#to be clear this is the form they would take if they touched twilight's shadow crystal

[velieditss]

A life for a life

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Cw: Explicit description of abuse (Not from Aemond to reader) grief, bad dreams of Lucerys death (I mean I cried at that kid like I had birthed him, raised him, and paid for all his bills)

Summary: Once, you were a betrothed, but now, you are a widow and a prisoner. Yet, it seems the regent prince has set his sights on you, a gaze that, in truth, was always there, watching you from the shadows. But only now, at this crossroads in your life, does he feel empowered to claim you as his own.

You were the only one who stayed behind when your family returned to Dragonstone. Your only desire was to keep Helaena company, the only one among the king and queen's children with whom you had formed a bond, a fragile thread of affection in a court where alliances were often brittle.

But you didn’t heed her warning—or perhaps you simply didn’t understand it.

“Leave, or he will claim you,” she had whispered, her voice trembling with an urgency that you failed to grasp.

You certainly didn’t understand.

That very night, your grandfather, the king, died.

You were asleep when it happened, blissfully unaware, only to awaken to a silence so profound it was deafening. No one came to inform you, and when you tried to leave your chambers, you found the doors barred, locking you inside.

It became clear that only one person had remembered your existence when food and water were delivered to you. Desperate for answers, you questioned the servant, only to learn that your grandfather had passed, Aegon had been crowned king in your mother’s stead, and your betrothed, Prince Lucerys, was dead. How, or why, no one would tell you.

Devastated, the full weight of your captivity settled upon you. You long to stop dreaming. You implore the gods that you could cease to dream. You are so exhausted; all you yearn for is sleep. You want to sleep all day, from dawn until twilight, which every evening arrives a little earlier and with a touch more gloom. During the day, all you do is think about sleeping, about him. But at night, all you do is try to stay awake.

All day you keep your face smiling like a mask, smiling, smiling, your teeth bared, your eyes bright, your skin like stretched parchment, paper-thin. You keep your voice clear and soft, you speak words without meaning, and sometimes, when necessary, you even sing. At night you fall into your bed as if you were plunging into deep waters, as if you were sinking into the depths, as if the water were possessing you, taking you like a mermaid, and for a moment you feel a deep relief, as if, submerged in water, your sorrow could drain away, as if it were the Gods eye river and the currents could bring forgetfulness and carry you into the cave of sleep; but then, the dreams come.

You don’t dream of his dead–it would be the worst of nightmares to see your brother bleeding to death, to see him with the pale face typical of a lifeless body and soulless eyes.

You don’t dream any of this, and you thank the Gods for that mercy at least.

But you understood, that if anything he would have wished, it was that you would not live with grief and regret.

You were born a princess and you are the heir to a long line of courageous women.

Even so, you wept until sleep claimed you, and the days began to blur together, each more colorless than the last. You lost the will to eat, to care, for it seemed that no one cared for you. Only a servant came each day to help you wash, but even she never spoke.

Thoughts of escape flitted through your mind—knocking out the servant, or even throwing yourself from the window, the height be damned. But everything changed one night when they dragged you from your bed, giving you no time to comprehend what was happening.

They hauled you through the corridors with such brutality that your arms bore the bruises of their grip.

“What is happening?” you demanded, your voice quivering with fear. “Where are you taking me?”

The soldiers’ hold tightened painfully, making you wince. “The king wishes to see you, so keep your mouth shut.”

As you were led closer to the chambers that had once belonged to your grandfather, you sensed something was horribly wrong. Soldiers were dragging servants away, forcing them toward what seemed to be the dungeons, while you were marched in the opposite direction.

“I’ve done nothing,” you murmured, dread curling in your stomach. “I am a princess; you have no right to treat me like this!”

But your protests fell on deaf ears.

When you reached the king’s door, a cacophony of crashes and furious shouts echoed from within, as though the very foundations of the room were being torn apart.

“I’ll kill them!” a voice roared. “I’ll kill them all! Traitors and villains! How dare they attack me!”

The doors were flung open, and you were shoved to the floor at the feet of a figure who loomed above you.

“Your Majesty…”

“I am the King!”

You raised your head slightly to see Aegon, wild-eyed, smashing something in his hands—a relic of ancient Valyria that had once belonged to Viserys.

“I am the King!” he repeated, and it took several men to calm him, though his rage only simmered as he turned his gaze upon you.

“We’ve brought the traitor, as you commanded.”

A chill swept through you as your eyes met Aegon’s. The fury and madness in his stare made him unrecognizable, a stranger where once there had been a boy you had known all your life.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you to your feet, his grip so tight it was as though he wanted to crush you with it. His eyes were wild, almost deranged.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His voice was more of an accusation than a question.

You instinctively placed a hand on his chest as he backed you against the shattered remains of the sculpture he had destroyed.

“You sought revenge in the name of your bastard betrothed.”

You shook your head as his hand closed around your throat, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked out, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

"Aegon...!" you gasped, but he didn't release you. Your eyes locked with his, desperately trying to convey the truth. You had done nothing, you didn’t even know why he was blaming you. Of all people, he should know that you would be the last to harm them.

But his grip tightened, and as your vision began to blur, you started hitting his arm in a frantic attempt to break free.

With no one stepping in to stop him, you acted out of sheer instinct. You grabbed the nearest object and struck Aegon across the face with all the strength you could muster.

He released you immediately, and you collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching your chest. Only then did the others move, but not against Aegon—against you.

They seized you by the hair, dragging you to your feet, holding you so tightly that escape was impossible.

You were certain you would die there, but you resolved that you would not go down without a fight.

Aegon waved the others away, and without hesitation, he struck again. The blow was so fierce that it knocked the strength from your legs, leaving your ears ringing and your vision blurred. Warm blood trickled down your lips as you struggled to stay conscious.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you braced yourself for the next strike, but it never came.

Slowly, your hearing returned, and with it, your sight. You could make out distant voices—two at first, then more. You were dropped to the cold floor for a third time.

Raising your head, you saw a blurry figure holding Aegon by the throat. The darkness, combined with the dizziness in your head, made it difficult to identify who it was.

You wanted to take advantage of the distraction, to flee, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. You tried to stand, but the ringing in your head grew louder, preventing you from taking more than a single step.

“She is a traitor, and you dare defend her?” you heard Aegon’s voice, but you no longer cared.

You made a second attempt to stand, but this time you did not feel the ground beneath you. Instead, you felt arms encircling your waist with a surprising gentleness, a touch so unexpected that even he seemed taken aback.

When you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the face of the last person you ever expected.

“Aemond?” you asked, needing confirmation.

In the dim light of the night, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you clung to the one solid thing you had found.

“Don’t try to move anymore,” he said softly, “you’ll only hurt yourself more.”

He guided your arms around his neck and, with no effort at all, lifted you into his arms. You might have resisted, demanded that he put you down, that you retain some shred of dignity after all you had endured, but you were utterly exhausted. Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, and your spirit was shattered. For now, Aemond seemed to be the only one who showed even a flicker of care for you.

••••

You were the only good thing he remembered from his childhood. The only thing that made him smile, the only thing that made him feel human.

Like him, your dragon egg never hatched, but unlike him, you didn’t mind. And it was this indifference that made him begin to notice you. He admired the kindness, fairness, and awareness you displayed effortlessly.

When Aegon mocked him, you defended him; when your brothers teased him, you scolded them. And when the incident at Driftmark occurred, although you weren’t present, you were the only one who wept upon seeing what had happened to him.

You were also the only one who went to see him afterward, when everyone else walked away without consequence. You gave him something no one else did: a hug.

“You’re still handsome,” you said, gently brushing the spot where the stitches had been.

He couldn’t help but blush at your words. Although he pretended not to care, that wound had affected him deeply, just as so many other things had during his childhood.

“It was a fair trade. I lost an eye, but I gained a dragon,” he repeated, echoing the same words he had said to his mother.

You looked at him with sadness because, even though you couldn’t fully understand what he felt, it seemed to you that he repeated those words to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel pity for what he had lost.

“You’re allowed to be sad, you know?” you said, taking his hand and offering a faint smile. “I don’t really know what happened down there, or why my brothers reacted the way they did, or what you did, but... it’s not as simple as you make it out to be, and that’s okay. You’re human, Aemond.”

He remained silent for a few moments, and for the first time, he thought that if he were to cry in that moment, he wouldn’t feel judged but rather comforted by the love and patience you had always shown him. But he didn’t. Despite the trust he had in you, he didn’t want to seem weak in your eyes.

That was the last time you saw him.

But it wasn’t the last time you had contact with him. You always wrote to him and to Helaena, telling them about your daily life, about what made you happy, like the birth of your younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, and the joy you felt holding their tiny bodies.

For a while, everything was fine. However, little by little, your letters became less frequent until one day they stopped altogether, which made him nervous. It was a feeling he didn’t understand, and it worsened when he found out that you continued to write to Helaena but not to him.

His confusion turned into fury, especially when, at the beginning of your silence, he sent you letters—initially short, barely a paragraph. But when he received no reply, he started sending longer ones, telling you about his day, trying to regain the attention you had once given him without directly asking why you had gone silent. One letter, two, three… ten. But there was no response.

So he stopped trying.

Then, you returned to King’s Landing to defend your brother’s legitimacy after six long years.

You saw him training and noticed how much he had changed. You felt the fear the servants displayed when he was near, how hard and enigmatic he had become. The boy you knew had disappeared, transformed into a man you no longer recognized.

He caught your gaze from below, and for the first time in his life, you looked away. You had never done that before; you always greeted him with a tender smile and warm eyes.

“Why? Why? Why?” he wondered furiously in his mind, as if you could answer him from a distance.

You were walking towards the throne room to witness Vaemond Velaryon’s petition when someone intercepted you, grabbing your hand and making you turn with a gasp.

You parted your lips slightly upon meeting Aemond’s cold gaze. He was much taller than you now, his face had gained firmer features, and the strength he had acquired was evident, perhaps thanks to his training. Even his skin had taken on a more bronzed tone from all those days outdoors. The patch covering his missing eye made him look even more imposing.

“Do I look like a criminal to you, or why are you running from me?” he asked bluntly, without so much as a greeting or an apology for interrupting you and grabbing you.

“We’re going to be late,” was all you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

However, he didn’t let go, as if his hand on your wrist was a chain binding you to him.

You looked at him again, silently pleading with him not to persist. He remained silent, watching you with a depth that, for the first time, you couldn’t interpret.

Then he let out a short laugh and released you, causing you to cover your wrist with your other hand.

Your heart ached because, although you had sworn to keep your distance from him, you knew you were being unfair.

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, but you bit your lower lip, feeling the truth gnawing at you inside.

“Did you do it?” you asked in a whisper, turning back to face him.

He looked at you, not understanding.

“Do what?” You nervously fidgeted with your hands, a gesture he hated. He could find satisfaction in everyone else’s fear of him, but in you, and only in you, he despised it.

“Did you try to kill them?” you finally asked. “Did you try to kill my brothers? Is that why Luke attacked you with a knife?”

He clenched his hands into fists, connecting the dots. Was that why you had stopped writing to him? Why you were ignoring him?

You couldn’t bear to see how his face filled with a rage you had never seen in him before, a rage that sent shivers down your spine. You lowered your gaze, waiting for an answer.

However, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

He expected this from everyone, but not from you.

The only woman he had placed on a pedestal, the only one who had taught him that love could be given willingly, not out of obligation.

“Is that what they told you?” he murmured, struggling with an internal conflict that seemed to hurt him, even make him feel betrayed. “And you believed them?”

You closed your eyes, and seeing him like this made you begin to doubt your convictions.

However, Jace, Luke, even Baela and Rhaena, had sworn it to you on their lives. You knew that, of all people, Jace and Luke would never lie to you. So yes, your judgment was clouded by the oaths of the people you loved most.

“Then tell me, tell me what happened that day, tell me you didn’t break Luke’s nose and try to hit Jace with a rock.”

Silence seemed to flood everything like an overwhelming tide.

“They attacked me,” he asserted in a solemn tone, one that left no room for doubt or questioning. “All four of them came to attack me.”

He didn’t deny it, and that was the first thing you noticed.

“And why? Why would four children come to attack you?” You didn’t accuse him of anything, you simply asked, though you already knew the answer; you wanted to hear it from his lips.

“That doesn’t justify what they did to me,” he said, with an expression that broke your heart. Though you already knew, you had hoped your brothers were mistaken.

“No, it doesn’t justify it,” you responded. “But neither does it justify what you said to them, nor how you insulted them, because the moment that word left your lips, you insulted me too. The moment you struck them, you struck me as well. And when they hurt you, they hurt me too.”

You had to swallow hard to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“I will never forgive what they did to you, and my heart breaks to see that the boy I once loved… suffered and changed so much, to the point where I no longer recognize him.” Your voice trembled as his eyes pierced through you, reaching the deepest part of your soul. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to them either.”

You sighed and took his hand.

“And they are my brothers… I had to choose.”

A tear slid down your cheek, one that carried so many emotions, so much meaning.

You let go of him, ready to leave him behind and head for your mother’s arms. You just wanted to reach her.

However, you felt a pull, gentler this time, less abrupt. One that forced you to face him again.

Then, something you thought impossible happened: in his eyes, you once again saw the boy you remembered, that boy with a sad but determined gaze, who tried to be strong, though he had a brave and simple heart. That boy who made your heart race, who made you want to see him day and night, the one who, despite the differences in your lives, always seemed to understand you.

And then, in an unexpected and overwhelming moment, his lips sought yours. There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. It took you by surprise, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself responding with the same intensity. The air between you seemed to evaporate as the heat of his body enveloped yours.

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of unleashed passion and tenderness you hadn’t anticipated. Your hands, which at first had frozen in the air, moved of their own accord—one tangled in his hair, the other gripped his back, feeling the taut

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of overwhelming passion and an unexpected tenderness. Your hands, which had initially frozen in mid-air, moved of their own accord—one tangling in his hair, the other clutching at his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing.

Aemond kissed you with a fervor you had never known, as if each kiss was a confession, a longing, a broken promise he tried to mend with every brush of his lips. The need that enveloped you was so overwhelming that you almost lost sense of everything except him. His lips were soft yet firm, his breath warm as it mingled with yours, evoking in you a visceral reaction you had never expected.

Your lips moved in sync with his, responding with a passion that surprised you, a passion that seemed to come from the deepest part of your being. It was a kiss that spoke not just of desire but of all the unexpressed emotions, all the words that had never been spoken.

Then, almost painfully, you became aware of where you were, of the danger of being discovered. With a tremendous effort, you gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, the echo of his touch still vibrating on your lips.

You brought your hand to your lips, still feeling the ghost of his touch, unable to believe what had just happened. He looked at you, breathing heavily, his eyes darkened by a mix of emotions that pierced through you like lightning. For a moment, your heart hesitated, tempted to fall once more into the abyss that had opened between you.

But then, you heard voices approaching, reminding you of where you were and the situation you were in. Aemond seemed to realize it too, and his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper that you didn’t dare to name. In that instant, he had the impulse to demand, to claim you.

Even so, you knew you had to pull away, that you couldn’t allow yourself to fall deeper into temptation.

Without a word, you turned your back on him, ready to leave, though the truth burned in your chest. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen again, that you would turn your feelings for him into a cold, forgotten stone.

And it was all for one reason.

In the audience, when asked about the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra's children, King Viserys announced his consent for the marriage between Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra and Laenor’s eldest son, heir to the throne after his mother, and Baela Targaryen, Daemon and Laena’s eldest daughter. Likewise, following tradition, Lucerys Velaryon, the second son and Corlys’s heir, would marry you.

Aemond’s reaction was immediate and palpable; the fury burning in his eyes was visible in every fiber of his being. It was a fury born not just of frustration, but of disdain and the contempt he felt.

The sky darkened as if aware of the contempt, fury, and slight that the queen’s third son felt. A feeling that clouded his judgment the next day and led him to commit the gravest of sins, unleashing the consequences that would follow.

Masterlist

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

The Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise's SO like their new wings! Would the Demon King offer to take them into the skies?

Wind Waker Ganondorf: The Soaring Protector

Wind Waker Ganondorf stood on the high balcony of his fortress, his black raven wings catching the wind. His SO admired the sleek, powerful feathers as they moved closer, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. He could feel their gaze on him, and though he often reveled in their admiration, this time it struck a different chord.

“You like them?” he asked, turning his head slightly to catch their expression.

His SO nodded with a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

A rare, almost playful smile tugged at his lips. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around them and extended his wings fully. “Hold on tightly, then,” he said, and before they could protest, he leapt off the balcony, his wings catching the breeze.

They gasped in surprise, gripping him tighter as they soared high above the ocean, the wind whipping through their hair. Ganondorf’s flight was smooth and confident, the power in each wingbeat steady as he carried them effortlessly.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said softly, his voice almost tender. “As long as I hold you, nothing can harm you up here.”

Their awe at the view made him chuckle quietly, and he flew them higher, offering them the sky in a way only he could.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: The Reluctant Flyer, Soft at Heart

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf sat brooding in his throne room, the flickering torches casting shadows on his leathery wings. His SO approached, gently touching the rough surface of his wings with a fascinated smile. He turned his gaze to them, raising a brow.

“They suit you,” they said, admiration clear in their voice.

He let out a low grunt, not entirely comfortable with the compliment. “These wings… they are useful, nothing more.”

But when he felt their arms wrap around his neck, a soft sigh escaped him. Their joy at his new form stirred something deep within him. Though he would never admit it outright, their presence softened the edges of his hardened heart.

“I’ve never flown before,” they said, excitement and trust in their tone.

Ganondorf hesitated for a moment, his usual cold demeanor faltering. “You… want me to take you?”

