And again, the Nightmare was bombarded with a barrage of ticklish electricity, causing him to crumple on the plush floor with cackling laughter. "AIYEEE-HAHAHAHA!!" After the sensation wore off, he continued to let out giddy laughter as he saw Jevil's incredulous expression. "WHOOO-WEE, now that was a good one!!"          Jevil couldn't help but snort back his own laughter at the Nightmare's comical reactions, but he seemed even more puzzled. "Is someone ticklish, ticklish? That isn't how I'm trying to play, but it makes things interesting, needless to say~" He giggled a bit. "But then...How am I supposed to play my game if you've got no numbers to claim??"          Ragaeli shook his head, jumping up into the air to recline as if laying back on a sofa. "You silly little imp, do you really think that's the only way to play with others? Taking this "HP" until they're gone for good? What would you do then when there's no-one left to have fun with?" He gave a pout.         Jevil shook his head quickly. "No no, they're not really gone!! Weren't you listening, listening?? It's all a game!! They can come back!! Losing is just a minor setback~!"

         The Nightmare raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"         "Because the Stranger showed me!! He can mess with the code, he can change--"         "How do YOU know that?" Ragaeli barked. "Forget about him, can YOU bring them back??"         Jevil shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but if they lose then that's just how it goes~ Such is the way of this game we all play!"         The Nightmare rolled his eyes. "So... you wanna play by the game's rules, huh? How boring."

        The jester's malicious snickering immediately stopped, and he stiffened up.          Ragaeli narrowed his gaze, prying at the jester's mind a bit more. "What is it you've said? You can do anything? So why not shake it up and take this game into your own hands? If you're really free, then PROVE it!"

        For once, the manic jester took pause.

        "Think about what it is YOU want in this game we all call life!"

         Jevil lifted a gloved finger, unable to answer at first. Then his bright yellow irises faded again. "What I want...?" He lowered his head. "What I want..." A quiet giggle bubbled up from inside him. "I just want them to be free, free with me..." He hovered higher, seeming to vibrate with an intense magical aura, and raised his arms. The room began to spin around the central pole, as if it were revolving around the world's axis. "To break their cage and create a NEW stage, where everyone can play, play to their heart's content!! Free from this kingdom of rules and lies!!" He snarled. "I want them to PAY for making me play in my freedom all alone, every night and every day!!" He bellowed. Carnival music began to emanate from all around them, starting quiet then gaining in tempo. "I want them to say, "To HELL with rules, I will break these chains and embrace the chaos, CHAOS!!" He laughed maniacally, and from every curve of the rounded ceiling, more of his symbols appeared; Hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, all aimed at Ragaeli, launching toward him like speeding bullets.          The Nightmare answered with his own giddy laugh. "Ohhh, how interesting! Well then, let's play for a while and I might just help you make your wish come true~!" He nonchalantly bounded away from the trajectory of the magic, dodging, swooping, teleporting and even dancing and pirouetting away. Occasionally they would hit, and once again he would shriek in surprise and burst into laughter. "GYAAAH-HAHAHAHA!!"          Jevil giggled, no longer bothered that his attacks weren't causing any 'HP' damage. "I wonder; How long will it take before you finally break~?"          The Nightmare smirked dangerously. "I could ask you the same thing!" His hair suddenly jumped to life, tendrils leaping forward and bombarding the jester's chubby belly, sending electric pulses of ticklishness through him.

         "UEEEE-HEE-HEEEE!!" Jevil shrieked with laughter and flailed for a moment before poofing himself to the other side of the room. A bright purple blush filled his cheeks and he clutched his belly, gawking at Ragaeli. "N...NO FAIR, NO FAIR!! IT WASN'T YOUR TURN YET!!"          Ragaeli giggled. "You really think a tickle monster is gonna play fair? Now what's the fun in that~?"          Jevil huffed and his pout shifted to a malicious grin. "Uee hee hee; Fine, fine, I also won't play fair!! Let's see you laugh about THIS!" With a flash, he summoned a large ornate striped sickle, teleporting close and taking a swift swing at Ragaeli, catching him in the middle of the striped pattern on his leotard.          The Nightmare's torso came clean off his legs, not with any blood or guts but with a cartoonish POP. "WHOA!! Caught me off guard with that one, took my top clean off ya did!!" His tone went cockney, and he grabbed his legs and re-attached them as if he'd been de-pantsed.

         Jevil balked, then doubled over backwards with laughter. "HYEE-HEEHEE HAHAHAH Oh my stahahars, you're a fun one, you are!!" His scythe disappeared with a flash, a new wave of glee bubbling up in him. "You really are like me!! Your body cannot be killed!! That means you can stay here and play as long as we want!! I'm so THRILLED!!" He laughed with jubilation and raised his arms, and from the walls emerged a bizarre set of carousel horses, with the bodies of rubber ducks, all of which began to circle rapidly around the room. "Go ahead, hop on~! But better watch out, these horsies have a mean bite~"

         The Nightmare snickered and dove into a cartwheel, throwing himself onto the back of one of the figures, which tried to toss him off like a bucking bronco. "Piece of cake, I've wrangled a few horsies in my d-AAGH!!" He was swiftly knocked off by a flying duck ramming him at full force, sending him careening into the spinning walls of the room. He bounced off of the squishy surface and lay crumpled in a heap, cracking up with hyena-like hysterics. Jevil, too, giggled hysterically at his opponent's prat-fall. It felt so grand to finally have someone to play with again!!

        And so, their antics continued. Jevil came at Ragaeli with everything he had, and the Nightmare almost effortlessly parried it away with his meaty hands or flexible limbs. As Jevil revealed more and more tricks up his sleeve, from his ability to shapeshift into his own scythe, to a downright unfair barrage of clover-shaped bullets, Ragaeli revealed that his tail could multiply into three, which crackled with red sparks; They lunged forward and managed to ensnare the manic jester, slithering against his round belly and backs of his knees, even slipping one of his shoes off to entwine their prongs between his clawed toes.         "AIYEEE-HEEHEEEE UEE-HEEHEE NOOOHOHOHOOO-HEEHEE!!" The ticklish shock to his system surprised the jester enough that his head launched out on its spring coil, before retreating back for him to grab the ends of his hat and hide his flushed face and goofy smile.

        The Nightmare snickered fiendishly at his reactions. "What's wrong~? Surely the court-appointed master of laughter can handle a little tickling?"         The playful taunting just flabbergasted the thrashing imp all the more. Not because he hated it; but because he, the clever jester with an unholy amount of magic energy had never been so easily bested by something that wasn't a physical fight... And on some level, it was thrilling. It felt so good to laugh with such passion; Real, true laughter, instead of a hollow imitation of happiness. Being unable to focus on anything but their game, on the consequences of each other's "attacks", took his mind off the dreadful, existential thoughts that plagued him, and made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his and this world's existence after all...

          But in the meantime, it was his turn, and he was ready for revenge. He poofed himself out of the nightmare's tendrils and re-appeared underneath him, turning his scythe into a rubber mallet to send Ragaeli flying up near the ceiling. He smiled wickedly, summoning a barrage of attacks that started to morph into vaguely hand and feather-like shapes. With a clap of his hands, they rocketed up to the Nightmare, burying into his belly, ribs and armpits, slithering down the wide collar of his leotard, trapping his ankles into cuffs so that they could saw between his toes and whirl against his soles like fuzzy sawblades. The onslaught caused the monster to howl and screech with hysteria, thrashing and swatting at the symbols in vain. "GYEEEE-HEHEHEHEHEH WHY Y-YOHOHOHOUUU-HAHAHAHA~!!"         Jevil giggled devilishly. "Uee-heeheee, what's wrong, what's wrong~? You're the Tickle Monster, are you not? Or were you lying all along? Can't handle being at the wrong end of your own fiendish plot~?"         Ragaeli snarled in his laughter, attempting to swat at the jester with his tails. "GRAAHH-HAHAHAH SH-SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP YOU L-LIHIHITTLE-!!" And yet, despite his protests at the unbearable attack, the Nightmare's laughter, too, resonated with excitement and elation. It echoed through the vast cell, emanating with such unbridled joy and wild abandon that it stirred something inside of Jevil. Something...Warm, and oddly reassuring. And finally, from the depths of the jester's scrambled mind, memories started to return to him...

         He once knew laughter as well, and more than that, making others laugh. The four Kings, laughing at his antics in the court; young Rudinns and Jigsawrys and a baby Clover, all laughing gleefully at his dazzling displays of card symbols, dancing ribbons and fireworks. The dancers in the halls laughing as the court jester pulled prank after prank on the uptight dolt Rouxls Kaard. The Spade King, telling him how eager he was for his son to be born, so that Jevil could teach him how to spread joy through the kingdom. And Seam, his dear friend, letting out a rare gem of laughter whenever he said a silly joke or snuck up on the wooly cat and tickled his sides...

         Before long, Jevil's magic was no longer set to kill mode; a fact that wouldn't have affected the reality-bending Nightmare made of laughter either way, but others caught in the crossfire would no longer be in danger of a "game over". His will began to shift, and now his projectiles were imbued with the overwhelming urge to make their target crumble into a heap of elated laughter.         Perfect. Ragaeli grinned gleefully, snapping his fingers and poofing himself out of the hold of the magic symbols, standing to face Jevil, folding his arms behind his head. "Well now, seems like something's getting through to that polyvinyl noggin of yours--"         That brief moment was all Jevil needed to re-appear behind him, lunging to rapidly scribble his fingers and prod his tail along Ragaeli's belly, snickering to himself. "You so easily let your guard down!! I thought I was the clown!!"         "GYAA-HAHAHAHA!! TH-THAT WAS ON PURPOHOHOSE!!" Ragaeli slithered his pronged tail up to scribble against Jevil's 'neck' and pointy ears, sending him flying back on his spring-coil with a yowl.

        Jevil wasn't sure how long their game went on. Minutes, hours, days? Time never meant much of anything in his personal freedom; But now, he never wanted it to end. If those three adventurers did ever come back with the key, this would be quite the sight to walk in on...         Before long, though, the jester's 'attacks' were weakening, and his large tongue hung out with panting breaths; it became harder for him to levitate, or to tap out from the tickle monster's ruthless attacks; Ragaeli could sense his growing fatigue and eventually stopped, letting Jevil collapse to the bouncy floor.

        "H-Hee-hehehe...That was fun, fun!! But enough is enough, you tired me up!" He giggled, but his grin turned to a pout. "But I don't want to sleep yet, I still want to play with everyone, everyone..."         "Ohh, I think that can be arranged~" Ragaeli's hand sparked and crackled with magic, making Jevil instinctively squeak and flinch. But he shook his head. "Hehe, don't be worried~ This will give your energy back." But he closed his fist and extinguished the magic. "But hear me out first. If you play to take away everyone's HP, they won't want to play with you. They'll just put you down here again."         Jevil snorted and folded his arms. "Well at least I wouldn't be caged in their prison again, again..."         Ragaeli could still sense negative thoughts plaguing his mind.

Not real. Meaningless. Trapped. Just a game. Not wanted, not needed. Afraid of me. They'll leave me again, again. Seam will leave me again.

        At the very least, these thoughts weren't as loud as before, and were being dulled by the hope that perhaps he could be welcomed back by everyone... Ragaeli narrowed his gaze and snuck his hair tendrils over to prod along his round belly and sides again. "UEEE-HEEEHEEE!!" He rolled over to the other side, hiding his flushed face again.         "Heheh, come on now, no need to hide that face every time I get a laugh outta you~" He managed to tug the jester's hat off, revealing short, dark curly hair and a small pair of horns. Jevil gasped, his eyes going wide and he reached over frantically trying to grab his hat back. "HEYY!! Just because you forgot yours doesn't mean mine's up for grabs!!"   Ragaeli chuckled. "Relax, you'll get it back, if you listen to me first. There's no use letting those thoughts get in the way of your fun, now is there? Even if you live your life 'confined' with the others, at least you'd still have playmates, right? You still have the chance to make amends and show your friends you're not going to let your story end. ...See, now I've been hangin' around you too long. You're turning me into a natural poet~"         The sulky jester couldn't help but snicker. "Even if I did, even if they want to be my friend, I can never see this world the same way again, again..." He trembled. "The vision, the prophecy... The skies will darken, the world will crack, the calamity will sweep away all in it's path...No matter how many broken bonds we try to mend; Whether we play or flee, everything will end!!" He choked back a wail, hiding his face in his palms, his pointy ears drooping back.

        Ragaeli rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, scratching his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Look; Of course things aren't gonna be the same. Of course things end someday. That's the point of LIVING!" The Nightmare barked and jumped up, causing another loud THUD as he stooped over on his haunches like an agitated mountain lion. "You change and you grow and you LIVE, despite how tiny or messed up you think your existence is. You CHALLENGE anything or anyone who tries to tell you that you can't find your way outta that dark tunnel. Fake? Real? Who CARES?? You're HERE! Your life is only meaningless if YOU choose to live it without meaning!!"         Jevil peeked out from under his hands as the deity ranted. He then scoffed, taking his tail and fiddling with it as he avoided Ragaeli's eye contact. "That's easy enough for you to say. Your existence, your world, isn't made to be a game for OTHERS to play."

        Ragaeli calmed down a little, patting his hair sympathetically and tweaking one of his horns. "Listen, Jev-In-The-Box. You're right about one thing. You can't change the circumstances that brought you into being. And sometimes, that really sucks." He frowned. "It sucks for those little mortals who have such little control over the society that keeps 'em prisoner. And even for someone like me...I can't change the fact that I come from a world that wouldn't exist without mortals. Any Nightmare can disappear in the blink of an eye if they aren't remembered by enough people."         "Really..??"         Ragaeli nodded. "That's why some of 'em try so hard to be remembered, even if it means playing with humans like cats torturing mice before they eat 'em. And I can't make them value life. But I also can't let them freely roam the world that imagined us up, or reality as we know it would fall apart. I can't even stay in other timelines or realities too long or I risk fading away for good."         Jevil listened curiously, a hint of a concerned frown crossing his face.         The deity shrugged. "So I just make the best of it, y'know? I have fun showing other people that their world isn't as small and hopeless as they think." The thoughtful expression left the entity's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a devilish grin. "So YOU had better not let me catch you moping about in those gloomy thoughts of yours again," he poked Jevil's plush belly, making the jester squeal and bat his hand away. The Nightmare snickered. "And if I see you trying to end other people's game instead of finding ways to make laughter and excitement a part of your reality... Then I WILL be back, and I'll show you what it really means to be ticklish~" He narrowed his gaze and cracked his knuckles loudly, his body emanating with an aura of electric energy, his hair tendrils raising into the air like cobras poised to strike, wriggling their fingers and forming into bristles.

        Jevil shrieked and quickly scrambled back. "YEEEP-!! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALREADY, I GET IT I GET IT!!" The jester first pouted at being told what to do. But something about the strange monster's words...Felt to be true.

        Ragaeli chuckled, his hair calming back down. "Of course, that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in a bit of harmless chase," he flashed a devious grin. "You can make them pay, without making them go away, so that way you can all play again and again~ The eventual catch can be the best pay-off of all~"         The implication of the tickle monster's words started to sink in. A Grinch-like smile started to spread across the imp's face as terrible schemes came to his mind. He could play a game of 'Surrender' with anyone, anytime, and they wouldn't have to lose their HP over it. It could be one big game of hide-and-tickle, or tickle tag, or a test of endurance, or another way for the King to interrogate outsiders about Lightners...         Sensing that his thoughts had changed their tune, Nightmare gave him back his hat...And transferred a surplus of magic energy fueled by laughter, adrenaline and mischief to replenish his strength.

        Jevil gasped as if surfacing for a breath of fresh air, then giggled and sprung to his feet. "Fine, you've won me over, I hope you're happy! But I think we'll have to wait until the Lightners return with that key. Once they do, I'll wreak havoc in that boring little prison of theirs and this Joker will be the one to have the last laugh~!" He giggled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together, bouncing impatiently in place.

        Ragaeli smirked. "Hehe, no need to wait for a key. Prisoners break themselves out all the time, so why not just break in~?" He hopped over to the door, grasped his large hand around the bars, his hand emanating with crackling magic again... And the lock popped open with a click.         Jevil went slack-jawed. "Wowee!! You really are strong! I can't even best Seam's magic enchantments at full strength!" he then cleared his throat. "That isn't to say I couldn't have broken in all along. I just didn't want to is all," he shrugged and stuck his tongue out. "So now it's time to say...SO LONG!!" He cackled maniacally and shot like a bullet out of the door.

