#thunder fic

[kayla-and-the-moon]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

thinking of remus with his arms around you, fingertips drawing soothing patterns on your back as your face hides in his shirt. you've always despised thunderstorms, and he knows this. you never told him outright. of course, you'd think it was embarrassing. you'll even try to keep a brave face, but remus can see through you, annoyingly observant and quite possibly the most darling of boys. he catches the micro flinch in your tightlipped smile whenever there's a particularly bright flash or deafening crash behind the curtains. so wordlessly, he enfolds you in his arms, holds you against his jumper like you're made of porcelain. it almost makes your chest ache with how gentle he's being, you're almost immediately calmer as the musky scent of cinnamon tea, worn books and chocolate hanging off his clothes fills your senses.. he's making sure your eyes aren't nervously darting to the windows, planting plush kisses filled with sweetness on your head, warm pads of his thumbs swiping over your cheeks. he's making you look at him with a gentle tilt of your chin with his palm. he'll do this till your pupils stop shaking and your breathing is more evened, whispering the softest comfort in your ears, his voice the richest honey. if it's an awfully long bout of thunder, and you're yet to fall into slumber, he'll offer to read to you (you always agree). so he does. and whenever it gets to particularly dramatic part, he'll flip his tone theatrically just to provide some distraction and when he feels you laugh against him, he knows he's succeeded. finally when you're drifted off, your back a steady rise and fall under his hand, the storm long gone, and he's looking at you with stars in his eyes, well remus thinks his heart is a few sizes too small for the love he keeps for you.

˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: I've written a beautiful love letter for Logan. He'd be surprised if a letter came in the mail for him. He's a sweet old man.

Also, Wade: *Gets nervous and cancels his plan and proceeds to post the letter on his Wolverine fan account instead*

[crownremonique]

Thunder

Pairing: Tim Bradford x gn!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: When a thunderstorm hits the city, Tim comes back early from his shift to comfort his astrophobic partner.

A/N: Very short drabble because I had absolutely no motivation to write but I also love Tim. (300 words approx)

The storm clouds loomed above the city, thunder crackling through them every few minutes. You pulled your fuzzy blanket closer around yourself, trying to drown out the noises of the storm. Tim had a late shift today, and unfortunately for you, the storm had also chosen tonight to grace the skies. 

You never liked thunderstorms, and so far you must have tried about a thousand methods to try and distract yourself. The sound of the main door opening pulled your thoughts away from the storm and towards the man who had just walked in. Tim's eyes went wide as he took in your form, huddling on the couch covered in blankets and pillows, as he remembered your deep hatred towards thunderstorms. 

You called out to him, grateful that he was finally home and very much ready to spend the night cuddling into his side. He took a few steps forward, but stopped abruptly when he realised he still had rain droplets clinging to his clothes. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, painting the sky white with a thunderous boom, causing you to tug at your blanket and cower inside it. Tim emerged from your bedroom, dressed in a comfy pair of sweatpants and pulled you into his arms. 

‘It's alright sweetheart, come here..” he spoke in your ears, causing shivers to run down your spine, momentarily forgetting the storm. You nestled into his embrace, body relaxing completely. He ran his hand through your hair, covering the both of you with the blanket that you had thrown aside. Tim knew you hated storms, and always made sure to cut his shift a little early if there was one forecasted for the day. 

You were eternally grateful to Tim, happy that you had someone who cared so much about your wellbeing, going out of his way to offer you some comfort when you needed it the most. And you were going to cherish him, for as long as you could. 

✨️

[infinite-eternity]

Spreading my JayVik jayce suffering agenda by recommending you fanfiction. (all on ao3)

Metal and Magic by @dodecadragon - Explicit, Violence. Fae AU, 100k + words. absolutely stunning making me insane

Good Luck, Babe by Kosmos_Relic - Explicit, Violence. Post Canon fix it. I cant elaborate more bc spoilers but oh my god. holy fuckin shit. 100k + words but no set chap limit so might be wayy over.

and this pounding in my heart just wont die by Kookimunjoo - Explicit. This is ABO so be warned if youre not into that. stunning, we are making him suffer so much. 25k words, complete

Also MAYBE he can be a BIT happy sometimes so Paradox of the Heap (Sorites Paradox) by StarSparrow84 - Mature, 40k+ words. Holy fuckin shit absolutely stunning. About classism and is so beautifully written. Also Jayce and Viktor wear sparkly outfits.