They nodded, and without waiting further, he gathered them close, stepping toward the open window of his castle. His wings spread wide, and with a powerful push, they were airborne. It wasn’t graceful at first—his SO held onto him tightly—but the feeling of their trust in him made his flight more deliberate, more careful.

“Don’t get used to this,” he muttered, though a small smirk crept onto his face as he flew them over the rolling hills of Hyrule.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: The Strong and Silent Flyer

Twilight Princess Ganondorf stood silently at the entrance of the Arbiter’s Grounds, his massive dragon wings folded against his back. His SO approached with a quiet awe, marveling at the powerful scales that lined his wings. They reached out, running their fingers along the edge of the leathery surface.

“You like them,” he observed, his deep voice carrying the weight of his power.

His SO nodded, their eyes wide with admiration. “They’re incredible… can you fly with them?”

Ganondorf’s expression remained stoic, but their admiration stirred something deep within him. Without a word, he swept them into his arms and launched into the air. His wings beat with deliberate strength, lifting them both effortlessly into the sky.

Flying high above the desert, his SO’s amazement was palpable. Ganondorf remained silent, though he flew with purpose, taking them higher than they had ever been. The winds howled around them, but he was a steady force—strong and unyielding.

“If you ever wish to see the world from above,” he rumbled, “I will take you there.”

The quiet promise in his words was enough to make his SO smile, and he found solace in their joy.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: The Fiery Showman

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf stood proudly on a cliff’s edge, his fiery phoenix wings glowing in the dying light of the setting sun. His SO couldn’t take their eyes off them—bright and vibrant, a perfect reflection of his power and presence.

He noticed their admiration immediately, a smug grin forming on his lips. “You like what you see?”

His SO nodded eagerly, eyes wide with fascination. “They’re magnificent!”

With a flourish, Ganondorf spread his wings wide, embers sparking in the air around him. “Then allow me to show you what they can do,” he said confidently, scooping them into his arms.

He took to the air in a blaze of fire and light, soaring into the sky with a boldness that matched his personality. His SO held on tight, but there was no fear—only excitement as they watched the world below grow smaller and smaller.

Ganondorf chuckled as they reached the clouds, his wings burning bright against the night sky. “The skies are mine to command,” he said proudly. “And I will take you with me wherever you wish to go.”

His SO’s laughter echoed through the air, and for a moment, even Ganondorf found himself smiling, enjoying the freedom of flight with someone by his side.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf: The Majestic Monarch

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf stood on the edge of a cliff, his golden griffon wings shimmering in the sunlight. His SO watched him in awe, their eyes tracing the graceful curve of each feather.

“They suit you perfectly,” they said, their voice full of admiration.

Ganondorf turned to them, his sharp gaze softening slightly. “Do you wish to fly?”

Their eyes lit up, and he couldn’t suppress a small smile at their excitement. He extended his hand, and when they took it, he pulled them close, his wings unfurling to their full, magnificent span.

With a powerful beat of his wings, they soared into the air, climbing higher and higher into the clouds. The golden feathers caught the light, making them glow like molten gold as they flew over Hyrule.

His SO marveled at the view, and Ganondorf, though usually stoic, found himself enjoying their joy. “You will never need to fear the skies,” he said softly, his voice warm. “For I will always carry you through them.”

They smiled up at him, and he tightened his hold on them slightly, his wings cutting gracefully through the air as they soared together.

Demise: The Flame-Wreathed Lord of the Skies

Demise stood amidst the flames of a molten battlefield, his massive dragon wings flickering with fire. His SO, ever unafraid of his fiery presence, approached him with curiosity. They reached out to touch the molten cracks along his wings, marveling at the sheer power radiating from them.

“Do they feel as powerful as they look?” they asked with a smile.

Demise gave a low chuckle, his fiery mane flickering in response. “They are,” he replied, his voice a rumble of molten earth. “And if you wish, I will take you with me into the skies.”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted them into his arms, his wings spreading wide as he took to the air in a burst of flame. His flight was wild, fast, and untamed—just like him. But his SO felt safe in his arms, trusting him completely as they soared higher than the clouds.

The heat from his wings surrounded them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—more like the comforting warmth of a blazing fire. As they flew higher, Demise looked down at his SO, a rare flicker of softness in his fiery eyes.

“Do you see now?” he said, his voice a low growl. “The sky and the flames are mine, and I will share them with no one but you.”

His SO smiled, leaning into him as they flew together, and for a moment, Demise’s fiery heart softened in their presence.

In each scenario, the Demon Kings and Demise, while powerful and intimidating, all show a side of care and protectiveness for their significant other, allowing them to share in the experience of flight. Whether it's soaring majestically or flying with fiery intensity, each offers the skies to their SO in a way that reflects their personality and power.

[theratboyking]

Heaven Is Not Fit To House A Love Like You And I

Pairing: Vampire!Secondo/Angel!Reader

Word count: 750 (A short one for a change)

Summary: basses off of this ask. I hope this is what you wanted.

Warning: blasphemy, running away together, fluff, angst.

The sun had just begun to set. Looking out towards the field, the flowers almost look like gold as they shimmer in the dying light. You always loved this time of day, always venturing away from your post to catch a glimpse of the world's beauty. It was how you had found him, or rather, how he found you. How you both had found love in the absence of light, the thing you should hold more dear to you. It was in darkness that you found each other. It’s how you both had been making your way back to each other for hundreds of years. It was in the darkness that you now found yourself, waiting once more for your lover to find you.  

The twilight gives its final shine. You could feel him getting closer now. It was only a matter of time before he would show up, fashionably late, as he always called it. He got on your nerves, but he knew you loved it. He was the opposite of order, always finding a way to push your buttons, making you want more, but tonight was not a night to be pushing your buttons. You felt him before you could see him. 

“You’re late.” Your tone was flat. 

He came into view, emerging from the shadows, “I’m sorry, amore, but I got peakish on the way over.” Secondo was nonchalant with his response, letting out a chuckle; he was always so nonchalant. It drove you absolutely fucking mad. 

“We need to talk.” 

It could be your heightened senses, or it could be how well you knew him, but he tensed at your tone. In the hundreds of years he has known you, Secondo had never seen you this serious before. He cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to signal for you to continue. 

“They know about us.” 

He scoffed, “I fail to see how that is a problem, amore. So what?” 

“So what? So what! Secondo, this is serious. I could be expelled for this. They could kill you for this.”

“I don’t fear them, mia angela.” His tone was hard as stone, standing tall. He wore a smirk on his face, flashing you his fangs. 

“This isn’t funny, this is bad, this is very bad.” By now, you were pacing back and forth. Wings puffed out, a few feathers sticking out of place. If it were different circumstances, Secondo would have found you adorable.

“There’s a simple solution; you just can��t refuse to listen.” 

“Secondo, I told you I can’t.” You stop pacing to finally look at him. This wasn’t the first time he had brought this up, but this was the first time he genuinely meant what he was saying. 

“And why can’t you?” He questions, searching your eyes for any sort of real fight behind them.

“I am an angel of the lord. You are a servant of hell. What would the higher-ups think? What would they do to us? We are enemies, fuck I should hate you. We are on opposite sides of this,” Tears began forming in your eyes. “How dare you curse me with love. This has to stop, Secondo.” 

“There’s only our side. It has been that way for a long time, amore, forget sides for two seconds. Think about what you want for a change.” He hesitantly steps closer to you, “It could just be us. We could be just us.” 

“What of heaven? What of my home, Secondo?” The tears in your eyes finally fell; you could feel your resolve slowly fading.  

He closes the distance between you both, taking you into his arms. “Heaven could not house a love like the one I hold for you, il mio angelo caduto.” He tightens his hold on you. “Hell could not stop me from finding your soul. I fly to it like a moth to a flame. We can run amore; I will run anywhere as long as I have you.”   

You relax under his touch, “I’m scared, my love.” 

He pulls away to look you in the eyes. Nothing but love stared back at you. You could get lost in him and only him. A fond smile forms on his face, and he slowly takes a step backward, “Then we can be together.” He offers you his hand, an invitation to follow him. 

Against your better judgment, you take his hand, following him to the ends of the Earth, just as you would for the rest of time.

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

.

.

.

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 3: Cryptid

Food Chain

Danny has to finish his extra credit project on food chains. He didn't expect to actually learn something.

AO3

Warnings: Gore, Horror, Animal Death

Danny never cared much for biology. Sure, he was a science guy. He loved to talk about astrophysics. How stars were formed, how space shuttles worked, all about spaghettification (something had unfortunately experienced that one time in the GZ). He even enjoyed math, when he had the time to actually study it.

But biology? Maybe it was because his parents were constantly shouting about the horrible things they wanted to do to Phantom, but biology just...didn't seem as fun. So, he didn't pay as much attention as he probably should in class. Which he really should have realized was a bad idea.

Extra credit overnight camping trip. Ancients, why did Casper do things like this? This didn’t seem to happen at any other schools. But Mr. Linnaeus didn’t seem to care about normal types of extra credit. When they had done the section on binomial nomenclature, he had required students to learn Latin in order to properly classify the strange ghostly fauna and flora that had been popping up in Amity. Danny had gotten an easy A on that project, having already known Latin (dead language for a reason) and having known pretty much every ghostly plant that had appeared in his haunt.

However, now they were doing food chains and food webs and they were required to identify at least twenty chains: from producers to decomposers. And take pictures of it. Which of course sounded sooooo safe . They had been saddled with ancient cameras with a stern warning from the faculty not to break them. Half of them already seemed broken, much to the gathered students' consternation. He couldn’t see how any of this could ever be relevant to him, something most of his classmates thought as well.

Danny had only found about half of the required food chains. He trekked through the woods, alone. Sam and Tucker did not need the credit, and had no desire to do extra work. Danny picked up the pace. Twilight was quickly devolving into darkness, and he had no confidence that the camera would work in the dark. He didn’t want to have to rush to get every picture done tomorrow.

Danny paused when he heard a crow caw, feathers flapping through the air. The bird landed on a stump in front of him, a frog dangling from its beak. It’s feathers seemed to absorb what little sunlight remained, creating an inky void against the undergrowth. Danny ducked behind a bush and cautiously put the polaroid camera over his eye. He pressed down to take a picture. The camera clicked and a motorized whizzing spit the little strip of glossy paper from the front of the camera. Danny flapped the little picture back and forth, before glancing at it to see.

It wasn’t a good picture. He had gotten the bad luck to get a camera that’s flash was broken. You could barely make out the crow, which now seemed quite content to munch on the frog in its mouth.  Well, it hadn’t flown off. Maybe he could risk taking another picture. He pulled the camera up to his eye to try again. Right when he pressed the button, his ghost sense went off and a blur of light streaked in front of him. The camera spit out the paper and Danny looked up in alarm.

A glowing fox ghost was making a meal of the crow, ripping it to pieces and tearing through the abundance of feathers. It used it’s sharp teeth to crunch the crows bones, which loudly popped and cracked from the force. Streaks of blood dripped from it’s maw as it pulled the sinew from the dead bird’s body. Danny wrinkled his nose in disgust. Only in Amity would ghosts be considered a part of the natural food chain. He watched the ghost fox, slowly reaching for his thermos in his backpack. He didn’t want to spook it and then have to chase it through the woods. It might come across one of his classmates.

He had just touched the cap of the thermos, when he felt his body freeze up. His lungs stopped working mid breath, the air suddenly completely still and silent. The only sound was that of the fox devouring its meal. An inexplicable dread kept him stationary. Watching. For something. He didn’t know what. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his core was shaking in a way that he had never felt before. Shuddering and quivering uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink. Just continued to watch the fox eat its meal. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw movement.

He almost mistook it for a branch, long and bending and obscured by the deepening shadow. Except the wind didn’t blow branches like that. Instead of a smooth swaying, the thing moved in a stuttering disjointed pattern. It bent at hard angles, like a doll’s joint. It raised higher and higher into the air, and Danny saw half a dozen other limbs mimic the same movement. At the end, Danny could make out a barbed point. He resisted a shudder. He wanted to run, to flee, but every instinct told him not to move. His core was vibrating so hard that he had to focus on not panicking. He worried he might lose control of his powers under the tension in the air. Sweat was beading down his brow.

All at once, the barbed limbs rushed down, impaling the ghost fox which screamed loud and high pitched. Ectoplasm splashed all on the ground as the ghost desperately clawed at the ground as it was dragged across the ground. It’s pitiful cries turned into wet and garbled moans as it left a green  trail in its wake. Danny heard clacking and chittering. A sickening schlorping sound echoed from the darkness and the terrified cries of the ghost fox were no more.

Danny waited. Still feeling the tension in the air. After what could have been an hour or a minute, the heavy pressure in the air eased then disappeared entirely. Danny took a gasping breath, and sat hard on the ground. He was shaking uncontrollably, and he wrapped his arms around himself to try and stop the unpleasant feeling of his core trying to jump out of his chest. He noticed what was in his hand. The picture he had taken. He inspected it closely.

The ghost fox was streaked across the frame, the crow already limp in it’s jaw. The light of the ghost’s aura made the picture much more clear than the one he had first taken.

Maybe...he should learn more about food chains.

[usuallyapirate]

A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!" 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

 – Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon. 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land. 

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep. 

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace. 

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar. 

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.” 

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

[empressapprentice]

spooky arcana fanfic recs!

hello all! I realized that several of my favorite fanfictions for the Arcana fit the ~Halloween vibe~ and are very appropriate for spooky season. I thought I’d share my top recommendations (in alphabetical order) here. I’d love for people to add to this list--I definitely missed when the Arcana fandom was most active and I’m sure there’s a lot of really good writing that slipped my notice.

An important disclaimer: the usual warnings about not reading smutty content if you’re below 18 apply here. I also want to note that I tend to like pretty intense things. I have very few issues with gore/body horror/psychological stuff so I am really encouraging anyone who wants to read these fics to make sure you read the tags. (You can also feel free to message me and I can answer specific questions.) No noncon or dubcon here, though! Mostly just intense physical and psychological trauma.......plus smut.

Buried in Lilacs by ElizabethMarlowe: This one is basically an Asra character study, and it is fantastic. It starts off with a seemingly simple premise (MC touches herself in bed next to Asra), and the situation plays out as expected. Then it takes a sharp veer into nightmarish horror. Gorgeously written, you can really feel Asra’s emotions in this one. This is a oneshot and I am crossing my fingers that the author will write more for the Arcana because they truly have a gift. I’m extremely picky about my Asra content and this is perfect.

Destiny of Prey (series) by levrispero: This is (currently) a two-part series, plus a short interlude about Muriel, where MC is a vampire. It is modeled after What We Do In the Shadows rather than other, more “classic”, vampire content. This one is getting (slow, but regular) updates after it was abandoned for a year. Part one is two chapters of a back alley hookup between Julian and MC. It can definitely be skipped if smut isn’t your thing. The second part has one chapter of smut, which is clearly labeled and can be skipped as well. I love the world that the author has created here. It is also full of references to vampire media, from Twilight to Buffy. It is genuinely funny and fun to read, but isn’t just a crackfic. There’s a clear plot which borrows from canon but modifies it to fit the AU. I genuinely get excited when I see the author upload another chapter. This one is definitely the most accessible on my list and I highly recommend it.

How sweet is the affection of others to such a wretch as I am by SoftEigentlich: Another oneshot, which imagines what would happen if Julian was the one to bring the apprentice back to life with science, Frankenstein-style. I worship at the altar of Mary Shelley, so it was inevitable that I would love this. Julian’s lost the plot in this one. He’s ravaged by guilt and obsessed with saving the apprentice. He is so in love with you--it’s romantic and sickening at the same time. If you’re squeamish, do not read this one. Also fair warning: it’s basically a reader-insert, but you’re a corpse most of the time. So if you think that would make you uncomfortable, proceed with caution or skip it. But it’s one of my favorite fanfics of all time. (Also peep my convo with the author in the comments!)

In This Wretched World (series) by @teeth-farie​: This is a collection of three birblian fics. Two of the three stories in the series are monsterfucking smut, but there’s attention to detail in them that I really appreciate. I grew up with a pet bird, and there’s aspects to Julian’s monstrous form in these fics that I can recognize as bird-specific behavior. I’m actually not a big monsterfucker (I joke that I only like monsters when they’re 95% human, like a vampire), but I will gladly make an exception for things that I feel really show off an author’s talent. And while the two smutty fics do not skimp on the sexy stuff, they’re actually very sweet and focus on the love and connection between MC and Julian. Part two of the series has no actual smut (just implied sex) and offers a glimpse into Julian’s psyche while he is transforming into a monster in the Hanged Raven. Really heavy and potentially triggering themes in that one. Proceed with caution, especially if discussions of suicide bother you. I want to emphasize that it’s written very well though! Also check out teethfarie’s other works--they’re great. This series is the most Halloween-y to my weird little self, but there’s horror (and sex) abound on their page.

[wanderinginksplot]

Just for Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist 

Leia 

(WARNING for major character death)

It wouldn't be long now.

Kix had warned the general that her time was growing short, and that had been months ago. General Leia Organa had taken the news of her impending death rather well, all things considered. She had accepted it with the grace of her mother, despite the well-known joke that she had inherited her father's temper.

Leia hadn't been able to get out of bed that morning. It had only taken Kix a few hours to notice her absence, though she hadn't called him. Despite his grimness at the day ahead, Kix hadn't been able to suppress a smile. It was such a Skywalker trait to ignore their health, even until death.

The scanner let out a smooth beep - a world of difference from the scanners he had grown used to during the war. The universe had benefited greatly from the half-century of tech advancements that had occurred while Kix slept. Still, he didn't need to check the small readout to know what was happening. He had seen death too many times in too many forms to be fooled by a slow fade.

