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catpriciousmarjara · 2 years ago

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So previously I was paradoxicaxiom but I deleted that blog. I have a new blog now and I remembered this thing I wrote and I wanted to reblog it once more cos I love it very much especially because of how spontaneous the inspiration was. I saw this post and that Community Service Dan post and my muse hit me with a sledgehammer. So here's the same fic again!

I have the same fic posted on ao3 for those who want to read it there!

The Watchtower's Conference Room 3 was witness to a procession of injured superheroes as they dragged themselves to their chairs and practically collapsed into them. Pained groans could be heard everywhere and even Superman looked like he had been through the blender. Not that anyone could fault him.

Diana remembered the absolute beatdown Clark had gotten while Constantine and Zatanna worked out the array to seal the damn eldritch monstrosity that had crawled out from the Rift. She fought the urge to wince, but only because wincing would mean moving her facial muscles and considering the state of her, that would be a very bad idea. Then she looked at the Justice League Dark members and this time did wince, and her entire face lit up in pain. But she couldn't bring herself to truly regret it, considering the other side of the room looked like they had their souls sucked out.

Constantine and Zatanna in particular were so pale from magical exertion and had to be carried by the less damaged members. Diana leaned back in her seat a pained grimace. Less damaged. Because there was no one that wasn't damaged. How the mighty have fallen…

The battle, if it could even be called that, had raged on for days without break, a relentless, one sided curbstomp. She still remembered the contents of the initial report. A portal had opened over the Pacific and an entity had appeared, making its way to land. Energy readings suggested something extremely powerful so all the heavy hitters had suited up. Routine procedure, nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps the worrying power levels.

But nothing could've prepared them for what they encountered.

The thing was a gigantic mass of black tendrils that made your eyes bleed if you looked at it too long. J'onn in particular experienced an adverse reaction and had collapsed, with bleeding ears and eyes and had to be put under a stasis spell. He was still under it now, healing in the infirmary, with no sign of waking up anytime soon. The rest of them hadn't fared much better, brought down to their knees by the sheer pressure of its presence and if it weren't for the magical shields that the Dark members had managed to put up, they would all have perished then and there. It had all gone downhill from there.

Worst of it all was that while they were put through what felt like a figurative woodchipper, their efforts hadn’t even managed to even scratch the blasted thing.

They hadn't even a sliver of a plan, not even Bruce, and considering the Brooding Bat version Ultimate he was employing at the head of the conference table, that was eating at him. Diana found that she couldn't criticise him for the routine this time. After all, it was sheer, dumb luck that they had survived at all.

They had been lucky that the Rift opened above the ocean. They had been lucky that the full roster of heavy hitters were available. They had been lucky that the seal worked. They had been lucky that the thing didn’t outright ignore them and proceed to land. They had been lucky that John Constantine was the Shadiest man alive with the most dubious of artefacts.

She shuddered to think what could've happened had it opened above a city or if Captain Marvel hadn't made it to the site in time. Her fellow demi-god had provided much of the raw magical energy required for the seal array to work and it had drained him. The normally imposing man was curled up among the Dark members, in a cuddle pile she gathered was not aimed at comfort but a way to communally replenish magical energy. She and him were among the less battered but they were demi-gods so that wasn't much.

It truly had been alarming, to see their strongest warriors and attacks be so utterly ineffective. All they could do was throw their sturdiest fighters at it while the magically skilled members worked out a way to seal it in the background. And that was frightening too...because the thing had only been sealed, not destroyed, not even banished. If someone freed it or if it ate through the array...it would be disastrous.

How could they even begin to combat something like that? It was a being from the Rift, from the spaces between spaces. She had heard horrifying legends about beings like that, their hunger, their power. And to make it worse none of it was malicious. It was simply their nature to devour and they were just in the way. Insignificant as ants were to men and men were to gods and gods were to necessity.

If Constantine hadn't somehow possessed a grimoire from the gods be damned Outer Realm, which is something entirely else to discuss, Earth would've been doomed. And even that seal, she knew, was just another thing in its way to the entity. It would undoubtedly eat through it one day and that was if some madman didn't try to free it in their quest for power, and unfortunately they had plenty of that in supply.

Diana's eyes found Bruce's and she saw her very same concerns reflected in them. What would they do if something like this were to happen again? What can they do? It's not pleasant, to be reminded so starkly of their powerlessness, of their helplessness. She watched his eyes harden and the remnants of Bruce Wayne being buried deep under the darkness of the Bat. He stood up, surveying the motley of injured heroes and prepared to address them all.

Not a single word had made it out of his mouth when an all too familiar chill made its way throughout the room. Diana paled and so did everyone else. Over the course of the last few days they had become quite acquainted with this particular sensation.

A Rift was opening. And it was opening in the Watchtower.

It looked like their adversary had a friend…and it had come knocking.

Diana scrambled to get back up and felt Clark struggle to his feet to her right. Around the room, the various heroes tried to do the same. She knew it was of no use. They hadn't been able to do anything at full power and as they were now? Wounded, exhausted, and at low morale? Victory wasn't even a possibility. The best they could do was get someone to steer the Watchtower away from Earth and into the depths of space while everyone else kept the entity busy as before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce slowly move towards Barry and knew he had the same idea. She shared a look with Clark and the both of them readied themselves to cover the former two and their run to the Control Room.

Last time they hadn’t actually seen the Rift open. Just a void and horrifying appendages reaching through it. This time it seems as if they had a front row seat. Diana couldn’t say that she was thrilled at the prospect.

And without any further warning, there it was.

A yawning Dark abyss.

A tear in the very fabric of reality.

An accompanying feeling of something viscerally wrong.

Diana had seen portals before, but this was nothing like a door. This…it felt like a Gate.

Something else was different as well. When they had been fighting the thing, the Rift had been pitch black inside. Nothing could be seen. Nothing could escape. But with this one, the darkness was receding. A toxic green replacing the pitch black.

And it was that which stopped Bruce in his tracks. But he wasn't the only one with peculiar reactions. Many of the Dark members' eyes filled up with even more dread than before. Captain Marvel in particular looked at the rift like it was something...unholy. Diana couldn't make heads or tails of what prompted these reactions. So what if the Rift was green? It was a Rift and they were about to be besieged by a ravenous being of the void once again...weren't they?

Her questions were answered when the tear widened, resembling an eye almost, but instead of eldritch tendrils, a white boot stepped out of the acidic green Rift. And then between one blink and the next, something was standing in front of them.

It was obscenely tall and muscular, with turquoise skin, elven ears, red eyes, and white flames atop its head. It was clad entirely in what looked like a black bodysuit that seemed to absorb all light and a long white coat that looked as if it was made of strings of light woven together. Its body was humanoid, but Diana knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever it was, it definitely wasn't anything remotely human-like.

The divine half of her was screaming, filling her mind and body with dread so primaeval that she felt as if she was clay once more. Beside her Clark's body had gone rigid, almost unresponsive. On the other side Zatanna had collapsed, her eyes bleeding, and Constantine had a hand held up to his mouth, blood dripping through his fingers. To their side Captain Marvel was doubled over in pain and his skin looked like it was tearing apart with energy. Diana didn't even need to look to know that the rest weren't doing much better.

The cause of it all, the entity? It simply surveyed the room. Nonchalant. As if they were just banal creatures not worth its time. And they probably were.

Diana had thought that after the battle with the thing, she knew what being small felt like. She was wrong. What she was feeling now was a thousand times worse. In front of this being she felt…miniscule.

Without warning, the tear closed and the pressure abated.

The abrupt shift in atmosphere caused the Amazon to collapse, just catching herself with a hand on her chair. Clark wasn't so lucky and toppled over completely. Bruce, that stubborn man, somehow remained standing, albeit with the help of the table. Everyone else had acquainted themselves with the ground and to be honest, Diana wanted to join them.

Whatever this was, she really wanted no part of it and knew without a doubt she wasn't alone in the sentiment. Not after the week they had. The pressure might have lessened but she could still feel its power, unfathomable and nigh brimming out of its form even while restrained. The thought of going against that...it was terrifying but she would still fight, still try and resist. She was Diana of Themyscira, one of the founding members of the Justice League. She had a duty to protect the planet and she would not shy away from it, even against insurmountable odds. But this was a losing battle. The best they could do was stall.

The being raised its hand and everyone readied themselves, for an attack, for a weapon, for anything, and before their wary eyes, in a flare of blindingly white flames, appeared…well what looked like a binder? In front of the perplexed gazes of the Justice League, which was rapidly crossing over from panicked and fearful to panicked, fearful, and baffled, the entity casually started to leaf through…the binder?, clearly searching for something.

Diana didn’t know how to react in this…situation. She was sure she was experiencing what one of the younger ones had called Blue Screening. She was sure that even the Batman did not prepare a protocol for such an eventuality.

