#because surely she’s not pulling those weapons out of nowhere

[worstloki]

Do u think Hela can make more than weapons. Do you think she can make a raincoat if she needs it. Or a skateboard.

[msbigredmachine]

The Return (Jey Uso/OC)

You have your own reasons for wishing he just stayed his ass on Smackdown. Jey Uso/OC one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 3.6k

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His baby girl is a stunning sight to behold, so much so that he stops in his tracks to drink you in from his vantage point next to the equipment crates lined up along the hallway backstage. The long locks of your honey-blond wig frame your beautiful face. Your world title belt gleams on your shoulder, shining as bright as the star that you are. Your eyes twinkle and your smile is wide and warm as you chat animatedly with Raquel Rodriguez. That smile used to be preserved for him and him alone, once upon a time. 

He may have come over to Raw to break away from the Bloodline, but it’s not the only reason he’s made the jump. Cody brought it up during their rather bizarre phone call, the American Nightmare weaponizing this information in that annoyingly eloquent manner he has perfected…

“I know you’re looking for a fresh start…but not just in the ring…I’m pretty sure there's a certain new Women’s champion you’d like to reunite with…”

Jey has been separated from you for a long time, admittedly by his own doing. It’s been torture. The hours have felt like days and the days like weeks. He’s yearned for your touch, your scent, the warmth of your smooth, soft skin, the taste of your lips. He’s stumbled through the rougher days by thinking about you and what you mean to him. He’s fantasized, and even pleasured himself, to mental snapshots of his past sexual adventures with you, paying tribute to the most incredible orgasms he’s ever experienced. He misses it all; the shudders of your voluptuous body, the pull of your wet, tight pussy around his dick, your fingers dragging across his hair and skin as you come apart for him, as he comes apart for you. The pillow talk and sweet words and soft kisses as you bask in the afterglow together.

The memories are beautiful, but he doesn’t want just ‘memories’ anymore. He’s made mistakes and he wants to fix them, and he only hopes you will let him. Five months is way too long to be without his favorite girl. He has to tread lightly, because even the nasty glare of Drew McIntyre and the conflicted countenance of Matt Riddle are tame compared to the wrath of a woman scorned.

A chill zips down your spine out of nowhere. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A familiar men’s cologne invades your nasal ducts. The knowing look on Raquel’s face right before she slips away confirms the reason your body is reacting so strongly. Only one person does this to you, and he just debuted on Raw as a solo act.

Against your better judgment, you turn around. For what feels like an eternity, you remain frozen as his gorgeous, expressive eyes lock you in, bleeding out your surroundings and everything else until it’s just him, and you, and the pain and hurt he caused all those months ago. 

"Sup, champ," he greets, his hands in his jacket pockets, leveling you with his breathtaking smile. 

Clearing your throat, you break the trance and present him with your most platonic smile. “Welcome back. Cody must really like you to do what he did, considering y’all’s past.” 

Jey shrugs. “He surprised me, too. But whatever I gotta pay back to him, it’ll be worth it.” His eyes travel down the length of your body, appreciating the up-close view. You have on a cropped black tank top and a tight zip-up denim skirt that stops mid-thigh. Your legs are ensconced in knee high boots that have him biting his lip. However, the oversized biker jacket hanging halfway down your arms looks like it belongs to someone else, specifically a certain Señor Money in the Bank. Jey has heard the rumors. Apparently, you’ve moved on. He plans on testing that theory. 

“You look amazing, Y/N,” he compliments, his tongue darting out over his lips reflexively.

So does he. Your gaze wanders for a little longer than you’d like. The added bulk to his frame makes him look more intimidating and sexier. His abs are on full display behind his black hooded jacket. Then the dimples and the cheekbones and the full, kissable lips...He’s more mouthwatering than ever, calling out to you to take a bite.

When he moves in for a hug, you flinch and back away, maintaining your cold expression when he pulls back with disappointment. “Come on girl, don’t do me like that,” he sighs.

“Like what? Just cuz I said hi don’t mean I forgot about how you did me,” you answer coolly, “I’m being the bigger person here.” 

“Aw, babe, you breakin’ my heart right now.”

“Like you did mine?” you snap, “I ain’t your baby no more. You made sure of that.” He’s lucky you’re even addressing him after everything he’s put you through. Just this April after the Draft, Jey made the decision to leave you all alone on Raw and stay exclusively on Smackdown with his family. The same family who ultimately stabbed him in the back, something you would have never ever done to him in a million years. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back after two years of the most intense, deliciously chaotic entanglement in which you were a source of…comfort…for him, during his tumultuous time with the Bloodline. But, as you soon discovered, so was Kayla, and Liv, and Jakara from NXT, and some other chick named Rashida that he claimed was his childhood ‘bestie’. Somehow, you were roped into his weird harem of revolving women. But you stayed because he needed you…he told you so. He cared for you, he said, and like a fool, you believed him, because you wanted so badly for him to feel the way you felt about him.