        When he flung himself from inside the cell, he saw the three travellers from earlier, now gawking up at him incredulously.         "W-What the-?!" Susie and Ralsei's eyes went wide.         Jevil instantly pounced them, rapidly bombarding them with scribbling fingers, rapid pokes and his tail slithering between their limbs. Shrieks of startled laughter answered him, even from the quiet, stoic one. They were too preoccupied with trying to flail away to notice the jester snatch the key out from under their noses. As soon as he had it, he stopped and hovered above them.         Susie panted for a minute. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!!" she snarled, brandishing her axe.         "H-How did you get out?!" Ralsei questioned. "I thought you needed the key??"         Jevil merely answered with a wild grin, focusing his power in his hands until the key sparkled and crackled with his magic...And shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Without another word, he rocketed up the winding stone steps, laughing incomprehensibly.         "WH...WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Susie shouted.         "I don't...think that was supposed to happen..." Ralsei scratched his head through his hat.         Kris just shrugged, and Susie grumbled. "We went through all that shit just to get the key and he didn't even NEED it!! I'm getting real damn sick of this stupid castle!!" She pounded the handle of her ax into the ground, huffing loudly.         Ralsei frowned. "Well, don't worry about him. I think it's time we go find Lancer, yeah?"         At this, Susie calmed down a little, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. We've kept him waiting long enough. Some mystery prisoner isn't any of our damn business."

        It was already too late, regardless of whether the heroes tried to go after him. The jester's second reign of chaos was swift and sudden. He ricocheted through the castle, his manical laughter echoing through every hallway, his bursts of magic visible like fireworks in the distance, his devilsknife and his magic attacks shapeshifting into other "weapons" like giant featherdusters, scrubbing brushes and makeshift hands. At first the guards were horrified that the infamous prisoner had escaped. But once they were reduced to shrieks of laughter and pleading and apologies, and Jevil declared victory before bee-lining to his next target and eventually leaving the castle, the denizens of the Darkner world were left flabbergasted, nervous, and perhaps even amused and curious to see if this "dangerous criminal" would return for more...

        Ragaeli watched the commotion smugly as he started to fade back to his realm. "Oh dear, it appears I've created a monster~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        You make your way back down the elevator and stairs. You double-check your items, use the save point, and....         What the hell? The dungeon door is gone! Is this an easter egg of some kind? Did the game glitch out? You check your items again... The key is gone too.         Okay, something must be wrong. Before you make the decision to replay the whole game just for the hidden boss, you head back to Seam. Maybe talking to him again will re-trigger the events needed for fixing the key?

        But when you go inside the "Seap", it isn't just Seam anymore. The secret boss, Jevil, now has a full sprite, grinning gleefully at the player.

        [ * UEE HEE HEE, WELCOME, WELCOME LIGHTNERS! SO SORRY WE DIDN'T GET TO PLAY, PLAY. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY! ]

        You talk to Seam first, triggering his usual dialogue about how Jevil ended up in the dungeon, and how the heroes would eventually have to face the Knight. And, interestingly, an additional bit of dialogue explaining how the heroes just missed Jevil's "escape", and how his reunion with his old friend was filled with a great deal of laughs...         Talking to Jevil afterwards brings up more dialogue. You ask him how he got out of the dungeon.

[ *YES, YES, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT KEY. I HAD ANOTHER STRANGER COME TO ME! ]

[ *BUT THIS ONE DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL SO AIMLESS. IN FACT, HE SHOWED ME THAT I WOULD HAVE MADE QUITE A MESS! ]

[ * THIS MAY ALL JUST BE A GAME, AND YOU... YES, YOU OUT THERE...]

        His sprite momentarily came closer, his yellow irises seeming to bore right into you through your screen...

[ * -MAY HAVE MORE SAY IN WHAT RIGHTS WE CAN OR CANNOT FLAUNT. BUT I THINK, EVEN IN THIS PRISON, WE CAN STILL BE HAPPY, HAPPY, AND PLAY AS MUCH AS WE WANT! ]

[ * WHO IS REAL, AND WHO IS NOT? I DON'T THINK THAT MATTERS ANYMORE, ANYMORE. ]

[ * THAT SILLY RED MONSTER, WHO LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND REMINDED ME THAT THIS WORLD DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A BORE...]

[ * THE STRANGE WORDS HE SAID HAVE STUCK INSIDE MY SPRINGS. NOW MY VIEW ON THIS WORLD HAS BECOME JUST A LITTLE LIGHTER... ]

[ * AND I'M CURIOUSER, AND CURIOUSER, TO SEE WHAT THE FUTURE BRINGS~! ]

[persephinae]

ok so here's the post about the books i just finished:

ok so there's 3 books of the "Dark World's Mates" by Olivia Riley, it's sci-fi romance with sex scenes, but the world building is really good.

the first one "Heart's Prisoner" sets up the world building

humans have just started exploring space and settling on new worlds. they've only JUST recently met 1 sentient alien species, who were pretty peaceful and wished to learn about humans and trade, really just super chill. they're like scaly fish people.

however now that humans KNOW there are aliens out there they begin to actively look.

however the military has a secret planet where it's like basically Area 51, top secret hush hush, where the military brings all alien fauna to test and run experiments on, and plan war if they need to go to war against an aggressive species

and one day, they run across another sentient alien vastly different than the chill blue goldfish people. This one's humongous and looks like a demon - horns, slightly reptilian features, claws, and tail, he towers above humans.

the book goes into the world building of the story and presents him as truly alien and uncooperative to his captors. like there's a lot of suspense built up around this and all the other alien creatures being held there.

the military brings in the trained specialist that helped the fish people learn about humans and learn each others cultures, because she's super empathetic.

She's really smart but also kind of dumb, i was sometimes sitting here in 2nd hand embarrassment and muttering over some of the dumb things she does.

the book then goes into the aspect of both her and the alien learning to see each other as people and becoming friends, but it turns out that the alien let himself be captured because he had his own mission

This book got really good and had me invested to the end, however it kinda didn't stick the landing with the ending. It was a happy ending but I was sitting there like "really....? ok"

the second book "Dark's Savior" expands on the world building and the galaxy the humans find themselves in

This has a different set of characters and settings. A team of humans had been captured by space pirates only to be "rescued" by an alien empire.

Not knowing what to do, the aliens sentenced them to work the mines until they figure out what to do with them

I liked the MC in this one, she didn't let her circumstances get her down too much and she liked to draw whenever she could steal some time for herself

The LI accidentally stumbles upon her one night when she had sneaked out to go to the top of the mesa to look at the moon and try to draw it. The humans are usually in the mines all day so don't see direct sunlight, but sometimes she can sneak up and at least see the moon at night.

The LI is a cat alien variant and he feels his beast stir when he sees her. He freaks out because this is usually bad thing, so he avoids her like the plague while hiding out in the depths of the mine.

Circumstances and dumb luck forces the MC to his part of the mine, where she tries to help him in exchange for helping her and the other few humans escaping the planet.

The mines and the enemies in this book were really cool and kept me reading. The ending was again : / but they had a happy ending.

the last book, "Shadow's Chosen" was really really good.

It's enemies to lovers and I usually don't go for that trope a lot, but this was written really well.

a human team of scientists/ambassadors to a dog alien planet has disappeared and a band of human mercs/security force were paid to go rescue them

however an alien Hunter/Assassin for a powerful alien crime lord was tasked with also finding the humans on that planet so they could be sold on auction

the Hunter and his team pose as bounty hunters to take down the local dog gangs that kidnapped the humans, however the Hunter was surprised to see more humans at the dog alien embassy

both groups were betrayed on their descent to the lower cities, and the MC and the Hunter had to team up to survive.

She was initially very distrustful of him because he's an asshole, but over the course of the few weeks down there she comes to trust him, not know that he would eventually betray her as well if he follows his orders.

really really good! less world building and more just action as they try to rescue their respective teams and survive.

so if these sound interesting to you they're like $3.99 ea on Kindle

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold IV

Percy is a God: Part IV

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

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

we are products of war

and enemies of peace

we are universes finally standing still

ready, ready, ready

to destroy us all

this time

there is only power baby boy

and i will be brutal.

“Hey,” Jason said faintly, tapping the bubble.

Percy stood from his perch on the rock and waved goodbye to the school of fish he had been talking to. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t slept that well in months.”

Percy produced an immortal grin at that, “You hungry?”

“Starved, you got any of those cookies?”

“You sure you don’t want a proper meal first?”

“Where are we gonna get a proper meal from? My backpack has some lonely granola bars and possibly a fast over-ripening banana.” His eyes furrowed in confusion.

The God simply smiled, “What do you feel like?”

Jason gave him a look but said, “Breakfast burrito?”

He laughed, flicking his wrist and before the demigod could blink a foil-wrapped cylinder appeared in the bubble.

Mouth hanging open, Jason grabbed the burrito and unwrapped it before staring between the God and his breakfast like his head might explode.

“I promise it’s safe to eat.”

“You can just- you just?” The blonde was at a loss for words.

“Believe it or not, it isn’t really handy now. When I was a demigod, I would have loved to have that neat little trick but these days I don’t need to eat much.”

“Well if nothing else I’m keeping you around for that alone.” Jason mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“So you’re just gonna use me for your own selfish needs?”

“Mhmm it may be nice to use the gods for once, instead of the other way around.”

“Fair enough,” He shrugged, and wondered when he’d stop feeling the blow of that statement, uttered so many times by his friends and former camp-buddies alike.

He knew how they felt, hell he had felt like that once; but since becoming one of those gods it was hard not to feel hollowed out. He knew the half-bloods wouldn’t outright curse them, but Percy still heard all their bitter thoughts, He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the god for demigods that the whispers followed him around like a ringing in his head.

Jason’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Anyway, thank you for the breakfast,”

“Uh yea no problem. So, I was thinking about the prophecy and the direction of the north star,”

“Yea what about it?”

“We’ve been heading south and if my coordinates are correct, we should reach the equator in a day or two”

“Are you saying we’re headed in the wrong direction?” Blue eyes widened.

“No, I think your direction is good, I do think, however, that the arrow isn’t on land. I think it’s in the ocean just before the equator.”

“Why there?”

“You can only see the north star in the northern hemisphere, after the equator it disappears. The further south you go the lower on the horizon it is, which means at some point it looks like it’s on the horizon or close enough.”

“So, you’re saying the arrow sits underneath the star at its lowest point?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Okay that’s good news.” Jason took a deep breath, raking a hand over his face. “I guess we just wait for night and keep following the star.”

‘Actually…” Percy grinned,

“You have a plan?”

“If we just have to get to the equator, I can take us there now.”

“How would you know when we’re there?”

“I know the coordinates at any time when I’m at sea. Son of Poseidon and all that.”

“Well I’m convinced.” Jason nodded, thoughts fluttering behind his eyes. “How are we doing this?”

“I think it’s time to call in a friend.”

With a low whistle, that defied the laws of nature, because how on earth do you whistle underwater, the God whipped a dazzling smile over his shoulder.

“Do I want to know what you’ve invited to the party?”

“You’ll see.”

Just then the water rushed around them. When the clouds of sand and swirling water disappeared a beautiful, iris-coloured beast revealed itself, along with a cyclops already barreling towards them.

“Brother!”

They slammed into each other and Percy was grateful for his godly bones, because he’s sure his mortal ones wouldn’t have survived that collision.

“Hello Tyson, how are you?” He laughed in relief, in comfort.

“I knew I’d see you. A school of firemouth-killfish passed by and said you were around.”

“Thank you for coming. I’m helping Jason and I need Rainbow’s speed.”

“Of course, brother. What are you doing?”

“Jason has a quest to find Eros’ arrows.”

Finally Tyson looked over Percy’s shoulder to see the demigod still wrapped in a bubble, bobbing behind them.

“Jason. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Hello Tyson, how are you?”

“I am good. And you are good?”

“Yes thank you. How’s Ella?”

His brother flushed a red as bright as Corallium.

“She is nice, fine.”

Percy decided to put the poor cyclops out of his misery and focus their attention on the mission at hand.

“Rainbow, can you take us where we need to go?”

The hippocampus gave a noise of agreement and brushed its head along Percy’s arm.

“We must be off,” He said, turning to Tyson.

“When will you be back?” A brown eye blinked in question.

“As soon as Love finds us, I guess,” Percy winked.

It was Jason’s turn to blush the colour of coral, but the god was already looking away, turning to hug his brother.

“I will see you soon Tyson.”

“Goodbye Percy,” and with a wave to Jason the cyclops was gone.

“Alright Jas–“

Percy had felt the deepest senses of fear and love and sadness many times, but never in his twenty years of life had he felt such raging, storm-filled anger. For standing behind an oblivious Son of Jupiter, ready to pounce was a sea creature that probably spawned from the depths of Tartarus itself.

It hadn’t noticed the God, or it wouldn’t even have dared come close to this space.

With a light brush against Rainbow’s side, the hippocampus disappeared. He turned fully, focusing on the beast, hiding himself within the folds of the current. He watched as it slithered out it’s tongue in sickening excitement.

“Jackson you were in the middle of saying something?”

He didn’t bother replying as the creature looked up, finally taking notice of everything other than his prey.

“Hello, found something to enjoy?”

“What?” Jason said

“This fight it not with you Percy Jackson,” It gurgled

Before they could take their next breath, the monster swiped its tail through the bubble and slammed Jason to the ocean floor. Something cracked, the demigod did not rise again.

Percy’s smile was sharp and terrifying.

“That,” He laughed, “Was not very smart.”

With a single movement of his fingers he wrenched the water from the monster’s body.

It seized and gasped, flopping about in the air pocket it found itself in.

“The fight is always with me if it involves my friends,” Malice dripped from the God’s lips.

The monster tried to respond, try to splutter and roar but there was no water in its gills. It gasped and writhed, attempting to escape the air.

Percy simply smiled, darkness gleaming in his green eyes, and watched as the Ketos Troias suffocated.

“Jason slayed you when he was fourteen, just a young demigod, but you decided to come back and oh what a horrible mistake that was,” He wondered briefly if he sounded as manic as he felt, and then decided he didn’t care. “Because now, now you have to deal with me, and I will not make it pretty.”

“I will kill you Percy Jackson,” It rasped.

“You can try.” He laughed, and then spat, “And it’s Lord to you.”

Its eyes widened as Percy revealed his godly form, golden light basking him. With a final roar, the monster turned to dust.

He heard a gasp from below and saw Jason finally coming to it, pushing on the walls of the new bubble Percy had formed around him.

“Are you okay?”

“Feel like I’ve been smacked with a ten-ton sledgehammer and I may have a broken rib but otherwise dandy.”

“Oh good, here’s some ambrosia.” He handed a small square to the demigod who nodded in thanks and gobbled it down.

“Was that the Trojan Sea Monster?”

“Yes, seems it was feeling revengeful.”

“Did you send it back to whatever hole it came from?”

The grin that graced his face could kill mortals, “It’s scattered in the deepest depths of Tartarus. It shouldn’t bother you in this lifetime again.”

“Shall we go then?”

Jason stared at him, and grinned back.

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

One of the strangest things I’ve ever googled was “type of fish off the Liberian coast” because i needed Tyson to be accurate when he told Percy fish had been talking to him. So yes firemouth-killfish do in fact exist and they do reside in the North Atlantic Ocean. Liberia is around where i pictured the two would be at this point. Anyway just some fun fic A/N’s for ya.

How are you guys finding it? Tell me your thoughts because i am inexplicably in love with Dark!Percy and i need to know if others are too????

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere @lesbian-peanuts @thegirlwiththegoldenarm @thatis-americas-ass @whatevertakesmyfancy @lucyisblue @lrelikohll @tmifangirl24 @queenkivi @nishlicious-01 @whitelacepants @leydiangelo @urbanpineapplefarmer @queen-of-demons-and-hell

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island, Chapter 6

Okay, one last chapter before I start working on cross-posting!

...

She left.

Nuriel didn’t bother waiting for daybreak. She didn’t even prepare herself for the journey. She just climbed down from the ship and started walking, following the twisting paths of sand as they wound around stone hills and cut across canals of water. It didn’t matter what direction she was going, just so long as she was heading away!

She couldn’t stay. No, no sir, not a bit. The Carmilla’s Fancy was now officially demon territory. As far as she was concerned the birds could have it back!

And wasn’t it just her luck?! Wasn’t it bad enough that she be thrown to her death during a monstrous thunderstorm? Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to wash up on a bizarre island inhabited by…by monsters of both feather and scale, enormous spiders, crawling slugs, and most likely ghosts as well? But no, now she had to be stalked by a demon, a being powered by Hell itself! If she stayed too long under its watch it would no doubt drag her off into the Pit!

She kept walking, sometimes stomping through the sand, sometimes sloshing through the shallow canals.

Hell, she might’ve been better off just drowning after being thrown overboard! At least then she might have had a chance of escaping eternal damnation! Who knew, maybe the Saints and Angels would have taken pity on a poor, young sinner. But if she consorted with the spawn of Hell itself? Oh no, no salvation for her!

It was then that Nuriel noticed that she had left the labyrinth of sandbars, canals, and smaller islands, and was now walking along the island’s coast, with the open sea now to her right.

Nuriel stopped and stood in the sand, staring out at the surf. It had not been too long ago that she had been thrown into those very waves, abandoned to drown as punishment for her perceived crimes. The memory of her struggles to escape her watery grave were still very fresh in her mind.

But more pressing was the memory of golden light and green eyes, of a black smile grinning up at her from the water.