The entity of course did not care that it had caused the collective malfunction of Earth’s heroes and continued to parse through its binder. The sounds of rustling paper filling the room.

Diana, somewhat hysterically, wondered what accursed purpose the damned thing served. For all they knew it was looking for the perfect recipe to eat them with, or writing down their names before annihilating them as some sort of journaling process, or adding a tally mark to the number of planets destroyed. It definitely didn't seem keen on explaining.

Bruce, as usual, was the only one among those stupefied by the being's actions to snap out of it. He cautiously continued his previous slow advance towards Barry, probably cursing the speedster for seating himself so far away and being so completely overcome with fear and bewilderment that he didn't notice any of Bruce's subtle signals.

But then the Bat stopped. And Diana realised why.

The sound of rustling paper?

It had ceased.

The entity had found whatever it had been looking for.

J̵̧̼̝̙̦͙͇͍̥̰̺̔͒̿̽̀̈́̈́̑͌́̀́̿̓̆͘͜͝o̸̱̹͈̰͙̦̅̑̓͋͘ḩ̸̡̧̻͈͔̩̩͎͎̯̦̰͚̤̼̪̝̝̟͓̬͕̳̤͎͕̼̠͉̺̀̓͌͋̆̔̽͒́̓͌̏́̈́̊͌̂̿̒̐̑̃͌̌̓̍̀͒͑̽̉͌̋̐͑̃̀̀͌̚͠͝͝͝͝͝n̸̢̡̨̮̖̦͎͍̲͔̮̪̲͙̮̙͚͈̺̻̞͓͖͇̭̪̟͗͛̏͋̀̋̇̊̌̂̈́̓̈́̌̒̏̊̿͊̂̆͐̀̔̒̓̀̈́̌̋̃̑͝͝ ̸̢̲̪͓̬̬͔̦̤̲̩͙̼̟͖̝̗̰̦̪̞̿͐̃͊̈́̒̈́̍̒̊̄̉̒̆̈́̃̿̊͐͊͗͒͐͗̓̊͐͑̀͛̚͝͠͠ͅḈ̶̧̢̼̜̣̩̲̞̮̝̹̟̯̱̝͓̺̼͐̊̈́̒͊̏̑̀̓́́͊̐͂̒̎̓̊̉̿̾̂͊͌̎̋̾͌̽̊̀͂͌̔̃́̃̿̀́̿͘͘̕͜͝͠͝͝͠ͅò̶̡̧̢̨̨̡̡̮̜̯̮͎̫̼̘̭͙̦͔̳̖̺̳̤͙̠̟̼̼͙͎͈̳̬̥̝̯̔͗̀͌͂̓͜n̶̞̓̎͊̿̔̿̽̅̎̌̕͘͘ş̷̨͇̪̈́͌̎̾̐̾̍͋̂̎͒͆̀̓̌͛̒̆͐̈́̑̈́̚̕͠ͅẗ̸̩͈̬͕̝̰̙̫̤̦͎́̋̌̅̈́͋͂͌̓͂̈́͑́͆͋͑̃̈̿̿̃͘̚͝ͅͅả̶̡̧̡̢̡̡̛͓͈̼͈̥͍͚̺̫͎͉̯̪͇̹̩̩͓̩͍̫͉͚̳̦͚̻͍͇̠͔͖̞͙͔̪̻̰̪̲͊́̀͑͑̎̆͋̎̾̀̌̀̿̉͆̑́͒͊̽̇̆͗̈͑̒͘͜͜͜͠͠ͅņ̷̧̢̨͙̝̯̰̙̺͎̫̻̙̫͙̩͖̗̹̭͙̝̹̹͕̩̻̼̻̠̩̳̣̺͔̫̜̳̗̞̪͚͈̥͍̤̑͑͋̈́̾̍͛́̿̈́̅́̃̐̿́͋̈́̆̀͐͒̂́́̚͘͘̕͘̚͜͜͜͠͝ṯ̶̡̢̨͎͎͔̩̺͉̹͈͔͓͚̱͔̫̖̞͔̖̹͖͖̱̦̳̜̟̗̗͇̫̭̳̀̋̌̂͐̀́͐̍͗̈́̍̀̀͗̓͆̊̋̆̈́̊̈́͛͊̏̔͛͋̎̐͌͂͆͂̏̈̊̐̋̆͋̎̚͜͠͝i̴̧̢̧̧̡̡̧̡̨̧̻̟̫͚͇̠̖̤̜̙̝̲̠̣̠̥͓̝̫̮̰͈͕̙̙̤͍̖̬̗͍͍͛̅̌͊͐̐̓͆͑͐̃̽́̏͆͒̋̈́̀̀̚͘̕͝ņ̵̨̗͉̲͕̜̩̩̣͍̘͈̦̭̮̮̘̤͖͕̯̺̗̜̭͈͍̳̀̊͑̐͆̅̿̅̆͂͂͗͒̌͒̐̈́͑̂́͌̂̈́̀̈́̂͗̈́̔͒̆͐̀͌̈́̿̋̑͂͒̾͘͝͝ę̷̢̥̭̣̻͎̻̻͍̥̝̩͕͖̙̀̌́͌͑̃̏̀͂̿̚̕͝."̶̢̨̡̧̦͇͇͔͍̣̗͈̩͎̩̠̣̰̰̞̰̬̻̑̐̊̓̐͗͊͌̇̇͋͛

Agony, sheer agony lanced through her and Diana, in a futile effort, covered her ears.

The voice, it wasn't piercing or loud, just something so...Other...Beyond, that her senses just couldn't comprehend and she couldn’t-

Silence. An utter absence of sound so unnatural that it was suffocating.

Her hands came back bloody. Dazed, Diana looked around the room and saw that only she, Clark, and Captain Marvel were standing. Clark was worse off than them both, still staring at his bloody hands. The others had been brought to their knees. She met the Captain’s eyes and saw her own dread reflected in them.

Their divinity had protected them. Whatever fragment of the divine that remained in the blood of the House of El it had protected Clark. But their godly halves won't hold up for long. Something needed to be done, immediately.

If Diana's assumptions were correct, the entity was looking for something. Her conjecture was further validated by the quirk of a pitch black eyebrow, as the being looked at heroes with annoyance. It was waiting for a reply and rapidly losing patience. She decided to take the plunge. If she was right then good. If she was wrong, well...at least she tried.

Diana gathered up her strength and, relying on the years of etiquette and diplomacy training she underwent as a princess, bowed towards the entity. She was gratified to note that Captain Marvel had done the same. Clark quickly followed them, trusting them to take the lead. Good, that would make this much more effective.

"Great One," she began, "this one is afraid that your noble tongue is lost on us. This one can only assume that the Great One is searching for something. We would all be honoured to assist if only we were to understand".

‘Laying it on a bit thick’, Diana thought as she slowly came out of her bow, still keeping her head lowered respectfully. But in situations such as these, it was better to lay it thick than thin.

The entity stared at her and then at her fellow demigod. It barely glanced at Clark and the others strewn about the room. The other heroes had slowly gotten back to their feet and to her relief, they too kept their heads lowered.

A low, unnerving hum permeated the air and Diana tensed. Was she wrong after all? Had she damned them? Were they going to be smote for their audacity?

It opened its mouth and she braced herself-

"̸̙̜́̔͛͠J̸͕͓͕͙̋ȯ̸̱ḥ̶̏̾ͅn̶̥̮̠̈́̉̓̾ ̶̩̼̥̃̑C̸̙̅̕͜ỗ̴̢͍̭̲̓ń̷̘̀s̵̛̻t̸̙̪̥͐̈́̓̋à̵͈n̶͎͛̈́̚ţ̷̧̓̈́̽͌i̸̥̥͍̭͝n̵͓̍̄e̵͓͛."̵̺͈̲͗̓ͅ

-but it did not hurt. It was like a hundred voices were talking at once, echoing throughout the room. Her ears rang…but it wasn't painful. Diana almost grinned in relief, it had understood her after all!

Then it struck her... along with everyone else in the room what exactly was said. As one the collection of heroes all turned towards the man in question, who looked like someone who knew they were at fault while also having no idea how.

̷“J̷o̶h̶n̵ ̴C̸o̶n̵s̵t̷a̸n̴t̴i̶n̷e̶ "̸, said the entity once more, clearly getting a little irate at the lack of response.

It's voice was getting lighter, Diana noted. But that would change if it didn't get an answer soon. Thankfully Captain Marvel took the initiative and tapped Constantine's shoulder, almost making the other man fall over, but to his credit he didn't hesitate when he stepped up towards the being.

"That would be me", said the sorcerer, his apprehension obvious.

…………………………………….…………………………………….

John had done a lot of bad things in his life. He's done so much crime, like So. Much. Crime., in terms of both human and supernatural laws and pissed off a lot, like a lot of people. He knew he had beings gunning for him, just waiting for him to slip up. But the thing is, he usually knew who they were, especially considering he hoodwinked them in the first place. But he had no idea who this was...not a clue, not a singular one. He frantically tried to remember if he ever sold some memories as part of a deal but then again if he sold them what good would it do trying to remember?