Anyway add more if you have recs i want to read them

[justiceiscalling]

why have i never seen any batman fics based off epic the musical songs??? like omg i was just listening to the playlist and i was thinking, wtf, why is ruthlessness so jason todd coded??

"you are the worst kind of good cause you're not even great! a greek who reeks of self righteousness, that's what i hate! cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done. i mean you totally could've avoided all this had you just killed my son! but no."

like if that's not jason to bruce then what else is it????

'we'll be fine' is so tim to literally everyone post jasons death and pre his revival reveal.

really i just want to see a fic series of epic the musical but with batfam members instead but like relate each fic to a song in epic. really, you could just make odysseus jason and then tim can be telemachus. and if you want a romance you can make penelope artemis or rose or roy or bring back rena (jason todd's first girlfriend pre-death), idc. or you can just not include romance and twist the lyrics to be more familial, and make penelope bruce or alfred or literally anyone jason has a familial bond with.

make polities roy, make eurdycice talia or just someone who would try to overrule jason if he was being too reckless. it literally does not matter to me.

so overall i'd love to see a series of fics where jason (i'll also accept damian or tim but i don't know about dick) is basically in odysseus situation and is trying to get back home to gotham OR a series of fics where songs from epic the musical apply to the batfam.

i hope this rant made sense, please PLEASE let me know if a fic like this is in the process of being made or is already made. i'm craving it.

[jay72664]

Thunder

Bang!

A loud crash of thunder rang through the apartment, causing Chuuya to bolt upright.

It was a silly thing to be afraid of, really; a storm.

Chuuya Nakahara, the feared Port Mafia Executive.

Afraid of a little thunder.

Dazai stirred beside him, his arm still curled around Chuuya’s waist.

“What’s wrong?” The brunette asked groggily.

Another loud slap of thunder answered his question.

Dazai sat up, turning on the beside lamp and taking in the ginger’s posture.

He was clenching the bed sheet, his pupils dilated, and his breathing out of whack.

He gently pulled Chuuya to his side.

“It’s okay.” He cooed softly, not at all judgmentally nor teasingly as one might expect.

Another bang of thunder and the smaller man buried himself further against his husband’s side, clutching into his shirt.

“Let’s watch a movie, okay? It’ll distract you.” Dazai reached to grab the remote.

“I don’t wanna keep you up.” Chuuya mumbles, his normally confident and boisterous voice, now quiet and shaky, and he flinches as yet more lightening strikes.

The brunette scoffs, finding his husband’s words absolutely ridiculous. “I owe you for all the sleepless night I’ve given you.”

“Those were different they were-“ He stops as the lightening lights up the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder, and Dazai pulls him against him even more, as if he could shield him from the noise.

“Life or death.” Chuuya finally finishes.

“Doesn’t matter.” Is all Dazai says.

Despite knowing how pointless it was to argue with Dazai in this, he tries anyway.

“It does matter, you should sleep.” Right after saying this however, he takes the remote out of Dazai’s hands.

If they’re gonna watch something, it’s not gonna be some crappy movie Dazai picks.

The brunette smirks, knowing he’s won. “I can’t sleep anyways.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing his darling Chibi was scared.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” There was no annoyance at all in Chuuya’s words, in fact, he was actually quite happy Dazai was willing to stay awake just because he was a little scared of something stupid.

Bang!

Maybe a lot scared.

[kudossi]

and a yellow moon glowed bright

Years later, when Ivypool herself is only a memory and before she’s completely lost to time, she’ll look over ThunderClan, wherever they might be, and still look for her daughter in every face.