Nuriel shivered. It would not do to forget that there was another monster out there, one that prowled the depths. She couldn’t stick to the coast lest it reach out and drag her under. She couldn’t move further inland lest something find and eat her. And no matter where she went, there was no place that the red-eyed monster couldn’t find her. Hell, it probably was following her right that second, watching with amusement as she tried to get away from it!

Was it even possible to be even more fucked than she already was?

Shaking her head, Nuriel moved forward. She had to keep moving. To stop was to die. She had to find…someplace, someplace where she wouldn’t be followed. But what were the chances of that happening?

Nuriel had no idea how long she walked. She passed by the grove of red fruit that the chirpers had shown her, around towering cliffs, through a lagoon around which slept a family of weird, shaggy things that looked like horse-sized turkeys, complete with blunt beaks and crested heads. She walked under towering bridges of stone and past lush jungles. She waded through canals that drained out into the ocean.

Then, as she passed by another hill that rose up from the beach, she caught sight of an odd tree.

It sat on the top of the hill and was strangely shaped. Nuriel paused and looked up at it. There was something very strange about its leaves. They were certainly thick, but were unlike she had ever seen, too large to be like the trees back in England, too sharp-edged to be palm fronds, and they most certainly weren’t needles. Plus, they were moving in an odd way, one that couldn’t be explained by the wind.

And then she heard a familiar sounding cackle, and she froze.

And then the tree suddenly lit up with dozens of golden eyes, and she understood.

No.

With a shrill cry to action, the first of the birds leapt from the tree, spreading its wings wide. Nuriel didn’t stick around to see the rest take off. She ran.

As her feet pounded the sand, she cast a fearful behind her. The tree was now abandoned, revealed for the naked dead thing it was, and the birds were giving chase, darkening the sky behind her, their bloodthirsty screams filling the night.

No.

This couldn’t be happening! Out of all the things she had to run into, it had to be them?

Then she felt something hit her shoulder. The lead bird rose up, cackling as it went, leaving a gash in her shirt. The skin beneath was barely scraped.

This was of no relief. Another bird reached her, and she was cut again, this time along her back. They were going to cut her down little by little until she slowed, and then they would descend upon her en masse.

She was going to die.

No.

She was going to be brought down.

No.

She could feel them now, feel the hot lances of pain as their talons slashed through her clothes.

No.

She was going to be eaten alive.

No.

She was going to die here, now, tonight, and there was nothing she could do about it.

No!

Then, as she rounded another cliff, hands flailing as they futilely tried to protect her head, she saw a chance.

She had come to a bay, in which a river emptied into the sea. And it was surrounded by a thick grove of bamboo.

Desperate for any kind of shelter, Nuriel found a final burst of energy and took off, pursued by vengeful screeching and the flapping of dark wings.

The birds struck again and again, slicing away at her clothes, cutting into her flesh. But she didn’t stop. The pain galvanized her on, the terror giving her legs strength and speed.

Somehow she made it. Nuriel burst into the bamboo thicket, throwing herself between the shoots and forced herself further and deeper in. Behind her, the birds screeched with rage as they tried to follow, but while they were small enough to fit, their bodies weren’t properly shaped to navigate the tight spaces.

Once she had gone as far as she could, Nuriel collapsed. Her back, shoulders, and the back of her neck felt like they were on fire, crisscrossed with hot agony. Furthermore, she was covered with something wet and sticky.

Hands shaking, Nuriel touched a finger to her shoulder and brought it to her eyes. Even in the dark she could tell that her fingers were now slick with blood.

Something inside her broke, something she had been struggling to hold together for a very, very long time, long before she had even washed up on the island. Nuriel slumped down and started crying, great, shaking sobs wracking her body.

This is the end, she thought with great bitterness as she sobbed and wept like a little child. I’m done. I’m beaten. If I don’t bleed out here, something else will find me. I’m dead, I’m fucking dead, I’m-

It was then that she surfaced enough to notice that the birds were no longer screaming. And in that absence, she heard something through the nearby river, something…large.

Now too scared to cry, Nuriel tried to get up, but the burning fire that was her back flared up so much that it brought fresh tears to her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she moved herself around as much as she could to try to get a look through the bamboo shoots.

What she saw told her that her night had somehow gotten worse.

A long, dark shape was moving through the river, heading toward the sea. It was huge, easily over twice her height, and had a vaguely crocodilian shape, if a crocodile walked along on two massive legs; with a bullet-shaped head suspended on a long, thick neck; and an equally thick tail that stuck out far behind it. Instead of a front pair of legs, it had a two clawed hands.

Though it was only in silhouette, Nuriel had no trouble seeing the rows upon rows of sharp teeth whenever it opened its mouth, or the two huge sickle-shaped claws, much like those on the feet of the feathered butchers, only this one had one on each hand.

Nuriel clamped a hand over her mouth to keep any sound from coming out. Her pain momentarily forgotten, she ducked down as far as she could, listening to the deep growls of its breathing and the water sloshing around its legs.

She closed her eyes and mentally willed the crocomonster to just keep walking, keep on its moonlight stroll, and to pay no attention to the tiny, insignificant, quivering creature that was hiding nearby.

The sloshing stopped.

Oh no.

Nuriel opened her eyes again. The crocomonster had stopped and was now standing still in the river. It lifted its head and sniffed the night air.

The blood. It smelled her blood.

Then it turned its head toward her.  

The next thing Nuriel knew, the crocomonster had forced its massive head into the bamboo thicket, bending back the stalks with its two clawed hands, revealing where she was cowering.

It looked down at her, a monstrous black shape blotting out the stars, and she looked back up at it.

Then with a guttural growl it stepped forward and bent its head toward her. Nuriel tried to run, but she had neither the space nor the strength, and its jaws closed in around her.

It lifted her up, the dagger-points of its teeth pressing into her. Nuriel thrashed and kicked, but it did no good.

But it didn’t bite down. It just held her there, carrying her as it returned to the river, wading back the way it came.

Nuriel gawked as she was carried through the air. It’s taking me home, she realized. It’s taking me home to its nest. But to what? Save her for later? Feed her to its young? Regardless, whatever it intended for her, she would not survive.

Suddenly the crocomonster stumbled. Nuriel’s body jerked terribly, and some of the teeth punctured her.

The crocomonster stumbled again, and she tumbled out of its mouth.

Nuriel hit the river. The shock and the cool water momentarily numbed her pain but not her fear. She knew she ought to start swimming, but her limbs wouldn’t respond.

There was very little current, so she was surrounded by nothing but darkness and cold and the sound of the crocomonster’s legs as they thrashed through the water. She heard its hoarse and distorted roars. It sounded like it was in pain.

Maybe it’ll step on me, she found herself thinking. The possibility didn’t seem so bad. At least it would be quick. Probably.

And then, as she drifted off, waiting for it to finally end, a most curious thing happened. Out of the dark a golden light appeared, one that was moving toward her.

Was that an angel, come to take her away? If so, then God was even more merciful than reported, if He was to overlook her life of thieving and deceit.

There was something in the light, something that was…vaguely human in shape, but far too long and sinuous. It was swimming toward her like a dolphin, its body rising up and down. That didn’t look like an angel.

And then it got close enough that Nuriel could see its face. It was the face of a girl, framed by long, flowing hair. There were stripes across the face, and its eyes…

Its eyes glowed bright green.

…

Nuriel Cunningham woke to the sound of falling rain.

This time, there was no gradual drift back to consciousness, no slow rise from the depths of oblivion. It wasn’t a fight, it wasn’t a fade; one moment she was dead to the world, and the next her eyes had snapped wide open, and she was lying on her back, staring up into darkness as the rain’s clamor filled her ears and her heart pounded away in her chest.

She was…where was she? Was she alive? Had she survived? Had the crocomonster actually brought her back to its lair? Was she moments away from being feasted on by its young?

Or maybe she had washed up on the beach, and the birds were watching her from above, waiting for her to show some signs of life so that they could snuff it out!

Or maybe the sea monster had hauled her through dark waters and had brought her to its underwater lair, and she was to be made its bride!

(of the available choices, she found herself hoping it was the latter)

Surprise was still coursing through her, so Nuriel made a concerted effort to slow her breathing and take in what information she could gather.

Fact 1: She was not dead. This was encouraging.

Fact 2: She was somewhere dark, lying on a flat, hard surface. This was discouraging.

Fact 3: It was cool, but not outright cold. This was neutral information.

Fact 4: It was apparently raining, but not on her. So she was probably inside…something. This honestly could go either way.

Fact 5: She did not…

Nuriel frowned.

Though she had yet to build up the willingness to move, now that she was taking stock of herself, she didn’t seem to be in any pain. Now, that was just odd. Encouraging, but also very odd, because by all rights she ought to be in agony. The birds had ripped her back and shoulders apart, and she had been stabbed in the belly by the crocomonster’s teeth. And yet she could not detect any hurts.

This might be a problem. Maybe she was dead.

Nuriel concentrated on her right arm. It lifted. The fingers tingled, and it felt a little sluggish, but it lifted.

She laid it on her stomach. She was still wearing her shirt. She ran it over the fabric until she found the holes where the crocomonster’s teeth had gone through. But the flesh beneath was whole.

Nuriel breathed in and out. Her chest lifted and sank. Well, she felt alive.

Letting her hand lay across her stomach, Nuriel then shifted her focus to her left arm. She curled the fingers and ran them across the surface she was lying on.

Wood. Old wood.

Uh-oh.

Nuriel slowly sat up. Every bit of the way she expecting her back and shoulders to flare up in hot agony, but it didn’t happen. She felt woozy, yes, and strangely tingly, but she didn’t hurt.

Nuriel looked around. It was as she had feared: she was back in the Carmilla’s Fancy. It was dark, but meager light shown through the chips, holes, and cracks in the hull, though oddly enough no rain was coming down through the holes in the deck. She tilted her head and listened. From the sound of it, something had been laid over the deck, some kind of covering.

Her bad feeling growing, Nuriel reached behind herself with one hand and up to her shoulders with the other.

The back of her shirt was a shredded mess, but there were no bloody gashes beneath. She was fine.

Then, just to make sure, she lifted a trembling hand to her ear, the one that the bird had torn. The flesh was still ragged, but it no longer hurt. The infection was gone, and the skin healed.

Nuriel slowly laid back and stared up into the shadowed ceiling as she tried to make sense of this.

By all rights, she ought to be dead. Even if the crocomonster had failed to end her, something else would have. She had been torn and bleeding, a sure signal to any predator that an easy meal was nearby.

But she wasn’t dead. She had been returned to the ship. She had been made well again. Her wounds were all closed, both the ones she had gotten fresh and the ones that her first encounter with that evil bird had given her.

Green eyes swathed by golden light, swimming toward her out of the murk.

Nuriel shivered. The sea monster had brought her back; there was no other explanation. Perhaps even with the red-eyed monster’s help. It would not surprise her if they were in league.

As for how she had been healed, it was magic. It had to be magic. The whole island was probably full of it.

But what kind? Was she now touched by demons? Was her soul now irreversibly stained? Was Heaven’s Gate now forever closed to her?

Oh, come off it. Like you had half a prayer of getting in anyway.

Well, she was alive. That was the important part. In the end, survival was all that mattered-

Wait!

Nuriel’s upper body bolted straight up. She hastily swung her leg around and seized the boot, hands thrusting themselves inside, fearful that she would find-

St. George was still there, resting snugly in his hidden sheathe.

Sighing with relief, Nuriel drew him out and lay back again, hands clasping him to her chest. It was all right. She still had him.

Nuriel’s head slumped to the side.

Then she frowned. Wait, there was something there.

The pale light was shining in through one particularly large crack, and it was illuminating something…new. Nuriel sat up and crawled over to investigate.

It was the basket of fruit, still full. Sitting next to it was a corked glass bottle. And on it was a piece of paper.

Nuriel picked it up. As she did, it unfolded in her hand, revealing itself to be a very, very long piece of paper, one that spilled all the way to the floor.

It was another note, no doubt courtesy of the red-eyed monster. Only this one wasn’t a few short messages and amusing illustrations. This one was…long.

Sighing, Nuriel set it aside. There wasn’t enough light to read it by, and right now she was too tired to give it the effort.

She then looked to the fruit. Twice she had rejected the gift, but now she no long really had the luxury. Healed she might be, but she was still very hungry, and her throat was parched with thirst, something that the sound of rain was doing nothing to help.

Nuriel picked up the bottle and yanked out the cork. She gave it a sniff.

Wine.

Wine that could have any number of things added to it, her father’s voice cautioned. Are you willing to take the risk?

Do I have a choice? Nuriel thought bitterly. Besides, in moments like this, a bottle of wine was exactly what she needed.

Holding onto the bottle with one hand, she grabbed the basket of fruit with the other and dragged it back into her dark corner.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal 

Series Summary -  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 1 - A Distant Roar

"Long ago, humans existed as a thriving race, full of hope and promise. Their faith was strong, the resulting bond stronger and technology was accelerating towards a prosperous future.

It was a time when the tales of fae were still passed down as children's stories, and warnings were scoffed off as superstitions. Humans as a race believed the shadows of the night hid nothing and when dawn painted the sky whatever evil that may have lurked in the darkness was wiped away as cleanly as the shores by the waves of the ocean.

With that mindset adopted, when the calamity fell we thought only that the autonomous monstrosities were an advanced technology from an enemy country, meant to start another world war to wipe out whatever they could. When reports poured in from around the world, tin hats began screaming of aliens, and the churches filled with the cries of righteous damnation. No matter which reason you picked, it was almost a guarantee you would be wiped off the map given enough time. The creatures were gleaming gold and silver, blinding those who dared look too closely, deafening those who listened too carefully. Heavy as they seemed in their armor of metal they stayed light on their feet, crawling their way up from the earth, bounding through cities from the deep forest growth and swooping down from the unassuming sky.

It was over in mere days, cities laid to waste by the metallic creatures of an unknown origin, plains made unsafe from their territorial prowl; even the sky offered no escape as planes were clawed from the sky and set reeling into the maws of the swiftly growing forests. Trees unnaturally twisted to form barriers of wooden steel, the ruined cities overtaken by growth that should have grown in centuries rather than weeks, wide expanses of fields left unwalkable by twisting vines meant to trap and muffle. And over all of that the protective beasts walked their territories urged on my a master unnamed; following the bidding of a race none knew existed until the foolish humans decided it was safe to venture out again.

The fae, fairies, demons, creatures of another realm; this race went by many names bug the fact remained they were here to take back what was theirs. Too long, their leader said, have we cowered in the cover of your industrial hell. No more shall we hide in fear of your smoke smeared air that kills the very people who make it. We have been here long before your kind, and so shall we remain long after. Group your people however you like. Send any weapon of your choice to try and turn the tides to your favor. We will reign over the ashes you crumble to.

What this race of unnatural being didn't count on was a Hero of Ages to rise in a cliche of a fairytale epic. He stood tall over the bones they crushed his brethren too, sword dripping with vengeance and arms splattered with the fruits of his bloodlust. The day had come, for he, Remus, Harkened Duke of the Unseelie War, had clawed his ways from the depths of hell to face-"

"Babes. I love you...so very much. But you've been monologuing for twenty minutes now and I'd hate to waste my coffee by dumping it on your head."

Shoulders dropping in a pout, Remus turned towards his husband, leaning against the counter as he watched Remy reach for his still-hot-somehow coffee while nudging a can over into a growing pile, the plastic recyclables already having been sorted and bagged some time ago. His dark hair hung low over his tired eyes but Remus could still see the spark of amusement in them even as an annoyed huff left his lips. Smiling, he walked over to sit beside Remy, stretching out his legs and sweeping an entire pile of cans to the bigger pile scattering the displaced aluminum across the floor in the process. Ignoring another annoyed sigh he simply leaned his head on the others shoulder and smiled sadly.

"You never wish for something more than this?" He gestured vaguely around their small apartment they were quite lucky to have as Remy say back on his heels carefully so as not to knock his head of his shoulder.

"We're safe here." Punctuating safe with a flick to the back of the other mans head he continued. "Something more...that would mean going outside. And theres no Original Remus' Specialty coffee brew outside now is there?"

"It wouldn't take much to take the French press with us."

"It's starting to worry me how much you're bringing this up lately. I'm pretty useless," he waved his left hand around as emphasis, metal plating refracting the rooms dip lighting. "And you...are very loud. So very loud babes. We'd last a day, maybe two."

"If we had more people-"

"Which we don't. Unless we get a hunter or two stumbling in here wanting to drag a couple of inexperienced fighters along with them I don't see it happening." Putting the empty coffee mug in the sink, he turned back around to find Remus standing just behind him.

"I could fight for us."

"Very brave, but imaginary blades does not a dead beast make."

Remus swiped at the finger attempting to boop his nose, smirking lightly. "I have real blades!"