As he stood there gaping like an idiot, face a literal bloody mess from bleeding from his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and who knows where bloody else, scared shitless at this eldritch being with its eldritch binder, who was apparently looking for him, he tried to remember if he was ever stupid enough to play with beings from the Rift and had to admit that miraculously enough, while he was generally a dumbass, he was not that much of a dumbass. Because even for him, the Denizens of the Rift were a big no-no! You just don't mess with those.

Case in point the abomination currently writhing within the seal he and Zatanna had painfully crafted and Marvel had juiced up. The thing had clobbered them for days and all they managed to do was seal it, and he knew, just as Zatanna knew, that it wasn't strong enough to hold it. The damn thing had established a foothold on the planet and they could chuck it to the other end of the damn universe and it would still travel through the Rift and make its way back.

When they had made it back to the Watchtower all he had wanted to do was rest, drink, and pass out after Bats broke the bad news to everybody because he sure as hell wasn't doing it. But instead, Eldritch being and his binder, he still can't get over that damn binder, had come knocking, making them bleed from every orifice on their face, the whole shebang. And it was looking for him. Yeah this was definitely not a good week. No Siree. Constantine figured he must have shattered some sort of world record with the decibel count of his internal screaming.

And then Marvel had helpfully brought him back to reality, reminding him that if he did not present himself, they'll probably be Rift dog food. Are there even dog equivalents in the Rift? There probably is. Constantine had enough experience to know that there is always a dog equivalent. Besides, anything is a dog if you squint enough. Cats are everywhere though. No doubt about it. Bloody things rule over everything he swears. He would have liked to blissfully remain in his contemplations of canines and felines-in hindsight he did hit his head a bit too hard-but he had to step up. So he stepped up and presented himself like a good little mortal.

"That would be me", he said, alarm bells ringing in his mind nonstop. The being stared at him, then looked at the binder. For the umpteenth time he wondered what the hell was in it.

As if answering his question, it asked, "̴S̸o̷n̵ ̶o̶f̸ ̶T̸h̶o̴m̸a̴s̸ ̶C̸o̸n̸s̶t̵a̶n̵t̵i̵n̸e̴ ̷a̴n̸d̷ ̸M̶a̴r̷y̴ ̷A̸n̵n̶ ̷Q̷u̵i̸n̵n̶?̴"̸

"Yes. That would be my parents", John replied without missing a beat. There was no point in trying to hide anything. That binder probably had information about how many times his nappy had to be changed when he was a baby. John watched as the entity looked at its binder and nodded as if confirming something.

"̶T̵i̸t̷l̸e̶ ̷H̶e̶l̵l̵b̸l̸a̷z̷e̸r̷?̵"̵, it asked and heat, like Hell Heat, blazed through the room, provoking yelps and squeaks from the assembled heroes who John had kinda forgotten were even there, but John couldn't be bothered to care because...because that was... That was insane.

Hellblazer is his title, it has currency, hell he's used it's currency, but it's a low rank title. It's a given title in its born generation, connected to actions and not position. Its power comes from being John Constantine and doing what he does. It's not even strong enough to be inherited magically after his time. It should not, should fucking not, in any way shape or form, have enough currency that verbalizing it would have any magical effect.

But somehow that's what fucking happened. In front of his eyes at that. This entity had verbalised his low grade title and had it magically resonate. John didn't need to know that Justice League Dark was going internally crazy behind him. Because holy shit this was above their pay grade. This was so above their pay grade it wasn't even funny. Holy fucking shit in a shitbasket…

Thankfully, despite his mental breakdown, John managed a squeaky "Yes" to the question before the thing decided to smite them all for making it wait. When it looked back at its accursed binder, John took that chance to have a mini panic attack. Several mini panic attacks. He still can't remember ever pissing off a Rift being, well except for the one he just sealed... Fuck! Had that thing filed a complaint or something? Was he reported to some sort of Rift authorities for interrupting planetary destruction? But why was he singled out then? Why wasn't Zatanna or Marvel included? Did he get the short end of the stick again? Because that was soooo not fair.

John was brought out of his spiralling thoughts about what to do if he actually was reported to some Rift Complaints Department when the entity addressed him once again. Surprisingly its voice had lost its more…alarming aspects, settling into a more hollow quality. The sorcerer was just glad that his magic wasn’t attempting to eject his skeleton out of his skin anymore.

"John Constantine, son of Thomas Constantine, and Mary Ann Quinn. Hellblazer-

There it was again! This time it actually sparked a few flames that Green Lantern had to stamp out. Batsy is really gonna be on his case after this.

-You have sold the whole of your soul several times to entities of various denominations, up-to and including Princes of Hell, that is in multiple, parts of your soul several thousands of times, in multiple realities and timelines, to entities divine, demonic, devilish, interdimensional, intradimensional, extradimensional, leveraged your soul in deals of magnitudes planetary, dimensional, multidimensional-

He's being read for filth, John realised, like positively scalped. He can feel the eyes of every single hero boring into his skull and winced. Damn it all, it's like your body count being read out in detail in front of your good Christian grandma. Don't judge him for being a soul hoe! He did what had to be done. But still to have it all laid out like that... Why is a being from the Rift of all places doing this anyway? If he wasn't shit scared of being smited?smote? out of existence he would've said something but he, along with everyone else was close to passing out from fear, especially considering some of the chairs next to the entity had become nothing more than chunks of compressed metal from the proximity alone. They had no desire to become chunky mortal salsa so they kept their mouths shut. Even though it was painfully clear that they had several opinions(™).

John was actually kinda grateful for the abominable power of the eldritch monstrosity because he knew some of them, Batsy and Zatanna in particular, were waiting to make a comment. And he really didn’t want to be subjected to a Batlecture.

-and so on. Calculating the temporal experience according to your personal timeline and lifeline, situating the relevant time firmly between dusk, yesterday, and dawn of this day, all rights to your soul, whole, partial, and otherwise, barring an isolated 12%, have been transferred, as part of a united effort from the owners of these specific rights, as either yearly tribute or royal tax, thus offloading all rights to the possession of your entire soul, bar the aforementioned 12%, completely and irrevocably to the ownership of-

You know when people say they see static, or hear static, or taste static etc.? John never actually understood that particular turn of phrase. His life is just so full of sensation that it's overwhelming. Always something happening, always on guard, even when he is at the bottom of a bottle, there is an awareness of sensation he just can't shake. But now, standing in front of this entity, an eldritch being that can actually cause you to taste static, he finally understands the phrase, not because of its eldritchness, if that's even a word, but from the fact that those fuckers had actually resold his soul! Thats so fucking rude!

After all that talk about being the only ones to reap his soul they just forwarded it along like an unwanted Christmas present! He was actually feeling quite despondent. Had they lost interest in him? Is his soul not a hot commodity anymore? How would he do his job now? Half of the time he sold his soul! What bullshit! He was dumped! Over a text! A thousand times over!

Maybe if he phrases it like that and focuses on the hilarity of it, he won't have to pay attention to the fact that his soul is now in the possession of possibly a royal being from the godsdamned fucking Rift and there is no way to get out of that no matter how many tricks he could try and he's trapped forever and fuck whowhatthefuck

-The One At the Close-

A shockwave of power erupted at the evocation of the title, and the Watchtower juddered in space and the heroes shared wide eyed looks. But John was oblivious because his luck couldn't be that bad, could it?

-Before and After-

-End and Beginning-

Another shockwave. Wonder Woman and Superman tried to keep the table from collapsing. It did not work. Batman's glare could've flayed John alive but the sorcerer was still looking at the entity reciting the titles in horror

-The Keeper of Eternity-

Shockwave again. The Green Lantern ring decided that was the time to try and give disco a chance and went ballistic, its wearer desperately trying to control it.

-Monarch of the Vast-

Below, the Lazarus Pits wailed. Zatanna looked like he was about to hurl…which was leagues better than Captain Marvel who had actually hurled.

-The Balance-

-Inevitable, Irrefutable, Undeniable-

-The Ghost King-

At that last title, the power went out and the reserve did not turn on. With dread the heroes realised that if they didn't get the power back on, the station would careen off of orbit. They scrambled to get back their wits and do their jobs... When the entity that caused the commotion waved a hand and between one moment and the next it was like nothing had happened. It was terrifying. But the entity did not seem to care for what they thought, instead looking at Constantine who looked thoroughly checked out.

"John Constantine, the entity began, "Do you acknowledge the state of your soul?"

John came to exactly as the entity asked the question and he was so glad because he did not want to anger this being who might directly answer to the one who now owns his arse. And isn't that knowledge? The fact that the fucking Ghost King, the King of the motherfucking Infinite Realms, now has ownership of his soul? And there is no way he can weasel out of this?