The stories have it wrong already, and the truth will be dust before long. Bristlefrost isn’t alive in their memories. She’s twice-dead, drowned in black, choking water, a light snuffed out too soon. Bristlefrost was the prodigy — the daughter cats dreamed of, the first to find her voice and her paws, the leader of her siblings, the apprentice who did not graduate even earlier than she did because there was no prey in the forest to be found, not because of any failings on her part.

Cats starved, that long winter. Not Bristlefrost. Never her daughter, her clever, resourceful last-born. And she had once occupied this spot, designated for deputies, even though she’d never had an apprentice of her own. Would never have an apprentice of her own, now, even though she deserved it more than anything. Even though she’d deserved to stay deputy, but had given the role over with a smile, no hint of dark ambition in her gaze.

Ivypool steps into the deputy position under a brand-new leader with a whisper instead of a bang, the pounding of blood in her ears the only reminder that cats had been here before — that cats had died here before, and that Bramblestar’s first deputy becoming leader was a fluke, an odd quirk of fate. It hasn’t been done in living memory, nor long before that. Leaders do not usually step down, and when they do, they rarely stay with their Clan, or even within reach of their territory. First deputies do not often become leaders in turn. Usually this event is a bittersweet one, with a body or bodies laid out in the clearing, their eyes closed swiftly to avoid the rigor of after-death, but this is almost-peaceful, with only the murmurs of those who could not easily accept change as detractors.

Ivypool will die long before Squirrelstar. She’s—surprisingly okay with this, but she thinks she’s been at peace with her death since before Hollyleaf had stepped between her and a deathblow from one of the only friends she’d ever had.

(“You were my friend!” Ivypool screams in her worst nightmares, Hollyleaf’s blood dripping from her pelt.

“I was never anyone’s friend,” Hawkfrost murmurs in return, something aching-sad in his voice, Hollyleaf’s lifeless form pinned under his claws. “I was born to what I am. We’re the same, you and I.” He pushes the black cat away from his paws with disgust — not for the body, but for Ivypool herself. Blood bubbles from the horrible wound at the corpse’s throat. “She should have been the one,” he says sometimes, in the ones that shatter her already pieced-together heart. “She died in your place.”

“I know,” Ivypool says, and she does know — she knows it more than anyone else alive.)

“It should have been Hollyleaf,” she says to Squirrelstar, quietly, at the end of one of their dusk meetings.

Sorrow flashes in Squirrelstar’s gaze, but it’s buried as soon as it comes. “It’s you,” she says. “It has always been you.”

It is not a truth — not in the way Ivypool remembers them from her childhood — but it is not a lie, either. Hollyleaf chose her, in the way dying deputies might choose their successor. She is always an echo of another cat burned by starlight. It is a comfort, sometimes. In others, she begs the spirit who’d saved her life for mercy, for clemency, until she runs out of breath.

(“I’ll find her,” whispers a voice Ivypool had almost forgotten, in dreams she forgets as soon as she wakes. “I’ll walk the skies ceaselessly, I promise you.”

But there is no bringing Bristlefrost back, and a part of Ivypool has died with her.)

When Ivypool wakes, her Clanmates breathe around her, steadying her rabbit-quick heart. Fernsong’s tail wraps snugly around her flank, Thriftear curled only one nest behind, and she does not lose her breath at the way Flipclaw’s dark tabby stripes curl over his spine. She hasn’t in a long time, she knows, but the impulse is there, sharp as ice underneath her ribs.

(She’d once thought his brown tabby pelt a punishment from the stars. She loves her son, would give her life for him, but the feeling that StarClan may have meted some punishment down in the shade of his pelt remains long after he’s received his warrior name.

She’d begged Bramblestar to give him a suffix that was as unassumingly kind and silly as her son always was. Instead he’d given him -claw, as if to remind her of her failings. She is not sorry to see his form slip into the elders’ den, bereft of the nine lives he’d once so jealously hoarded.)