"Your major systems are beginning to shut down," he told Leia, resting a comforting hand over hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, but her fingers were steadfast rather than shaking. She had known. "It won't be more than a few more hours."

She smiled at him, her brown eyes warm and steady - so much like Padmé's that it hurt. "Thank you, Kix."

It sounded like a dismissal, but Kix didn't budge. "I'll be here with you until it happens."

Leia huffed out a small chuckle. "Kix, you have better things to do than sit with an old woman and wait for her to die."

Kix squinted up at the sky. It was mid-morning and the sky was bright and clear. Leia had been moved to the shade of a shallow cave - protected from the sun and wind, but still able to see and feel the world around her. It was a lovely spot to spend time. "I can't think of a single one, General. With respect, I'll stay."

"Respect," she snorted, shaking her head. "Well, if you're intent on staying, I'm going to put you to work."

He quirked a brow in silent response and she grinned broadly. The expression was such a mirror of General Skywalker's mischievous smile that Kix's heart lurched for a moment. She seemed to be thinking along a similar wavelength, because she ordered, "Tell me about my parents."

"Your parents?" he repeated stupidly. "Breha and Bail or the General and the Senator?"

"Both," Leia said, settling against the pillows protecting her back from the chilled stone wall of the cave. "Though I'm surprised you know anything at all about the Organas."

"Well, Bail in particular liked to have clone troopers escort him on diplomatic missions," Kix told her. "He thought it struck the right tone between showing up with obvious protection and showing up with no protection at all. Most of his escorts were from the Coruscant Guard, but we always shared our stories."

It was some hours later when Kix finally finished with, "...and Bail Organa, the great senator from Alderaan, had to run out of there at full speed, his ornate senatorial robes carried in his arms like a child and blaster fire hitting the ground behind every step! He always swore it was the last time he would bother going to Rattatak."

Leia laughed uproariously, wiping tears from her cheeks. "He never told me that version of the story! He just said that senators weren't welcome on Rattatak and that I shouldn't go… but if I did, I should make sure to wear comfortable shoes. I always wondered what he meant by that."

"One mystery solved," Kix told her with a smile.

"And just in time," she agreed. "I would hate to have missed that story. Now, what about my birth parents? I understand you worked with my father, but I wouldn't have expected you to know my mother. She was said to be beautiful and kind, passionate about political causes but not overly involved."

Kix snorted so hard that his throat stung. "Not overly involved? Did Senator Organa tell you that?"

"He did," Leia said, a wry grin playing around her mouth. "I take it that was a fairytale, an attempt to make me behave?"

"Maybe he knew a different side of Padmé than I did, but I've never known a politician to get in so many shootouts, present company excluded."

"Shootouts?" she asked, incredulous.

"Oh, yeah," Kix affirmed with a deep nod for emphasis. "I can't count how many times we were sent in to save your mother after she had gone in to try to make peace with some Seppie-leaning world and things had gone wrong. It didn't help that your father was in love with her by that point. He would have deployed the entire GAR if it meant keeping her safe, and he wasn't especially careful who knew about it…"

As he spoke, a small part of Kix's brain was working on the medical side of things. He tracked exactly how much color Leia's face was losing, watched as she leaned more and more of her weight against the pillows, and noted exactly when she stopped asking questions. Eventually, she stopped even replying to him.

Kix kept talking. Every bit of experience he had told him that hearing was the last sense to fade, and he would not let his general's daughter die in silence, wondering if everyone had abandoned her. He paused only once in his storytelling, and it was to administer a small dose of pain meds when Leia's breathing grew labored.

As the sun dropped low in the sky, Kix told story after story to the unresponsive woman in the bed in her cave. He talked about senators and generals, padawans and Jedi masters, of a war that had ended, but only in the least expected of ways, and of an army of identical men who spent their days finding ways to be different.

When her chest had stopped rising and falling, Kix stood to pull the bed's sheet up and over her slack face.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum," he said in harsh Mando'a, the words still echoing with the pain of a thousand losses. "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Leia Organa, Breha Organa, Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rex, Jesse, Fives, Echo, Tup, Appo, Dogma, Hardcase…"

The list continued until Kix felt lighter, purged somehow of the weight of death. Remembering the little he had been told about ghosts in the Force, he glanced around the clearing. It was hazy in the dusky twilight, but he could see that no one else was nearby.

"If you're here, General Skywalker... take care of her. Your daughter found a way to be extraordinary in a world that tries to stomp out every bit of that it can find."

For a moment, Kix felt the shadow of a hand's weight on his shoulder, the sensation of company, of brotherhood - and it was gone. He was alone in the shallow cave once more. He squared his shoulders, gathering his thoughts and willpower for the days ahead.

There was work to be done.

---

A/N - This is probably the most angst-driven thing I will ever write. Two months ago, I had a family member pass away. This chapter was written as a way of processing the feelings of sitting by someone's bedside as they shut down. I definitely cried while I wrote this one. Sorry for the information overload! I have one more chapter planned for this series (though I always reserve the right to add more, haha) and I promise that it's far more cheerful than this one. You made it through the worst!

[midzelink]

People of Shadow: Who Were the Twili’s Ancestors, Really?

The speculation surrounding the mysterious origins of the Twili in Twilight Princess is far from a new topic amongst fans of the series; I distinctly remember staying up late into the night scrounging around old forums in my early teens, ingesting thread after thread on the very subject, hoping against hope that someone smarter than me would at last have found the truth amidst the lies.  Those kinds of analyses, the pure intrigue that leads to hours of reflection and research, has long been one of the series’ drawing points for me; that no matter how cracked and inconsistent the story Nintendo has chosen to weave, fans of the series will again and again use everything at their disposal to fill in the cracks.    

If you’re reading this, it’s highly likely you’re familiar with the the two most common theories: that they were either Sheikah or Gerudo (though the evidence I’ve seen for the latter has always been shaky at best). When you get right down to it, it’s not as if who the Twili once were really matters - it’s certainly something Nintendo didn’t give more than a few seconds thought - but speculating is fun, and something on which I’ve spent much more time than I’d like to admit.  Though the reality, of course, could simply be that they were no one, just a hodgepodge group of dark magic users, never before seen, I always found myself asking: If they were anybody, who would they be?  Is there any in-game evidence to suggest as much?  I would argue that yes, there is - and though what I’ve written here is hardly groundbreaking, it is fairly comprehensive, and with any luck, I’ll be able to convince a few of you along the way.

With all that out of the way, I would at last like to state that, if anyone, I firmly believe the Twili’s ancestors were Sheikah, and I’ve done my best to compile my reasoning for this below.

The Banishment of the “Interlopers”

Before we get into specifics, I wanted to lay some groundwork establishing when, exactly, the Twili’s ancestors were banished by the Light Spirits at the behest of the gods, as the timeline of events will be important in a moment.  In Twilight Princess, we first hear about the dark interlopers and their quest for the Sacred Realm from Lanayru; there was an era of peace in Hyrule, but when word of the realm and the holy triangles within it spread, war broke out amidst the populace.  From within this greed-fueled chaos arose the interlopers, “wielding powerful sorcery” - and so great was their transgression against the goddesses that they ordered the Light Spirits to seal them away in shadow forever. (If the story of a war breaking out over the Sacred Realm sounds familiar, that’s because the Hyrulean Civil War, which ended shortly before the events of Ocarina of Time, shared the same conflict; it’s entirely possible that the two wars were one and same or overlapped in some fashion, but for this post specifically, that possibility isn’t entirely relevant.)

This era of strife is colloquially referred to as the Interloper War by many, and from Lanayru’s tale alone we can extrapolate that, at the very least, the banishment of the Twili happened before the events of Ocarina of Time; the struggle was fought over the Triforce, after all, which was claimed and broken apart in all three splits of the timeline following the events of that game.  It’s also important to note that Ganondorf was banished to the Twilight Realm shortly after the events of Ocarina of Time in the Child Timeline, and that this was long after the Twili’s ancestors had been banished there; so it can be said conclusively that the Interloper War could not have taken place between the events of Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess.

The Sheikah, Few and Far Between

It was important that we establish a rough estimate of when, exactly, the Twili’s ancestors were banished for one very crucial reason: to shed some light one who they likely weren’t, and who they could have been.  At some point before the events of Ocarina of Time, there was a mysterious group of dark magic wielders known only as “the interlopers” that, all at once, were banished to an alternative dimension - an act that, had there been any of their tribe left behind, likely would have put a serious strain on their numbers.  And within Ocarina of Time - a game that takes place after this banishment would have occurred - we learn of a tribe who suffered one such fate:

“They say that Princess Zelda's nanny is actually one of the Sheikah, who many thought had died out.”

As we all know, Impa is the only Sheikah present in Ocarina of Time - I would argue not quite the last, if Impaz in Twilight Princess is any indication - but regardless, they are so few and far between that the general populace had one point believed them to be extinct.  Things weren’t always this way; at the very least, we can extrapolate that there were a great many Sheikah around the time of time of Skyward Sword, and even within the context of Ocarina of Time, Kakariko Village was in relatively recent history a Sheikah village that was closed off to the common people.  What truly happened to the Sheikah that drove them to near extinction is anyone’s guess, but I would argue that it was likely a combination of two things: 

the Hyrulean Civil War, which lasted very, very long, had many casualties, and the Sheikah (being in service to the Hyrulean Royal Family) were likely at the forefront of this, and

on top of this, perhaps before or even coinciding with the Civil War, a not unsubstantial number of the Sheikah broke off from their tribe, betrayed the Royal Family, and tried to claim the Triforce and the Sacred Realm as their own.

Of course, this relies on the assumption that the Sheikah could ever, under any circumstances betray the Royal Family - betray Hylia, the goddess whose bloodline it is supposedly their sworn duty to serve.  And though I will not be touching on this quite yet, I did want to bring it to attention, as it is overall a crucial piece of the puzzle - but we have some more ground to cover first.

(As for what I meant in the beginning of this segment when I said who they likely weren’t, I was specifically referring to the Gerudo, a people who many others speculated could have been the the Twili’s ancestors.  While it’s true that the Gerudo people have mysteriously vanished by the era of Twilight Princess, they are very much present in Ocarina of Time - and we have established that the banishment of the Twili’s ancestors occurred before the events of that game.)

Beings of Shadow, Enter the Twilight Realm

When all is said and done, the coincidental timing of both the banishment of the interlopers and the dwindling numbers of the Sheikah isn’t quite groundbreaking evidence of anything; after all, it would not be completely out of the realm of possibility that the Hyrulean Civil War had been entirely at fault for their dwindling numbers.  However, given what we know about how twilight affects ordinary denizens of the world of light, I would argue that Sheikah may have been the only group of people capable of becoming the Twili, and it is for this reason that I feel assured in my conclusions:

“Twilight covered Hyrule like a shroud, and without light, the people became as spirits.  Within the twilight, they live on, unaware that they have passed into spirit forms...”

This twilight - the very glow that transforms the unawares citizens into spirits and Link into a beast - is the very same “light” that pervades the Twilight Realm, and it can only be assumed that any ordinary light dwellers banished there would also become as spirits. Yet in the case of the Twili’s ancestors, this emphatically was not the case; they were able to persist, evolving over time to become the Twili we know and love today. When Midna is explaining to Link the history of her people after the duo enter the Gerudo Desert, she says this:

“What do you think happened to the magic wielders who tried to rule the Sacred Realm? They were banished. They were chased across the sacred lands of Hyrule and driven into another realm by the goddesses... Its denizens became shadows that could not mingle with the light.”

And after Link retrieves the Master Sword, breaking the curse that Zant placed on him:

“This thing is the embodiment of the evil magic that Zant cast on you.  It's definitely different from our tribe's shadow magic...”

It’s clear that the Twili and their ancestors had and continue to have a very strong connection to shadow.  We know that anyone from the world of light who enters the twilight becomes as a spirit; not even wielders of the Triforce are exempt from its effects, though it does, admittedly, affect them in different ways.  (Zelda is the one clear exception to this, an anomaly which I go over in this post - a short and recommended read before continuing.)  Just as the Twili, a people of shadow, cannot mingle in the world of light, people of light cannot mingle in the world of shadow - but the Twili are hardly the only people in the series to have a strong connection to the shadows.

"Have you heard the legend of the ‘Shadow Folk’? They are the Sheikah...the shadows of the Hylians.”

The Sheikah, time and time again, are referred to as people of shadow; Impa awakens as the Sage of Shadow, and the accursed Shadow Temple lies on the outskirts of her hometown of Kakariko.  We know that the twilight affects all whom it touches in the world of light - “light and shadow can’t mix, as we all know” - but what if the light dweller in question were a Sheikah?  How could a realm of shadows snuff out the light of one who is already a shadow?

I would like to posit, then, that even if the Twili’s ancestors had been a mixed bag of peoples and cultures drawn together by the lure of the Sacred Realm, only a people like the Sheikah - a tribe who had perfected mastery over shadow magic, so much so that they had become one with them - would have been able to persist in the anti-light of the Twilight Realm and, over centuries or perhaps millennia, evolve to become the Twili.  Anyone else would have simply become spirits upon entering the realm, doomed to spend the rest of their days neither alive nor dead.

Eyes of Red, Show Us the Truth

Now, there is one other crucial piece to this puzzle, and it revolves around one other trait that the Sheikah are known for: with the exception of Breath of the Wild (the disparity of which I have my own theories about, but I won’t get into that here), they all have red eyes.  This is something that’s never really commented on in any of the games, but it’s an important enough physiological trait that Sheik, who is merely Princess Zelda in disguise as a Sheikah, also bears the distinctive eye color.  Though it’s common knowledge that Midna’s eyes are also red (as are the rest of the Twili’s), this alone doesn’t speak much to a correlation between the two peoples; no, in order for this parallel to mean anything, we must first understand the significance of the Sheikah’s red eyes, and how exactly that ties back to the princess of twilight and the rest of her people.

First, let’s take a look at Ocarina of Time.  When Kakariko Village is attacked just before Link heads for the Shadow Temple, Sheik has this to say about Impa:

“The evil shadow spirit has been released! Impa, the leader of Kakariko Village, had sealed the evil shadow spirit in the bottom of the well... But the force of the evil spirit got so strong, the seal of the well broke, and it escaped into the world!! I believe Impa has gone to the Shadow Temple to seal it up again...”

Anyone who has played Ocarina of Time knows that the Shadow Temple is a dark and wicked place, teeming with the souls of the undead and illusions that, without the ability to see through, would completely inhibit any progress one would try to make.  As Link traverses the temple, he bears the Lens of Truth: a peculiar artifact (importantly, in the shape of a Sheikah Eye) that reveals the world as it truly is.  It is a one-of-a-kind item, and without it, no ordinary person would be able to make it through the Shadow Temple, much less fight the invisible monsters that lurk within - but Impa is no ordinary person.

The explanation is really quite simple: the Sheikah’s red eyes are not merely a distinguishing, but purely aesthetic characteristic (like the red hair of the Gerudo), but are indicative of the fact that they can see through even the strongest of illusions with the naked eye.  It’s the reason the Lens of Truth was crafted in their image; though one who wields the lens may not be a Sheikah, they, too, can view the world as one with this powerful artifact, seeing through artificial walls, finding invisible items...and even meeting the spirits of the departed.

Let’s go back to Midna; after you first meet her in the sewers of Hyrule Castle, slowly making your way to the rooftops and the imprisoned Zelda beyond, you encounter several spirits of Hyrulean soldiers along the way.  Midna taunts you, saying this:

“It looks like the spirits in here... They're all soldiers.  Where in the world could we be? Eee hee!”

As a beast, Link is now able to tap into his new “animal senses” to see that which would be invisible to his human eyes. Yet Midna is able to see the spirits as they are, naturally, without any aid whatsoever - almost as if she retained the truth-seeing eyes of her ancestors.

Before we move on, I did want to bring attention to one other thing the Twili and the Shiekah have in common - and though it’s not technically directly related to their shared ability to see the truth of the world around them, it is tangentially related in the sense that it involves illusions.  Early on in Twilight Princess, there is a scene where Midna seemingly transforms herself into Colin and subsequently Ilia, taunting Link about the capture of his friends.  It’s a somewhat strange occurrence that happens exactly once and is never brought up again, and it happens so early in the game that, for a very long time, I simply brushed it off and never gave it a second thought.

However, I think it’s pretty safe to say that what we’re seeing here is a demonstration of illusion magic - Midna is not literally shapeshifting into Link’s friends, as if she had this ability, she could simply return herself to her true form at any given moment.  This is significant because there is a fairly notable example of something identical to this in the very game I mentioned earlier in this segment; in Breath of the Wild, the Yiga Clan, a group of Sheikah who swore allegiance to Calamity Ganon, consistently over the course of the game demonstrate the ability to use illusion magic, posing as weary and lost travelers on the road, waiting to ambush Link and take him by surprise.  And though the Yiga may not technically be Sheikah anymore, they were at one time - and I find it exceptionally hard to believe that such a technique would be exclusive to the Yiga and the Yiga alone.

Echoes of the Past

I would, of course, be remiss to not touch on the various architectural and technological similarities between the two peoples.  On their own, they aren’t very substantial pieces of evidence - but if we have already accepted the fact that the Twili’s ancestors were, in fact, Sheikah (which, for the purposes of the rest of this essay, I will now do), then it is worth it at the very least to take a look, to paint a somewhat fuller picture of the story.

Take, for instance, the runes in the above photo, adorning the wall behind the throne in the Palace of Twilight.  Similar runes adorn the cloak that Midna wears while in her true form, and other miscellaneous places scattered throughout the palace.  It is not that much a stretch to say that the large emblem in the center is somewhat reminiscent of the iconic Sheikah Eye, though distorted and changed over time as it may have become.  An eye that is unmistakably Sheikah in inspiration even appears on the back of the Fused Shadow, and it is for this reason that I chose that image to head this essay to begin with.  But eyes aside, by far the most significant comparison once again returns us to Breath of the Wild, and the Sheikah as they were ten thousand years past.