"Yes. I do acknowledge", he rasped out. It was as if a lock suddenly closed. John could hear the figurative click as his acknowledgement did...Something.

In response the absurdly tall being turned back to his fucking binder, leafing through it once again. John took the opportunity to dredge some of his infamous impudence to ask a few questions.

"So to summarise, he began, "everyone who once owned a claim to my soul, whole and partial, in a collaborative effort, decided to unload all of those claims as either tribute or tax to the Infinite Realms, effectively making the The Majesty, The Ghost King, the owner of my entire soul? And you are here to announce it?"

The entity did not look up from his binder. But to his surprise it did deign to reply.

"Your souls bar 12%."

"Huh?", was John's oh so very intelligent reply.

"Your soul barring 12% now belongs to The Imperial Majesty", the being, ghost?, replied without missing a beat.

John gulped. "Can I ask about the 12%?"

The entity paused in its search through the binder. Then hummed. Seemingly considered something. All the while John looked on sweating but thankfully it decided to indulge him.

"The 12% originally belonged to some minor devil. From there it got traded multiple times till it ended up in hands of the young mistress of the Morley household who didn't know what to do with it. She decided an active claim was way too troublesome to maintain in such a cutthroat claim battle so she gave it to her child as a toy. Soon after her child got his learner's licence for soul contracts she retracted her claim entirely and gave it fully to the child as a gift, as a practice run. He could've held onto it until maturity and registered it under his name once he gained his actual licence but he got in trouble in Makai and was taken in as a ward into the Naberius household to straighten him out. Around that time his Learner's licence ran out and he couldn't return to Hell to renew it so the 12% basically returned to you. This is more of your soul than you've ever owned in decades."

That...was a lot to unpack.

John could feel Zatanna's stare of judgement. He didn't know what to feel about his soul being a toy, pocket money, or a practice run. And he also didn't know that you needed a licence to do soul deals. What do you know! You learn something new everyday!

He looked up and almost shat himself. The entity was way too close, a devious smile on its lips. Way too many teeth. Way too many teeth. Nothing is supposed to have that many teeth. Holy fucking shi-

"This one has a proposition John Constantine", it said, smile-with-too-many-teeth still on its lips.

John swallowed. "What proposition?"

"You see John Constantine," said the entity, "with your acknowledgement of the current ownership of your soul the news has already been projected to all relevant realms-

John didn’t even have the time to properly file that away for later when the entity came too close to his face, too fast, too fucking fast, almost folding over him, looming, gleeful compared to the stoicism of before.

-Everyone is aware of who you belong to now. With 88% of your soul belonging to The King no-one would even think of taking the rest of your soul even if you offer it for free. Who will compete with the Crown of Frost and Fire? The King is Inevitable, Irrefutable, Undeniable! For a man like you-

Its sharp black claws grasped his chin and raised it, making him look into furiously red eyes.

-who only considers his soul when he wants to sell it for an advantage, the 12% you own is functionally useless! Why don't you sign it over to the Crown? This one is willing to give away a favour in return! How about it, John Constantine?"

The right thing to do was agree. The sensible thing to do was agree. The safe thing to do was agree. But John didn’t become who he was by being right, sensible, or safe. Even with his face so close to pitch black claws, John still managed to summon enough balls to throw back a question. Man, he really learned nothing did he?

"If it's all the same, if it's a measly 12%, why ask for it? With 88% already in hand, claiming the rest upon my death would be child's play."

The hand around his face tightened to a painful degree. Its smile widened and took on a malicious cast for the first time. The sorcerer had seen many evil beings before, danced with them, bargained with them, killed them, but this…this was different…this was malice incarnate. John had never been so frightened in his life. It was only when he was let go and he slipped and fell on his arse did he realise that the entire room had frozen over and the rest of the heroes were stuck in the ice.

“You know”, it said in a soft, sibilant voice, "For someone who is going to reap the rewards of being immune to any and all soul based magicks and abilities by virtue of belonging to the Highest Authority-

John honestly hadn't considered that! At least there's some good news!

-you have a lot of nerve to even raise a question such as this.-

Oh man, is he gonna be smote? Will this thing smote his boss' claimed soul? How do things work here?

-But your impertinence... It amuses this one, so this one finds it in themselves to answer your query."

Saved by being the clownish entertainment! Score!

"It's because of paperwork", said the entity.

"What", said Constantine.

"Because having to claim the 12% post-mortem will generate too much paperwork. Leaving it as it is will also generate paperwork. And quite frankly you have already caused us too much paperwork by just existing in general Sorcerer.”

Constantine felt his usually nonexistent lizard brain resurrect itself into a hissing fit as the entity’s ire evidently increased.

“We had to go through close to 5000 documents, adding full claims and partial claims together, cancelling out disputed and overlapping claims etc.,it was all such a hassle. We do not wish to do anymore paperwork regarding you. So we wish to claim your complete soul with a deal post haste so we can close your account forever. This will benefit you most of all. You clearly hold no love for your soul and will even get a favour out of it. Considering the Rift Denizen that is eating through your seal currently and about to devour the planet below this one assumes you have use for a favour from one such as them”, the behemoth finished, its face shifting from an irate to a sly cast towards the end.

It was as if lightning struck everyone in the room. They had actually forgotten what they had spent close to a week fighting and posed a very significant threat to their planet due to this fiasco. While everyone else tried to recalibrate and reassess, especially with the favour the entity was implying, John did not even have to think.

"Deal!", there wasn't even a single waver in the sorcerer's voice. In the background he could hear Zatanna facepalming, Marvel groaning in exasperation, and Batsy's incensed growl, and a cacophony of other noises from the heroes. But honestly he did not give a shit.

He was gonna pay for this...like really pay. Batsy was gonna skin him alive. Or worse he would tell Dick and Dick will destroy him till he'll wish he was dead. But he still did it anyway. Because Constantine knew what he was capable of. He was also a good judge of what others were capable of. And he knew that there was nothing, absolutely nothing they could do to stop the thing once it ate through the seal. And the beings that could do something…that price they wouldn’t be able to pay. He of all people would know. So they had to take this chance that was offered.

There was no time for regrets. Not in John’s life. Not when the entity looked like it would eat him alive if he even indicated a desire to renege.

"Excellent John Constantine!” said the being as it produced an opened scroll and pointed to a dotted line, "do place your insignia here to complete the deal!"

The moment he completed his signature, John felt a burning sensation in his hand. A crown of ice and fire surrounded by blood red flowers encircled in an array was forever inked into his flesh. He was now marked for the Infinite Realms. It hurt like a bitch.

The entity on the other hand, was full of mirth as it made the scroll disappear. When it turned to face him once more, the number of teeth in its mouth seemed to have doubled. Which wasn’t scary at all really! Its demented grin was replaced by annoyance however when it saw John still uselessly standing there, sans Seal. Give him a fucking break! He finally got caught in a deal he couldn’t weasel out of…it was a bit much to process.

"The Seal John Constantine", it demanded, voice making the entire room shudder.

Well he definitely wasn’t dilly dallying on purpose. He wasn’t that mad no matter what people said. The spirit was willing but the body sure as hell was not. Sealing the thing had wrung him out of magic. Summoning the seal into this plane would probably put him into a severe magical depletion induced coma. He barely had enough juice for this one manifestation and he would be out like a light for weeks at the very least. That would mean the rest of them would have to fend for themsel-...On a second thought that didn’t sound so bad after all. Didn’t sound bad at all! All this definitely won’t be his problem anymore if he was passed the fuck out. Sounds positively festive!

Now feeling much better, John held his arms out, parallel to his torso, palms facing each other. He concentrated, eyes closing as he delved into his reserves which were no doubt exhausted…or that's what he thought he would find. Instead he found his reserves overflowing with magical energy. Shocked, his eyes flew open and met the malevolent gaze of the entity. Its lips were pulled in a devious, knowing smile.

John swore he could feel his heart drop to his stomach. Somehow, without him even noticing, his mana was replenished. He felt as if cold hands were gripping him by the throat, a shackle that he was only now truly understanding the meaning of. He was grateful that he was facing away from his colleagues…he did not know what kind of expression his face was making…whatever it was, it amused the primordial being floating in front of him. He really, really needed to calm down.

John heaved a deep breath and summoned the seal. It floated between his palms and he let it glide over to the entity. Already he could see it was corroding. Tendrils of power slipping through the cracks. That more than anything proved that he made the right decision. They would not have been able to contain that no matter how hard they tried.

The Being examined the seal, and seemed almost impressed for a few seconds, before it simply… slapped its palms together with the floating seal in between... Like killing a mosquito. And when it opened its palms, the seal was just gone, and along with it, the creature.

Holy Fuck.

John just stared. In fact everyone was staring. That was…that was…Fucking hell.

Nothing it did before revealed its power level than this display right here. To just erase a Rift creature like that... That's godly... No...it's…it’s deathly.