[forwhatiam]

Roll Like Thunder

by croisblue for @1dneglectedtagsfest

When quadriplegic Louis Tomlinson's therapist recommends he see a surrogate partner, he panics, thinking this is yet another way he's being belittled for his disability. When said surrogate partner turns out to be Harry Styles, a nearly inhumanly beautiful man who's gone back to school for a certificate in Disability Studies, Louis finds he doesn't mind so much.

M - 9.5k

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

The Thunder That Follows - Masterlist

Frank Castle x Reader

Summary: After a mysterious incident, reader finds herself transported from this reality into a world that she's only seen in movies and on tv filled with Avengers, aliens, and vigilantes. When she crosses paths with Frank Castle, things get complicated as they both have to face their tumultuous pasts and a find a way to move on from them together.

Warnings: Female/AFAB Reader. I will try my hardest to keep Y/N out of it. Covid 19 mention, canon-typical violence (guns and things), mild description of injuries, eventual smut (please do not read those chapters unless you are 18+ and have your age on your blog.) I will add additional warnings as I write the story and each chapter will have individual warnings.

Notes: AHHHH I've had this idea for two years and I'm finally committing and writing it down. Inspired by my Frank dating and Avenger post.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Chapter 1 - Do You Think I'd Give Up? Chapter 2 - It Was Too Soon

[southdiamond89blogging]

EPIC The Musical but with Kanej would work so well

[greenjellybeanfish]

[ "Take your time." ]

Fan art of "Like a Rolling Thunder Chasing the Wind" by @batmurdock (Spacebrock on Ao3 - chapter 4 specifically). This fic hurt.

[gothamite-rambler]

Telemachus: I want to have fun, a challenge, I bet my dad is still out there fighting and having adventures.

Meanwhile in between the seven years of dealing with a crazy woman who won't leave him alone.

Odysseus: I had a dream where Poseidon stabbed me and I couldn't die... Then I woke up with you staring at me. That dream was heavenly.

Calypso (laughing in denial): Boy... you so crazy.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[notsofrozt]

This doesn't seem like Calypso's island...

OG template:

[epicthemusical]

Familiar Longing

@fuckingdeadinsidetm for the inspiration so thank you!

Eurylochus takes a deep breath before heading over to his Captain's hunched form. He has to confess about opening the wind bag or else the guilt will strangle him. He looks down in shame as he starts to talk.

"Captain, I have something I have to tell you. I won't be able to rest until I do. Captain I-" 

As he is about to confess he looks up and stands there speechless. The rising sun hits the brown curls and gods when did his Captain's hair get so long? He is reminded of the times after he and Ctimene spent mornings on the beach as she ran through waves and sand laughing freely with a grin. She always ended up with her curls tangled up while covered in salt and sand. Every time he made sure to gently clean and untangle her hair as they relaxed together. The color is a bit off and it's still shorter than hers but it's still so familiar. He is broken out of his memories and longing by Odysseus' voice.

"Whatever you have to say can wait some more I'm sure. Go scout the island, we can't take any more dangers sneaking up on us."

"Yes Captain."

Eurylochus walks away shame and guilt feels like it's choking him but he does as he was ordered and gathered men before heading off to scout the island.

—----------------------------------------------------

Eurylochus stares down at the still form of his friend, his brother, his captain. He feels sick at the blood pooling on the deck adding to the sickening metallic smell from the 6 who had died. Thinking of that again has some part of him shrinking in on itself as the betrayal and guilt lay heavy in his chest.

“Captain?” He had felt so relieved that Odysseus had trusted him enough to still have him carry out his orders even after he finally admitted to opening the wind bag Eurylochus light up six torches. He had trusted him but he obviously chose wrong.

“Sir.” All he has ever known is being the second in command. He follows orders and keeps everyone safe. How was he supposed to lead, to be a captain? He doesn't have Odysseus to catch him if he falls anymore. What is he supposed to do now?