"Surgical scalpels don't count hun." Remy ducked under the strong arms attempting to pull him closer and bounded back over to his carefully sorted piles. "Now, either help me these or-"

A faint roar cut his words off suddenly, leaving him trembling from more than just the vibrations running through the floor. Remus was quick to be by his side, pulling him down and looping a protective arm around his shoulders. Squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark shades he wore even though he hadn't seen unfiltered sunlight in months he ducked his head down and moved closer into the protective embrace, tensing as another tremor reverberated through his bones. Minutes passed like hours as the couple stayed tense and alert on the floor, the beast eventually quieting, seeming to move off much to their intense relief. Dragging in a deep breath, Remy sagged against Remus, subconsciously rubbing at his left wrist and sinking further into the comfortable lap.

Gasping as he was lifted quickly, a deep blush colored his cheeks as he found himself being scooped up bridal style and twirled around before being carried through the short hall to the bedroom.

"My responsibility!" He cried out in mock desperation as he reached towards his sorted plastics and aluminum, ready to be traded later that week.

"Your plastic castles can wait until morning. It's late and we need sleep." So saying, Remus dumped his load unceremoniously onto the creaky bed and swiftly hopped in after, rolling to trap the barely struggling man under his body with a laugh.

Remy pushed at his shoulder playfully. "Who died and made you the responsible one?"

The mood sobered slightly, a look of pain flashing in the others eyes before quickly being replaced by mirth once more. Before he could offer an apology it was being swallowed effortlessly with a kiss that left him without a breath to spare one.

"Either sleep or I'm experimenting with bean strength again and make you taste test espressos until you faze into next week."

Laughing lightly, he bucked his hips just hard enough to push the other to the side so he could curl into Remus' arms for the night. "I'd rather not repeat that experiment again. I stay for your coffee, not for my stomach issues."

The mechanical beast roared in anger as its tail lashed out to the side, hoping to catch the annoying pest that had lured it out into the field. As beats went it was fairly small, resembling a feline with its lithe frame and small sharp teeth, only coming up to about 10 feet at its shoulder. Crouching down and twisting its head around it caught fleeting movement from the corner of its eye and whipped around to face it, only for the past to dart out of its sight again somewhere below it field of vision. Roaring in frustration it leaped straight into the air, turning and flexing its impressive claws hoping to smash down on whatever it was that eluded its attacks. Landing heavily, the beast took a second to recover from the rocky landing, flexing its spring loaded joints as it started to straighten.

Remus smiled and threw his leg over his husband's hip to pull him even closer, pulling off his shades before resting his chin on the soft brown locks in contentment, swirling thoughts winding down to a rare dull roar as their breaths matched and evened out for the night.

-----

A second was all the past needed to run up the length of its tail, impressive gait taking them to the beasts neck in no time at all to bring their weapon down and through the mechanical monstrosities neck, severing vital components and falling it before it got half of it last roar to rise from its throat.

The pest leaped from the beast as it fell to the side, stilling in the grassy plain with nary a twitch to make a passerby believe it was ever alive in the first place. Straightening from where they had landed, the pest sheathed the spear properly on their back and walked calmly over to the enemy, taking out a faded gray notebook as they did so.

Pushing a thick pair of glasses back up his nose, Logan looked over the creature with a passive interest before sighing and putting the notebook back in his pack. There was no use taking down data of a creature identical to one he had already slain a month prior. He knew he needed to start traveling more if he wanted more diverse data but he was loathe to leave his impromptu lab that lay hidden within woods no one dared enter. Looking around and seeing nothing more in the immediate vicinity he sighed again before adjusting the pack on his back and turning to walk back home.

There was always tomorrow.

This work is also available on AO3!

Next

Official Playlist

[seokiloquy]

Sink - Hinata Shoyo

AU: Fantasy / Merman

Revamp

GN! Reader, hardly any plot (it’s like nothing i’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.2K+ 

Pirates can be helpful sometimes. If you do anything to tick them off though, you're thrown overboard. They were self-serving, violent to a fault, and would only help outsiders if they got something of greater value in return. Profit, they said. Most pirate ships were run by humans, taking to the sea after being forced off of land by other groups. For this reason, the whole time on that ship was spent with their scorching gazes burning into the back of your skull. Being an elf, one doing work for the queen no less didn't help your cause. If you hadn’t been seasick you would’ve seen it coming. 

Now here you were, sinking down into the depths of the ocean hardy able to see the light through the crashing waves above you. Your wool cape weighed you down, getting heavier as it soaked in the salty water. It wrapped around your body, restricting your movements and thwarting any hope of being able to swim upwards.

Your chest hurt once your knees hit the sand at the bottom. The throbbing of your heartbeat in your ears was loud but didn't stop you from hearing the swishing of movement around you. Somehow, life underwater was the loudest and most silent experience. It was deafening.

"Hey there, person!"

You squinted your eyes as you tried to see despite the stinging from all the salt. About five, maybe less, metres ahead from where you pitifully kneeled, a merman swam over to lean against an algae-covered rock as if it was a bed. You bent backwards to get away from him, but it became useless since your torso just floated back up.

"Are you stuck? Odd. What is that? A tarp?"

The merman’s orange tail flicked, propelling him forward toward you with incredible speed. His webbed hands pulled at your cape and his long pointed ear twitched through the water, listening for something. You felt as though you were being sat on by a giant, the pressure on your chest grew stronger as you struggled to help the sea creature free you.

Once untied from your dark cape you were able to swim upwards toward the surface. You felt your chest expand as you swam higher making it easier to hold your breath.

Just as you broke through the surface of the water you gasped, grateful that you could finally breathe. You heaved in as much air as possible, trying to not let the splashing water get in your mouth. As you kicked and waved your arms through the water the aquatic man floated up next to you. He poked his head out of the water before ducking back down.

"Woah! You don't have a tail! Or fins, or anything! What are you?"

Treading the water with both arms and legs you kept yourself floating high enough to speak.

"Take me to shore and I'll speak to you then. This cape is weighing me down."

Nodding his head, the merman’s orange hair shook off some of the water in it. The movement made some water fly into your mouth, which you quickly spat out, not enjoying the taste. His hands hooked under your shoulders, hoisting you up to his chest.

"Hold your breath."

"I am (Y/N) (L/N) of the Elven Domain. I am an explorer and have direct orders from the queen to track down an artifact to keep it safe. And you are?"

"You're an elf?"

You sighed, staring the merman directly in his eyes. The two of you currently sat/stood on the sand, drying off. In front of both of you was the ocean that you had just crawled out of minutes before.  The merman flicked his tail happily and looked at you with a curious smile that seemed to eat away at his cheeks.

"You don't socialize, do you?"

He shook his head as he picked at the fins on his arms. “No, not really. I’ve been the personal worker for the princess since I could remember. Only the royal family makes connections with those on land. The rest of us barely remember the word for your people. Let alone seen one. And because I’m working for the princess all the time I don’t really have any friends or explore."

As he spoke, his tail had fully dried and began to morph into a set of thin legs. The colour from his tail seemed to take shape and become a pair of trousers that ended directly below the knee with a small frill. He slowly bent them with a large smile, wiggling his toes into the sand.

"We know of our abilities, but only those who attend world meetings use them. I've never had the chance."

Grabbing your hand suddenly, he pulled himself up and onto his feet.

"Now come on! You have an adventure to be on don't you?"

Marching forward Shoyo managed to take a couple of steps before his knees buckled inwards and he fell forward. His butt stuck in the air and both his lower legs and face were covered in sand. He was quick to adjust, flopping onto his back.

"I got to get used to this," he said smiling up at you

"I'm more surprised you managed to even take one step. What’s your name?"

His mouth popped into an ‘O’ shape before giving you another sharp-toothed grin, “Shoyo Hinata.”

You sat on the edge of a rock, cape splayed out by your side. Hinata splashed around in the water, bathing in the cold liquid against his skin and tail. A laugh would nearly escape you every time his head bobbed out of the water to either shake his hair dry or send a long trail of water out of his mouth in a tall arch. He occasionally would toss water your way in an attempt to get you wet, before going back to whatever he found entertaining at the bottom of the pool.

"So you are an elf. And there are other species out there like you. How many are there?" he asked.

Hinata pushed himself up on the rock next to you and let his tail begin to dry.

"There are humans and wizards. They are from the same family, but wizards have either become interested in the magic of others or are hungry for power. There are other water dwellers I'm sure. But no one has seen them since the War of Weapons. Along with some forest creatures who have small colonies instead of creating a large Empire like the Fae or Giants."

Hinata swung his tail trying to get off the last of the water so his legs would appear. As he did, drips flung your way, making you much wetter than any of his targeted splashes did. You scoffed, wiping your hands over your hefty clothing. Once dry, a silk-like material took the place of scales and legs, replacing the tail with pillowy clothing. You stared at them for a moment.

“Are those pants attached to your body or…” 

As you spoke Hinata's ears twitched as he heard every word along with any noise that came from the woods behind you. He ignored your comment, far more interested in the previous conversation. "Creatures like what?" he asked.

You looked to the woods thinking of the people and animals you have and will encounter on your travels. "There are centaurs, gods, dragons, nymphs and dwarves. Some that don't have specific names but recognizable features. Most of them fled to the woods after the war. The gods, well, there are no gods here. Not anymore, not really."

Hinata nodded and played with the large gem that was attached to your cape. His head tilted, "War of Weapons? What happened there?"

"I can't remember the exact details of course. It was almost three hundred years ago after all. And if you haven't connected with other races you were definitely born after."

Hinata nodded "I'm only a teen. So it makes sense that I wouldn't know. As I said, I’ve spent my whole life with the princess."

Sighing, you felt the sudden urge to throw yourself into the water. You cringed in disgust and looked into the deep ocean. The dark blue seemed much more welcoming now than it did when you had been thrown in. Maybe if you wished for it the dormant god would welcome you with open arms. 

"You're so young," you commented.

"And you're not?" Hinata tilted his head and looked toward you. He set down your cape.

"In age of body, I am. But of mind and experience, I have aged 400 years."

"400!" Hinata jumped back at the confession, hands holding tightly onto your gemstone. "But how? You look 14!" 

"People of Elven descent age much slower than the rest of the world. It's a gift and a curse. My own siblings are reaching their 900th years."

Hinata sat closer and rested his chin on your shoulder, pouting. You smiled and turned your head slightly toward him, getting a glimpse of the youthful expression that pulled at his lips.

"But the war. What happened?"

You looked to the horizon where you couldn't see the landmark or city.

"Humans, finding the magic of others made them power-hungry. They began to build troops in hopes of defeating other kingdoms and gain control of the world. Wizards, witches and the occasional warlock or enchantress began to appear. They had to go through deadly rituals to gain their power. And when they found out there was more to take, there was no stopping them. It was a war of not only hardware but of magical prowess."

Hinata rested his weight against your body as he listened to you tell the story of an old war.

"Elven, Mer, Demon, Wood, and God banded together to stop them. Each of them protecting the gems they had in their care."

Hinata stared at your side profile, his eyes reflected the light from the setting sun and portrayed admiration as he listened. The eyes of the mer glowed a brilliant gold colour with hazel accents and brown lining.

"Gems? Like the stones?"

You nodded.

"Some, although rare, have magic stored in them. There are three held by the gods, with them from birth to rebirth. Others are forged over hundreds of years on sacred ground. Often places are abandoned before a single gem is produced."

Hinata's orange hair tickled your neck, his webbed hand rested palm up on your knee. You took his hand and gently pressed your thumb into the center of it.

"(Y/N), what did you do in the war?"

Your eyes dropped into the water before you. Another urge, stronger than the last, wanted to pull you into the bottomless pit of water. It felt like you were about to choke.

"I watched friends and family live and die at the hands of the people we all treated so well. I can only wonder if they took our kindness as pity."

Hinata squeezed your hand with a slimy but gentle touch and dug his head deeper into your shoulder. He whined pitifully.

"I am an adventurer. So that's what I did. I went searching for clues, hideouts, anything I could find on the other side of the war. Along the way, I made a friend. His wings were a beige colour, very light. But his overall aura was much darker. His wings gave him little to no help because if he flew too high up, he would fall out of fear of being shot down."

You turned your head to the merman, shifting slightly to fully face him and avoid catching his pointed ears with your own. You raised your free hand up toward the darkened sky, pointing to the bright light from the moons above the two of you.

"His name, Kageyama Tobio. God of the moon."

Hinata sat, eyes larger than before as he looked up to the two shining dots of light in the sky. The moons, which he had never gotten the chance to see until now, danced slowly around each other as they spun around the world. He admired the still image of the two unequally sized moons.

"Where is he now?"

"Home, I assume. But his sister is young and missing. So there is no doubt in my mind that he is still searching."

The sun had fully set by now, letting the moons cover the forest in cool light and dark shadows. You lowered your hand to Hinata's shoulder and added some pressure to your fingertips.

"Rest for tonight. You've drained your energy enough for today." You smiled and pushed him down on the flat rock where your cape was, acting like a makeshift bed.

"And what of you? Are you not going to rest?" He asked, holding your hand as it dropped the edges of your cape over his shoulders.

"My mind is now plagued with thoughts. If I rest now I cannot guarantee you'll see me at dawn."

Hinata's brow furrowed as he questioned you. "Why would that be?"

You sighed and brushed his hair with your free hand. "My turning would toss me into deep water." You smiled slightly as Hinata's expression turned sour. "Now sleep. I’ll see you in the morning."

I honestly love this one cause the world is one I’ve had in my head for years... but have yet to actually do anything with... - Bacon

Posted: 03/08/2020

[pengiesama]

Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Fic, TGCF, HC/XL)

Title: Matchmaker, Matchmaker Series: Heavenly Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu) Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian

Summary:

Every night, Xie Lian visits the Ghost City to tutor its king. Every morning, Xie Lian leaves; still single and unsmooched.

Luckily, Shi Qing Xuan is a professional(?) matchmaker, and is here to HELP OUT.

Link: AO3

Check out my commission info here.

Read on Tumblr!

There came a cheerful, light knock to Feng Xin’s door. Before he could even arise to answer it, the knocks became like a furious hailstorm battering upon the carved wood.

Gritting his teeth, he marched over to fling open the door.

He saw the Windmaster standing at his threshold. The Windmaster was smiling wide at him.

“Hiiiii,” Shi Qing Xuan said sweetly, twirling a piece of hair around his – rather her, currently – finger.

Feng Xin had precious little time to formulate a plan of escape. He slammed the door in Shi Qing Xuan’s face, and bolted it securely in place. Heavy, blessed wood; weighed down with metal, and capable of withstanding the assault of a thousand soldiers. It would buy him no more than a few seconds. He took off running towards his armory. But – when it comes to pass that one must face a peril of this magnitude, a few seconds would make the difference between—

The heavy wooden door blew off its hinges with terrible force, and sailed toward Feng Xin; propelled by hurricane winds. Feng Xin whirled about to crack it in half with a blow of his fist. As the door split, he saw the Windmaster’s face emerge from behind it. Feng Xin’s eyes grew wide with terror.

No official strolling the heavenly avenues dared to answer Feng Xin’s cries. They watched as Shi Qing Xuan dragged him off by the ankles, and prayed that they would not be next.

 --

 “Honestly, you’re just being obstinate. And childish. And so uncouth – stop fiddling with your makeup!”

“You smeared it into my eyes!”

“Learn to sit still next time, then.”

Shi Qing Xuan smacked Mu Qing’s hand away as it drifted up again to rub at his eye makeup. She frowned at Feng Xin, who was lying prone and motionless on the floor; his expression that of a man imprisoned in the depths of hell. He was at least quiet, now; he’d stopped screaming about an hour ago. Shi Qing Xuan rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Aren’t the two of you the least bit concerned about our sweet crown prince’s outings to the Ghost City?” Shi Qing Xuan asked. “It simply tears me up at night to imagine the creatures that would like nothing more than to eat him up in a single bite.”

“Of course we’re concerned,” Mu Qing snapped back irritably. “But how is this the solution?”

Shi Qing Xuan blinked. She thought her plan was self-evident. “…I don’t get your meaning.”

“You dragged us from our homes, dressed us handmaidens, marched us into the depths of the Ghost City – dressed as handmaidens – and now we’re in—” Mu Qing tried to suppress the shudder of fear that came with the thought. “—we’re in his manor. Dressed as handmaidens.”

At the word “handmaidens”, Feng Xin convulsed, and began to emit a weak, croaking noise. It was very unpleasant to the ears. Shi Qing Xuan was about to walk over and smack him on his newly-grown titties to get him to knock it off, when the door to the room slid open.

It wasn’t Shi Qing Xuan’s intent to immediately get captured by his staff the moment they infiltrated the manor, but, well, that happened. Shi Qing Xuan found this rather unfair, as they had been very stealthy in their entrance, and she had been looking forward to sneaking around. Still, there was a certain thrill in having to engage in a battle of wits for one’s life.

Five handmaidens shuffled into the room where they were being detained, and regarded their captives with silent disdain. Another handmaiden strode in; the set of her shoulders and her confident stride clearly showed her as the chief of staff. She rose an eyebrow at the three of them, and the other handmaidens giggled behind their sleeves.