It Smiled-with-too-many-teeth. "See you at the End, John Constantine".

John felt his very soul quiver.

And then it was gone. Between one moment and the next. No sound. No fanfare.

Silence. Stupefaction. Cracking ice. Then the sound of doom as Batman, murderous and incandescent with rage, made his way across the room.

“Batsy wait! Listen! Let me tell you something! Let me tell you something! LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING-”

These were the original tags and I was proud of them tbh

I don't know much about DC, but seeing all these things about Danny owning Constantine somehow... what if instead of an ancestor, the different demons Constantine sold his soul to are all technically vassals of the Ghost King (hell dimensions being part of the Infinite Realms) and they decided to offload their useless rights to Constantine's soul as part of their taxes?

#danny phantom #dp x dc #ghost king danny #Dan Phantom #Bureaucrat Dan #Justice League #John Constantine's Soul tax evasion bites him in the arse #how wonderful #this is why you don't mess with the the IRRS (Infinite Realms Revenue Service)

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sixofravens-reads · 1 year ago

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Okay, some post-shower thoughts about Hummingbird Salamander (spoilers under the cut):

Overall, a solid thriller-mystery. Jane was an excellent anti-hero, smart and strong but still not so much that she could easily defeat any obstacle. A thrill-seeking office worker who's torn between boredom at her normal suburban life and a deep love for her family (though she tries to downplay it).

The mystery is complex, full of twists and dead-ends and doubling-back, but not so much so that it stops making sense. I love the settings - Vandermeer is very good at the urban-fantasy thing of making ordinary buildings or businesses into more than what they are. The backstory that's revealed throughout is heartbreaking as much as it is informative - telling us more about Jane as a person than anything she writes about the present.

I did feel like this book could've been about 50 pages shorter - maybe ending after Jack abandons her on the mountain, instead of her going to live in the woods for 5 years. Maybe she doesn't meet Silvina anyway, but after that climactic fight there's a bit of an unnecessary lull in the story. Or maybe after meeting Silvina she leaves for a few years, but either way it just seems like the ending is very delayed and a little anticlimactic.

I do wish we got more of the backstory of Silvina, Langer, and Jack's entanglement, because for a lot of the book even after we learn more about them, it still just seems like Jane's unwittingly stepped in some lover's quarrel. A lover's quarrel where everyone thinks one person built a bioweapon and therefore must never be found in case the finder somehow detonates said weapon.

Also, Silvina. She doesn't quite hit right for me. She's not mysterious enough to play the revered cult leader, or tangible enough to truly impact the story. Often I wondered why Jane kept going when there seemed little motivation to - there never seems to be any goal, even a vague one, especially since Jane thinks Silvina is dead for most of the book. Also, I understand the author wanted to ride the line of showing Slivina as a revered environmentalist and also showing her failures - she's a billionaire's daughter who, while her goals were good, did a whole lot of evil to get there - but at times it didn't seem like Jane even revered her enough to be following her. She was mysterious, but not intriguing enough to understand why Jane kept searching for her clues after the Larry incident.

I think since we know Jane is writing all of this, it would make more sense if she played up Silvina's mystery and goodness even more and the bad things were more subtly told to the reader (just like with Ned in the backstory).

Also, strangely for a book about climate change, it doesn't seem to make any huge statements about that. Like, yes, the earth does get very bad over the course of the book, but it's the same scenario we've seen a dozen times before in eco-apocalypse tales. Jane seems concerned by it, but also not. Silvina was definitely concerned by it, but for 75% of the book she's thought to be either an eco-terrorist trying to kill all humans or an animal-smuggling fake who gave up when the going got too tough and only managed to build a glorified strip mall.

At the end, instead of trying to save the world, she attempts to change herself (and Ronnie and Jane) and release a pathogen that will somehow make humans...care about the environment more because otherwise they'll be very uncomfortable? I think? I'm unclear on what the goal was there, or how it can stop this ball from rolling downhill. Either way, she most likely failed.

Actually, thinking back to Annihilation and Borne, Vandermeer's climate themes always seem to lean towards "humanity cannot save earth, we have to go through the apocalypse and be reborn for the world to be cleansed." Which...not something I personally agree with but definitely interesting to read.

All in all: a solid book, not one of my favourite Vandermeers (probably third from the bottom, I think, just above Dead Astronauts and Ambergris), but still intriguing and worth a read!

#thinking about reading #this got LONG whoops #now i have to go make a chicken pot pie #with acorn squash!#and then figure out what to do with roughly 3-5lbs of zucchini #i bought a giant zucchini for $3 at the farmer's market and its haunting me like Silvina's ghost #i can just shred it and freeze it to make chocolate zucchini cakes later tho. no need for dramatics

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terrence-silver · 2 years ago

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What do you think Terry’s bedroom would look like? I’d love to know how you think they’d look throughout the different eras <3

---

― What do we know about Terry as a kid? Born somewhere in the 50's, stemming from old money, possibly from multigenerational (very traditional?) dynastic wealth, I think his bedroom reflects that. Could've been a bit way too large for a young boy. Think colossal. A colossal Persian carpet. Colossal velvet draped windows. Ornate furniture. A bit way too lavish. Intimidating even for adults, least of all a child. Could've had all the airs of a rented Astoria suit for all we know. Like it was stuck in time, style-wise. Maybe a bit devoid of personal belongings, and while he might've had all the books, all the vetted, chosen and approved toys, all the trinkets, a spacious wardrobe full of tailored suits intended for a kid purely because his parents wanted to him to broadcast and image worthy of a Silver and always be presentable, I feel his room was empty for the mos part. Empty in a sense that it felt more like a lavish, extremely high-end, regal midcentury catalogue of a '''children's room''' rather than an actual children's room someone lived in; always tidy, perfect, admirable, awe-inspiring, controlled and immaculate and I think Terry was to discard of all childlike sentiments like toys very early on life because it was seen as unbecoming, possibly by his despotic father. Which in turn, made the room even more of a museum. A beautiful, extremely opulent museum, but a museum nonetheless. Of course, young Terry, or rather Twig, who came home from Vietnam to this, never lacked a thing, but I feel he wasn't really allowed to be a kid like any other kid, and he grew up in a bedroom like this:

― Of course, he carried on the taste for the finer things in life he was raised on right into the 80's and legitimately bought out a 20's brutalist Mayan-temple looking structure that was the root for a great many urban legends about it being haunted over the decades --- which might've been the selling point for Terry, to be honest, as I see him with someone with a very dark and morbid sense of humor. A haunted mansion atop of Beverly Hills which now, he in turn, can haunt? Sold! Of course, the very interiors of Ennis House which he presided in mainly, undoubtedly one of dozen places he owned, were extremely concrete made. Harsh. All bricks. All blocks. Shapes. All precise, measured, controlled and geometrical in pattern; which is, symbolically, a perfect fit for Terry, who is all corporate, calculated and a shrewd, Machiavellian Yuppie businessman in this time in his life, at the height of his game. His bedroom is just like that too, possibly even emptier than when he was a child, possibly Spartan, one would say. Minimalist and brutalist. Nothing much in there, except a huge, opulent bed, a fireplace and majestic square windows overlooking the skyline of LA. Everything is there for a reason. If Terry comes in there, he comes in there to sleep, which is a physical necessity, or to fuck, which is also a physical necessity, and practically meticulous and micromanaging as he is, he doesn't feel the need to put anything in there that might distract from the perfect order of things he designed in his mind. The result: a womb-like dungeon.

― Terry post-therapy? Reinvented Terry? Repressed Terry? Terry who neutered himself strategically? Terry who de-fanged himself to hide in plain sight? Dietary Terry? Green mindful Terry? Terry for a new, socially conscious age? Terry the Good Billionaire Silver? Friendly neighborhood business mogul retiree Terry? I think he understands the power of fashion, aesthetics, environment, suggestion, and he always has, which is why Terry in this period of time opts to make his Malibu sea-side home and by extension, his bedroom, look and feel safe. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. His estate is like a million other upper class estates you've ever seen anywhere else in all it's sleek Air Bnb glory. Nothing stands out. There is almost nothing unusual about it. He has artwork. He has a piano. He has balconies. And a wine cellar. A nice view. Wow. All the markers of wealth are there, minus the eccentricity and the sense of self, necessarily, which has elements of tragedy to it; everything is only slightly downplayed. There's a disconnect between house and owner. Even the piano he plays is only slightly too small for his size. His breakfast slightly too depressive. His connections slightly too fake. His dates have him going down to the wine basement to kick bottles into the wall in frustration. It's all beautiful and lovely and...expected? Industrial beige. Pastel. A scary type of clean and hygienic that is almost impossible to achieve. Terry is the male answer to a Stepford Wife. A Stepford man. His bedroom is that of a modern Stepford man too; minimalist, pale, white and cool. If Terry's individuality was nowhere to be seen it would've been in this period in his life specifically.