Feel about him.

Shaking your head, you resolve to stand your ground. Nope. You will never be used again. You will not give into whatever game he’s trying to play, not this time. You don’t know why he’s come to Raw and you don’t care. You’re the Women’s World champion now. You no longer have room for fuckbois in your life and you need to let him know so.

Jey huffs, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “We need to talk,” he says.

“About what?”

“About us,” he whispers, licking his lips. “I miss you.”

His words cling to you, embracing you. But you shake them off. “Right. Miss me, or my pussy? Them other lame bitches ain’t tight or wet enough?”

Exhaling heavily, Jey meets your death glare head on. “Baby, I fucked up. I admit it. I been fuckin’ up when it comes to you. It’s on me, and I’m sorry. I wanna make things right between us, especially if we’re gonna be on the same show together.”

Scoffing at the words you’ve heard before, you toss your hair back haughtily. “Might be a little too late for that,” you inform him smugly.

“Really? Why? Cuz of your new man? Where his big ass at, anyway?” he taunts, looking over your shoulder for an unseen entity. 

“What are you talking about?” you retort, brushing off the guilt lurking for not being honest with him about Damian. Why feel guilty about someone who wasn't honest with you?

“I know about you and Priest. I know that’s his jacket you wearin’.”

You glare at him, incredulous. Is he seriously doing this? “You got no right to be jealous, Jey. Who I am or am not fucking is none of your business. And it’s not like he and I are official yet, so calm your tits.” You pause, wondering why you’re giving an explanation when you owe him nothing.

His lips pull into a smirk. “Huh. So you sayin’ I got a chance...”

“No, I did not say that!” You thought you could get through this unscathed. That a quick ‘Hello’ would suffice and you’d both move along. You didn’t expect him to lay it on you this thick and this quickly. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making you vulnerable with his sugary sweet words and his penetrating stare that sends a shiver of longing down your spine. 

"Stop looking at me like that," you hiss at him in that husky voice of yours that raises goosebumps all over his arms. 

“Can’t help it, baby. You beautiful as fuck,” he counters smoothly, stepping closer to you. 

“There you go again with the sweet talk. So am I supposed to just forgive you? Forgive and forget and fall right back into your arms? You got me fucked up, boy.”

It’s clear that you have no plans to make it easy for him. He doesn’t blame you. He’s done some unscrupulous things at your expense, none of which you deserved. But he can't stop his body from thrumming at the way your eyes speak volumes to him without using any words. He loves how your long lashes try to hide the real emotions swirling inside you, the hurt peeking through the bravado. You clutch your title to your chest, as though protecting yourself, hiding your body, forgetting that he’s since mastered every inch of it, every inch of you. He’s studied you long enough to detect your defense mechanisms. That’s how intimately he understands you. He has come to the realization that the connection he and you have is a lot more than just sex. His feelings for you run deep, far more than any other woman he’s messed around with.

He just needs to convince you that this is the case.

Taking your hand in his, Jey pulls you close, relieved when you don't shy away this time. He smiles down at you and has to stop himself from kissing your full lips. "Come kick it with ya boy later. Let's grab some dinner after the show. I got a lot of apologizing to do and I want to earn your trust back," he implores.

Just as you feared, your entire resolve starts to crumble at his plea. This is a bad idea. You’ve managed to recover from him once, and you risk relapsing if you allow this to happen. But god, he looks so good and smells even better. You can feel his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. Your gaze flickers to his lips, remembering how soft they feel against yours, his tongue dancing sensually with your own…

Jey sees through your hesitation and cranks up the pressure. "I promise I'll be good, I'ma keep my hands to myself if that's what you worried about." He releases your hand for emphasis.

As always, when it comes to this motherfucker, your emotions prevail. “Fine,” you concede with a roll of your eyes. “I got a backstage segment with Rhea in twenty minutes and then I’m done for the night. I’ll meet you right here afterwards.”

The smile that lights up his face thaws your heart a little. “A’ight. I’ll be here,” he says.

“Dinner, Jey. Nothing else,” you remind him sternly.

“Scout’s honor. I gotchu,” he says, as you turn away. He looks on with a smirk as you walk down the hallway, sensing your reluctance to part from him. “Let your man know you’ll be home before midnight!” he calls out.

“Whatever, Uso,” you shout back. “And stop staring at my ass!”

Jey snickers at that. He likes that you know him so well.

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

"Mmmm, fuck!"

Your groans trigger his own, the deep, guttural sound filling your ears, thick with need and exertion. Your fingers thread through his blond mullet, pleasure surging through you like potent aftershocks as he pounds into you with breakneck speed, the movements rocking the Chevrolet Equinox marooned in a secluded corner of the empty parking lot. 