��Eurylochus!” He finally snaps out of it and looks up at the remaining crew to think they had started out with 600 men

“What should we do with the capt- with Odysseus?” He glances again at the unconscious Odysseus. It would be reasonable to kill him now after all they did just mutiny. Who knows what will happen once he wakes up but…he can't bring himself to let him die. Not only is he Eurylochus’ brother-in-law but he is also Ctimene’s brother. The thought of having to watch his beloved wife's face fall in despair when he has to tell her Eurylochus is the one who killed her brother…no he can't let Odysseus die.

“We need to wrap his wounds and tie him up. Make sure to tie him well. We all know how tricky he can be.” Many of the crew grumble a bit but do as they are told although they made no effort to be gentle. Eurylochus' hands tighten their hold on himself trying his best to ignore the pained moans from Odysseus as he is tied securely to the mast, his wound taken care of.

He hands out orders firmly despite the growing unease and uncertainty he feels. He can't let his weakness show now that he is Captain or else they will lose trust in him. Now matter how exhausted or how much he wants to break he cannot falter. He glances once again at Odysseus tied to the mast before making his way to his room. He knows that the captain's quarters technically belong to him now but it just feels wrong. That has always been Odysseus' room and he can't bring himself to change that because that would make it official. That would mean he has to fully accept what he had just done and he isn't ready for that he doesn't think he ever will be.

Eurylochus all but collapses onto his bed and stares at the ceiling almost feeling numb. He glances down at the blood still on him and the sudden grief overwhelms him as he starts crying. Once the tears start he cant stop as he lays curled up his body shaking from his sobs as he lets out all his pain. Polites would be so disappointed in them both. He told Odysseus that if he wanted all the power then he must carry all the blame but he can't bring himself to believe those words. How could he after he was the one questioning Odysseus time after time. His own doubt made him open the wind bag leading to so many dying. He has just as much blood on his hands as Odysseus, maybe even more.

He slowly calms down leaving only a hollow ache in his chest as he drifts off to sleep praying for a dreamless rest.

The next day he sits down by the mast watching over Odysseus. He still isn't awake just yet but he knows how quickly things could change with him. Eurylochus takes some time to really look at his friend for the first time in a while. Ever since Circe's island where he noticed how Odysseus' hair had grown longer and achingly familiar to Ctimene’s curly hair he has tried his best to not look too hard. He takes in the bags under his eyes and how skinny he had become. What draws his attention the most however is once again his hair. His hair had grown long and tangled but it is so painfully familiar even with the slight color difference it reminds him so much of his wife. He aches to thread his fingers through the knots gently untangle it like he often did with Ctimene at the end of the day. They used to talk and laugh about anything and everything while he helped calm her unruly hair that never seemed to obey. As he comes back from the memory the hollow feeling grows and he feels so very tired.

-----

They arrive at the next island and Odysseus is tied to a nearby statue as they find plenty of large healthy cows roaming nearby. Eurylochus notices Odysseus is starting to stir and he can't help but miss Odysseus, the Odysseus he had known and trusted with his life and the lives of the crew. When is the last time either of them have smiled or laughed? Perhaps it was before Polites had died which isn't surprising. Polites had always been the best of them, always so kind and positive. He was the glue that kept everyone together so when he died of course everything started falling apart. Odysseus groans as he wakes up at last.

"Uhg my head...where are we?"

"The first island we found. It has this statue of the sun god and we found all these cows to eat."

"Don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do!" 

It hurts hearing his friend plead with those familiar words. He feels so heavy and he just wants to lay down and never move again but he can't not when he needs to take care of the crew.

"I'm hungry, my friend."

His stomach grumbles at the thought of finally eating and he knows the crew feels the same hunger eating them from the inside.

"And I'm tired.."

He is just so very tired. Tired of fighting, of thinking and hoping that somehow they will end up home again. He sees Odysseus start to struggle against the ropes.

"Please we can still make it home! We just need to keep going!"

How many times has he heard that? We are almost home, this is our final fight, our journey is almost done it has become a hollow statement at this point. Hope has long since been crushed. 

"Ody we are never going to make it home."

Why should he make himself and the crew suffer even more when they have meat to eat right here when they won't make it home anyway? A crew mate leads a cow to Eurylochus and he raises his sword.