― Terry after he resumed along his old ways and habits? Turns out, Terry has been maintaining a full-blown separate mansion outside of the Malibu one entirely decked out with cobra decanters, Japanese historical Samurai swords, daggers, historic antiques and artwork, blades, armors, Kendo equipment, and hoo, boy, he has an actual lair he kept untouched for goodness knows how long. Maybe for decades even. Suffice to say, the aesthetic differences between the manor where he entertains the trite Tofu crowd and the manor where he invites Chozen over for dinner are starkly different and by the looks of it, the manor where Chozen is invited to seems like it fits infinitely closer to Terry's sensibilities as a whole and is just riddled with individuality to a staggering degree; a copious amount. Shamelessly displaying Terry's interests. All of them. Like has been using this house to collect everything he ever cared about, everything that fascinates him, almost like an overly eager kid stashing all those toys he was forced to give up way too early, doing so away from scrutiny and public eye and judgement, which is why it could've been so anger-inducing when it was broken into due to the fact it served as something of a safe-space for Terry; tucked away at what seemed like a forested patch of somewhere, all black wood and tiles, black marble hypermodern fountains, doorless walls, earthlier tones, veneers and barriers separating rooms from one another, this estate is avantgarde retreat and I figure the bedroom is just like that too. Finally, just as dark as Terry likes it:

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #80's terry silver #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #terry silver headcanon #terry silver headcanons #bedroom #bedrooms #living spaces

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imachildprodigy · 3 years ago

Text

Ketterdam / Kaz Brekker x Reader

contains: angst, fluff at the end, bit of swearing trauma mentions

a/n: honestly ,i've finished this like three days ago, i just haven't posted it up until now. i haven't read the books so just let me know if there's anything inaccurate! enjoy!

warnings: swearing, trauma mentions, death mentions, angsty

word count: 1.6k+

You couldn't help but hopelessly gaze out to the bleak Ketterdam sky. Every night, although you had no idea why, you would expect to peer up to an enthralling sky, brought together with stars forming foreign constellations, the dark sky beyond the stars creating a handsome contrast to the eyes. But no, instead you were disappointed to be met with the dull Ketterdam sky. From the sheer light pollution, the stars had seemed to evaporated, not a single twinkling star in sight. The only visible 'stars' were the bright ones, but from further studies you were to realise that these 'stars' were in fact other planets. However, the moon certainly wasn't a let down.

On a full moon, the sky would become much more tolerable, the moonlight beaming down on Ketterdam as if it was thrashing its deadly streams of light on the city. The sky would light up, the angelic light producing the look of a candle in a dark room. Your early childhood years would be pervaded by the memories of staring up to the moon in your bed, wondering how the saints could've created such beauty. However, tonight the moon was waxed, and you hung onto the small crescent shaped light. Normally at times like these, you would think of your parents, and what you could've done to prevent what had happened.

The night was indeed a waxed crescent, except further out into the country, stars would paint the sky, if it hadn't been the middle of winter, with the bitter cold and the dull clouds. It snowed for majority of the year, however when summer came, the nostalgia began. The heatwaves you certainly weren't used to, but you'd remember your mother fussing over you when you came back from playing outside as a small child when they had occurred, your face being all puffed out and pink. When summer in Ketterdam came, you were nothing but enlightened to be looking forward to a heatwave, just to feel the same nostalgia you had felt every year.

Your parents had both been Grisha, and you certainly were expected to be one as well. Having both parents descent from Grisha heritage was almost guaranteed for the child to be one as well, but in your case, you weren't. Well if you were, you hadn't known, the chances were slim after all. You hadn't shown the signs of such powers when you were a toddler as your parents had, and no matter how much your father tried to engage your powers, no amount of training or encouragement could. This, of course, was before Grisha's had been granted the same freedoms as ordinary people, with your parents moving to the countryside to escape from being captured from the Druskelle.

Up into you were seven years old, your parents hideaway had worked. A small community of Grisha had lived just up the road, and you had lived off with whatever food they could manage to produce. Every now and then, there would be plenty of food dropped in front of your doorstep, courtesy of some kind Grisha without a doubt. While majority of Grisha had struggled to have farms with the small time period of warmth, there would be plenty of food for three months, and a smaller time period after that to enjoy the preserved food from harvest.

Thankfully, the village (if you could call it that) was entirely able to protect themselves. Not to mention, there was healers as well if there was ever to be trouble. So, when your parents had been captured, and taken away by the Druskelle, it was entirely unexpected. You'd had hoped that your parents were entirely capable of defending themselves when it was needed; you had seen their capabilities as Grisha. Your father was a Durast; and his powers were certainly not weak.

Everyone assumes that when your a Durast, your powers are entirely useless - this was of course, before General Kirigan had come along. What good would manipulating materials, or making flowers bloom do? The answer? Many things. Your father could've easily manipulated stone to be hurdled towards a large group of Druskelle easily if he pleased. He could easily move objects to be in his grasp; such as weapons. Practically, his powers included such useful things for battle and survival

As for your mother, she was a Heartrender. She was the only Heartrender in the village for all everyone knew. She hadn’t used her powers very much; as there wasn’t much of a use for them.

That night, when your parents were torn away from you, was traumatic. It was a vivid night, during the Spring. You remembered the breeze against your skin of that night as your helplessly ran out of the house, only in your nightgown. Being a child, you knew little of what to do, only to run up the road to the close community. You still had scars on the soles of your feet from the gravel puncturing your skin to crimson, but you hadn’t cared. The tears on your face had been wiped off from the wind tearing at it, your skin feeling oddly stiff.

This lady; you still hadn’t known her name to this day; but you leapt onto her. She clearly knew full well what had happened; seeing a child in such distress, tired, somewhat injured. Her face was kind, and her smile was sweet. She hushed you tenderly, cradling you in her lap. You looked beyond her face, up to the waxed crescent moon. But there it was; a cloud.

You had savoured this moment for what had seem to be a long time. It was cut short, when the Druskelle raided the village. The lady ran with you still in her arms, and you still remember the disturbing image of her worried face. The Druskelle were too powerful; she was an Inferno, and tried to ward off the Druskelle, but her attempts were unsuccessful.

A rope binded her body, and she was stuck; helpless. One Druskelle snatched you from her loving arms, and you remember being struck down into the back of a wagon; tied up. You had screamed for help, but your cries were muffled by cloth that they had stuck into your mouth. Eventually, your cries had become idle, and you fell into darkness.

You woke, being untied, blearing lights forced into your recently-awoken irises. Little did you know that you would have to get used to these lights for the next sixteen years.

"Are you even listening?" Kaz's voice drawled out. You were snapped back to reality, and at that point, you were grateful. Every time you had thought about your parents, about what had happened, you were sucked from what was happening right in front of you. You hadn't even noticed Kaz entering the room.

"No," you gulped. Kaz sighed, sauntering over to the window. The silence that followed was uncomfortable, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. "I know you were thinking about your parents." You scoffed. "So what if I was? It's none of your damn business." The raven haired man ushered towards you, clenching his jaw and shaking his head.

"Look! It's been sixteen years! Just accept that your parents have died and move on!" You were taken aback; this man couldn't have been any more horrible, any more sour than he possibly was being right now. Anger, sadness, everything ran through you at that single moment. "Kaz! How dare you, I-" You stood up, and almost pushed him backwards by the shoulders, before he poked you hard in the stomach with his cane.

"Fucking hell!" You groaned. Kaz looked at you, in full seriousness; no amusement on his face at all. "You getting all droopy and sad isn't going to be well for our heist, especially with people on our back," he sighed. "Forget about your parents." You got up, not caring about the pain rumbling in your abdomen. "Forgetting about them is like me asking for you to take off your god damn gloves and stop being irrational!" Fuck.

You knew you had taken it way too far; you had expected for him to ask you to leave, or maybe even shout at you, but Kaz was better than that. "This is about you, not me." He acted as if he wasn't hurt by your comment, but inside, your words hit him like sandstone. Even you knew, you could see it in his bitter black eyes. "Can we agree on something?" He asked, impatient.

Obviously, you hadn't meant it, and he knew too, but you nodded. "Good," he began to wander out of the room. "Look, Kaz, I'm sorry about what I said, really." He turned around, his expression calm, yet significantly stern, and he raised his left eyebrow. "It was honestly just the heat of the moment, I swear," you blurted out.

He nodded curtly, yet still stared at you, seemingly as to take in your features. Your mouth fell agape and you treaded towards him. You looked down at his boots, as you were too worried to look up at him. Your hands trailed up to his shoulder, patting it gently, staring at his neck.

He was looking down at you. His cheeks grew hot, and sensed a sudden moment of idolisation. He backed away, shaking his head turning around, about to reach the door handle. "Don't worry about it," he disclosed, slipping out of the room and closing the door. You fell backwards almost, but caught yourself, and you shook your head. "Saints," you whispered, rubbing your hands over your face.