The ancient-yet-highly-advanced Sheikah technology scattered across the once mighty kingdom of Hyrule in Breath of the Wild simply oozes Twili, from the harsh, blue aesthetic to the angular similarities between the script of the Sheikah and the runes of the Twili.  And while it is worth mentioning that this is decidedly technology, and not magic,  there is an argument that can be made in the world of fantasy over whether there is in fact a significant difference; looking at the image below of a room in the Palace of Twilight, floating platforms decorated in patterns resembling circuitry, it’s not hard imagine that this is nothing more than highly advanced tech, remnants of a history they left behind.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t especially matter whether either is a case of expressly magic or technology; all we can extrapolate from this information is that the Sheikah who had been banished to the Twilight Realm likely had some rudimentary knowledge of their tribe’s lost technology, had they been banished in an era when it already was lost - or, at the very least, had the same design sensibilities.  Whatever the case, it is worth is to try and acknowledge the potential connection, as there is much that can be gleaned by examining the world around us and its history - even a fictional one - and to that end, I would now like to begin wrapping up this unnecessarily long piece of persuasion by doing just that.

Those Who Do Not Learn From History...

...are doomed to repeat it, as the saying goes.  Taking everything I’ve written here into consideration, it’s not hard to construe a conceivable timeline of events that could have led to the birth of the Twili, and the eventual invasion of the world of light headed by Zant.  Long ago, in an age ravaged by a war over a lust for the Sacred Realm, a sector of Sheikah betrayed the Hyrulean Royal Family, split off from the main clan, and sought their own power - and if the story of a Sheikah betrayal sounds at all familiar, that’s because it emphatically is.

Breath of the Wild is an anomaly in many respects; it seems to defy all expectations of what we understand about the timeline, reviving a people (the Sheikah) who, for all intents and purposes, died out long ago - but it paints a very important picture of what the Shadow Folk had to endure serving underneath the Royal Family of Hyrule, a picture that elucidates precisely why such a betrayal would conceivably take place.  The story of the Yiga Clan is, ultimately, one rooted oppression - and though I could go into great detail about the nature of this oppression here, and quite frankly the justification for their cause, I’ve already done so in this post, which I would again encourage be read by anyone who cares about the subject.  Very basically, the Yiga were right - having been cast out and mistreated by the very family they served, they did the only thing they could, and turned against them.  Glimpses of this mistreatment are riddled in previous entries of the series, but no more jarringly than in Ocarina of Time’s Shadow Temple: a place that likely was once a sacred place to the Sheikah people, reduced to nothing more than a haunted torture chamber recounting Hyrule’s “bloody history of greed and hatred" under direct orders by the Royal Family.  In Twilight Princess, Zant specifically refers to Link as “one of the light dwellers who oppressed [their] people” while talking to Midna at Lanayru Spring - and though I would not go so far as to say that Zant was completely justified in his actions, perhaps he had a point.  Perhaps the story of the Twili’s ancestors isn’t one of a an evil, mindless group of powerful interlopers who sought power for power’s sake - but one of fierce retaliation.  One of a group of people who had soiled their hands with the blood of the Royal Family one final time and said enough.  I believe that the Twili’s ancestors were Sheikah, and I will continue to believe it until proven otherwise; for all the reasons listed above, and also because, frankly, if I were a Sheikah, I would betray the Royal Family, too.  It happened once - so it will happen again - and again, and again, until the cycle of violence and oppression is studied and learned from, and the truth comes out.

But then, so long as history is written by the winners, it will take more than the red eyes of a Sheikah to parse the truth from the lies.

[fandom-collective-writers]

Breathe in Moonlight (Le Comte de Saint Germaine x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Le Comte de Saint Germaine x MC

Prompt: bite, goosebumps, full moon

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1,684

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome​ (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

       She could feel him, his gaze bringing goosebumps to her skin. Even if she herself couldn’t make him out in the gloom, she knew he was there, could feel him in her bones. 

       Her heart pounded in excitement, but MC kept her steps even as she picked her way over the forest floor, her breath blooming in pale clouds before her face and sounding too loud in the pin-drop quiet. The rest of the forest knew what roamed under its canopy, hushed in reverence for the ancient creature and his chosen mate.

       The cool air nipped at her exposed arms and neck, the straps of her dress hanging off her shoulders and the neckline sitting loose above her breasts. She barely felt the cold though, the sensation doing little more than serving to make her even more excited.

       There was a full moon tonight, already hanging in the twilight sky when she left the mansion with her lover on her tail. MC didn’t know how long it had been since she’d disappeared into the forest, teasingly evading Le Comte when she could. Deep down though, she knew he could catch her any moment he wanted to, letting her play for a time, but the game was soon to end. 

       Ahead, the trees stopped, giving way to an open field. Stepping out into the moonlight, she sighed as the cool, pale glow bathed her skin, turning all it touched into silver and shadows. She didn’t turn when his presence loomed at her back, didn’t jump when his hands brushed her elbows and smoothed down her arms. 

       “What are you doing out here all by yourself, ma cherie?” his deep voice murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  “Dangerous things roam the woods at night.”

       “I’m not by myself though, am I?” she replied, keeping her gaze on the moon. “And I don’t think there’s anything in this forest so dangerous as you.”

       He chuckled, the rich sound sending sweet pangs to her core. “You’re right about that. “ Taking her hand, Le Comte came around to stand in front of her, guiding her further into the moonlight. “So what’s a lovely lady such as yourself searching for in the darkness?” His hand was soft around hers, gentlemanly as he led her to the center of the field. The gleam in his eyes was less so, hungry and golden and dangerous, waiting for her to step into his arms so he could sink his fangs into her and never let go again.

       “A moment with my lover,” she whispered, meeting that look with one of her own from beneath her lashes. “As for you, mon Comte?”

       The pureblood vampire stopped, tilting her chin up with a few elegant fingers. To the right of his head, the full moon hung in the sky, highlighting the couple as they stood amongst the wildflowers. A smile curled at his lips, his eyes narrowed to gentle yellow slits. “The same as you, ma cherie.” His hands traced her sides as he circled behind her again, his arms slipping around her waist as his form pressed flush against her back.

       “Will you claim this moment then?” MC purred, slipping her fingers into his hair as he nuzzled against the side of her neck. 

       “I fully intend to.”

       She mewled and tilted her head back against his shoulder as he grasped a full breast, squeezing as his knee parted her legs and his free hand drew her skirt up over her thigh. Le Comte groaned as she ground her ass back against the bulge in his pants, yanking down on the loose neckline of her gown so her breasts spilled into the night air. A moan fell from her lips when his fingers ghosted over her pebbled nipples, pinching and tugging them. Together, they sank into the grass, his hands guiding her to sit on his lap as he rutted against her.

       Her arousal had already seeped through her panties, staining the front of his trousers as he ground his erection against her covered core. “So wet already, mon amour?” he purred, a few fingers prodding the soaked cotton and making her mewl. “Do I need to prepare you or can you take me as you are?” he questioned softly. Le Comte was a most attentive lover, always bringing her more pleasure than she thought she could handle before seeing to his own needs. Whenever they made love, he was careful not to bring MC any pain, well, any pain she didn’t want.

       “As I am!” she answered, her hands fisting in the skirts pooled around her waist. A whine left her throat when his hips stopped humping into her, fidgeting in search of that delicious friction. She froze when the clink of his belt unbuckling reached her ears, a new shiver of anticipation wracking her form as his naked cock sprang up against her ass. 

       His fingers prodded her entrance, testing her wetness, before dancing over her clit, drawing another wave of arousal from between her clenching thighs. She could feel him, throbbing and hot against her, and all she could think of was having that heat inside of her, stretching and filling and melding until it wasn’t clear where he ended and she began.

       “Oh god, please!” she mewled, reaching for the cock slipping through her folds and swirling her fingers around the engorged head. “I need you!”

       “You need me or god?” he chuckled, cutting off with a grunt when her digits wrapped around him. “Because I can promise you he and I are nothing alike.”

       Pouting at him over her shoulder, MC melted when his lips claimed hers deeply, sweetly. Her tongue tangled with his as it prodded past her parted lips, stealing her breath away as he bent her further into his lap, curving her spine so her breasts stuck out in the cool, night air.

       Le Comte’s hand brushed over hers still on his length, positioning himself, and a moment later she yelped as her core stretched to accommodate him, creating a delicious burn in her abdomen. Her lover grunted into her shoulder as her tight walls wrapped around him, pulsing inside of her.

       He allowed her a few heartbeats to adjust, licking over her heated skin and placing his hands on her breast and hip, before beginning to move against her. She could feel his need to pound into her in the tension in his muscles, but he still took the time to start off slow, being careful not to hurt her with the first few thrusts. It was only when she buried her fingers in his silky hair and tugged his face to her neck with a murmured plea of, “Fuck me,” that he began in earnest, lifting her off his cock before slamming her back down and thrusting his hips up simultaneously. 

       Her breasts bounced as he hilted into her, his grip tight on her hip, and she cried his name when he pinched and tugged at her nipple, her head thrown back against his shoulder. Juices ran down his cock with each harsh thrust, dribbling over his balls, and the sound of their lovemaking echoed across the field with each slap of skin against skin. With each exhale she breathed out lust and breathed in moonlight, the full, silver disk in the sky above filling her pleasure blurred vision.

       His fangs scraped against her skin, not daring to break the skin, but sending shockwaves through her body. Clawing at his arms, MC tried to slow her oncoming release, searching for some sort of control in the throes of ecstasy gifted by her lover. Her thighs trembled as he continued to pump into her, threatening to give out from beneath her.

       “C-Comte, I-I can’t - ah!” The world tilted and she found herself face down in the grass, screaming as the greater vampire resumed his pace, his thick length reaching deeper. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase in the grass, ripping tufts from the ground as she moaned and whimpered, begging him to keep going.

       His fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back against him with each thrust were sure to leave bruises, but she hardly cared. All that mattered to her was this beautiful man she had fallen in love with and the way he was working her towards her climax.

       “What if someone were to find us?” he idled, delivering a smack to her ass before caressing the tender skin. “Some traveler lost in the woods. What would they see? Two lovers or a monster claiming his mate?”

       “I - mmh, ahhh!” When her lips parted to answer, Le Comte gave a particularly hard thrust, his balls slapping against her clit and making coherent words evaporate on her tongue.

       “Answer me, ma cherie.” A hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her up into a kneeling position. “What would they see?” he asked again.

       “B-Both!” she managed. Her trembling hand smoothed tenderly over his jaw, wild yet controlled golden eyes meeting her own as MC turned to look at him. “My monster, my lover.”

       He smiled, pleased, and his hand traced over her hip affectionately before he pinched her clit savagely, all trace of gentlemanliness erased from his expression as his cock tore into her and threw her into an ocean of pleasure. She might’ve screamed as she came, clenching around his manhood, but she didn’t know, lost in the overwhelming feeling of his cock drilling into her oversensitive core through the heat of her orgasm.

       A few heartbeats later, he reached his own release, her body twitching as he spilled deep inside of her. His protective growl vibrated against her skin as he nipped at her neck, covering it in pink and purple lovebites until he was completely spent.

       Falling back together, she lay supine on his chest as they caught their breath, Le Comte’s softening cock still tucked in her core as their combined release oozed around him.

       “Your monster,” he affirmed, lacing his fingers with hers and placing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Your lover.”

[clockworkgraystairs]

There is no such thing as vampires #1 || Jurdan AU

Jurdan Smut Week 2020   •   DAY 2

The prompt was technically dagger play...it didn’t really worked that way but HEY more smut! (vampire smut cough)

@jurdannet​   @jurdannetrevels​

Rating: E (no I don’t mean ‘everyone’)

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of blood, some biting (it’s a vampire au c’mon), swear words (just in case)

Summary: 

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both.

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying.

Extra comments: Just because I’m extra af, I’ll leave you the ambience music videos I listened while writing this. In case you’d like to hear them while reading:

Rain in a forest at night - Haunted Mansion/rain/thunder/wind - Narnia Lullaby

Written for: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ MA’AM AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP AND SUPPORT, FOR BETAING THIS UNENDING PIECE AND FOR HELPING ME CRAFTING THE IDEA FOR IT! ❤️

Part 1 ||  Part 2

Masterlist   •   AO3

“Please tell me again why are we doing this?” I ask for the third time, leaning to rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. We bounce as the uncomfortable van we travel in turns to a cobbled path, leading us deeper into the woods. 

“Because,” Vivi hisses back. “Your little brother is currently in his Twilight-obsession phase, and he just broke up with his girlfriend so we’re trying to cheer him up!”

“He’s 9! And they lasted like, what? Four hours?”

In that moment, Oak turns violently from the front seat, scowling at me. “First of all Jude, we were together two full days ok? She was the love of my life and suddenly she’s not sure about us anymore? Now I shall never find love again! I might have to become a priest. I expect a little consideration.”

Vivi ruffles his hair affectionately. “We absolutely understand, your sister here doesn’t have an ounce of romance in her veins but of course she supports the cause.”

That said, he returns to his place. I bite my lip hard, trying not to laugh. Typical Oak. I love my brother I really do, even if half of the time I can’t understand his dramatic outbursts.

Sighing, I stare through the window, to the heavy clouds gathering on top of us. Great. We are probably far away from the highway by now, nothing more than trees, rocks and occasional wild animals around. For some reason, our father had thought that there was no better way of fixing a kid’s broken heart than going on a quest in search of legends and hidden castles. 

The thing is that apparently, it works. Instead of an incessant whining about love being doomed, my brother spends the days throwing the most random facts about werewolves, vampires, ghosts and any impossible creature. To be honest, I don’t think wikipedia and the Twilight books are a reliable source, but if it makes Oak happy I could live a couple of days with it. And most importantly if I have to choose between this or spending the week back at home with my mother and twin sister going to tea parties for old ladies, well, the answer is very clear.

I remember reading a few books about myths when I was younger. When I turned fifteen, I developed a hard crush on Brad Pitt after I saw Interview with the Vampire, filling half of the walls in my room with posters of him. Even now ten years later, I actually enjoy talking about old folklore and legends, urban myths and stuff like that. 

What bugs me, are the fraudulent morons who want to take advantage of Oak’s naive curiosity to engage us in the most ridiculous tours that were obviously a waste of money. So far, we’d entered three “museums” where most of the so-called relics were made of plastic, and a haunted house with special effects so poorly done, father had discreetly asked for his money back. Only another two of the places we visited were actually interesting, but since the guides spent most of the time flirting with Vivi or me, it had annoyed our father. 

Now though, we are driving behind the car of an old couple who swore their ancestors owned a castle where true vampires had lived once. The sole mention of the word “castle” was enough to make Oak hang from our father’s sleeve begging to go.

I’m not going to lie, it is an intriguing idea. But I remain a little worried about how much money Madoc is ready to pay before he hurries his little son back to his fantasy books and videogames.

“Dad, did you know that vampires like to live in the woods because it allows them to make racing competitions without being interrupted?” Oak asks with enthusiasm.

Madoc gasps. “Do they? Is it because they’re so fast?” 

Okay, he might be willing to pay more than I thought. Next to me, Vivi muffles a laugh and keeps taking pictures for her instagram, occasionally asking for my help.

Upon arriving at the castle I have to suppress a curse. This, now, is a real castle. Nothing like the pitiful buildings we’d visited before. It is huge, made of pure stone and a modest wooden bridge that connects the entrance with the spot where the cars park. A slight fog covers the sides of the castle giving it a creepier look. 

A shiver goes down my back. I turn to find my family who are all equally gaping at the place in front of them. Oak is visibly shaking with excitement. Vivi shoots me an astonished look before taking my brother’s hand and following the couple across the bridge.  

The first thought that pops into my mind is that this place must have been taken out from a movie. Or set up for one. Maybe this is one of those pranks for TV. There is no other explanation for the massive room we find behind the giant front gate. Every inch of the walls is covered by paintings, several images barely recognizable through the dust. Aged furniture rests under dust and spiderwebs, pointing out they haven’t been used in quite some time. The illumination doesn’t help either. Electric lights hang from a few spots on the walls, though not enough for the big space, which I suspect is the reason that long candles are lit up too. 

My next thought is that I should’ve brought my sweater. The damn place is freezing. 

“Phew, sorry about the dust!” The old man says, flashing an embarrassed smile to us. “We were not planning to have any visitors yet.”

“You said this is going to be a museum?” Madoc asks, carefully surveying the walls. Next to him, Vivi tightens her hold on my brother’s hand to prevent him from starting to run around. I swear his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. 

“It will indeed! This place has been in our family for generations, but since it’s hard to adapt it to modern technology it was abandoned.” He turns to Oak and winks. “Not to mention the creepy things that happen here all the time.”

His gaze widens. “What kind of things?”

“Well, some distant relatives used to try spending their vacations here. But after a couple of days they left in a big rush, claiming some strange force had commanded them to go away.” With a lower voice, he adds. “They also mentioned noises coming out from empty rooms and dark hallways. Steps. Shadows that followed them along the place.” 

For a second everyone remains silent. The only noise I can hear is the wind outside and the start of a slight rain. Somehow my hands are even colder.

“The legend says,” The woman, whose name is Marrow if I remember it correctly, continues while taking one chandelier with her hand. “This was the hideout of ancient vampires, how many, we don’t know. But they didn’t appreciate people trying to live within their domains.”

“So why come here at all?” Vivi asks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It might be.” She shrugs. “But that’s half of the fun, isn’t it?”