"I'm just a man."

Odysseus manages to cut the ropes on a nearby rock and once free springs into action trying to stop Eurylochus.

"EURYLOCHUS NO!"

He is too late as the sword slices through flesh and golden blood stains the sword. He stares in shock at the gold. Why is it gold? A storm forms and lighting rumbles ominously.

"You doomed us...you doomed us all Eurylochus!"

Eurylochus looks up at Odysseus noting the terror hidden in his eyes and the red bleeding through the bandages. He has rarely ever seen Odysseus terrified like this and if his brother feels so now...what has he done?

"..Captain?"

He orders the crew to grab an oar and row for their lives. The anger and fear in his voice jolt everyone into action as they default to following orders as they had for over a decade. Eurylochus looks concerned at the still growing red spot as Odysseus turns and meets his eyes.

"Those cows are immortal, they are the sun god's friends. And now that we've pissed him off WHO DO YOU THINK HE'LL SEND?!"

Eurylochus pales as he realizes just how badly he has messed up. How could he have been so stupid?! No he knows why, he had given up on getting home and his hunger, always the damn hunger that screws them over. He should have learned from the cyclops cave. How could he have given up on seeing Ctimene again? More lightning crackles through the sky lighting up a form in the clouds.

"We're too late..."

Zeus descends from the thunder clouds as lightning continues to shatter the sky and cause ears to ring. He sees Odysseus stand as tall as he can considering the still slowly bleeding wound with determined eyes. That's always been his go to attitude when it comes to gods, he tries to appear confident and firm. Eurylochus can only hope his brother will find a way out as he usually does.

But will he? He has shown he is willing to sacrifice you if it means getting home.

Eurylochus can feel the exhaustion and hopelessness creep in again as Odysseus is finally given a choice, him or the crew. It's obvious that there it wasn't going to be a choice, not for Odysseus.

He doesn't really mind dying at this point but he regrets that the crew had to be included as well. That and no matter what Odysseus chooses, Ctimene will be heartbroken. He can't be sure that he won't give up again so it's best Odysseus is the one who lives because if anybody can manage to make it home it would be him. At least that way he can be sure his wife will have someone to comfort her.

".. Captain?"

He still finds himself protesting even with his heart not in it. He has to try if only for the crew around him.

"I have to see her again..."

"But we'll die."

What is it he told Odysseus? Ah yes If you want all the power you must carry all the blame. If the crew dies it won't be Odysseus' fault only his. He is the one that decided to slaughter the cow and doom them all. He sees Odysseus turn around to face him with teary eyes full of guilt and exhaustion, just like Eurylochus.

"I know."

Eurylochus breaks more at how broken Odysseus sounds. He is obviously grieving the choice he had to make. Eurylochus takes a deep breath and stands still accepting his death without a fight even as the others draw swords and rush Odysseus. 

Electricity hums in the air before lightning strikes and pain crackles through his body. As he starts to sink the pain dulls, his nerves having been fried beyond use. He closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.

I'm sorry Ctimene...

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Thunder

@jegulus-microfic October 19, Word count 116

A storm was coming. James could feel it. His shoulder always ached right before a storm hit. He’d fallen off his broom during a bad tackle during a Quidditch match and even though Madam Pomfrey had done a wonderful job of healing him, the shoulder still ached. He rotated it absentmindedly.

“Shoulder giving you jip, darling?” Regulus asked, coming up behind him and gently massaging the sore area. James moaned as Regulus’s clever fingers found the spot straight away. 

“Yeah, storms coming.” He sighed, melting into Regulus’s touch. 

“I’ll get the hot chocolate then,” Regulus said, leaning up and kissing James’s neck.

Regulus got them steaming mugs of James’s favourite hot chocolate while James went to set up the pull-out bed in the conservatory. 

They snuggled up together under thick, cosy blankets and listened to the thunder breaking the silence of the night while they waited for the lighting to come over as they stared up at the swirling clouds through the glass ceiling above them.