Mu Qing’s eyes darted around the room, clearly trying to plot an escape. Feng Xin had sensed that more women had surrounded him, and he seemed to have fully mentally checked out of the situation. Honestly, why did she even bother allowing others with her on these outings? She already knew the answer: to make herself look even more beautiful by comparison. But it was so utterly frustrating to have to deal with this level of incompetence. At least having Ming-Xiong along made for some quality entertainment. And an occasional interlude of scissoring.

It was up to Shi Qing Xuan to plead their case.

“Ladies,” she said, bowing her head. “Elegant women like us understand the important things in life, no?”

“They trod upon the master’s flower garden,” one of the handmaidens stage-whispered to another.

“Master’s precious flower garden. Cultivated over so many years.”

“Where will he take tea now? Where will he take tea with his very special guest?”

“His very special guest. The most rare and radiant flower in all the realms.”

“Master will be upset. Very upset.”

“What will he do to these wretched interlopers?”

“What will he do?”

“What won’t he do?”

The handmaidens’ giggles grew in noise and pitch, and they showed their sharp teeth in cruel, ghoulish smiles. But this response – this response was all Shi Qing Xuan needed to know.

“It seems we are all sisters-in-arms,” she replied. “We come here to provide assistance.”

“We do?” Mu Qing hissed.

“Assistance?” the lead handmaiden asked coolly. “Assistance with what, may I ask? Are you volunteering to re-seed the garden you destroyed, and nourish it with your blood? I imagine Heaven’s officials make splendid fertilizer.”

Shi Qing Xuan smiled knowingly.

“Do you know that I’m often considered a goddess of matchmaking?”

She produced her fan from her sleeve, and flicked it open with practiced grace.

“The butterfly pines for the flower’s sweet nectar. The flower yearns for the brush of wings on its petals. It is my intent in coming here to provide divine intervention.”

The handmaidens gasped, and began to murmur amongst themselves behind their sleeves. Even the lead staffwoman had to school her expression – an expression of shock, and perhaps…perhaps a bit of hope.

“EXCUSE me!?” Mu Qing interrupted, furious. “What do you mean by that!? The very idea – the idea that the prince would be a suitable match for a demon! Preposterous! Where on earth did you get that thought into your fevered skull?”

All eyes in the room regarded Mu Qing with incredulous disbelief. An awkward silence stretched out for what seemed like a century or more. Feng Xin croaked out a death rattle, and Shi Qing Xuan smacked his left boob with her fan to silence him.

“…anyway,” Shi Qing Xuan said, ignoring Mu Qing’s foolishness, and Feng Xin’s dramatics. “Ladies. Huddle up. I have already hatched a plan of attack.”

The handmaidens all hustled in around Shi Qing Xuan, watching as she produced a scroll from her sleeves. She rolled it out over the floor, and produced a long, elegant wooden pointer from…probably also her sleeve. She gestured to the scroll with her pointer; a general briefing her troops.

“First. There comes the matter of the household laundry…”

 --

 “San Lang.”

Xie Lian picked up his sleeve, and saw Hua Cheng curled beneath it. He was much furrier than usual, and had more legs. And boasted a charmingly swishy tail. Hua Cheng purred louder at being discovered, and reached out one midnight-black paw to knead at the air. Xie Lian tried very poorly to hide his smile at the sight.

“I seem to remember that I assigned you lines to copy out,” Xie Lian said. “Should I assume that you’ve finished?”

“Gege is a strict teacher. I needed to rest my paws for a moment.” Hua Cheng stretched out long and lean in his feline form before tucking his paws up and under his chin. “I found a wonderfully comfortable spot here, but if it is inconvenient to have me sitting on your sleeves while you write, I could find another place to nap…”

Hua Cheng eyed Xie Lian’s lap. Xie Lian, alas, did not notice. He rose to his feet and walked across the room to review the results of the calligraphy lesson strewn across Hua Cheng’s desk. The lines marching across the paper went from shaky but passable, to shaky and blotchy, to illegible, to a bunch of cat paw prints. Hua Cheng hopped up onto the desk, and rubbed his head against Xie Lian’s hand insistently.

“I hope you enjoyed your nap on my clothes,” Xie Lian said. He couldn’t help but give Hua Cheng’s ear a scratch, despite his firm tone. “You’ll be redoing all of these.”

Hua Cheng purred even louder, somehow, and flopped over on the desk to show his furry belly.

“Gege is so strict. So strict. Merciless. I’m just a helpless little creature, and he heaps heaven’s wrath upon me.”

Xie Lian laughed aloud. He just couldn’t keep up the strict tutor act, not with Hua Cheng rolling around like an upended turtle. What could be done? There was only one logical thing. He scooped him up in his arms, and held him close to his chest; as he would any small animal that happened to cross his path. The action seemed to startle Hua Cheng, however – he tensed and fluffed up his coat in surprise, but still allowed Xie Lian to bundle him in. The purring returned with redoubled force. Xie Lian felt his paws kneading subtly against his clothes and chest.

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Xie Lian assured him. “With practice. San Lang is so good at everything, so I’m sure it won’t be too much longer until I’m surpassed as your teacher.”

Hua Cheng’s voice was muffled in his robes as he spoke. “And if I do get the hang of it, will you stop coming by to tutor me?”

Xie Lian blinked. “Well, I don’t want to bother you for no reason. I already impose on you enough; sleeping in your guest room, eating your food…”

He saw Hua Cheng’s furry face peek up from his chest. His single eye glittered like a jewel against his silky black fur, and regarded Xie Lian with such intelligence, such gentleness. No matter what form Hua Cheng decided to take on, Xie Lian was certain he could recognize him by that eye of his.

“You’re not imposing,” Hua Cheng told him. “Gege could come by every day, if he likes. I would wait for you at the gates, to watch for you as you came down the street.”

Xie Lian felt his chest go tight at the thought – the thought of walking down the city’s streets, the lurid and colorful spirit lanterns lighting the way, with Hua Cheng standing watch as a lighthouse in the distance, waiting to welcome him into his home. It swirled in his head, making him dizzy.

“That seems…unseemly behavior, for a cat,” Xie Lian finally managed.

In a flash, Xie Lian felt Hua Cheng slip from his arms. Before he could properly mourn the loss, the man himself – as a man, and as himself – stood in front of him, smiling down at him with that unknowable, mischievous quirk of his lips.

“I’m a thoroughly unseemly man,” Hua Cheng said.

Hua Cheng’s gaze drifted down, and his expression faltered. Xie Lian looked down at himself, confused, and saw that the front of his robes – where he had been cuddling Hua Cheng to his chest – was smeared with inky pawprints.

“I’m sorry,” Hua Cheng mumbled. He couldn’t quite look Xie Lian in the eyes. He really was considerate, Xie Lian thought, being so abashed; even though it wasn’t his fault.

“No, it’s fine,” Xie Lian assured him. “I was the one who picked you up without asking. Besides, I’ve gotten far worse stains out of this old thing. I’ll just leave it to soak in the basin overnight, and take it to scrub in the river in the morning –”

“I’ll have it laundered for you here,” Hua Cheng said firmly. “My staff will fetch you some clothes to wear while they work.”

Instantly, a pair of handmaidens slid open the door to the room. Xie Lian didn’t even hear Hua Cheng ring or call out for them. They bowed low, waiting for Xie Lian to approach so they could escort him to get Chenged. Xie Lian hemmed and hawed for a moment before Hua Cheng’s big hand settled on the small of his back, gently urging him to go with his staff.

“I promise they’ll find you something to wear,” Hua Cheng said. “Something proper, and comfortable. I won’t force you to walk around in an old rice sack.”

Xie Lian’s lips quirked up. “There, you see? You’re not as unseemly as you say. I expect you to have those lines rewritten before I get back, though.”

“Of course,” Hua Cheng said. His tone was so sincere that it caught Xie Lian off-guard. “Don’t be gone too long.”

 --

 Shi Qing Xuan was paralyzed by indecision, and time was running out.

“This is the collection of robes that the Master had specially tailored for our esteemed guest,” the lead handmaiden explained. “He has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to present them. Truth be told, many such opportunities have presented themselves, but the Master has, ah…not been bold enough to follow through.”

The robes were all absolutely gorgeous, and Shi Qing Xuan badly wanted to claim a few of them for her own closet; even though her big bodacious bazongas would never fit in anything tailored to Xie Lian’s measurements. Maybe having clothes like this would encourage her to be a man more often…the very thought made her laugh aloud.

“May I ask what our honored guest finds so humorous all of a sudden?” asked the lead staffwoman. She watched in confusion as Shi Qing Xuan nearly collapsed to the floor in breathless hysterics.

“It’s best to leave some things a mystery,” grumbled Mu Qing.

But here was the problem. They could either dress up Xie Lian in these fancy duds, as they were expected to, or…or they could go with the original plan of attack.

Her plans had already almost gone off the rails once – she was originally going to shove Mu Qing into the room where Xie Lian and his suitor were romancing each other with a jug of plum wine, with instructions to dump it all over Xie Lian’s head and then run away. While Mu Qing was arguing with her about the plan being “idiotic” and “suicidal”, they got word that Xie Lian had managed to mess up his robes all on his own. Shi Qing Xuan always knew that she could count on him. The mission – entitled “Project Get Xie Lian Into Something Nice and Slutty�� – was back on the rails.

But then the handmaidens had to show her this closet, and the plan was going awry again. Shi Qing Xuan centered herself, and connected with the spiritual energy that flowed through her. She was a goddess. A matchmaker goddess (along with her various other duties). It was her duty to guide her assistants, and in her wisdom, she came upon the correct decision.

She stroked a longing hand along the beautiful embroidered silks of the “I Want to Give These to Xie Lian But Am Too Chickenshit” collection, and closed the closet doors slowly. Her resolve was absolute. They would go with the original plan.

“Bring your master’s sleeping robes, as we discussed.”

 --

 It was times such as these that Xie Lian was reminded of how tall he wasn’t, in comparison to Hua Cheng.

He frowned at himself in the mirror, trying to wrap and tie the sash of the borrowed robe in a way that would make him more…decent. No matter how he fiddled with it, the robe seemed determined to be loose about his shoulders and chest; drooping low enough to slip off and down his arm, and gaping open almost down to his navel. If he bent over, he’d be sure to give anyone an unwanted eyeful.

A glint caught Xie Lian’s eye. The ring Hua Cheng gave him, dangling from the chain around his neck. It was usually hidden under his robes – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it off. It had become as ever-present as Ruoye, or his hat. It was always just there, tucked away, warm against his skin. But…sometimes, the light hit it just right, and Xie Lian was left dumb and dazzled by its beauty. Wearing these robes, it was exposed for all to see; swaying from its chain, sparkling against his skin.

He reached up and pinched his own cheeks to re-orient his focus. He was being so rude to Hua Cheng – eating his food, forcing him to do his laundry, stealing his clothes…and now he was getting distracted by sparkly things in a mirror while keeping him waiting all alone. He’d have to make due like this until his own clothes were finished being laundered, and hopefully Hua Cheng wouldn’t laugh at him too much in the meantime.

“—um, thank you,” Xie Lian said, emerging from the closet, and bowing to the handmaidens that had escorted him. “Sorry for the trouble. I’m ready to go back.”

The handmaidens bowed, and demurely averted their eyes from Xie Lian’s exposed skin. Briefly, it looked like they were trying to suppress smiles. He supposed he didn’t mind. He did look very silly, swimming in these oversized robes. He just…hoped Hua Cheng didn’t laugh at him. Anyone else was fine.

…Hua Cheng’s robe smelled so nice, though. Xie Lian lifted the collar to his cheek as they walked, and took a deep breath. He wondered if it was the scent of the laundry soap, or Hua Cheng himself. …wait, did that mean that he’d inadvertently picked out the robe Hua Cheng had been sleeping in the night before? Xie Lian let the collar drop from his fingers, then hastily tried to fix it as it fell down his shoulder once again. He didn’t know why the idea flustered him so much.

They reached the salon once more, and Xie Lian thanked the staffwomen again as they took their leave. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and slid the door open just enough to peek his head through.

“Don’t laugh,” Xie Lian said sternly. “Okay?”

Hua Cheng was seated at his desk, waiting patiently for his teacher’s return like a model student. He leaned his head against his hand and smiled at Xie Lian with a fondness that muddled Xie Lian’s emotions.

“Why would I laugh?” he asked. “I’m sure you cut an elegant figure.”

“Don’t laugh. Promise.”

“Promise made. Now, please let me see how you look in—”

Xie Lian slid open the door. The collar slid down his shoulder and arm again. He fixed it, and tried unsuccessfully not to huff and pout as he did so.

To his credit, Hua Cheng did not laugh. In fact, his face was devoid of any expression other than shock. His eye was wide as a striken deer’s.

“…my clothes…” Hua Cheng finished, almost too quietly to hear.

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian said. “They said they wouldn’t be long with the wash. You should have these back before you turn in for bed.”

Hua Cheng’s attention was focused squarely on the strip of skin exposed at Xie Lian’s chest; on the glint of the ring dangling there. His gaze snapped back up to Xie Lian’s face, then down to the ring, then at his collarbone, across to his right shoulder, then his face again, then his bare calves and ankles, then his face once more. Slowly, as if he was waging a great internal struggle, he closed his eye, and breathed deeply.

“It’s fine,” Hua Cheng said, his voice cracking on the second syllable.

The sound was so unexpected that it made the both of them jump. However, it broke the tension in the room, and Xie Lian let out a small laugh. San Lang was so unpredictable. And so unexpectedly cute in the process.

“Now,” Xie Lian said. “I hope you’ve made progress with your lines while I was out?”

“Yes,” Hua Cheng said.

Xie Lian waited for a long moment, then prodded. “…may I see them?”

“Yes.”

Hua Cheng remained seated at his desk, his posture rigid. Slowly, Xie Lian walked over on his own. One hand kept the front of his robes from gaping open as he bent over the desk to inspect.

“Hm. Not bad. I’m seeing some improvement,” Xie Lian said. Forgetting himself, he used both hands to sort through Hua Cheng’s work. He leaned over the table a little bit more to see better. His necklace knocked lightly against the polished wood with the movement; his hair tumbled over his bared shoulder and whispered against the paper strewn across the desk. “Your strokes are steadier, more controlled. Have you been practicing on your own with my lessons in mind?”

“Gege’s voice is always in my mind,” Hua Cheng said faintly. He was staring at the ceiling; perhaps made shy with Xie Lian’s praise.

“Well, I’m glad that I’ve drilled you enough to make my lessons stick.”

Xie Lian smiled and reached out to pat Hua Cheng’s shoulder. It was like patting a stone wall. Xie Lian was filled with concern – sitting for too long while writing could be very tough on one’s back.

“You seem very stiff.”

“Yes,” Hua Cheng choked out.

Well, he supposed there was something to be said for brevity. Xie Lian straightened up and walked around the desk to stand behind Hua Cheng, and settled his hands on his shoulders. Hua Cheng jumped so violently at his touch that his knees banged against the underside of his desk, making his paintbrushes and ink rattle.

“Here. I’ll help you loosen up, and then I think you’ve earned a real break. To rest your paws,” Xie Lian echoed his words from earlier, with a note of laughter.

Before he could set to work, Hua Cheng’s hands settled firmly on his own, preventing him from moving them. Xie Lian blinked, confused. Hua Cheng always whined and wheedled for a shoulder rub after lessons. Was he so stiff that he needed something more? If he laid down on his front, Xie Lian could straddle him and work his lower back—

“I need a drink,” Hua Cheng said. “Before. Anything else.”

Xie Lian certainly wouldn’t say no to some refreshments. “Tea and sweets sound wonderful, if you don’t mind. It sounded like you banged your knees pretty badly, by the way. Do you want me to take a look—”

Hua Cheng managed to force a smile that wasn’t half as suave as he probably intended. “I am made whole again by Gege’s concern and kind thoughts alone. My kitchen is open to your every whim.”

“Okay,” Xie Lian said slowly. “I’ll take buns and fresh fruit.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Are you going to stay sitting at your desk?” asked Xie Lian.

“For a few minutes,” Hua Cheng said.

“…I’ll just go over there and write more phrases for you to copy out, then.”

“That would probably be best.”

 --

 “…with full medical, dental, and pension benefits,” continued the lead staffwoman. “And Casual Fridays. Our Lord Master runs his household and businesses very wisely. I labor the point, but you must understand, honored matchmaker, that his finances are more than sufficient to provide for a spouse.”

“I understand,” Shi Qing Xuan said warmly. “You mentioned a betting pool. How long has this been running?”

The lead staffwoman sighed wearily. “Ages. Truly, I fear that I’ll never see its conclusion in my lifetime.”

“Afterlifetime,” Shi Qing Xuan cheekily corrected.

She chuckled, then shook her head. They were reclining in the staff lounge, waiting for their nail polish to dry while the other handmaidens tended to the matter of Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s makeovers. It was wonderful entertainment.