“We like to think we’ve found a safe way to open this castle to the public without taking any risks. We will use a part of it as a museum, to show some of the family relics. But be aware, no one is allowed to go further than the marked area.” He signals at the yellow tape stuck on the floor forming arrows.

“If you please...” Marrow says, motioning at the stairs where the markings start.

They get me for a moment, not gonna lie. The surroundings and the way they speak are creepy enough to make me doubt my beliefs for a second. I shake my head to clear those thoughts away and walk behind my family. There’s no such thing as vampires or haunted castles.

We go through passages. Madoc has to remind Oak to not touch anything, constantly. From what I see, he’s living his best day. Several counters line up side by side against the wall. Some of them contain jewelry, others weapons, old writing pens among other things. Most of them carry a family shield, although it’s too blurry to properly identify what it says.

The rain thickens outside and Marrow keeps talking. She tells the story of her so called ancestors, whose family were big enough to fill all the rooms in the castle. Elwen, Eldred… something like that, and his many wives had once lived here. Along with his abounding children. I see in Oak’s face the intention to ask about how that family arrangement worked but Vivi gives him a slight pull of his hair. 

I would have thought our guides would try to keep a proud name for their so-called ancestors. But they don’t. In fact, she seems particularly interested in explaining how Eldred’s cruel and terrible nature brought him nothing but disgrace. His once prosperous castle and assets were gone little by little. He claimed he was under the effects of a curse, but no one dared believing him. At least not until people started disappearing.

I stop listening at some point, focusing my attention on the relics in front of me. I’ve always felt a significant attraction to weapons, but not the ordinary ones like guns or rifles. These ones though, such beautiful daggers and swords. I’d give a kidney just to hold one of them. 

On the next shelf books pile one next to the other, the dust around them a clear sign of how long they’ve been unbothered. All except for one. The navy blue cover has almost no dust at all, yet it looks like it would fall apart with a gentle blow of wind. The title is partially gone, probably through time. 

I turn my head to my family but they’re gone, probably to another corridor since I can still hear the muffled voice of Marrow and my brother. Would she care at all if I check out that book?

I bite my lip. As long as it doesn’t break it’s probably alright. Standing on the tip of my toes I reach for it.

“That is an excellent book.” 

I shriek and whip around, my hand flies to my mouth trying to cover the embarrassing sound. The book falls open next to my feet.

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both. 

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying. “My personal favorite. Too bad the author was a poisonous bunch-backed toad.”

My mouth opens to apologize, but I only manage to let out a strangled. “Shit”

The stranger lifts an eyebrow and chuckles. 

“Sorry, I- that wasn’t what I meant to say.” I stutter. I feel as if my heart has jumped to my throat. “I wasn’t trying to steal the book.”

“I did not say you were.” He answers, his voice is like velvet.

I nod and take a deep breath. “I came in with my family. Marrow is showing us the place.”

His dark eyes wander down my body, but not like one of those rude men on the streets. No. Something in his gaze feels feral, like an animal sizing up his prey. A strange urge to run pools in my stomach, yet at the same time my muscles seem to have forgotten how to do so. 

He looks me in the eyes again and it’s all gone. I let go of the tension in my back and a breath I didn’t know I was holding. When he smiles again, I feel as if I could trust him. Why shouldn’t I?

“And are you enjoying the tour?” He bends to pick up the book I’d dropped before and puts it back on the shelf. His movements are fluid and carefree. I doubt I’ve ever seen such elegance in a simple action. It is unsettling as much as it is attractive. Then I realize I’m supposed to answer.

“Yes, this is amazing actually.” I look around and take in the aged stone of the walls and ceiling. In that corridor there’s only one electric lamp, the rest is only lightened by candles. I can see our shadows dancing along to the flames. “All of this really helps getting in the ‘mood’.”

“The mood?” 

I look at him and notice his tilted head. “Yeah you know, the mood of enchanted castles and old legends. This is well put enough that a credulous person would believe any story. Marrow is pretty good at it too.” Motioning a hand to him I add. “They even have their own actor.”

A thunder roars outside. “I beg your pardon?”

I roll my eyes and flash him a smile. “You don’t really have to keep the charade with me. I’m not some schoolgirl.”

“Yet I managed to pull a scream out of you, didn’t I?” The way he says it feels as if he was talking about an entirely different subject. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“That was… not the same.” I mumble. “I didn’t hear you approaching. That could scare the living hell out of anybody.”

“I have been told I am quite sneaky, I concede you that.” He nods. “Why don’t I give you the rest of the tour? As an apology, of course.”

He’s doing his job, I remind myself, he’s not flirting with you. 

“You haven’t even told me your name.” I say. “If we’re roaming around a castle together I should at least know who’s guiding me.”

That sounded an awful lot like flirting. Dammit. 

“Cardan, at your service madam.” The tone he uses feels like a caress, he bows his head in a way I’ve only seen in movies. He takes his role seriously. I almost chuckle, but the sound dies in my throat. 

“Cardan.” I repeat, just for the pleasure of doing it. “My name is Jude.”

He straightens. “Delighted to meet your acquaintance.” He answers and offers me his arm. “Shall we, Jude?”  

I can’t believe how far away my family has gone. Cardan and I walk through a couple of corridors and still there is no trace of them. Did we take that long talking?

He’s an excellent guide, I have to acknowledge that. 

While Marrow uses a tone of suspense and mystery, Cardan has this melancholy in his voice that sounds as if he’s talking about a memory. It’s bewitching. He also drops the most ridiculous “facts” about the people on the paintings. I refrain myself from asking if inventing things is allowed for employees, because saying that the girl with the pearl necklace enjoyed to play on the beach while saying she was the Princess of the Sea, certainly sounds like it. 

“If you bite your lip one more time, I am going to do it for you.” 

My heart skips a bit and I let go of my lower lip. I hadn’t realized I was tugging it. It’s an unconscious habit. I turn to him and I find his gaze different, hungry. It sends a shiver down to a place I know it shouldn’t. He arches an eyebrow as though he notices it.

“Is that a thing vampires like to do?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing I want him to know is that for the last twenty minutes I’ve been listening to him speak wishing he put a different use to that wicked mouth of his.

His gaze doesn’t change. “It is a thing I would like to do.” 

I am pretty sure my expression is giving me up by now. Knowing my traitorous body, I’m probably flushed, my mouth open in awe. Desire coils inside me.

At my lack of answer, he continues. “Why don’t I show you something vampires really like to do?” 

He walks back without letting go of my hand. I notice he steps out from the marked section and into a forbidden corridor. 

The sensation returns, the one that is telling me to run. The problem is that I don’t know whether to run away, or straight to it. My mind wants both and my body, only one.

“You’re going to the restricted area.” I’m partially surprised by how breathless my voice sounds. “You can’t go in there…”

Cardan pauses and a confused expression crosses his face. A second later, it returns to his charming and teasing smile. “Are you afraid?”

I am. 

Yet, I don’t care. I walk into the shadows with him.

As we cross the passage darkened by the lack of chandeliers I tell myself this is a terrible, terrible idea. The way he devours my mouth the moment a door slams shut behind us, convinces me it is the best.

Cardan pushes me against the wall, the cold temperature of the stone goes through my clothes making me gasp. He takes the opportunity and kisses me harder, his tongue explores my mouth with such deliciousness I have to bite back a moan. 

My fingers are tangled in his hair pulling him closer to me, if such a thing is even possible. His hands are everything but still. They roam intensely from my breasts, down my sides and finally to my rear, where he grabs me, pressing me against his pelvis. I hear him groan and the sound makes something clench inside me. 

Before I can double-think about it, one of my hands lowers to rub his hardness, still hidden behind his trousers. His breath hitches. He pulls back a bit and whispers to my ear. “Needy little human.”

I frown a moment, something about his words not clicking inside my brain but whatever it is I forget it the moment he slides his cold hands under my jersey. I yelp at the sensation, not sure if what flutters down my back is a result of the temperature or the eagerness which he’s holding me with. When he reaches my bra I hesitate for a moment. Cardan pauses too and leans back to stare into my eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” His voice is throaty and charged with desire. Still, he doesn’t make a move, waiting for my answer.

An instinctive part of me knows this is something I shouldn’t be doing. But that’s definitely not any close to me wanting to stop. Without removing my eyes from his I take the hem of my jersey to pull it over my head. The piece of fabric hits the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. Once again Cardan’s gaze roams me in that predatory way. 

I don’t stagger this time.

When my bra falls to the floor too, I take his hand and guide it to my jean’s button. “Do I look like I want to stop?”

Without hesitation he yanks the button open and slides his hand inside to cup the apex of my thighs. The contrast of my warm skin against his coldness makes my hips buck. Cardan buries his other hand in my hair and tilts my head back. I can feel his lips nipping down my jaw and my neck. A moan escapes my lips as he swipes a finger along my heat. He hums in response, the vibrations of it against my neck makes my eyes roll back.

He continues his ministrations until he feels me wet enough to slide a finger inside, he curls and pulls out. Then back inside. My breath comes out in elaborated pants as he quickens his pace. My hands almost finish unbuttoning his shirt when he slides another finger through my folds, his movements turn fast and punishing. Wet sounds taint the silence around us. As pleasure takes full control of my body I cling to him like a life saver, trying to muffle my moans.

“Let go Jude, let go for me.” He breathes next to my ear. My back arches and I sob a curse, writhing down on his hand. 

He slows down as I come back from my orgasm, but never stops. Despite the freezing surroundings a drop of sweat runs down my chest. My heart beats as if I just ran a marathon. Cardan’s lazy moves continue, frequently grazing that spot that makes me mewl.

I hear him sigh. “You smell so good.” He claims my mouth one more time and bites me hard enough to make me wince. His tongue caresses my lower lip and a warm throb expands through my veins. He freezes and pulls back, releasing me. I stare at him in confusion, or at least as much as I can manage giving my current state.

He pants a couple of times before looking up at me. There’s a fiercess in his eyes that would’ve been scary under normal situations, right now, it only makes me want him more. He swallows before finally speaking. “If we go further, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is like sandpaper.

My body seems to work on its own account, as I move to cup his face between my hands. “I already told you.”

“Jude…” He warns me, but I interrupt him joining my lips to his.

“I want this.” I breathe into his mouth. Cardan lets out a defeated groan before pulling my body back against his. Either he’s been holding back or it is until that moment that I realize how strong he actually is. He kisses me like a starved man and I can feel my pulse rise once again.

Soon his shirt joins my other clothing. My fingers trace his chest and torso, marveled at the softness of his skin. I mimic him moments before and kiss his neck. A low sound that almost resembles a growl comes out from his throat. My hands travel lower.

Somehow I manage to free his raging erection from his trousers, closing my hand around him. He hisses and then tilts his hips up to my touch. I start pumping him with unsure movements before gaining confidence to do it harder, tighter. Now it’s his turn to curse. Even though it sounds like something taken out from a Shakespeare novel, it makes my core pulse. 

Cardan grips the hem of my jeans strong enough that for a moment I fear he’d rip them away. 

“Take these off.” He demands instead.

I’m not sure of how I manage to do it. My mind feels blurred with a mix of sensations. Disoriented, not sure about exactly how my body is doing all of that, and the bliss of knowing I’m enjoying every second of it.

Before the air hits my skin, Cardan lifts me from the ground. My legs circle his waist in a reflexive move. His lips quirk in approval. Then my back is once again pressed against the wall, making me arch in a failed attempt to avoid touching the cold stone. A sound leaves my mouth, though it is not clear if it’s a protest or a moan. I hear him chuckle in my ear and I turn my head, searching his lips.    

His kiss is slower but still deep. I feel as if small electric sparks are tickling every single one of my nerves. More, I need more. Cardan holds me in place with his hips, letting his hands wander up and down my legs.

The tip of his shaft is grazing my core over the thin fabric of my remaining piece of clothing, with an aching slowness that is not enough to ease my thirst. More.

I might have said that out loud because Cardan’s hips grind faster against me. It feels so good. And yet, it’s not enough.

I whine his name like a plea. 

He continues for a couple of torturing seconds before reaching between my thighs again. There’s no teasing now as he moves my panties aside and immediately sinks his fingers inside me, pumping in and out with a pace that has me gasping in no time. He murmurs something I can’t understand and lines himself up to my entrance.

With soft, deliberate movements he slides through my heat, letting me feel every inch of him until he’s completely filling me. Then he stills. My muscles twitch around him, trying to adjust to the invasion. The exquisiteness of it is making my head swoon. 

Cardan grabs my jaw and locks his gaze with mine. I can imagine what he’s looking at. Hooded eyes and flushed skin, though he doesn’t let me think a lot about it as he starts to move. Slow at first, with careful strokes that quickly evolve into long and deep. My mouth falls open at the sensation and my eyes shut.

“I warned you.” I hear him pant. “That there was no coming back.”

A whimper escapes my lips. I’m not even sure I’m actually trying to say something. He doesn’t seem to care either and leans to whisper to my ear. “You are mine now, Jude.”   

There is something in the way he says it, his words carrying some compelling implication I can’t fully catch. His lips trail down my neck and I want to answer. To tell him that I am, that after the way he’s taking me, how could it be otherwise? 

That’s when I feel a sharp stinging pain on the base of my throat. 

I cry out and try to shake it away but whatever it is won’t let me go. Cardan’s words echo at the back of my mind, Needy little human. 

As if sensing my thoughts he grabs my thighs and opens them wider, he thrusts into me harder and faster. Everything mixes in sensation. Pain leaves as fast as it came, leaving behind it that throb in my veins I can’t really explain. It is more intense now, what I felt as warm now is scorching. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, I’ve never felt so exhilarated before in my life. I don’t want it to stop. 

Cardan sucks on my neck again and I moan his name. Without realizing it, I’m on the brink of another orgasm. I only realize it because he groans when my legs start to shiver around him. I cling to his neck and his hair. If I’m pulling too hard I can’t really know. A familiar swirl comes up from my core to the rest of my body as I spasm around him. It takes me a moment to notice the broken moans and sobs I hear come from my own mouth. 

He keeps going a little longer until his fingers tighten over my skin, surely leaving bruises on both thighs. Muffled moans ring against my skin as he comes, thrusting in a couple of times more before stilling. A warm sensation covers the place where we join together.  His mouth lets go of my neck. I grunt and shiver. 

He puts me down carefully, still holding my waist, which is good considering I don’t know if I’m able to stand by myself. I feel dizzy. Cardan lowers his lips to mine one more time. He’s slow and gentle as though he’s worried. There is a slightly metallic taste in his tongue but I don’t pay attention to it. I trace the fine features of his face with trembling fingers. Little by little my senses start to take in the surroundings, the cold. 

The place rumbles with another crack of thunder.

“You have to go back.” Cardan says, barely pulling his lips apart. Go back. I frown, then images of my family crash in my mind. I look around searching for the door, there is something  on the floor. I realize soon those are my clothes. Shit. The tour, Oak. How much time have I been gone?

I dress in a hurry, not really caring if I put on my jersey correctly. He does the same but with the calm an elegance he has.

Panic must be written in my face because he grabs my chin and turns me to him. “Hey. Calm down.” He soothes me. Then his tone changes, turns commanding. His eyes are darker too. “Listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, do you understand Jude?”

I want to ask why, but for some reason I only nod. Cardan grabs my hand and pulls me out of whatever room we were in. “You must follow this passage until you find a way to turn left. Then continue until you see a painting of a black snake then turn right, you cannot miss it or you will get lost. Walk straight, and you will be back to a safe area.”

“But-” I start. I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t understand why but I don’t want to separate from him either. Which is nonsense, I barely know him and still...

He interrupts me. “I cannot go with you, I have lost so much control already and I don’t think…” 

“Cardan, I can’t-” 

A growl echoes in his chest and he pulls me closer to him. While his voice is still hypnotizing it sounds threatening now. “You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. Now go if you intend to leave this place alive.”

Then he's gone. I can’t recall if I blinked or turned, because a moment before I could still touch him and now he vanished.

I take a deep breath and start walking. Focus. Go straight, then turn right. Or was it left? 

All passages look the same, some spaces don’t even have a painting or anything at all to help me differentiate them. Sometimes I whip around, thinking I heard a familiar chuckle behind me. Distant rain is the only sound that is a constant companion, but even with it I’m able to hear an echo of every step I give. It unsettles me more with every minute that passes. Although I feel more in control of my body than before, my knees falter constantly and a sensation of tiredness slides over my mind. 

I find the snake painting just as I’d started to think I would be trapped here forever. 

It’s huge, and despite the years that have probably passed the scales still seem to shine. The head is painted in an angle that gives the illusion of the eyes following the person looking at it. It doesn’t help that the candle’s flames also make the snake look as if it’s moving. Stalking. Before noticing, I start hyperventilating. I shut my eyes close and turn away. Something is terribly wrong with me, I need to get out. 

Turning right, I start running. I cover my ears fearing that if I don’t, I’ll start hearing the snake’s hiss behind me.  

I cross an arch made with the same stone and stop right in my tracks upon realizing somehow I’m back at the room where we first arrived. I blink to adjust my eyes to the change of light, since here’s where all the electric lamps are. The room is empty though. 

I’m not sure of what I am supposed to do now. Sit and wait? Go out to the car?

While I’m weighing my options, trying to choose any that doesn’t imply dropping myself on the floor to have a panic attack, I hear murmurs and steps getting closer.

“Jude!” My little brother yells and runs to me. Behind him, Vivi scans me like she’s trying to find something wrong. I straighten my back and put on my best calmed face.

“Where were you?” She demands. “We lost you hours ago! Are you ok? You look pale.” 

Always such a mother hen, I sigh. “I’m fine. I fell behind and lost y’all. Then... I guessed it would be better to just… return here.”