Kaz smirked to himself behind the door, but quickly composed himself. "It's nothing, he murmured.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #alina starkov #nina zenik #matthias helver #six of crows #soc #fanfics #wattpad #harry potter #leigh bargudo #booksreader #angst

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jraker4 · 8 months ago

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Hey, it's neat that you decided this ought to be its own post! Since maybe you missed it;), I'll offer some of the same remarks here as I did when you spouted this trash there, too: Don't pretend you don't understand that the question of whether rape victims are to be outed to public scrutiny is a fraught one. That there are real, serious questions about the rights of the accused to confront their accuser *and* the rights of the victim to be safe from the public scorn and threats that so often accompany such things. I know you understand this. Just about everyone who isn't a virulent misogynist understands this. I know you would look with outrage and hostility (almost as much outrage as you feel over Jews keeping lights on, amirite?;)) if, in response to a more ordinary accusation of rape, someone immediately demanded, "Who are they?! Give me their full name and details of their account, NOW, or they're LYING!"

Now, add onto all of that that these sexual assaults happened in a literal war zone, well, that makes following ordinary civic procedure of such things a little more complicated, too! Weird! The funny thing is, you're such a lazy, stupid antisemite that, as usual, your bigotry takes you into comical absurdities. You *could* have raised a question about 'how many sexual assaults? Was it a Hamas policy?' and been on (potentially) safer, un-antisemitic footing. Those are (potentially) fair questions. You could've raised the factor of 'in wartime, charges of atrocity are made and often wildly exaggerated-what can we do to mitigate that? Hell, you could even have pretended you and your ilk wouldn't immediately respond to someone who did come forward with a claim that they'd been raped when Hamas broke the ceasefire and massacred Israelis (largely because of threats to its own power by political and diplomatic maneuverings in the region, rather than any high-minded claims of 'resistance' which by any measure has been horribly served by Hamas's 'struggle') with the harshest, most toxic scorn and disbelief and hatred. And that *maybe* that sort of response *might* have something to do, in addition to so many other factors, with their not publicizing their names. But no. That's what a less deranged bigot, or at least a less stupid and lazy one might've said or done. Some of those options aren't bigoted at all, in fact! But you. With your 'name ONE'. If it weren't so antisemitic and misogynistic of you, it would be funny. Because the truth is, when armies march, when soldiers fight, even when they're in places where they DON'T have generations of hostility towards the civilians...sexual assault happens. It's awful, but it's a fact of war and military action among civilians. Quite a lot of serious and prolonged effort has to go into place to *mitigate* this, much less stop it entirely. So for your 'name ONE' to be credible, well, not only would it have to be true that Hamas fighters are more virtuous than most fighting men, but they'd need to be positively saintly. Which of course they aren't. But hey, the victims are Jews, so who cares, right? (Oh, before I forget, remind me: whereabouts, regionally, do you live that you haven't heard of firecrackers on New Year's?:))

Name ONE woman who was raped by Hamas. The Israeli government claims there were “hundreds”, possibly “thousands” of women raped on Oct 7.

Name ONE.

If Donald Trump claimed that Mexicans were raping American women on the border en masse but not a single woman had said she was raped and there were not a single documented case, would you believe him?

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an-army-of-nightmares · 3 years ago

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Porcelain Jekyll au

This is gonna be long so heres a tldr

TLDR: Jekyll gets taken to a sort of real nightmare party full of dolls, if he misbehaves they'll kill him and if he's a perfect gentleman he'll turn into a doll. There's a branch where he's rescued and two where he turns into a doll

•The au starts with Jekyll going to sleep, timeline honestly doesn't matter as long as Frankenstein, Jasper, and Jekyll are all around. Could start where tgs currently is? But Jasper doesn't accidentally wake Jekyll up in his panic

•"The Party of Dolls" is basically a supernatural nightmare? I haven't found a better explanation but basically it's a nightmare that's real and happening, while still "just" being a nightmare. It takes you to like a different dimension while you sleep basically? (The party of dolls isn't the only one but that's not relevant)

•The dolls invite specific people, they invite people who want to be perfect. People who dont want anyone to hate them or find a flaw. Jekyll fits this perfectly

•Jekyll is taken to the party. He tries to be polite despite being unnerved. There's another human at the party, he doesn't learn the man's name before the man gets ripped apart by the dolls for shouting

The dolls target specific people, but they can still take "fodder", people they know will immediately break the rules. So that their actual guests can learn what happens if they are impolite. The dolls also surround guest on all sides, and have them in the exact middle, so that the guest cannot just run out

•Jekyll is terrified, now knowing he'll die if he does something wrong, he tries his best to be perfect

•Unknown to Jekyll, if he's "perfect" he'll start turning into a doll. Ultimately it's a die or die situation

•Jekyll does start to notice the porcelain creeping up him, its be hard not to. He is very much (silently) panicking. But,, the more porcelain on him the more calm he becomes, the more he acts as if this is a simple party and nothing is wrong

•Eventually he reaches a point where he'd actively resist being taken away from the party, but still not fully covered by porcelain

A quick note, Hyde can't do anything about the situation. He wasn't invited and the dolls are suppressing him so much he can hardly even tell what's happening, or leave the mindscape. He's absolutely terrified about this because he can Feel something is wrong and everything is just becoming more and more suffocating

Now onto the branches! There are 2 and a half branches for this au!

Branch 1: Jekyll gets rescued

(Assuming this takes place at Chapter 11 Page 8)

•Jekyll is asleep on the couch, Jasper rushes in the room like his panic on the page except this time Jekyll does not wake up at Jasper's sudden entry. Jasper, noticing Jekyll is asleep, silently contemplates on if this problem is really worth waking Jekyll. Because on the one hand he's probably overreacting in his mind, but on the other Jekyll is really the only person he can panic to?

•He decides not to wake Jekyll, and wait until it's properly morning or noon?, now that the panic is a bit subdued he probably still has stuff to ask Jekyll

•He goes up to find Jekyll is still asleep, and Zosi frantically pawing at Jekyll's chest, occasionally nibbling him, and seemingly really wants to wake Jekyll up. Jasper tries to wake him up but it seems no matter how hard he tries Jekyll stays asleep

•Seeing how Lanyon probably isn't in the Society at the moment (and besides Jasper is pretty sure Robert dislikes him) and he's currently avoiding Rachel. Jasper cant ask Jekyll's friends if this is normal behavior. Why doesn't he ask the lodgers? Maybe a combination of they all seem busy and still being a bit intimidated by them? So he goes to his last best bet, Frankenstein. She's, kinda a doctor and has traveled quite a bit, so she may know whats up with Jekyll and why Zosi is panicking

Note: This whole decision happens in like a few seconds while Jasper is panicking

•Frankenstein does not ease Jasper's worries

•Ah, I guess there has to be some sort of tell, something that makes it clear someone is in one of these "supernatural nightmares" and that Jekyll is specifically in the party of dolls. Idk yet what that tell would be. But Frankenstein knows and thats all that matters

•They take Jekyll back to the attic, lock the entry, and make preparations for a rescue mission

•Frankenstein will be going in to try and distract the dolls while Jasper will be looking for Jekyll. Creature is there as plan B in case the dolls get hostile towards them (as Creature is fully capable of lifting them all up and running out of there. And the dolls are very likely to get hostile towards them)

•They get in, how? I have no clue. But they do. Probably a potion?

•Jasper quickly finds Jekyll and tries to convince him to leave. Much to Jasper's concern, Jekyll doesn't want to leave, and keeps brushing the danger off

Frankenstein and Jasper dont know much about the nightmare. Its likely all they know is that its filled with dolls and people who are "invited" are never seen again/found dead

•Frankenstein's distraction consists of pointing out flaws in how the dolls act. The dolls keep finding excuses, but eventually become agitated with her

•Japser notices the porcelain on Jekyll and loudly panics, attracting the already agitated dolls attention

•Creature picks them all up and runs towards the doors. Jekyll is greatly struggling against this rescue attempt, but once they get out of the building and onto the stretch of yard before the exit Jekyll calms down significantly

Jekyll did not actually calm down, but rather Hyde managed to weasel control after they left the building. Hyde absolutely does not want to be at this party, and Jekyll's struggling could've jeopardized the rescue

•They get back! Whatever porcelain was on Jekyll falls off him with ease. He's angry for maybe half a day or more. But when the doll's control completely leaves him, he's nothing but relieved

Sidenote: It seems reasonable that this whole experience would leave Jekyll with a fear of going to sleep. Perhaps give him something that can deter these types of nightmares? A desire for the comfort of another person, at least in the room, while he's asleep?