Mu Qing shrieked as he was tackled to the ground and held in place by a dozen pairs of ghostly arms that sprang from the floor mats. The handmaidens cackled in delight, clearly relishing his terror, just as they relished making him beautiful. They descended upon him like a pack of ravenous wolves, wielding gleaming metal instruments of fiendish dermatological intent. Feng Xin hung upside-down from the ceiling; bound in place by ropes woven from purest darkness, lost to this world, and wearing a fragrant clay mask to clear out his pores.

“What are some of the items one may wager on?”

The lead staffwoman hummed thoughtfully.

“Any number of things, truly. There will surely be someone willing to take you up on the bet – it’s now the largest purse the Ghost City has ever seen. Who will confess to whom; how long it will take…the matter of will or will not,” she added, with a note of despair.

“The most popular item right now is the matter of children!” one of the handmaidens chirped. She was holding Mu Qing down by the neck while another girl waxed his legs, and her clawed hands bit into his skin as he struggled. “I placed a wager on four.”

Another handmaiden scoffed. “Four!? Do you not trust in the Master’s virility? Surely eight, at least!”

“It’s not a matter of the Master’s virility; it’s a matter of whether the Lord Prince can withstand his virility! Surely even a god could not manage more than four.”

“The Lord Prince is very slender,” another handmaiden said doubtfully. “Are you certain he could manage even one?”

Some of the handmaidens sighed sadly, and some pouted, but there were none who could confidently rebut the woman’s point.

Save one.

“…you…you dare…”

Now that was a voice Shi Qing Xuan hadn’t heard in a while. Feng Xin had finally returned to himself, and was glaring at the handmaidens, his gaze blazing hot and full of righteous fury.

“…you dare imply…that the prince could fail at any task…?”

His whole body seemed to glow with heavenly light. The bindings suspending him in the air disintegrated, and he floated down to the floor; upright. The clay facial mask crumbled from his face, revealing his dazzling glowing skin and radiant pores. Shi Qing Xuan simply had to get a jar of that formula to take home with her.

“Twelve,” Feng Xin hissed. “I will wager on twelve.”

The handmaidens tittered. One of them flicked her wrist; summoning a golden box and writing supplies.

“You can write your bet and submit it here,” she said. “Prick your finger and sign in blood at the bottom when you’re done. There’s also bonus subcategories; double or nothing on your wager. How many boys and girls, for example—”

“Six strong and fearless sons, and six beautiful and wise daughters,” Feng Xin hissed, snatching up pen and paper to scribble it down. He bit his finger to draw blood, and wrote each stroke of the characters in his name with deliberate intent. “The prince’s noble lineage would produce no lesser results.”

“What’s wrong with being beautiful and dumb as shit?” Shi Qing Xuan blew on her nails, annoyed. “How narrow-minded.”

The lead staffwoman straightened up, and tilted her head, as if listening for something. She then clapped her hands. Two handmaidens separated from the pack that was still mauling Mu Qing, and kneeled obediently in front of their leader.

“Fetch refreshments from the kitchen,” she instructed. “Assorted stuffed buns and fresh fruit. Tea for our honored guest, and a fortification blend for the Master.”

She listened again, then winced. “…an extra strong fortification blend.”

The handmaidens made noises of concern, and murmured words of sympathy.

“Extra strong. Our Lord Master must be suffering.”

“Suffering so terribly.”

“Our poor Master. Would but the Lord Prince ease him with a touch of his sweet hand.”

“You sure that would ease him?”

“Not in the least.”

“Absolutely not.”

Shi Qing Xuan absolutely hated being out of the loop on gossip. She scooted in close, determined to know the details.

“Hey. Hey. What’s this special blend? What’s this about suffering?”

“Tea blended with dragon blood wine. Master takes it when he requires courage in the face of great adversity.” The lead staffwoman shivered in fear. “To think that Master requires a double dosage…the Lord Prince must truly be a terrifying force.”

Shi Qing Xuan was overjoyed to hear that her hard work was paying off, but the description of that beverage caused her to make a face. “Wine in tea? Even I think that sounds kinda nasty. Medicine is medicine, I suppose…”

“Dragon blood wine possesses no taste on its own, and is light as air – it will mix with anything seamlessly, and amplifies the taste of the vessel tenfold. And,” the lead staffwoman continued. “It is not for the faint of composure. It took Master many centuries to build enough tolerance to partake in even one cup.”

“Now, sister, that sounds like you’re challenging me.” Shi Qing Xuan grinned. “Why doncha get the lovebirds their snacks and then bring a bottle of that dragon stuff back here for us to have a little tasting session?”

“Drinking in a demon’s stronghold—you—poor excuse for—” Mu Qing choked out around his captor’s hold on his neck.

Shi Qing Xuan waved him off dismissively. “You’re not participating anyway, Mu Qing. You’re the designated driver. Someone’s gotta be sober to work the array to get us back home when we’re done. Ladies, let me tell you the story of the time when I got totally wasteyface and wound up array-ing myself right into the bedroom of a notorious pirate captain…”

 --

 It had only been a few minutes since Hua Cheng had called for the kitchen, but it seemed like it had been hours. The air in the room seemed so heavy, so…expectant.

Xie Lian had set about writing out more passages for Hua Cheng to practice with, and he – he could barely focus on the paper. Hua Cheng was looking at him. Whenever Xie Lian looked up from his work, Hua Cheng pretended as if he wasn’t, but Xie Lian could feel his gaze on him like a palpable weight. A palpable warmth, growing hotter by the second, prickling and burning on the nape of his neck. Hua Cheng was always looking at him, it seemed, and Xie Lian thought he was used to his eccentricities, but – dressed like this, Xie Lian felt more self-conscious than normal. Xie Lian adjusted the collar of his borrowed robe nervously. The scent on the robe calmed him just as much as it made the burning more keen. He was trapped between two endpoints.

The arrival of the snacks was a welcome tension-breaker. The moment the door slid open, Xie Lian sprang to his feet and collected the tray from the surprised handmaiden.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll carry this over; please don’t trouble yourself.”

The handmaiden paused, nodded, and then bowed and took her leave.

The tray had an assortment of delicious treats – Hua Cheng always seemed to have Xie Lian’s favorite things in his pantries; even fresh fruit that was out of season. He was eager to have a bun or three, but first, he was parched. And the tea smelled wonderful. Especially the tea in Hua Cheng’s mug – so fragrant and rich. His own tea was waiting, but surely Hua Cheng wouldn’t mind if he took a quick taste.

He set the tray down on Hua Cheng’s desk, and settled down across from him; Hua Cheng’s cup in hand. Hua Cheng surveyed the tray, looking confused, then looked back up at Xie Lian just in time to see him take a drink from his cup.

“Delicious,” Xie Lian proclaimed the blend. “Though maybe steeped a bit too strong for my taste.”

“Dianx—gege!”

Suddenly, Xie Lian found the cup snatched from his hands; faster than he could blink. Hua Cheng clutched the cup in his grip, and was staring at him with something that was almost like…panic? It was such a strange emotion to see on Hua Cheng’s face. Unthinking in his curiosity, he reached out his hand to trace Hua Cheng’s jaw…

…it was…

…seriously…such a nice jaw…

“I’m sorryyyy,” Xie Lian said, patting and stroking Hua Cheng’s face as he spoke. Patting and stroking that seriously nice jaw. “San Lang. San Lang. I’m sorry I sipped your tea. I have my own tea but I sipped yours instead. San Lang. I’ll rub your shoulders to make up for sipping your tea.”

Determined to make good on his shoulder-rubbing promise, Xie Lian climbed on top of Hua Cheng’s desk and, before he could react, plopped himself into Hua Cheng’s lap. Mission phase one complete. He was now in the proximity of Hua Cheng’s shoulders. It was time for mission phase two to begin: rub Hua Cheng’s shoulders. Xie Lian wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck to drag himself into a better position, but in the process, found that it was just as nice to rest his head against Hua Cheng’s chest instead. So firm. So firm and yet squishy at the same time. Xie Lian unwound one arm from Hua Cheng’s neck and squeezed at Hua Cheng’s chest in appreciation. He bet that if he bit him here it’d be like biting a nice juicy peach.

“Please,” Hua Cheng said in a strained voice. His hands came up to keep Xie Lian still; keep him from squirming around. “You’re…not in your right mind. That tea wasn’t intended for you.”

“I liked it,” Xie Lian replied. “A lot. Strong and smells nice. Like you. San Lang is strong and smells so nice.”

His borrowed robe had slipped down his right shoulder and arm again. So annoying. It could just stay there if it was going to keep being difficult, and Xie Lian and Hua Cheng would have fun without it. They would go on a walk in the gardens and they wouldn’t even invite it with them. But they didn’t need to go to the gardens to have fun, though. Everything in the room was all glowy and hazy, except for Hua Cheng, who was glowy and hazy and also handsome and nice-smelling, with a squishy chest. Xie Lian squinted at Hua Cheng’s braid, and moved his wandering hand from Hua Cheng’s chest to twirl the braid around his finger.

“So thick.” Xie Lian was, of course, referring to Hua Cheng’s hair. “I bet I could use it as a brush to write with. What happens if I play with it? Will San Lang be mad at me?”

Hua Cheng’s hands grew heavier on his hips. Xie Lian discovered that he really, really liked the feeling of that squeeze. He wrapped Hua Cheng’s braid around his finger, then gave it a little tug. The noise that Hua Cheng made sent a shiver shooting up Xie Lian’s spine; made his back arch.

The world spun around him, and suddenly, he was on his back on the floor. Hua Cheng hovered above him, crouched on elbow and forearm like a prowling tiger about to pounce. He was – he was looking at him again. The fire was blazing in Xie Lian’s brain, and spread through his body like flames in an overgrown wood. Xie Lian shivered again. He reached out blindly, and found what he was looking for. Hua Cheng’s hand settled atop Xie Lian’s, where it rested on his cheek.

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Hua Cheng murmured, his voice so deep and low that it sent Xie Lian’s head spinning. “I am going to carry you to my room, I am going to tuck you into my bed, and then I am going to stand guard outside the door all night to protect your virtue against roaming scoundrels.”

Xie Lian made a feeble noise of protest. The sound died in his throat when Hua Cheng turned his face to nuzzle into Xie Lian’s palm and press a kiss there. His eye slipped shut, and for a moment, he let his lips linger on Xie Lian’s skin. Perhaps he’d cast a spell – Xie Lian felt heavy and pliant, and quite content to let Hua Cheng pick him up. An arm under his legs, an arm supporting his back, carrying him as carefully and protectively as he did in the Sinner’s Pit. He let his cheek rest against Hua Cheng’s chest, and let the cadence of Hua Cheng’s stride lull him into a dreamy half-slumber.

He was still awake enough to hear the rattle of dice as they passed through doors, still awake enough to hear the jingling of Hua Cheng’s jewelry as they walked. Still awake enough to feel the soft pillows meeting his head as he was lowered into a comfortable nest of blankets and cushions. Still awake enough to murmur Hua Cheng���s name as he felt his presence retreat, and still awake enough to feel the brush of fingers on his cheek.

But, alas, sleep overtook him before he could register the touch of lips on his forehead.

 --

 “I hope you’ve learned some kind of lesson from this,” Mu Qing said flatly.

“I never learn anything, ever,” Shi Qing Xuan mumbled. “It’s bad for the skin.”

They had bid their farewells to their new friends at Paradise Manor in the early morning, before the master of the house and his special guest awoke. And now, here they were back in heaven, with Shi Qing Xuan was nursing the worst hangover she’d had in the past three centuries. Mu Qing and Feng Xin were still intruding in her home, pestering her every few minutes to undo the charm she’d cast to turn them into women. Honestly, they were so rude. It was like they didn’t appreciate all the hard work that she and the other girls had put in to make them look lovely. Rude and unappreciative and loud. Shi Qing Xuan’s head was pounding.

“And you!” Mu Qing continued, addressing Feng Xin, who had been looking at himself in the mirror for the past few hours. “That’s what you get for playing games with the likes of them! What did you bet on that nonsense wager, hm? Your armory? Your palace? Half your temples?”

Feng Xin touched up a smudge of his lipstick with his finger, and raised an eyebrow at Mu Qing. “We’ll see about nonsense, Mu Qing. The dice have not yet finished their roll.”

Shi Qing Xuan squinted at the sky to judge the time. Late afternoon. Surely, she could check in on Xie Lian now, to see how things had gone. One of the handmaidens had reported seeing their Master carrying a swooning Xie Lian into his bedchambers, so Shi Qing Xuan had high hopes for the success of her plans. She straightened herself up, and tapped her fingers to her temple to reach out to Xie Lian via the heavenly array.

It took several attempts before she got a response.

“…windmaster?” came Xie Lian’s groggy-sounding voice.

“The one and only!” It was difficult to sound peppy, but she pressed on. “Sooo, how’s it going?”

“…I’m sorry, I’m not really in a state to chat right now.”

He sounded so depressed that Shi Qing Xuan was immediately concerned.

“What’s wrong? You usually come back from your little visits to Sweetheart City with a pep in your step.”

Xie Lian made an irritated sound. “Windmaster, please. I…I got sick and embarrassed myself.”

Shi Qing Xuan wheedled an explanation out of him. Spilling ink on himself and having to borrow clothes, getting sick off “tea” (geez, she could at least empathize with the headache he probably had) and climbing all over Crimson Rain Seeks Flower like a monkey on a tree, then having to be bodily carried off to bed before he fell asleep on the floor. Shi Qing Xuan’s heart sank. It sounded like no canoodling had occurred, none at all. She had failed in her mission, and let down the hopes of every resident in the Ghost City who had money riding on that pot.

But, she would not let this failure set her back. No – she would allow it to steer her to greater heights. It sounded like Crimson Rain Seeks Flower was a consummate gentleman through the ordeal, and it would now be her mission to deliver him salvation, just as it was her mission to find Xie Lian a big strong man. It was really convenient that both missions dovetailed so nicely.

“Xie Lian, come up to my palace and you can tell me all about it. I wanna do your nails again; Mu Qing and Feng Xin are here, too. We can get takeout and listen to the literature gods have their stupid nerd fights in their array channel.”

“No we’re not!” Mu Qing shouted. “We’re not! Damn it, at least make us men again before he gets here!”

“I can manage a little bit longer,” Feng Xin commented.

“…that sounds nice,” Xie Lian finally said. “I just left San Lang’s manor, I won’t be too long.”

“Don’t drag your feet, darling,” Shi Qing Xuan said cheerfully. “You know how much fun it is to hear Ling Wen snap and start going for the throat.”

Shi Qing Xuan was master of the winds, a master of matchmaking, and a master of not knowing when to quit. And she had all the time in eternity to keep trying.

There was always another day.

[imagine-darksiders]

Forgive this thing omg it’s a mess I wrote in like an hour..

I just wanted to explore how an early friendship with Death might function. Like, you’ve known him barely a week and you’re both still getting the hang of each other’s personalities. You are missing your friends, you’re getting touch-starved and frustrated looking at everything that’s happened to humanity. So, naturally, you take out your anger on the only person available to witness your anguish. 

---

“I hate you.”

Death, who had never heard a hostile thing from you in the few weeks since you came crashing down into his world, looks up in bemusement.

Still, he supposed it was only a matter of time before you came to your senses, although he couldn't say the sting he felt at those words didn't cut through him as sharp as any blade.

But so often had he heard, or rather, felt the words in the past, that Death can only huff at you and returns to running the whetstone over Harvester's already razor-sharp edge.

“Join the club,” the horseman states quietly.

There's a deep, hot sigh from the human in his company and the distinctive sound of a stone being booted spitefully over the side of a rocky crevice, at the bottom of which it's swallowed by a thick blanket of fog.

“Not you,” is your biting retort, “Well...Not exactly.”

When the horseman doesn't respond, you spin around to frown at the side of his head and scrub at the skin beneath your eyes, surprised to find wetness there. “I mean, you. Nephilim. Angels. Demons. The Charred Council and every other flipping creature who seems to have it in for my species!”

Brushing your hands roughly through your hair, you clench your fists tightly into the locks and begin to pace up and down in front of Death.

“Why does everybody in this damn universe seem to have a say in humanity's fate? Everybody except for humans!?”

The whetstone is placed delicately to the side as the horseman leans forwards and plants a hand on each of his knees. Peering at you through narrowed eyes, he asks, “Are you truly so self important as to believe that you know more than the powers that be?”

A lone demon's roar of outrage reaches your ears from somewhere in the city, far from your little campsite but you think it adequately portrays how Death's words made you feel. Whirling on him you snarl raggedly, but you're devastated when it comes out sounding no more intimidating than a kitten's mewl. “No, I don't think I know better than them, you know I don't think anything of the sort! That wasn't fair, Death.”

'You're right, of course,' he gripes to himself in private. That wasn't a fair thing to say, but he's curious to know the heart of the issue and pushing you seems to be the best way to find out.

Death racks his brains quickly for the best way to try and help you to understand the order of things. “Humanity is a young species,” he at last explains softly, “There are things that will happen – have happened to you that seem without reason or justness. The End-War was always going to occur-” he grimaces, “-just not as soon as it did.”