I try not to frown at my last words, since I didn’t fully intend to say them. You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. 

“Jude knows how to take care of herself.” My father adds. I could hug him, but we’re not exactly the affectionate type. So I just flash him a smile.

Vivi does not look convinced but still stands down. “I guess so. The weather did a mess with your hair though.” A flash of Cardan’s fingers pulling from it to gain access to my neck sends a shiver through my body. Had that really happened just minutes before?

Before I can answer, Marrow calls for us. We turn to find her standing next to a big set of paintings that apparently were covered with a curtain. “You cannot leave without meeting the royal family.”

The canvases are ordered to mimic a family tree. A man with a severe expression rests at the very top. Eldred, I assume. Just by looking at it I feel judged. I can’t imagine what was like to actually live with him. The pictures of his wives look all so different but under them, their sons do have resemblance to one another. A weird sensation tickles my fingers as my gaze continues travelling over the paintings. Finally, I get to the last one. Once more, I cover my mouth to avoid  an undesired sound.

Staring back at me I see Cardan. 

I don’t care if it’s a painting, there is no way I could not recognize those features. Those lips.

“A big family, I see.” Madoc’s words seem so far away.

Marrow hums in agreement. “The Greenbriars always felt proud of their vast offspring. Such attractive sons and daughters. It’s a shame the curse took most of their lives all those centuries ago.” 

“Did he…” I start, without knowing how to continue.

She approaches me to look at the canvas. “Ah, young master Cardan. He was the last one of Eldred’s children.” Then a frown appears on her face. “There was a lot of controversy regarding his death. Some say he died because of the curse, some others say he was the curse. The books all have different versions.”

“That sounds creepy as fuck.” Vivi says. 

“Creepy as fuck.” My brother mimics her, the thoughtful expression on his face makes him look ridiculous. We cackle as Vivi shouts Oak he’s not supposed to say bad words.

By the time we get out of the castle the rain has decreased to a drizzle. 

Madoc carries Oak on his shoulders, listening to his non-stop squeals of excitement after visiting what he calls ‘a real vampire hideout’. This time, I don’t find the words to contradict him. Vivi is the first one to get to the car, shouting back some nonsense about the Greenbriars needing a protection hex. 

The moment I step down from the bridge something shifts in my head and I feel as if I had just woken up. 

Perhaps it is me who needs a protection spell after all. 

Before closing the car’s door, I turn to the castle one more time. Marrow and her husband wave at us from the front gate. 

A dull ache throbs on the base of my neck and my hand flies to the spot. I retrieve it and see blood staining my fingers. 

My heart misses a beat when I lift my gaze to the upper windows, where a tall figure with white shirt and dark hair is looking right back.

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

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @jurdanhell​ @nightbringer​ @b00kworm​ @mysweetvillain​ @thefolkofthefic​ @yafandomsdotnet​ @vanessa172003​ @booksandothersecrets​ 

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[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [2.1]

Masterlist

A/N: OH MY GOD I LIVE!!!! Also, spoiler ahead for The Bastards graphic novel; not so much plot-wise but there are a few lines from the book. Indented paragraph is credited to Emerson Barrett and XoBillie.

“I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me,

Giddy, mischievous, not ever looking for trouble yet somehow

Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

Remington stared wistfully at the view from Eva’s balcony, knowing how self-conscious she was when he watched her as she read a piece. In his lap sat Pluto, satisfied to have his ears stroked while he took his afternoon nap. 

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Remington found he was always transported to a new dimension when he heard Eva’s poetry. It was so soft and delicate, he could appreciate it the same way one does the petals of the first flowers of spring. Everything about her writing was so soothing, now a familiar notion that he never wanted to let go of.

“You’ve ignited a fire in my belly with embers sparking and popping

Under the intense pressure of your dark eyes 

And the bubbling pearls of your laugh.

I loved you when I first ran into your open arms and marvelled

“My God, you feel just like home”

And with a few simple touches the open sores on my skin 

Recede and heal, and their pain is a faint memory in comparison

To the electricity your fingertips carry. 

I loved you when we were flying over the streets,

Vibrant yellow, orange and purple coating my eyes and

Painting you into Monet’s Twilight, Venice.

You’re a renaissance masterpiece that has been imprinted

Into the soft folds of my brain...”

Eva set her book down having finished the incomplete piece, watching her boyfriend with a dazed smile on his face as the echo of her prose sunk in. She simpered to herself with giddy.

“You know, I always have mixed feelings about reading you my poetry,” she said.

“Why’s that?” Remington asked, “It’s very good,”

“I know that. And you know that,” she smirked, “And I know that you know that I’m low-key inflating your ego with this shit,” 

Remington chuckled, reaching out across the small table to take her smaller hand in his, “Would it put you at ease if I told you my ego is too far gone?”

Eva rolled her eyes and snapped her notebook shut, “Maybe I should start writing poems about the things you do I find annoying?”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Remington shrugged, giddy when she shook her head in dismay at his teasing. 

Pluto continued to lie motionless in Remington’s lap, assuming the sphinx position as he had his ears rubbed. However, the tabby’s eyes sprung open when a guttural vibration shook through the small wooden table, disturbing the peaceful afternoon. 

Eva glanced at the familiar glare of ‘Blocked Caller ID’ appearing, refraining from showing little disdain as she declined the call. Remington however was curious; for the past few months he’d seen Eva decline calls like that over and over again. The first few times he figured it was telemarketers, or scam calls. However, he noticed how they came frequently in the weeks; more prominent on Wednesdays and Thursdays. 

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “It’s blocked for a reason,”

“But if you blocked the caller... then you have to know who it is so you could block them,” he reasoned, “Right?”

Eva responded in silence, taking her phone and quickly tucking it beneath her thigh. Remington stared at her pointedly. 

“Eva, you get these calls nearly every day,” he said, “If it’s something bad... you know you can trust me with anything,”

“I know...” Eva nodded slowly, exhaling, “It’s my mom,”

Eva had been exceptionally non-forth coming when it came to her life back in Seattle, only remembering hearing about her friends and family once or twice. He respected her privacy, though he couldn’t help but be a tad curious. She fit the overall profile as someone who was running away from her problems.

“You blocked your mom?” he asked, somewhat in disbelief though from what he understood of their relationship he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eva nodded, “Yep. Either she can’t take a hint or she’s way more stubborn than I am,”

Remington looked across the street to his own house, the gentle breeze billowing through the sheer curtain in the living room he remembered his mom helping him and Emerson pick out. 

“Why don’t you speak to her?”

“Why don’t you speak to your dad?”

“I told you already,” 

Pluto then leapt off of Remington’s lap and landed on the table, crossing over to his owner and staring at her with his big, soulful eyes. Eva smiled and gently scratched his ears.

“She showed up to my graduation, which would have been fine... but she showed up with her new husband and a kid,” she admitted.

Remington raised his eyebrows, “Her own kid?”

“Yeah. She got married to her co-pilot and they have a ten-year-old son together. She abandoned our family and started a new one,” Eva shook her head, “I guess being married to a chem teacher wasn’t as exciting for her,”

“What did your dad do?” he asked.

“That’s the best part. He knew about it and chose not to tell me. I just couldn’t believe it,” she replied, “But the fact that she just... she disappeared for years and then showed up again with a new family -- at my college graduation! How could I possibly celebrate after seeing that?”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” he asked tentatively.

“No. The way I saw it, she walked out of my life with no qualms. So... I walked out of hers. And it doesn’t matter how much she phones me; I don’t have time for disingenuine people,”

Remington reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table, stroking gently over the bumps of her knuckles, “Did you... did you meet her son?”

It was then Eva looked truly bummed out, “I think that’s the part I regret most. I mean -- he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his mom is a flake,” 

Remington nodded, “Do you still love your mom?” 

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “Call me a coward, but avoidance is just easier to deal with,”

“You’re not a coward,” Remington assured, “I get it. But... speaking from experience, you can only avoid your issues for so long. As hard as it may be, you might want to address these problems sooner rather than later. I promise you won’t regret it,” 

“Rem --”

“She’s your mom. And obviously the fact that she’s still blowing up your phone should tell you something,”

Eva sat quietly, letting his words sink in. She knew Remington was right; knowing what she knew about him she also knew that he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. She appreciated that he understood where she was coming from, she just wished that his solution could be as easy as it sounded.

“I will call her back... eventually. My dad wants me to come home for Christmas, I guess I have to,” she chuckled sheepishly, warranting a sympathetic smile on his part, “Just... not today,”

“That’s okay,” Remington said, gently squeezing her hand, “It’s all gonna’ work out, Eva,”

“You can’t promise that,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, “Let’s not call it a promise, then. Let’s call is a whim,” 

July had faded into August, as did pandemic fatigue. The streets were becoming busier, the business’ were seeing more intake in revenue, and people were slowly coming back out to try and enjoy was little of a summer was left.

And while most people were doing their best to social distance and keep safe, the cases continued to grow. Safe in the confines of the house, Eva sat at the table and read over the final print draft of the band’s graphic novel. Eva was blown away, completely immersed from the plot line to the artwork. She was supposed to be working with Emerson on his latest project, yet afforded herself a small break. 

Across from her, Emerson was reading through Eva’s Tumblr blog, blown away at the amount of work she had posted since mid-June. Every prose and line was so vivid, painting a clear picture of her emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable, knowing the sensual poems he was reading was about his older brother. On the other hand, everything was so poised and punctual -- he figured he may borrow some stuff to try on Shy some time. 

Eva turned to a new page littered with more text than it was visuals, but on the edge of the left page was a stunning, very accurate sketch of Remington. His hair looked so different in the form of a basic sketch, yet those eyes, that face still captured all the majesty and curiosity within. She was unable to help that her fingers glossed over the lines that made up his torso with all his tattoos visible, tracing down the length of his arm to the vanity beside him and back up again. The cold paper singed her fingertips as she read the prose beside the sketch, a small smile creeping onto her lips with every word that echoed in her brain.

“...Emerson thought that if hell and heaven had a bastard son, that it would be Remington. His brother had an angelic-looking face with big almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were brown but could shift into black, and melt into the iris. It was a look that Emerson though the angel of hell would be proud of. But then, in the right light, those dark eyes changed and came to glimmer like the purest of gold - a look angels would swarm for. Apart from the eyes, his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him...” 

Eva had to give credit to Emerson for his writing, capturing his brother in such a way that she herself would have. And like the flip of a switch, the memory of Remington’s eyes flashed through her mind, shining of gold and beauty the way the words had echoed to her. 

In another blink his eyes turned into the eerie shadow of black, flashing a look he’d throw her way when his lust for her consumed him. In one paragraph, Remington had been portrayed as a killer from hell, offering flowers to his peers instead of knives.

Though, all romanticism was put aside as Eva read the paragraph again, noting the last line she had skimmed over quickly:

“...his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him. The rest of him was not...”

There as no denying how cruel the world had been to Remington and his brothers, though the more she pondered the more she realized she had never seen the type of dejection in his face the way Emerson had described. He always appeared -- not happy, per say -- but content with his life. 

Emerson looked up from his tablet, noticing the way Eva’s eyes were glued to her own reading, her hand placed protectively over the sketch of Remington. 

“You okay, Eva?” he asked. 

She glanced at the youngest brother, shaken by the break in silence. But she smiled reassuringly and flipped the page, despite not having finished reading the last. 

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “It’s absolutely beautiful. I did make note of a couple grammatical errors... I hope you don’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, “Deadline for rewrites is on Friday,”

“If you'd like, I could go through the rest for you. I’m in between articles right now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Promise I won’t post spoilers for fans,” 

“Might have to get you an NDA,” he giggled merrily, “I’ll send the file over. You ever work with InDesign?”

“A few times, yeah...” she trailed off, a new train of thought lingering in the back of her mind, “Emerson... can I ask you something sorta’ personal?”

Emerson raised an eyebrow, “How personal?” he asked. 

She breathed out carefully, “Remington had told me about your dad --”

“What did he say?” Emerson asked quickly, his cheerful demeanour quickly souring.

“Just that he hadn’t been in the picture for a while,” she said assuringly, “Nothing else,” 

Emerson began to relax a little, “Okay. What’s your question, Eva?”

“Say he out of the blue started making an effort to get back in touch with you... would you take that offer?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “Because if he wanted back in our lives, it would be for his own gain,” 

Eva stayed silent, his quick answer all she needed to know that she shouldn’t push the envelope. Emerson saw the fall in her face, feeling a tad bad for being so short with Eva. 

“Sorry...” he grimaced, “I just... I don’t like to talk about my dad,” 

“I understand,” Eva nodded, “I’m sorry I brought it up,”

“... Why did you?” Emerson asked curiously.

Eva exhaled, her fingers picking at the edge of the glossy page, “Just getting room different perspectives. My mom and I don’t exactly have a Gilmore Girls kind of relationship. I’ve just been thinking ‘cause she’s been trying to get a hold of me for so long,”

“Was she nice to you? When you were younger?” he asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Eva replied truthfully, “She was -- superficial. There but not really there,”

He cocked his head, his wispy black hair falling over his eyes, “So... you’re trying to figure out if you want a relationship with your mom?” 

Before she could reply, they both turned when they heard footsteps echoing in the hall towards them. Michael had appeared, panning his camera around for new footage for the band’s Youtube channel. Eva was unsure whether she pay attention or turn back to the book and pretend not to see. 

“What’re you two working on?” he asked, focusing the lens on Emerson so Eva was just out of the shot. Michael respected that Eva was a touch camera shy. 

“Top secret,” Emerson replied promptly, “And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,”

“I won’t unleash that wrath,” Michael chuckled, “Don’t have too much fun!”

“We’ll try,” Emerson muttered as he sauntered into the next room. 

Eva closed the book and pushed it aside, sighing to herself as she pulled back her laptop and opened Emerson’s project. The youngest brother watched her unabashedly, picking off the air of uncertainty swirling around her. 

“Does Remington know your mom keeps calling you?” he asked.

“He was kind of curious as to why I kept getting all these blocked calls,” she replied.

“What did he say?”

“That everything was going to be okay,” she nodded slowly, “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life and... it’s not. So, I’m super inclined to believe him,” 

Emerson swallowed, “My brother has a tendency to want to take care of everybody. And it’s not a bad quality. But he also doesn’t know how he can make it better,” he said.

“It’s not up to him to make it better,” Eva declared. 

“But he loves you,” Emerson stated, “And just because of that, he’ll want to help you find your way out of this. When Remington commits to someone, he tends to go one-hundred-percent all in,” 

Eva simpered to herself, “I appreciate him. He’s -- definitely been a plot twist,” 

“Good or bad plot twist?” 

“Very good,” 

Emerson smiled as she started to type on her keyboard, some of Eva’s vexations visibly released when the topic had changed to Remington. As she appreciated Remington, Emerson appreciated Eva for all that she’d done for him. He had this gut intuition, a simmering notion that Eva was going to be sticking around for a long time. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

“Can I ask you a serious question, though?” he asked.

“Of course,” Eva nodded.

“Do you like his blue hair...?” he asked with a drawling disdain.

The young brunette turned her head in the direction of the distant chatter of the boys. 

“I take it by your tone you’re not a fan,” she said.

Emerson scoffed, “He’s taking me back to the Kool-Aid dye trend,”

“Oh, Emerson,” 

[amongtheshadowandlight]

In Twilight: 7 of ?

Chapter Seven: Silence is Deafening

"Aw, but it was so nice here in the twilight, what's so great about the world of light anyway? See ya later."

Ombretta blinked blankly as her vision returned from the sheer white, her body tingling as She shook out her arms and legs, the familiar tingling coursing through her limbs. She examined the area around her. Gone were the yellow haze and the floating squares but seeing the familiar light of spring, the water turned a liquid gold before the ball of light, same to the one in Ordon, floated up from the water. With the ball of light, manifested the likeness of what Ombretta could only picture was a giant squirrel, it's tail circling around it.

"My name is Faron. I am one of the light spirits who dwell in Hyrule. By order of the gods, I protect this forest. Oh brave youth...in the land covered in twilight where people roamed as spirits, you were transformed into a blue-eyed beast."

Obviously talking about Link. Ombretta thought.

"That was a sign. That was a sign that the powers of the chosen one rests inside you and that they are now awakening. Look at your awaken form..."

Ombretta looked to her left, her heart leaping at the sight of the sight of blond hair instead of grey fur. But instead of the normal Ordonian clothes she was used to seeing and what Link was originally wearing in the first place, was replaced with green tunic. Her eyebrows furrowed together the more she looked at the green outfit. It was like...she had seen the same outfit before, but she couldn't place it. Looking at the outfit felt like a locked up memory, something her mind was desperately trying to remember, but couldn't.

"The green tunic that is your garb once belonged to the ancient hero chosen by the gods...his power is yours, the true power that slept inside you. Your name is Link. You are the hero chosen by the gods."

Ombretta took a step back, her jaw slacking open as Link stared up at the spirit, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Brave youths...A dark power rests in the temple deep within these woods. It is a forbidden power. Long, long ago. I and the other light spirits locked it away." Faron began to explain, his form beginning to grow fainter with each word. "Because of its nature, it is a power that should never be touched by those who dwell in the light. But this world weeps under a mantle of shadows and there is no other choice...you must match the power of the king of shadows. Proceed to the temple within the forest depths."

His form faded, leaving both Ombretta and Link silently standing still in the shallow waters, trying to process all the information given. Link was the first one to make a move, lifting his hand to look at the leather glove and guard he now donned.

"Well...huh!" Ombretta finally got out, swallowing the building up saliva. "That's truly somethin'..." She looked at Link once more. "That stitchin' is immaculate..."

"Of course you would say somethin' like that."

"If you were raised by my mother, you'll be thinkin' the same thing."