Branch 2: Jekyll fully turns into a doll

•Well either Jekyll went to sleep at his own home or some place where no one would think to look for him, as if he was right in the society they'd certainly take notice that something is wrong

•Jekyll fully turns to porcelain. Once he's a full doll they give him new clothes (the sand/beige colored suit I tend to draw porcelain Jekyll in)

Previously, Jekyll had been wearing the suit he wears at any formal party, like the ball in An Army Of Nightmares

•Porcelain Jekyll gets back to the real world. This is not entirely out of the ordinary for the dolls to do. If a guest was reasonably young or famous they'll be returned once a doll, to make themselves more known or respectable before they "die" and go back to the party full time

•Zosi notices something is Wrong while Jekyll is asleep and tries to wake him up to no avail, Zosi can't bark for attention and he's scared of leaving Jekyll alone, the few times he does go out to find someone he's largely ignored or avoided, or they misinterpret what the zombie pup wants. When Jekyll does wake up, Zosi immediately notices that it's not Jekyll, at least not anymore. Zosi knows he's supposed to get rid of any evil creatures, but this was once Jekyll. So the pup runs away and avoids him instead

•ooo I dont want to describe this whole branch? This has already taken way longer for me to write then I want XD, just check out this reblog chain about it bsksndks

•

Branch 2 ½: Jekyll dies

•Jekyll fully turns into a doll, however instead of entering the real world his real body simply dies. He's found rotting in bed. "Jekyll" however, is still in the party. (Fun fact, this was the original plan for the au)

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Extra notes:

▪All the dolls in the party were once people, except for maybe one or two? A handful? But it has long since been lost who's who. And it never mattered

▪Lanyon would not have ever been invited to the party. He doesn't seem to want to be a gentleman, and he knows too much about etiquette to be fodder either

▪Jasper is a proper candidate to be invited, and in branch 2 "Jekyll" is giving him alot more lessons on how to be a proper gentleman, planning to invite Jasper to the party at some point

▪The party always has a host that they cycle though, the host talks to guests a bit more than everyone else

▪Porcelain Jekyll gets to keep his new clothes when returning to the real world

#porcelain Jekyll au #the glass scientists

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 5 years ago

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The Qualifying Round

It’s time to VOTE!!

Hey guys time to vote! fics are below! It’s officially time to vote for the Qualifying Round of Chopped Madness! The structure is simple! Please rank the eighteen (18) fics, first (1) being your top choice, and last (18) being your last choice, in order of which author you think deserves to move on to Round 1! This ranking will also be used to help us order all the authors for the brackets for Round 1.

At the end of the voting period, we will announce the TWO (2) authors who have been Chopped!! If you are not Chopped, that means you will be moving on to the next round, so keep an eye out for that post to be sure! If you aren’t sure you can always send us a message to check!

You can vote here!

Voting Link: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/QLFJM7M

The 18 fics that we received for this round can be found below, or on AO3 here! Each fic follows the theme [Canonverse], includes the tropes [Fairy Tale AU] and [Write a villain as a good guy or a good guy as a villain], and has a central character focus on [Bellamy Blake]! When you vote, please be sure to take into consideration the USE of all these elements, because, as with all other Chopped events, the purpose is to select the authors who best utilize the requirements!

When the party’s over (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Bellamy goes into the anomaly to save Octavia. What he finds, is a trail of bodies. {Or: a canonverse take on Hansel & Gretel}

don't be who you were (Rated T) [Bellamy & Diyoza]

Summary: Bellamy's forced to stay in the bunker, alone, for six years. Diyoza trapped alone on her ship. They find a way to help each other survive, because that's what they know how to do.

Straight On Until Morning (Rated G) [Bellamy & Kane]

Summary: Bellamy and his unruly band of Delinquents have been living life as they wish. Their days are filled with games and exploring while their nights are spent coordinating attacks against the dreaded Wanheda and her Mountain Men. It's all fun and games in a world where no one gets older.

But then a strange man appears one day and Marcus Kane provides a reality check to Bellamy that he's not prepared to accept.

Where is the path to Wonderland? (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Separated from their friends in the Anomaly, Clarke and Bellamy find themselves lost in a world so different from their own.

The Sixth Bride (Rated M) [Bellamy x Roan]

Summary: For their wedding, Roan gifted him an antique skeleton key attached to a thin, leather cord. Rough, callous fingertips grazed the base of his neck as they secured the necklace in place. While his husband allowed him full reign of the tower, the key provided access to the only room he barred Bellamy from entering. He was never to set foot in the sole room on the highest floor. Into Roan's private reprieve from the world.

And to be fair, Bellamy respected Roan's right to privacy - for a while.

Gunning for Glory (Rated T) [Bellamy x Gina]

Summary: While on a routine mission for Kane, Bellamy comes across a mystery girl who points him towards a treasure trove that might prove useful for Arkadia, but danger lurks up every spiraling staircase. It may just be the distraction he needs, though, to get over Clarke leaving.

On the Ground and What Bellamy Found There (Rated G) [General]

Summary: Bellamy has a prophetic dream. An Alice in Wonderland AU.

to dream about a life (where you're the shining star) (Rated T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Bellamy has been dreaming about going to the coalition's annual Camp Rock since he was a kid. The chance to escape his life and his step-father and spend his days travelling between clans and singing. This year, he finally has a chance to go--as a chef.

Murphy hated what came of Clarke's treaty with the Grounders, but even he knew it could've been worse. But that didn't mean he wanted to spend his time performing for the people who had kidnapped and tortured him. He could do it, though. He could sing at whatever the fuck Camp Rock was, and he could help pick whichever winner the Grounders wanted him to pick. He could play nice. That didn't mean he had to like it.

There’s Gonna Be a Party When the Wolf Comes Home (Rated T) [General]

Summary: “Dante?” she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Bellamy straightens the nameplate on his desk, and the gold plaque reflects the dim fluorescent lights above him. He taps it twice, drawing her attention to the words “Dante Wallace” written in a fancy script.

“That’s what they call me.”

A Canon Divergent Fairy Tale AU staring Bellamy Blake

No Ordinary Apple (Rated T) [Bellamy & Josephine]

Summary: When Josephine awakens in Clarke Griffin's body, she has no reason to believe anything about her reincarnation is anything out of the ordinary.

Then she learns that Clarke was far from a willing host and meets Bellamy Blake.

She doesn't expect to become invested in their love story, and she certainly doesn't plan on risking her own like to make things right.

And yet, here she is. All in the name of true love.

Brother Knows Best (Rated G) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: Octavia grew up in a cave, hidden from the world, with only her brother to care for her. He kept her safe, safe from a world where people like her, where nightbloods, were hunted and slaughtered.

But even with so much danger, she longs to see the world, so when a handsome stranger stumbles into their cave, she makes her escape to spend one night out under the stars.

But in just one night, she begins to wonder if everything she'd grown up believing was true after all.

seeds in silence (exploded in riot) (Rated T) [Bellamy & Clarke]

Summary: Seeds. Not the modified seeds Farm Station constantly churns out in unending batches. Genuine seeds. Earth seeds.

The kind of seeds that the scientists from Alpha will sell their souls for.

Doctor Griffin talks a lot about genetics and lost patterns, but Bellamy’s mind is a million miles away. He can get anything he wants for Octavia and his mom. He can make it so Octavia doesn’t have to live in hiding. He can bring the chancellor himself to his knees, if he’s careful enough.

i've got a heart in me (i swear) (Rating T) [Bellamy x Murphy]

Summary: Belonging was not a familiar word in the Book of John Murphy.

That was a fact that seemed grounded in concrete; what he wouldn't give to stumble upon a sledgehammer someday and be reunited with his bruised and feeble, but still beating, heart.

2199 Nights (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Every day, the Commander Bellamy took a new wife and executed her the next morning, until one day his fleimkepa's daughter volunteered. She kept him entertained with tales of far-off places, sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise. . .

we'd up and fly (if there were wings for flying) (Rated G) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: Bellamy and Wells are held captive and interrogated by the Grounders, and when he returns to Arkadia, Bellamy finds some things have changed.

The Storyteller (Rated T) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: A heartbroken Commander, betrayed by her beloved, vows to slay each and every one of her future lovers after they’ve spent their first night together.

Bellamy Blake, the latest to be taken into the Commander of Death’s chambers, will try to save his life by weaving a succession of tales to the woman that lasts for one thousand and one nights.

How to Kill a Two-Headed Turkey (Rated T) [Bellamy & Octavia]

Summary: After everyone at camp collapses from a mysterious illness (thanks Murphy), Bellamy and Octavia are sent to hunt enough food for 100 sick teenagers. When they find themselves lost, far from camp, what else can they do but move forward? Thankfully, a kind woman took them in, but all is not as it seems. Anya's been waiting to meet these Skaikru...

simmer, simmer, simmer (Rated M) [Bellamy x Clarke]

Summary: When Sanctum falls to starvation, it is up to Bellamy and Clarke to find a solution. They aren't prepared for the horrors beyond the Sanctum barrier.

Chopped Madness AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Chopped_Madness

#chopped madness #chopped madness: qualifying round #qualifying round: canonverse

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