Your hands are trembling now, though something else has joined your anger. “To Hell with you, we're not toys that you get to break when you're done playing with us! Why is it, that whenever the cosmic shit hits the fan, somehow it's always Earth that takes the beating?”

Humming, Death offers, “Earth is the easiest target?”

“This is serious, Death!” you cry with frustration lacing your tone.

He holds up hand placatingly, “Balance, Y/n. It must be maintained.”

“But we were progressing so much!” you argue. “How is it fair to just cut us down when we're in our prime and set us all the way back to square one!? All of those thousands upon thousands of years just gone because of your 'balance'.”

The tail-end of your loud rant echoes off into the night and you're left panting and clenching your teeth against an onslaught of tears. Silence settles over the camp, whilst Death's ears twitch to listen for any approaching demon that might have strayed too close after hearing you yell.

The horseman observes you quietly with a thoughtful glimmer behind his burning eyes whereas you allow your whole body to slouch from sudden, overwhelming exhaustion. The quiet stretches on for a long time before it's broken.

“What happened to us?” The whisper is quieter than a breath, softer than Death had ever heard you speak. “We used to be great. We cultivated half of the planet to suit our needs. We looked at the boundaries we were given and thought, 'you know what? That can't be it. There has to be more than this.'” A smile tugs at your lips fondly. “We walked on the moon and still it wasn't enough. We reached even further, to the stars and then beyond to where we dreamed our destinies lay. We may have had our heads buried in the sand from time to time, but we always looked back up to the stars.” A single tear escapes the confines of your eyelid and trickles steadily down to your chin. Death watches it's journey with mild curiosity, wondering what it must feel like to be so vulnerable.

“And now look at us.” Your smile falls sharply when you gesture with a sweep of your arm out to the wasteland of a city and shake your head despairingly. “All of that development, evolution and improvement. All those good people, just..... Gone.”

The tear you'd cried is abruptly followed by several more.

“Death, we didn't deserve this. Some of us might have, sure, but not all. Most of the people on Earth did not deserve to die. Not down here....Not like this.”

It isn't long before your heart feels too heavy to hold up and suddenly, the concrete where Death is sitting looks as comfortable as anywhere else in the camp.

Sniffing, you sidle up to the horseman and collapse to the ground with a thud, aware of Death's blazing gaze on you the entire time. You've given up the battle to stop the tears from pouring down your face, uncaring of something so pointless anymore. If he sees you cry, so be it.

A stale wind blows over the city and lifts with it the stench of decay and rust. Copper on the breeze is no longer an unfamiliar scent, especially having been around Death for a few weeks now, but it still isn't pleasant.

The horseman beside you tears his gaze from your prone form to raise Harvester into the air and tilt it this way and that, inspecting the curve of the scythe closely. Bright moonlight glints off the sharp edges and illuminates the now clean blade. With a hum of satisfaction, Death places the scythe on the ground in front of his feet and leans back, putting his weight on both arms and turning his head up to the stars. Slowly blinking back tears, you follow his gaze.

“Funny things, aren't they? The stars,” you begin, voice a little unsteady from crying.

Grunting, the horseman acknowledges your statement but doesn't respond otherwise.

“I mean, they're just big balls of hydrogen gas and other weird elements I can't remember, but we find so much meaning in them.”

A rumble of soft laughter interrupts your lamenting.

“Humans finding meaning in the meaningless,” Death chuckles, “Someone had better inform the scribes.”

That, at least, pulls a tired giggle out of you. “Stop the presses,” you translate for yourself.

The horseman casts a secret glance down at your face and when he sees the smile growing there, he feels an odd sense of pride at the accomplishment. He's thankful that the mask hiding his face also hides his own gentle smile when you tilt your head up at him.

Your eyes drop to the horseman's hand that rests by your own and you find yourself thinking about the last time one of your friends had hugged you. For some, frustrating reason, you could not begin to recall the person you'd hugged last.

It's funny. What you're about to do feels harder than any battle you'd faced yet...

“Death?” you ask timidly without taking your eyes off his bandaged-wrapped hand. He examines you intently and waits for you to finish your thought.

“C-could I...maybe.....” You swallow thickly and choke back a sob that threatens to burst from your throat. Bravely, you finally throw your eyes up and force them to lock with his far more intimidating ones, gazing imploringly into their depths. “Please. I-I'd like to touch your hand, if that's okay? Just to have someone to hold onto. Can I?”

The very moment the request leaves your lips, you wish you could swallow it back up and pretend you'd never asked. It sounded so childish. So needy.

Death meanwhile, could not be more surprised. His eyes widen comically and his jaw actually drops fractionally before he remembers himself and snaps it shut. This is the first time you'd asked if you could willingly touch him. Until this point, he'd picked you up, nudged you in a specific direction or helped you up when you fell, of course. But now you've just insinuated that you want to initiate physical contact with him. It's not a regular occurrence for the being that people would usually, actively avoid.

But he supposes that given the state you're in and the harmlessness of such an action, not to mention the very minimal threat you'd pose if you were to try anything, he could allow the small comfort you clearly so desperately need.

Slowly and more than a little unsure, for once, Death nods down at you and remains still as your face relaxes in momentary relief. You can't allow yourself time to be nervous though, so you stretch your hand out towards Death's.

Before you can touch it however, the horseman shifts. For an awful moment, you think he must have changed his mind. But he simply turns his hand over so that the palm is facing skyward, inviting you to lay yours in his. The generosity and level of trust behind Death's gesture is not lost on you. You know he's not fond of even good friends laying their hands on him, so this is monumentally meaningful.

Once again, your hand resumes its journey towards the pale, corpse-like appendage resting on the ground beside you until your fingers slide delicately, reverently over the palm before coming to a stop. You allow yourself to release the breath you'd been holding, only to lose it again when the horseman's hand ever so slowly starts to close over yours. The tips of his clawed fingers meet your skin and he ends up engulfing your relatively tiny hand entirely in his own.

Apparently, that simple, easy point of contact means more than either of you had initially anticipated. Without warning, a cry of anguish erupts out of you and actually startles the eldest horseman, who's hand clenches over yours tightly for a brief second. In an automatic response, you squeeze your thumb beneath his palm and cling to him desperately.

“I'm s-so sorry!” you whimper. “I don't know what's wrong! I just needed to-to-”

With an internal sigh, Death gives your arm a tug and rises to his feet, pulling you with him. When you're standing upright in front of the horseman, he jerks you towards his body brusquely but invitingly. You hesitate, but in reality, it only takes a heartbeat before you're colliding headfirst with his wiry, sinewy chest.

Death merely blinks at the unexpected suddenness of the motion, but otherwise remains perfectly still.

You both stand like that for a long while.

After what honestly must have been close to a half hour of crying against the horseman's cold, grey skin, you finally heave out one last sigh and move your arms from their position at Death's stomach. Instead, they rise to drape themselves around his neck. He tenses at the movement, but then settles once more. You decide that you'll feel embarrassed about all this in the morning. But for now, you raise your head from his chest and peer up at the horseman apologetically. “Thanks for letting me get that out in the open, buddy,” you say softly, “Sorry for using you as an emotional punching-bag.”

His eyes find yours and they seem so full of understanding, you briefly consider the possibility that you'd fallen asleep against him and this is simply a dream.  “So does that mean you don't hate me?”

Your mouth falls open slightly and you wince, “Oh, God. I didn't mean that, Death. Please don't think I hate you, I really don't.”

Faint laughter rumbles from behind Death's mask as he waves your apology away with a hand. “It's fine, young one. Believe me when I say it wouldn't be the first time somebody has said such a thing.”

Your expression softens, “See now, there's another injustice I just don't understand. How could anyone hate you?”

“You haven't known me for long. Give it time,” he grumbles.

He's right. You really haven't know the horseman for long at all. But you know enough to recognise that you certainly don't hate him. Far from it. You were just....angry. But looking at his bright, orange eyes that cast themselves up to the moon and seem so full of melancholy and millennia of regrets, you can't find it in yourself to harbour any ill-will for your bizarre new friend.

“Well, I don’t think I will ever hate you,” you conclude. 

He scoffs sceptically and folds his arms over his chest. 

“You’re naive and foolish. But don’t worry, even you might see, in the end.....”

[pocket-elf]

Meet Me On The Battlefield - parabatai death fic

Third time’s the charm. Let’s kill again!

A big battle is raging, and it is not looking good…

Part 1: Jace & Alec

The war has been short but gruelling, and has culminated in the enormous battle before Jace. They have been fighting for hours on this muddy plain, trying to keep the horde of demons at bay. Some kind of super rift had been created, connecting the void and several demon realms to Idris, just spewing out lesser demons of different kinds en masse. Three high warlocks have tirelessly been working to close the rift, while defended by a contingent of shadowhunters, and they have finally achieved success. The demon surge may have stopped but the amount of demons left on the battlefield is staggering, with the friendly forces absolutely decimated. Blood and ichor is soaking the plain, and while the tide has turned Jace can see that the end of it all will not come easy, and will likely involve much more bloodshed.

As in any fighting situation, Jace and Alec had started back to back, anticipating the other’s moves and seamlessly filling the space left. But the scope of the battle meant that they had inevitably been separated, moving out in opposite directions to deal with the growing force surrounding them. With the help of some shadowhunters from the Los Angeles institute Jace has been pushing a phalanx of moloch demons towards the edge of the woods, slaying them one by one until none are left. Wiping the ichor of his seraph blade Jace turns around and scans the battlefield, trying to find Alec again.

He spots him, standing strong and tall, aiming his bow at an unidentified winged creature charging at him. But with his attention focused on the airborne threat, Alec doesn’t notice the ravener demon coming at him from behind. Jace however sees nothing else.

“Alec!”

The cry escapes him involuntarily, even though he knows there is no way Alec will be able to hear his warning. So Jace just runs. He swings his seraph blade wildly around him creating a path through the fray. But it’s too late. As if in slow motion he watches as the ravener demon rears back with its tail, and strikes. Alec falls.

Jace skids to a halt, dropping to his knees by Alec’s crumpled form. Heedless of the battle raging around them he reaches for him, turning Alec so they are face to face, while pressing his hands to the wound in his back. Alec smiles at him through bloodstained teeth.

“The descent into hell is easy…”

He slumps forward into Jace’s awkward embrace.

“No no no… Don’t do this. Don’t leave me!”

Jace presses his hands harder against the seeping wound, at the same time gathering Alec against his chest. But he knows there’s no use. He can feel Alec’s heart ceasing its steady rhythm as if it was his own. Inside of Jace it is as if a chasm opens up, threatening to swallow his soul and only leave emptiness behind. Then something snaps. And from the dark depths rises a rage like no other. Jace roars. Stumbling to his feet he screams until his voice is raw. He takes position next to Alec’s body, prepared to defend it with his very last breath if necessary. Not one demon more will touch his parabatai.

And so, Jace fights. There is no grace to his movements anymore. He has lost his partner, so the dance is no more. There is only raw power and the desire to kill. Jace hacks and slashes and thrusts. His muscles are screaming, but he screams louder. This is not about victory anymore. His entire reason for fighting now is to protect Alec from more harm, however senseless that notion may be.

Jace bleeds. He doesn’t notice it until the demons stop coming towards him, until the enemy force has been so thinned out that he has no one left to kill. His vision is blurry, but he can still hear the last remnants of battle somewhere far away. Something deep inside him urges him to join the last efforts to vanquish their foe. A soldier’s instinct. He stumbles and looks back at Alec, lying prone on the dirty ground — the only clear image in a world going black at the edges. He will be safe now. No demon will ever touch him again. And then before he can take another step, Jace too, falls.

This is always how Jace imagined it would end — the two of them, going out together in the heat of battle. No one left to mourn the other and go through life missing a part of themselves. This is how it should be. With his last bit of strength, Jace takes Alec’s hand in his.

“For whither thou goest, I will go…” he whispers.

In the mud of the quieting battlefield, the two parabatai’s blood runs together — finally, they are one.

[firekissedpiper]