"Well well well...!" Midna sneered as she popped out of Link's shadow. "You're the chosen hero and all that, huh? So that's why you turned into that beast! What a shame...I mean, maybe you'd rather just wander as a spirit like the rest of them? Totally unaware of what's going on for all time, right?"

"Doesn't answer my question as to why I didn't change into a spirit." Ombretta shot back, crossing her arms. "I have no ideas, my head feels so jumbled right now..."

"Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to head to that temple?" Midna asked, seeming like she was ignoring Ombretta's comment. "How convenient! I was about to head there myself!" she sighed. "Look, you want to help your friends, right? And get the answers you want? The way I see it, it's all in that temple, just waiting..."

Ombretta glanced at Link, who just gave a slight shrug in return.

"Well, good luck you two." Midna giggled before diving back into Link's shadow.

"Well, what's the plan here? Go to the temple?"

"I guess there isn't much choice, is there?"

Ombretta shook her head, handing Link the scabbard and shield off her back. "No, not really."

"Well, I better go back to town to stock up, I have a feeling it won't be easy."

"Oh! Now that you can produce words. How is everything?" Ombretta asked as they began walking back to Ordon, but frowned when she was met with silence. "Link?" she jumped slightly ahead of him, turning around so she was walking backwards. "Link, what happened?"

"We weren't the only ones taken..."

"Link...?"

"All the kids were taken. Beth, Malo, Talo, Lennel..."

It felt like the world stopped. Everything zoned in on her as her breathing picked up, her heart beginning to race as she turned around on her heel, taking off in a sprint. She could barely hear the call of her name behind her as she ran through the woods, her vision becoming a tunnel as she only focused on the pathway in front of her. Her lungs screamed at her to slow down, her legs begging but she only pushed herself forward, only slowing down as she ran through the clearing.

She skidded to a stop once she passed through the gate. The air fell so still, even being the village for one minute, the quiet was deafening, the normal ruckus of animals seemed to have disappeared along with the usual bustling of the adults.

It was like the very life of the village was gone.

Ombretta let out a shuddered breath, flinching slightly at the gloved hand landing on her shoulder.

"I'm gonna go check on Rusl and Uli, you go home. I'll come see you before I leave." Link said before walking away from her.

She felt like her body was moving on it's own as she walked towards her house, dread building in her chest as she got to the door. "Hello...?" She called out as she walked through the front door. "Anyone here-oof!!" All the air escaped her lungs as a body flung into her, a pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders.

"Ombretta, oh my good stars." Her mother whispered, squeezing her daughter as tight as she could. "You're alright..."

Ombretta wrapped her arms around her mother, "yeah...yeah I'm alright."

"Oh! It was horrible, when you didn't come home I assumed you were taken as well..."

"So..it's true then?" Ombretta asked as she let go of her mother. "All the children were...?"

Maren nodded. "It was so fast, Rusl got badly injured, the mayor went out and your father as well. But they're up there in age so Ciel went with them and took Kano and oh!" She shut her eyes tightly, rubbing her forehead. "I can't help but think the worst."

Ombretta glanced down at her feet, her eyebrows furrowing together before shooting her gaze back up at her mother, Link's words floating around her mind. "Where's dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"Huh?"

"Where are dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"In-in a chest, in our room." Maren stammered out, following Ombretta as she raced up the stairs and into the main bedroom. "Ombretta, what are you doing?"

"I'm going."

"What?"

Ombretta pulled out the clothes, draping them over her arm as she stood up. "Link's going to find the children, and I'm going with him."

"Ombretta, no." Her mother protested, blocking the doorway. "I won't let you!"

"Mom..."

"Don't "Mom" me."

"Mom...I gotta go, if I can help in any way, I'm going to."

Maren sighed, moving away from the doorway after a few minutes, allowing Ombretta to rush past her and into her room.

Pulling on the hunting clothes, Ombretta stilled in her movements, staring at herself in the mirror. It felt like the previous day was finally catching up with her, her body beginning to feel sluggish, knees beginning to tremble as she lowered herself to the ground, her face going straight into her hands once more. She only lifted her face out of her hands when she felt a body next to her, peering at her mother.

"...Will you be okay, mom?"

Maren nodded, smoothing the back of Ombretta's hair. "I will be, I have a feeling that you need to go."

Ombretta shrugged a shoulder, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Then we share the feelin'." With a heavy sigh, Ombretta pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the arm guards and slid them on before pulling on her boots she mostly wore for travelling.

"Come to the kitchen once you're finished," Maren said as she stood up after Ombretta before leaving the room.

Her nose crinkled a bit as she looked to the door, sighing before turning back to the mirror, checking if everything was in place. It felt a little weird, the clothes being bigger than what she was used to, her belts being the only thing keeping some things in place but that being a given she supposed. Deeming that everything was good, she left her room, pulling her hair to the side so she could throw it in a quick braid.

Walking into the kitchen, Maren stood by the table. In her hand was a brown leather pouch, on the table were two scabbards laying on the tablecloth.

"Here, this was mine when I was younger. I figured you'll get some more use out of it."

"Oh, thank you, Mom." Ombretta thanked as she took the pouch from her, attaching it to one of her belts. "And thanks for pulling out my swords. But I'm shocked you put them on the table. I thought 'no weapons on the table'?"

"Oh, shush you."

Ombretta laughed, putting the scabbards on her hips, but her laughter dying down quickly as she stared at her mother.

"Please, be careful."

Ombretta simply just nodded. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, her saying anything would feel like an empty promise. She already knew what they were facing, it wasn't going to be easy. And she felt like her mother knew that as well. Giving her one last look, Ombretta raced out of her house and towards Link's house, where said man was climbing down his ladder.

"Ombretta?" He said once he noticed she was there. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."

"Ombretta, no way."

"Yes way."

"Ombretta..."

"Link, I need to come with you." Ombretta crossed her arms, her stare becoming hard. "I wouldn't feel right just having you go on your own, plus those kids are just my responsibility as yours..."

"And the third argument?"

"What if Midna's right?" Ombretta sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. "What if the answers I want are out there? If I can kill multiple birds with one stone, so be it."

Link couldn't help but smile slightly at his friend's determination, "it's gonna be dangerous y'know."

Ombretta smiled back, "I was countin' on it."

"Well, then we better not waste anymore time."

"Lead the way."

So they went, silence surrounding them as they trekked through the forest. With each step taken, Ombretta could feel her nerves coming more and more alert, the pain slowly coming back, not the skull splitting pain she was growing accustomed to, but like a simple poke. It was like her own body was trying to warn her. Warn her of what, she didn't know.

She didn't dare say anything out loud though, what would she even say? Link would probably attempt to tell her to turn around and go back home. She couldn't have that. So she simply pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, focusing in front of her.

"How's your leg?"

"Hm?"

"Your leg," Link pointed down. "How is it?"

"Oh!" Ombretta patted her leg slightly, "It's fine, I used some of the spring water I told you to have, nothing but a dull ache now."

"Oh that's good!" Link said. "You have no idea how nice it feels to talk again, I thought I was gonna go insane."

Ombretta giggled. "I can't imagine. I would never want to be in your shoes-oh yeah, gate's still locked." Ombretta walked over to the wooden gate, giving the metal lock a few tugs. "Yeah no that's not happening."

"Let me go talk to Coro, maybe he'll have a key or something."

"Coro?"

"The guy who lives in the shack just over there?" He pointed to the clearing.

"Oh! Him, yeah okay." She said, watching Link take the path to the left. She leaned against a rock face, arms draped across her chest as she waited for Link.

"Don't tell me you're bored now."

Ombretta jumped back with a yelp at the sudden voice, scowling when she saw the black shadowy figure of Midna floating next to her. "Sweet Nayru, What are you doing?"

"Saying hello."

"And scaring me outta my wits more like it." She scoffed, moving back to lean against the rock wall, her hand pressed against her chest. "Oh my poor heart...so, what's with the shadowy-ness?"

"It's the only way I can be in your light."

"Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense huh? I can understand you a bit there I suppose." She shrugged, lifting up her arm. "The sunlight doesn't really like me either. But, what can you do, right? It won't kill me."

"No, the sunlight won't."

"Oh! Link," Ombretta pushed herself off the rock, Midna fleeing back into her shadow. "Well?"

Link held up a small key, "I also got a bottle of oil for the lantern."

"Did he just give it to you?"

"Oh no," Link said as he went to unlock the gate. "Sold to me for about a hundred rupees."

"A hundred rupees? Link!"

He shrugged, giving Ombretta a guilty smile as he pushed the gate open.

"You're too nice for your own good, I swear." Ombretta said as she walked past him through the gate. "Speaking of which, what did you tell Rusl and Uli about the sword you stole from them?"

"I didn't tell Rusl anything and Uli assumed that a monster stole it and I just happened to get it back." He replied, jogging to meet Ombretta's side, a now lit lantern in his hand.

"Wait, whaddya mean by that?"

"Rusl was badly injured, he had just fallen asleep when I went there."

"And what about Uli? Is she okay? And the baby?"

Link nodded, making Ombretta sigh, her hand clutching at her heart. "Goddesses, the poor woman, husband injured, son missing and heavily pregnant."

"Speaking of that, how's your parents?"

"Well, only spoke to mom. Dad joined the mayor on his search and Ciel went with them and mom is just...distraught."

"Which is why we need to find everyone as soon as possible."

Ombretta nodded. "Quick question," she asked as they were nearing the opening of the tunnel. "If the purple fog’s still there, how are we getting across?"

"Oh I didn't even think 'bout that." Link scratched at his cheek as he peered at the purple fog that was still as thick covering the forest floor. "You can "jump" I guess but me-HEY!"

It was a second, from Link holding the lantern to then being in the clutches of a monkey, who put it on a long branch. Ombretta took a step forward, but was held back by Link, watching as the monkey made her way to the end of the broken bridge, waving the lantern around then turning around, making the motion to follow.

"Hey, what's this monkey's problem?" Midna asked as she popped out from the shadows. "You idiot! While you two were chit chatting, your lantern got stolen!"

"Excuse you, Midna. But we were trying to figure out how we're gonna get across, no need for names."

Ombretta locked her jaw as Midna merely scoffed as she dove back into Link's shadow.

"Let's just follow the monkey, maybe she can help us."

"Hm, fine." Ombretta sighed.

They made their way towards the monkey, who jumped down from the broken bridge, instantly waving the lantern around. And to their amazement, watched as the fog moved, as if it was trying to get away from the light as much as possible.

"Well, that solves that issue." Link pointed out as he jumped down from the bridge, holding his hand out for Ombretta to take. "I have good ideas."

Ombretta took Link's hand, stumbling slightly as she landed. "Um, it's more the monkey's idea than yours but sure!" She giggled, following the monkey as she kept waving for them to follow.

The walk was mostly eventless. Other than the occasional keese or deku baba showing up, they safely made their way up to the gate to the north part of the woods. The monkey jumping around as they got to a safe part of the woods, the lantern falling off the stick and the monkey running off past the gate.

"Huh, at least she helped us right?" Ombretta shrugged. "And gave us back the lantern, somewhat?"

Link nodded, picking up the lantern and looking it over. "Used up all the oil though. Luckily I bought more." Link pulled out a jar of oil, giving it a little shake towards Ombretta. "See? I was smart to buy the oil."

"Oh, I wasn't against you getting the oil, I was against you paying a hundred rupees for only one jar."

Link merely shrugged his shoulders as he filled up the lantern, making Ombretta roll her eyes.

"And how do you plan on getting more money?"

"There's treasure in temples, isn't there?" Link said nonchalantly as he continued past the second gate.

"Oh, we're temple robbers now?"

"Ombretta..."

She giggled, shoving him lightly. "I'm just pullin' your leg." She went silent after that, something feeling like it was stirring inside her, the warning feeling showing up once more. "Pull out your sword."

"Huh?"

Ombretta pulled out one of hers, "Pull out your sword." she repeated, her walking became more slow and cautious as they neared a clearing, the likeness of two bokoblins standing within the clearing, their backs to them. Slowly, Ombretta inched her way behind them, getting close enough before trusting her sword forward, her blade going through one. The other one let out a single squawk before Link's blade followed Ombretta's.

"How did you know that these two would be here?" Link asked as he pulled his sword out, sheathing it.

"I didn't." Ombretta replied as she followed Link's movements, watching the two bokoblins turning to black dust. "I just...had a weird feeling. Almost like I knew that there was danger, before I really knew myself?"

"Weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey!!"

Both Link and Ombretta looked to the right, to the small hideaway vendor or rather, to the lone bird sitting within the hideaway vendor.

"Buy something! Anything!" The bird squawked, waving it's wings about.

"I didn't know there was a vendor here."

"I didn't either until that day that Talo was captured." Link walked towards a large vat, filled with what Ombretta assumed to be lantern oil.

She watched as Link pulled out the empty bottle from before, dipping in the vat of oil. After making sure he put the right amount of money in the box, Link walked back to Ombretta, sliding the bottle back in his pouch.

"There! Now we have extra, just in case."

Ombretta rolled her eyes once again, continuing to the temple, only to stop at the sight of a golden wolf just sitting in front of the narrow path, just staring at her, nothing like she had ever seen before. She slowly inched closer to the wolf, who just sat there unbothered. She jumped back once the wolf suddenly moved into an attack stance, growling but not at her.

But to the man beside her.

Both of them pulled out their blades, watching even for the slightest movement. Ombretta put her blades up to block as the wolf made a lunge at them or specifically, at Link. There was abruptly a flash of a blinding light, causing Ombretta to promptly shut her eyes tightly. She opened them after a few moments, the light slowly fading away. She scanned the area, looking for any signs of the golden wolf, but couldn't see any traces of it. Seeming like it just disappeared along with the bright light.

"That was odd, don'tcha think?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the lack of response. "Link?" She asked once more, looking to her left.

She let out a gasp as she saw her friend laying on the ground, still as a board. Instantly, she fell to her knees, barely acknowledging Midna popping out of the shadows, pressing her ear to his chest. Relief washed over her as she felt his chest rising, a heartbeat under her ear. A slow one but a heartbeat nonetheless.

"What was that about?"

Ombretta shrugged as she lifted her head off his chest, giving Link a shake, frowning at the lack of movement from him. "I don't know. He's alive, that's all I know. Something tells me that wolf isn't an ordinary wolf..."

"So, now what?"

Ombretta sat back on her heels. "We wait."

She didn't know how long she waited, Midna having gone back into Link's shadow after a while. But finally and to Ombretta's relief, a small groan escaped his lips, his face scrunching up before opening his eyes.

"Link! You're alright!"

"Yeah..." Link drawled out as he slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead. "I'm alright..."

"What happened?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that the wolf turned into a skeleton that I had to meet in battle, called me a disgrace and taught me a sword technique?"

All Ombretta could do was blink at Link, scanning his face for any trace of a lie.

"I'm not kidding."

"Well....I'm glad you're okay at least?" Ombretta dragged out as she stood up, helping Link stand up as well. "I believe you, but wow that's a lot in thirty second."

"Tell me about it." Link shook his arms, rolling his head around his shoulders. "It was...really weird."

"To say the very least. Are you okay to continue?"

Rolling his shoulder one last time, Link nodded, "let's go."

They made up the narrow winding path up to the temple once more, quickly cutting down the two bokoblins standing in front of the temple's entrance, which was covered by a large silk web. Ombretta swallowed thickly the more she stared at it. She didn't want to meet the thing that made that.

She looked to Link, who had pulled out his lantern, it already flickering to life. With a final nod, Link swung the lantern at the web, the flame quickly catching it, the web disappearing within seconds. The familiar feeling of dread settled into her stomach once again, but with a single deep breath;

They stepped in.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Benjamin #5 (smut list)

5. restraining the other

In my Twilight days, I came across a thread that talked about how Meyer originally wanted her story to be a human/faerie romance. Her publisher said, NAY, beetch! Vampires sell! and as it turned out, Meyer didn’t know much about vampire lore and violated many of the core concepts that make vampires interesting. Sparkling, vegetarian vamps without fangs, with venom in their saliva, that are seemingly indestructible aren’t nearly as fun, in my opinion.

What I love about the True Blood vamps is that Charlaine Harris honors much of the canonical lore. My biggest complaint with Meyers is that I just can’t fuck with a vampire that doesn’t have fangs that go … *snick*

So, the version of Benjamin in this fic will be more in canon with vampire lore. 

Warnings: Blood sucking, wrist restraints, jealousy, and copious smut

“Benjamin! You’re not playing fair,” you pouted as you struggled against your restraints.

“You wish to talk to me about fair? Let’s start from the beginning.”

You narrowed your eyes and waited, knowing it was useless to interrupt.

“First, you come into our home smelling like … like him.”

“Second, you spend all day with … him … and then lie about it to me.”

“Third—”

“How many points do you need to make? I am human and will eventually need to use the bathroom.”

Benjamin appeared beside you, moving too quickly for your eyes. You turned your head from where he had been standing and looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes weren’t wholly black. Little starbursts of crimson remained around his pupils to indicate that while he may not yet be starving, he was definitely hungry.  

Waving his hands, the wooden slats on the headboard tightened around your wrists. You were sure that if he could breathe, he’d be taking short, shallow breaths as he wrestled with his jealousy. Instead, you concentrated on his eyes, watching the way they narrowed as he manipulated the earthen molecules that moved through the wood.

“Too tight?” he asked with a casual raise of his eyebrow.

“Nope,” you lied.

“You’re lying.”

Benjamin flexed his fingers and the slats loosened their hold, not enough for you to escape, but enough for you to wiggle your wrists if they grew uncomfortable.

As soon as night fell, Benjamin had been on you, running his hands over your body, inhaling along your pulse points, and with a growl, he had stripped you down to your bra and panties then restrained you in the bed.

He could sense your emotions, but watching your body gave him an even keener insight into what you were feeling. He could smell your arousal, then watch as your panties darkened at the juncture of your thighs; he could observe the blush that crept across your chest when he began to shed layers of his own clothing; and he could uninhibitedly listen as your pulse quickened or steadied.

With a frustrated sigh, your eyes ran over his torso. The lithe muscles covered by his olive skin, his dark nipples hard as he continued to look at you, clearly torn between wanting to ravish and wanting to punish.

Belonging to the undead had its perks, and its detriments. Benjamin loved you, needed you to sustain his own existence and you let him take that from you, delighting in the power you felt when his teeth slipped into your neck, or better yet, into the femoral artery of your thigh. He wanted to make you his, sire you so you would be bonded for eternity, but you weren’t ready yet.

The daytime still offered so many things, namely, the sun. Your current predicament began two weeks ago when you went to the beach with a few friends. As it turned out, your best friend wanted to set you up with one of her brother’s friends: a sweet, good-looking, pre-med student. Because Benjamin was a secret, you couldn’t say no without hurting a slew of feelings, so you figured you could go out on a couple of dates, then discreetly break it off with the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” thing.

None of this you felt was pertinent information for Benjamin to know—that is until he saw you with him.  

“Third,” sounded Benjamin’s voice from a shadowy part of the room. You blinked and looked for the movement of his form. “He can give you everything I can’t.”

Your heart ached at the sadness in his voice.

“Benjamin—no. I don’t want anything you can’t give.”

“Children. Safety. A life in the sun and not in the shadows.” His accent was thicker, his tone less controlled, as he shared his deepest fear.

“But you can give me forever.”

Benjamin slowly stepped back into the light, his muscles flexing beneath his torso as he walked. His face was a mask, a perfectly carved Adonis that conveyed nothing its owner didn’t wish to share.

“So, you will not see him any longer?”

“I’ll break it off tomorrow morning.”

“And you will never do this again?” Benjamin asked, but underneath the question was a warning.

“Never again.”

“Then I’ll release you.”

Before he could loosen the slats, you cleared your throat and shifted on the bed. “Or . . . you could fuck me like this? Restrained and at your mercy.”

Benjamin shivered, like the visual equivalent of a cat’s purr as he circled the bed, waiting for any sign you weren’t being honest.

“Please,” you begged, flexing against the wood. “Teach me a lesson.”

Benjamin’s mouth popped open as his fangs snicked out, his tongue poking between them to wet his lower lip. A quick glance at his trouser fronts told you he was very excited to have you at his mercy—not that you weren’t naturally a creature of lesser power, but this game . . . this was new.

“You,” he began, his accent once again thick, sultry, “belong to me.”

He removed the rest of his clothes, once again too quick for your mortal eye. Your breathing quickened with excitement as your eyes roved over his body, travelling from his face, down his chest to the dark patch of hair at the base of his fantastically hard cock.

You watched the muscles of his thighs flex as he stepped toward the bed, and in another blur of movement, you were naked, too, another set of underwear torn to shreds.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Exposed. Vulnerable. Your body begging for my touch.”

He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth, and you watched, wanting to do the same, to curl your tongue around those deadly points.

“Please, Benjamin,” you whined as your wrists twisted in your restraints, your fingers flexing.

“Tell me,” he said, crawling onto the bed and straddling your thigh. “Did you kiss him?”

“Of course not!”

“Why?” Benjamin’s hands ran up your body, feather light and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Because I’m yours.”

Benjamin grasped your breasts, gently squeezing before he took your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, rubbing and pulling lightly.

You gasped, your hips bucking up, but restrained by the weight of his body on your thigh. Your wrists were caught in the slats as you unconsciously moved your arms, wanting to touch him.

Benjamin’s eyes flickered to this movement and his face broke into a smirk.

“Did you want him to kiss you? To press his lips to yours as his tongue slid along them, seeking permission to claim you?

“No,” you shook your head, your eyes locked on his. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m yours.”

Benjamin’s fangs retracted with a hollow snick and he descended on your mouth, claiming you with a bruising kiss. He sucked and nipped at your lips, his cock grinding into your abdomen while his tongue explored every inch of your mouth until you were struggling to breathe. He pushed, kissing you to your limit, and when he pulled back, your chest was heaving, your body tight with an ache that only he could soothe.

He looked down at you, his eyes predatory, and he opened his mouth, his fangs popping out.

“You are mine,” Benjamin stated with finality and when his fangs slid into your neck your body arched, rolling against his as your eyes rolled back from the sting of pain that was quickly followed by a surge of pleasure as he sucked, drawing your blood into his mouth and swallowing before he licked at the wound. He pierced the tip of his tongue with his fang and used his blood to heal the puncture marks, leaving nothing but your smooth skin looking as if it had never been touched.

“Please, Benjamin. I need you. Please,” you begged, tugging again at the headboard, your fingers tapping into the wood, pressing with the desire to angle yourself so he could slide into your soaking pussy.

Benjamin ignored your plea in favor of kissing down your body at an agonizingly slow pace. There wasn’t a patch of skin left on your torso that he didn’t press his lips against, that he didn’t taste. Tears stood in your eyes as you wriggled under his weight, your clit swollen with need.

You’d given up begging, and instead were reduced to whimpers as he teased you, and when he finally moved his weight to spread your thighs open two fat tears leaked from your eyes. Benjamin chuckled and caught them on his tongue, licking along your jaw and up your cheeks before he returned to his spot between your legs.

His mouth was sinful considering his tongue could flick across your clit at a rate no human man could match, but your pleasure wasn’t a part of this game, not yet.

Benjamin asked you to watch him, drawing your eyes open so you could look down your body at him, his curly head moving across your abdomen, drifting over your upper thighs, and when he kissed your mound, he looked up at you, his eyes more red than black now.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You—I be-be-belong to you,” you stuttered as his tongue touched your clit.

He smirked and licked you again, unbearably slow.

You groaned, desperation making the muscles in your abdomen and your thighs tremor.

He flicked his tongue across your clit in earnest, building you up to a climax, but before you could tumble over the edge, he stopped and moved up your body so quickly that he seemed to just disappear and reappear. He clutched your jaw and your eyes opened wide as he spoke, his lips just close enough to yours to touch, for you to feel as he said, “You. Are. Mine.”

And in another blink, he was back between your thighs, sucking on your clit and sending you over the edge, and just when you thought your orgasm was ebbing, Benjamin’s fingers slid inside of your pussy and stroked your g-spot as his fangs slid into your thigh. The pinprick of pain was mixed with the pleasure of another orgasm, this one full-bodied and so intense that it coated Benjamin’s fingers and hand in spurts of your arousal.

Noises of pleasure thrummed from your throat and your body chased after his fingers, needing more.

With a groan as he licked off his fingers, he released you from your restraints. You shook your wrists, but in a flash your legs were hooked under his arms and pushed nearly up to your chest as he thrust inside of you, and for the first time, he moaned, a low, deep rumble.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips before he kissed you, the taste of yourself, your blood and your arousal, mixed bittersweet on his tongue.

“Yours,” you panted. “Yours. Yours. Yours.”

Benjamin fucked you, alternating between deep and hard and shallow and sweet until you were on the brink again, wanting nothing more than to come with him, another advantage of the control Benjamin possessed over his body and yours.

He had you on your hands and knees now, his cock pistoning into you at a fast pace, your breath coming in pants, and this time it was Benjamin who begged in a display of humbling reciprocity.

“Can I come inside of you now, my love? Please—can I come?”

“Oh, fuck, Benjamin! Yes, yes!”

You tumbled over the edge together, Benjamin’s hips never faltering as the cool sensation of his cum filling you up made you shiver, then shiver again as he pulled out and pumped himself dry, more ropes of cool cum splashing onto the cheeks of your ass.

You collapsed, out of breath and strength. Benjamin was gone and back in a flash, a warm washcloth rubbing between your legs and over your backside to clean you up.

You felt Benjamin’s body hover over yours as he pressed soft kisses up your spine.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked with genuine concern.

“God no,” you mumbled into the mattress, your breathing still erratic.

He continued to pepper you with sweet kisses until you rolled over, pushing your tangled hair out of your eyes.

His eyes had become that beautiful, deep red and his features seemed softer, even younger than they had an hour or so ago. Reaching up to trace his cheekbones and his nose, you watched him as he watched you, love radiating from his gaze.  

“I want it to be like this, always.”

Benjamin smiled, a full grin of joy, as he answered, “My love. When you are ready, it will be better than this. For always.”

“Why? Because you’ll have no one to be jealous over again?” you teased.

He narrowed his eyes and his grin faltered to a thin-lipped smile. “I will make sure to remind you, often, who you belong to.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

Benjamin laughed, the carelessness returning to his features that made him so boyishly handsome.

“Haven’t you yet learned that I will give you anything you want?”

“Anything?” you asked, reaching between his legs and pumping his cock, once, twice, before he grew hard in your hand.

“Anything,” he growled, his fangs flashing.

[hornsandthings]

solemn steppes

pairing: cassian (ACoTaR) x reader

summary: reader, a student of cassian’s defence training in the illyrian mountains, has a bad session. after, when he checks up on her, cassian is given an intimate reminder on how bleak and cruel illyrian life can be. angst and fluff.

note: agh, i got really stuck on this one and i think i’m a bit rusty. i tried, but decided to just get it out there hehe. i hope cass is somewhat in character... haven’t read ACoTaR in ages (something i should remedy...) // wc: 1771

+++

the illyrian mountains were certainly beautiful – misty mornings and pale sunlight. you knew, however, that this majesty was only a surface quality. what the visitor often overlooked were the frozen animal husks, the dry tundras, the abandoned hamlets. the snow was not white, not for you or any other illyrian. it was discoloured, the purity corrupted with mud, blood, piss. there was no peace here; the winds sang no lullabies.

the cacophony of the village rivalled that of the thunderstorm in the distance – the blacksmith was busy hammering away at some forged steel, a brawl was brewing, and cassian’s students were training.

you grunted as your sparring partner pushed you to the ground, limbs too weak to defend. her wings flared wide as she straddled your torso, frustration evident in her furrowed brow as her hands encircled your neck.

you clutched at them, barely keeping away the choking grip. every muscle was on fire, vision hazy with dizziness. training had only just reached its midpoint, but already a headache was pounding against your skull, making you slower, making you weaker. from the very beginning it had been a poor match; today you just couldn’t hold your ground. your blocks weren’t strong, your counters slow.

as you lay there, trapped, snow soaking through to chill your bones, you bit back tears - it shouldn’t be like this. you were older than the other students, had better control and movement. but your meat stocks had spoiled prematurely, the wind had battered the hinge of your cabin door, and screams in the night had you sleeping with one eye open.

but it wasn’t only this week. things had only gotten worse for you for some time, and cassian’s training had been the only reprieve. the opportunity to do something purely for yourself was liberating, and there was safety in the feeling of getting stronger. cauldron - you were even good at it; a rare thing. there was this, but also cassian. focused and particular - this was how he held himself during training, upholding that hard earned title of general of night’s armies. but sometimes he revealed a different side of himself, one that was funny, kind, and so very genuine. for the first time in your life you wanted to impress a male, and pushed yourself every session to do so.

but now, as you did everything wrong, you felt so useless. how could you ever believe you could be strong, if you couldn’t even feed yourself? you reached out, pawing blindly at your partner.

“elbows by your ribs,” cassian was saying, voice nearing as he knelt closeby. you tried, oh how you tried, but your mind had become so muddled with exertion that you couldn’t comprehend the meaning.

and finally her hands grabbed your throat, thumbs pressing down and soon you were choking, the little breath you had snatched so swiftly—

stop – the word was on your tongue, but all that came out was a wheeze. you clawed at her shoulder, the other clutching her wrist – but sweat made it slip, and then she was clenching her jaw, and then everything was burning—

“enough. enough! she’s trying to tap out—”

the weight lifted and the looming shadow vanished, but still you felt you were drowning. hoarse coughs wracked your body, and soon cassian hauled you up. “hey, look at me. are you alright?”

you squeezed your eyes shut. his big hands rested on your shoulders, and you used that to try to ground yourself, to focus on anything besides your seizing lungs or roiling stomach. cassian said your name once again, soft and intimate, like those few times where he could find you outside training sessions. you shook your head, giving him a weak shove before vomiting onto the ground. you spluttered, a bitter taste left in your mouth.

“for cauldron’s sake,” one of the students muttered, her sentiments echoed by others. you squinted up at the onlookers that had assembled, looks of scorn on their faces. honestly, you could understand why, and didn’t even care when tears escaped.

cassian sighed, grumbling a reply under his breath. you looked away, thinking he was annoyed, perhaps even embarrassed, but his touch was gentle as he reached for you again.

“can you stand?”

you swallowed, finally looking at him. you should’ve been intimidated, knowing that the night court’s general was seeing you so exposed; it always was hard to separate him from his role. but now, with his hazel eyes in such clear contrast to the monochromatics of the steppes, you reminded yourself that he had indeed become a friend.

lingering nausea turned your stomach once more, making you wince. cassian took it as answer, and gathered you up in his arms. “i’m taking you to the healers.”

curled up, you focused your gaze on nothing in particular as he carried you across the camp, trying not to think of what onlookers would think. this only reinforced the helplessness, the frailty that you so foolishly tried to overcome. cassian’s leathers were rough and cold against your skin, but his scent was comforting.

he set you down on a damp bedroll, hand briefly cupping your cheek. your heart pulsed violently; so unfamiliar you were with such gentle touches. “i’ll be back for you, alright?”

cassian then nodded to the healer just beyond, leaving you rather reluctantly.

the healer - an old woman, wings deformed by force - readied some herbs in the dark corner of this meagre tent. you looked around, barely keeping in the scoff. no viable blankets, no food… there wasn’t anything here that would help.

+++

cassian found you again later, when everything was graying. you hadn’t been at the healer’s tent when he finished the girls’ training session; she had told him that you left before she could even administer anything. he’d had some trouble, but eventually one of the girls pointed out the derelict shack.

you were sitting in a wooden tub - a glorified basket, really - listless in the cold water. cassian gritted his teeth, hesitating in the doorway. his relationship with you was undefined; you two saw each other only for a few hours a week at a time, and much of it was only in an official capacity. you were a quick and keen student, starting out strong. at first it had been an acknowledgement of your potential, then the liking of your smile, and eventually he found excuses to talk to you outside training. you were unyielding to the challenges of the steppes, and he admired that. being a good judge of character, cassian also found it so very easy to read you - something that had perhaps saved your life today. he knew you were interested in him, but kept yourself at a distance.

sometimes he wished you didn’t, and right now was one of those times.

he looked around at the splintered walls, the ragged bedding. he was familiar with illyrian poverty, but hadn’t experienced it so intimately for some time. you hid it well before - perhaps it was the clothing. but here in the twilight, your form looked so weak.

he quietly called your name, but you didn’t move. steeling himself, he made his way to you and crouched next to the tub. your knees were clutched to your chest.

“i’m sorry,” you croaked.

“what happened today can happen to anyone,” he said, choosing his words carefully. he didn’t blame you for a thing - didn’t think any less of you because of today’s overexhertion - but illyrian pride was a thing he had to keep in mind. you finally looked over, and your forlorn expression clutched at cassian’s heart.

“i was pathetic. the other girls are better - some of them can even fly! with my wings… what’s the point?”

he couldn’t help but glance at your curved wings, bent to fit inside. they were marked with scars and pockmarks, cruel memories of illyrian practices. he shook his head, swallowing the anger. “don’t say that. you worked hard today, as you always do.”

he sighed, thinking back on today’s overexertion and the way you had been steadily disengaging over the last few weeks. at first he thought it was an enhanced effort and trying to ignore your feelings, but he shouldn’t have been so arrogant.

“what’s going on, sweetheart?”

and your face crumpled, tears quickly welling and rolling. you shook your head, covering your face with your hands before your shoulders shook with a sob. cassian shifted involuntarily, a knee-jerk reaction.

“those… those gifts you gave me? i’ve had to sell them… trade them away… i’m so sorry, cassian. i don’t even have anything to show for it now. i— i—”

“hey.” he reached over, cupping your face, but you couldn’t stop.

“if i can’t join the legions, what am i going to do? i don’t have anything, cassian,” you implored, trying to make him understand. you didn’t need to, because cassian already knew what that felt like. “no skills, no prospects… i don’t—i don’t want to sell myself—”

he gripped you tighter, forcing you to look into his eyes. “hey, hey! just breathe, alright?” you were really crying now, sobs heavy as you gripped his arms. there was desperation there, a kind of hopelessness that he immediately wanted to change for you. the breathy sobs continued, and he quickly found a towel. “come here,” he said, helping you out of the tub and into his arms, your wet hair cold against his neck. he hugged you close, pressing what he hoped to be a reassuring kiss to your head.

when he felt your palm press over his heart, he intertwined his fingers with yours, calluses as rough as his. your hitching breaths evened out as cassian held you. he was hesitant to disturb the tentative calm, but he had to know. “how long has it been like this?” he asked, gently lifting your chin. thumb caressing your jaw, he regretted that this intimacy - both physical and emotional - had taken your humiliation to come to pass.

the reply was a mere shake of your head, full of shame and regret. your gaze lowered, but cassian pressed his forehead against yours, trying to comfort you in a way when words simply couldn’t. but he tried anyway. “i’m going to help you, alright, sweetheart? i promise. i’m sorry.” he tasted salt on his lips, and gathered you closer. “we’re going to be alright.”

he wasn’t quite sure how yet, but he was going to deliver on his promise. he cared for you, whether you believed it to be foolish or not, and cassian would endeavour to show it from now on.