— ✗ ℍ 𝕆 𝕌 𝕊 𝔼 𝕆𝔽 𝕄 𝔼 𝕄 𝕆 ℝ 𝕀 𝔼 𝕊. — ✗ Time Period: January, 2019/April, 2019. — ✗ TW: Self-harm, mentions of murder, mentions of sexual assault. Piper hadn’t heard from Gabel in days. They weren’t exactly the most normal couple – that was a simple fact. They were far from those in puppy love, those who were constantly hanging all over each other and reunited after an hour apart in the hallways like they’d been separated for years. But, given that they both tended to hate just about everyone else, they spent most days together. At least between classes they actually bothered to attend. So having not heard a peep from him, she knew something was wrong. The brunette had pondered if she was turning into one of /those/ overbearing, annoying girlfriends for a couple hours and then realized she needed to check on him. In the months they’d been together, he had certainly acted strange, but this was different. So, she’d gotten up from bed and carried herself down the hall and through the dorms until she eventually reached his. A part of her figured she’d just find him holed up, in one of his moods. But a part of her worried it was something much worse. When she headed into the dorm and eventually came upon his room, she found herself knocking lightly on the door. Nervously, she bit her lip. There wasn’t an answer. Maybe he was out. Business with his father maybe. That worried her, more than she wanted to admit. She was getting soft apparently, or maybe it was Gabel. She’d never been this type of person. Always cold and heartless. Knocking once more, her impatience got the better of her and she twisted the doorknob, looking around the room slowly as she started to step in. There were things everywhere. The night table was tipped to the side, broken glass from his bedside lamp. It was bad. She could tell. Clothes were strewn around the room, she saw the remnants of a broken chair scattered across the floor. He’d demolished everything. She almost winced, wondering what could have brought it on. That was when she caught something in the corner of her eye, a little glint. On the ground, she could see it, his wrist band and the broken piece of metal on it. A butterfly. The butterfly she’d given him as a meaningful gift for his struggles with self-harm. It’d been a project she’d heard a few times, drawing a butterfly on one’s wrist to help quit cutting. He had loved it. She remembered how touched he’d looked. And she also knew what it must have meant with it being broken. When she slowly closed the door, she saw the results. Blood stained sheets, one of the larger shards of glass. She almost felt sick. Not because she didn’t have the stomach for it. No it was because this room was covered in the broken pieces of Gabel, someone she loved. And that blood was something that meant all the progress was undone. There he was, his hunched form on the bed. He looked like he was far away. She couldn’t imagine where. Maybe he’d just passed out from blood loss. Piper slowly walked over to the bed, a little nervous to get close. “Gabel?” She asked slowly. He didn’t respond. “Gabel,” she said more loudly. “Gabel,” she repeated. When she finally didn’t see it happened, she reached out to grab his arm. His hand snapped up immediately, grabbing her wrist tightly in his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice was unlike she’d ever heard it. Cold. “Gabel what happened?” She asked slowly. “You were doing so well…you hadn’t cut in so long,” she said quietly, almost nervously. She didn’t know what to do in this situation. She had her habits of hurting herself, squeezing her hand with intense nerve pain, flicking a band as hard as she could on her wrists. But she’d never done anything. Gabel’s softly tanned skin was covered in scars. She knew some were his, the deep jagged ones. The others were the result of another’s cruelty. She didn’t ask about them. After all he hadn’t asked about her hand. “Go away Piper,” he said, the voice still cold. He sounded very far away. Numb, and empty. She’d never heard him like that. The close he’d gotten to the night he’d had a nightmare. It had been a horrible stressful night, when he’d told her that if she’d stuck around she’d see he was just as bad as Tomas. It had shaken her. But there was still a warmth in his voice then at least. Emotion. This was…terrifying. “What happened?” She tried to get a look at his arm, but with the curtains drawn and his sleeves rolled down over the damage, she couldn’t get a good look. But she could see the darker spots on his usual black top. She could see where the blood was seeping in his shirt. Half of her wanted to call the infirmary. But she knew he’d never forgive her. “What made you do this?” “Go. Away.” These words had an edge to them, like he was trying to warn her to get out of there. She wasn’t usually the type to beg someone to let her on. If they tried to push her away, she moved. It was easy for her. And that was if she didn’t get them gone first. She was a runner to the heart, and leaving wasn’t something she was a stranger to. Gabel was different though. She felt things for him she had never really felt for anyone. Sure she’d had crushes, when she was younger, before her heart had closed over to those around her. But this was different. This was intense. She loved him, she just hadn’t been able to say it before. She’d get there eventually. And she didn’t want to leave. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, pressing her lips together. “I’m staying right here.” She told him firmly. The brunette didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want him to be alone. She was almost scared with the violent way he tended to go at himself that he might severely endanger his life. “Just tell me what happened and let me help.” For the first time since she’d come in, he looked at her. It was difficult seeing his eyes. There was something very off. So empty, so cold and blank. Like there was no sign of the man she’d come to know and care for. No sign of the person she felt for. It scared her. Not that’d ever admit it. Gabel or not, she didn’t like confessing her vulnerability. “He did it,” a cold laugh escaped him. No actually amusement in it, more like hysterics. “He finally did it. He denounced me as an heir to the throne. I’ll never be King,” he said, his voice somewhat bitter. At least it was an emotion. But she knew exactly what the depth of that was. The one thing Gabel had wanted to do was get revenge on his father by one day taking the throne and finding a way to punish those who’d wronged him for years. And if his father denounced him as a potential candidate for the throne, she knew the kind of rage that would invoke. She wasn’t surprised about the state, but she also didn’t know what to do. “Gabel…maybe this is…better,” she instantly saw from the rage in his face that it was the very wrong thing to say. He stood up immediately, using the height he had on her to look down at her. As much as Piper was bad with advice, she’d thought for a while he needed to let go. As brave as she was, the fury in his eyes almost made her flinch. “You can let go now. You don’t need to be King of that horrible country. You’re more than that, you don’t need it to prove your worth,” she said carefully, her words almost quiet as she hoped to undo the rage she’d invoked. “I don’t want to prove my worth!” His words were roared. The brunette flinched a little from the yelling. She wasn’t scared of him, or never had been before. But since Tomas, that kind of anger was something she learned to flee from, to hide away from. It was something to be scared of. “I need to make them all pay. I want to burn down their damn cities and their houses and watch them all choke on their own blood,” the words were seethed through his teeth. She knew it was bad, the things he felt, but his words shook her a little. “Gabel, ending them won’t make you feel better. It won’t undo the years. It won’t make the pain stop! It won’t erase the past. It’ll only burden you for the rest of your life, because you’d carry their blood on their hands,” she said carefully, trying to reason with him. Which was not her forte by any means. She was not the voice of reason and sanity. Usually she was all for hunting someone down or using violence to make her point. But killing, as much as she mentioned it, she’d never do it. “I already have blood on my hands, the same blood they stained their own hungry teeth with for years. My blood. It’s time there’s were running,” he was furious, and walking towards her. She ended up stepping back with each advance. She didn’t like the look in his eyes. She didn’t like the rage in his words. “Gabel you need to settle down. Just sit down, I’ll get you some water and then we’ll wash up your wounds and we’ll talk, alright, let’s just...talk for a minute okay,” she said carefully, hoping she can tame the demons inside of him. “No I will not settle down. It is time for them to pay for everything they’ve done, and I’ll do it. I’ll do it even if I’m not a King. I’ll find a way to hurt them all,” she closed her eyes briefly, only for a second, trying to think of a way to calm him. “Gabel, you need to stop. You’re scaring me,” she admitted quietly, clenching her teeth together. God she hated the words, hated admitting she was afraid when she so often tried to be scared of nothing. She gulped, holding up her hands in front of her slowly. “Good Piper, good, you should be scared of me. I’m going to destroy them all, I will make them pay. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to cut down. I’ll do it. So you should be terrified. You should run in the other direction, with your tail tucked between your legs.” He said lowly. “I’m not leaving. Let me just help, alright, please?” She didn’t want to leave him like this. She was honestly terrified of what he was capable of. Finally, he cornered her into the wall. She didn’t like it one bit. She felt like a pinned creature. She wanted to run. “Just go sit down, take a breath, two. Don’t think about it,” she whispered, not knowing what to do for him. “I said leave!” He roared the words. Accompanying them was his fist slamming into the wall, right beside her head. She heard the crunch of the gyprock under his fist. She flinched away from it, putting her hands up to her face. She couldn’t believe what he’d done. “You’re a monster,” she said lowly, her voice shaking as she spoke. “No wonder they hate you,” it was a terrible awful thing to say, but she was terrified, in disbelief of the acts of violence, the threat he posed to her. Genuine shock seemed to be on his face, and she took the chance to duck out from where he was, immediately running for the door. She didn’t turn around as she ran down the hallway, fleeing out of their faster than a bat out of hell. ~~ Present Day She wasn’t sure what it was about that day, what had brought it on. It wasn’t like she didn’t have lots to do. Being a mother wasn’t an easy. It was a full time job, and with Kaia there, well, she had a lot more to do now. Meals, taking care of Ella. She was constantly on the move. It was exhausting, and didn’t leave much time for thinking. Didn’t leave much time for a stray thought honestly. But somehow, it was there. To say things had ended horribly were an understatement. She’d been scared and said the one thing she knew he’d never get over. And he’d been...furious and had done the one thing he knew would get rid of her. She didn’t know what to think of it. If he was trying to protect her or something somehow with his actions. Or if she really had infuriated him. He’d fallen off the map, she hadn’t heard from him since. The feelings had been buried for a while. Maybe it was the new sting from Ash that had brought it back. Maybe now that that was over she could see clearly about how she’d dealt with Gabel. She was forced to face the fact she still worried about him, still desperately hoping he was okay, even if he had terrified her. Even if she had thrown horrible words in his face. She was fully coming to realize that she missed him – that under all the anger of how things ended and all the act she’d put on of what had happened, she missed him. The brunette had finally gotten Ella to sleep, had read Kaia a story and gotten her into bed as well when she finally settled down on her bed. She looked over at the sweater of his strewn at the end of the bed. He’d been relatively thin, but always wore bulky, loose material. They’d been perfect for when she’d been heavily pregnant, and she liked stealing them. She reached out, running her fingers over the material briefly. ~~ Four months earlier Her form laid in bed next to his. It’d taken a while to get comfortable being close to him. Sure there’d been the spark of boldness when she’d first kissed him. But it was hard for her to drop her barriers fully and let him in, to be able to trust someone to handle her after Tomas. But, after enough time, laying in bed with him was easy enough, even if she did find herself still filled with her issues with touching. Idly, her fingers ran lightly over his chest, meeting the fabric of his sweater. “I know that look,” he mused lightly, his words somewhat playful. His dark eyes glanced down at her as he spoke. “What look?” She asked lightly, raising an eyebrow. “The look that tells me this sweater will become the next victim of your sticky fingers,” he purred lightly in the way he so often did. She liked the way words rolled off his tongue. “Whatever do you mean?” She asked, feigning innocence, chuckling a little. Her hazel eyes flickered up to him briefly, scanning his face over briefly. “Every time I see that little angelic look on your face it’s all too easy to tell your plotting something, darling.” Piper chuckled a little at his words. It was true, she only pulled such a look when she intended on getting into something devilish. “Well if I wasn’t plotting and scheming you’d never have the patience to put up with me,” she remarked lightly, chuckling a little as her fingers idly stroked over his chest. “I might make an exception,” he murmured before leaning down, his lips pressing on hers. ~~ Present Day Piper sighed a little at the memory. How things had changed since that time. She looked around and saw her life. The shoes that belonged to Kaia at the door, the bassinet next to her bed. Her life now. She wondered what his was like, if his revenge mission was still consuming him desperately or if he’d found peace. Maybe he’d been able to. She didn’t know. She doubted it She tried to distract herself, idly cleaning up a few bottles in the sink in the bathroom, sorting Ella’s clothes for when she brought them down to the laundry room in the main part of the estate. It didn’t work. He didn’t leave her mind. She felt like the girl she always rolled her eyes at in the movies. But she knew it wouldn’t work. After half an hour, she gave up, sat down on the bed. Dialing the number she’d known but hadn’t dared call since everything had happened. She didn’t even know if it was still in service. But slowly, she punched in the numbers, bringing the phone to her ear. She figured it would be a voice saying the number was out of service. But much to her surprise it rung. She almost hung up when it did, but steeled herself. Each ring was agonizing, wondering if he’d actually pick up or if he’d ignore the call. Eventually, after what was probably only a minute at most, the call cut to voicemail. Simple and short, just his name. Even that was weird to hear though. She hadn’t heard his voice in months. It was nothing like his usual tone, but it was enough to make that piece in her heart that missed him leap a little. The beep sounded. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she kind of said, laughing a little at herself. It was relatively humorless, more so trying to dismiss her idiocy. “Or what I want. Maybe closure. Maybe I just want to make sure you still remember who I am,” another halfhearted attempt at humor to dismiss the call. “But…I guess this is easy than saying it to your face. I don’t know if you’ll get this. But I’m sorry for what I said. I was…wrong. I was scared,” she murmured absently. She hated admitting weakness. “I know it’s weird, because I don’t even know what it would mean to you, but um…I miss you,” she whispered the words softly, feeling a little watering in her eyes. She quickly reached up to wipe away the droplets. “I guess that’s it. Bye.” She hung up the phone, setting it down carefully.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Chapter 1: A Distant Roar

Summary of Fic:

Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the value with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after lating waste to nearly everything in their wake. Virgil and Roman, Society escapees and hunters run into an uncertain future while fleeing from their pasts. Remy and Remus stare their only chance straight in the face as they teeter on the edge of reluctant adventure. Emile is left his cousins engineering palace and is given the tools to change the world. Logan, a lone researcher and outcast is found by an old friend who offers him a chance of the century. Hyden (deciet), can shift into anything he so chooses, but staying true to his form as his heritage slaps him sideways proves harder than he thought. Patton mourns the loss of his son as he slowly uncovers secrets he wishes aren't related.

Or less wordy:

Eight idiots with trust issues fumble around each other and try to save the world from killer mechanical beasts and fairies that will snap your neck without taking their hands from their wine glasses.

Warnings: Violence, fight scenes, dark fantasy, apocalypse setting, some gore, blood

TW for this chapter: None? Though if you see any let me know

Ships: Remy (sleep) x Remus. Brotherly Roman and Virgil. Platonic Logan and Hyden (Deciet)

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"Long ago, humans existed as a thriving race, full of hope and promise. Their faith was strong, the resulting bond stronger and technology was accelerating towards a prosperous future.

It was a time when the tales of fae were still passed down as children's stories, and warnings were scoffed off as superstitions. Humans as a race believed the shadows of the night hid nothing and when dawn painted the sky whatever evil that may have lurked in the darkness was wiped away as cleanly as the shores by the waves of the ocean.

With that mindset adopted, when the calamity fell we thought only that the autonomous monstrosities were an advanced technology from an enemy country, meant to start another world war to wipe out whatever they could. When reports poured in from around the world, tin hats began screaming of aliens, and the churches filled with the cries of righteous damnation. No matter which reason you picked, it was almost a guarantee you would be wiped off the map given enough time. The creatures were gleaming gold and silver, blinding those who dared look too closely, deafening those who listened too carefully. Heavy as they seemed in their armor of metal they stayed light on their feet, crawling their way up from the earth, bounding through cities from the deep forest growth and swooping down from the unassuming sky.

It was over in mere days, cities laid to waste by the metallic creatures of an unknown origin, plains made unsafe from their territorial prowl; even the sky offered no escape as planes were clawed from the sky and set reeling into the maws of the swiftly growing forests. Trees unnaturally twisted to form barriers of wooden steel, the ruined cities overtaken by growth that should have grown in centuries rather than weeks, wide expanses of fields left unwalkable by twisting vines meant to trap and muffle. And over all of that the protective beasts walked their territories urged on my a master unnamed; following the bidding of a race none knew existed until the foolish humans decided it was safe to venture out again.

The fae, fairies, demons, creatures of another realm; this race went by many names bug the fact remained they were here to take back what was theirs. Too long, their leader said, have we cowered in the cover of your industrial hell. No more shall we hide in fear of your smoke smeared air that kills the very people who make it. We have been here long before your kind, and so shall we remain long after. Group your people however you like. Send any weapon of your choice to try and turn the tides to your favor. We will reign over the ashes you crumble to.

What this race of unnatural being didnt count on was a Hero of Ages to rise in a cliche of a fairytale epic. He stood tall over the bones they crushed his brethren too, sword dripping with vengeance and arms splattered with the fruits of his bloodlust. The day had come, for he, Remus, Harkened Duke of the Unseelie War, had clawed his ways from the depths of hell to face-"

"Babes. I love you...so very much. But you've been monologuing for twenty minutes now and I'd hate to waste my coffee by dumping it on your head."

Shoulders dropping in a pout, Remus turned towards his husband, leaning against the counter as he watched Remy reach for his still-hot-somehow coffee while nudging a can over into a growing pile, the plastic recyclables already having been sorted and bagged some time ago. His dark hair hung low over his tired eyes but Remus could still see the spark of amusement in them even as an annoyed huff left his lips. Smiling, he walked over to sit beside Remy, stretching out his legs and sweeping an entire pile of cans to the bigger pile scattering the displaed aluminum across the floor in the process. Ignoring another annoyed sigh he simply leaned his head on the others shoulder and smiled sadly.

"You never wish for something more than this?" He gestured vaguely around their small apartment they were quite lucky to have as Remy say back on his heels carefully so as not to knock his head of his shoulder.

"We're safe here." Punctuating safe with a flick to the back of the other mans head he continued. "Something more...that would mean going outside. And theres no Original Remus' Specialty coffee brew outside now is there?"

"It wouldn't take much to take the French press with us."

"It's starting to worry me how much you're bringing this up lately. I'm pretty useless," he waved his left hand around as emphasis, metal plating refracting the rooms dip lighting. "And you...are very loud. So very loud babes. We'd last a day, maybe two."

"If we had more people-"

"Which we don't. Unless we get a hunter or two stumbling in here wanting to drag a couple of inexperienced fighters along with them I don't see it happening." Putting the empty coffee mug in the sink, he turned back around to find Remus standing just behind him.

"I could fight for us."

"Very brave, but imaginary blades does not a dead beast make."

Remus swiped at the finger attempting to boop his nose, smirking lightly. "I have real blades!"

"Surgical scalpels don't count hun." Remy ducked under the strong arms attempting to pull him closer and bounded back over to his carefully sorted piles. "Now, either help me these or-"

A faint roar cut his words off suddenly, leaving him trembling from more than just the vibrations running through the floor. Remus was quick to be by his side, pulling him down and looping a protective arm around his shoulders. Squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark shades he wore even though he hadn't seen unfiltered sunlight in months he ducked his head down and moved closer into the protective embrace, tensing as another tremor reverberated through his bones. Minutes passed like hours as the couple stayed tense and alert on the floor, the beast eventually quieting, seeming to move off much to their intense relief. Dragging in a deep breath, Remy sagged against Remus, subconsciously rubbing at his left wrist and sinking further into the comfortable lap.

Gasping as he was lifted quickly, a deep blush colored his cheeks as he found himself being scooped up bridal style and twirled around before being carried through the short hall to the bedroom.

"My responsibility!" He cried out in mock desperation as he reached towards his sorted plastics and aluminum, ready to be traded later that week.

"Your plastic castles can wait until morning. It's late and we need sleep." So saying, Remus dumped his load unceremoniously onto the creaky bed and swiftly hopped in after, rolling to trap the barely struggling man under his body with a laugh.

Remy pushed at his shoulder playfully. "Who died and made you the responsible one?"

The mood sobered slightly, a look of pain flashing in the others eyes before quickly being replaced by mirth once more. Before he could offer an apology it was being swallowed effortlessly with a kiss that left him without a breath to spare one.

"Either sleep or I'm experimenting with bean strength again and make you taste test espressos until you faze into next week."

Laughing lightly, he bucked his hips just hard enough to push the other to the side so he could curl into Remus' arms for the night. "I'd rather not repeat that experiment again. I stay for your coffe, not for my stomach issues."

Remus smiled and threw his leg over his husband's hip to pull him even closer, pulling off his shades before resting his chin on the soft brown locks in contentment, swirling thoughts winding down to a rare dull roar as their breaths matched and evened out for the night.

The mechanical beast roared in anger as its tail lashed out to the side, hoping to catch the annoying pest that had lured it out into the feild. As beats went it was fairly small, resembling a feline with its lithe frame and small sharp teeth, only coming up to about 10 feet at its shoulder. Crouching down and twisting its head around it caught fleeting movement from the corner of its eye and whipped around to face it, only for the past to dart out of its sight again somewhere below it field of vision. Roaring in frustration it leaped straight into the air, turning and flexing its impressive claws hoping to smash down on whatever it was that eluded its attacks. Landing heavily, the beast took a second to recover from the rocky landing, flexing its spring loaded joints as it started to straighten.

A second was all the past needed to run up the length of its tail, impressive gait taking them to the beasts neck in no time at all to bring their weapon down and through the mechanical monstrosities neck, severing vital components and falling it before it got half of it last roar to rise from its throat.

The pest leaped from the beast as it fell to the side, stilling in the grassy plain with nary a twitch to make a passerby believe it was ever alive in the first place. Straightening from where they had landed, the pest sheathed the spear properly on their back and walked calmly over to the enemy, taking out a faded gray notebook as they did so.

Pushing a thick pair of glasses back up his nose, Logan looked over the creature with a passive interest before sighing and putting the notebook back in his pack. There was no use taking down data of a creature identical to one he had already slain a month prior. He knew he needed to start traveling more if he wanted more diverse data but he was loathe to leave his impromptu lab that lay hidden within woods no one dared enter. Looking around and seeing nothing more in the immediate vicinity he sighed again before adjusting the pack on his back and turning to walk back home.

There was always tomorrow.

This is also available on AO3 if you're interested. I can't promise regular updates but I really like this story so I'll be picking at it for a while.

I'm not really sure how to do fanfic layouts on tumblr so if this can be improved please let me know how. Please do not repost, reblogs however, are appreciated.