"God, I've missed this good pussy," Jey pants heavily against your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Fuck, you so wet. Missed you so much, babe.”

Damn it, you should have known…Known it was all a big set up from the jump. You should have smelled trouble coming when he let you order your favorite meal from the obscure little diner you frequented whenever you came to town; that it was a trap when he opted to invade your space by cornering you in the booth and not sitting across from you; You should have known better than to let him rub on your thigh all through dinner, should have steered the conversations back to less intimate, sexual topics. You should have pushed him away when he leaned in for the kiss he’d been seeking all night, knowing damn well that once your lips touched, you’d become so desperate for him that waiting to get to the hotel would no longer be an option. You should have known he rented this big ass SUV because the backseat would be more comfortable and private than any dark alley you could sneak into. You should have known better than to think tonight would turn out any other way; He’s learned a few tricks from his Tribal Chief cousin and carefully and deviously orchestrated this outcome knowing that you could never resist the charms of the man you are, deep down, still hopelessly in love with.

Jey pushes your legs back further towards your head, taking advantage of your famed flexibility, and plows his thick, meaty cock in and out of your pussy, creating the sexiest, filthiest wet noises. Each thrust is deeper and more demanding than the last as he bears down on you, his big body hunched over yours, making you take every inch of him. His grunts and your moans are the only things spoken, the only language understood right now. The smell of sex permeates the thinning air inside the car, the heat of passion scorching, suffocating you both in the most sensuous of ways.

Jey looks down between your bodies and smirks at what he sees. "Damn, look at that, look how wet your pussy is. You definitely missed Daddy," he groans, parting your legs wider for a better view. "This dick feel good, right baby?

“Aw, yes Daddy, you feel so good, fuck me,” your words trail away with a whimper, and you sink your nails into his newly tatted back as he obliges your request. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, lost to the sensation of his big dick plunging deeper inside your wet heat.

Truth be told, you have never had a lover like Jey Uso. Rough. Tender. Chaotic. Gentle. Primal. Passionate. He is all-consuming, a Samoan whirlwind of sexual energy and skill and stamina. He makes you feel like nothing else matters but you and him and the orgasmic moments you share. One look into his darkly luminous eyes and you’re gone every time, a puddle of ruined panties and pussy juice. He never fails to turn you upside down and inside out, expertly coaxing endless orgasms from you. You’re his marionette and he’s the puppet master, the true owner of your body and your soul and your entire being. 

And this is a stark reminder of that.

“Damian fuck you like this? Huh?” Jey asks, his sweaty brow furrowed with lust and a hint of curiosity as he scouts out his competition.

Definitely not. Damian is not bad in bed - quite the opposite, in fact. But his efforts can never compare to this. Too wrapped up in ecstasy to speak, you manage to shake your head no at the question, but it's not enough for Jey. His palm slips from your breast to swat your inner thigh, causing a stinging pain that reverberates through your heated skin and surges straight to the pressure point of your clit. 

“Use your words, baby,” he orders. He wants to hear you say it, to confirm what you’ve both known all along.

“No, Daddy…” you answer, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as he angles his hips, grinding himself right up against your g-spot the way you like it, his long, determined strokes hitting just right... 

“I know he don’t, cuz he don’t know this pussy like I do. This my pussy, baby girl. I can tell you missed this dick too, you grippin’ the shit outta me…”

As much as you hate to admit it, he’s spot on. You haven’t been fucked like this in so long and your kitty is singing for joy. This animalistic side of him as he drives into you is making you delirious. Waves of pleasure wash over you as he reverts to hard, steady, pounding thrusts, lodging his dick in your stomach. You glide your dainty hands all over his chest and abs, letting your fingernails scrape his sweat-slick skin. The slight shudders of his body and his whimpering groans as he reacts to your touch leave you all giddy inside. You dare to cradle his bearded face in your hands and hold his gaze. What stares back at you is so deep and intense and full of emotion, reflecting everything you’ve felt for each other in the past two years. 

“Jey…” you whisper after a long, charged moment.

“My baby girl,” Jey breathes back, “I lo-”

You don’t let him finish, tugging him down for a sloppy, unhurried kiss, winding your hips to match his thrusts and ride that edge with him as he moans into your mouth. This spurs him to nudge your thighs even further back with your toes touching the roof of the SUV, opening you up to more pummeling thrusts until your legs tremble in the air and you have to break the kiss from how breathless he's leaving you.

“Fuuuuck!”

“Uh huh, you comin’ for me, baby?” he asks, brushing your lips together again as his own release creeps ever closer. “I know you 'bout to nut. Lemme have it, come for Daddy.”

With one hand, he grips the seat above your head, his hips snapping into you, drilling you faster, harder. You're soaring higher and higher, and then, you crash, contracting around his throbbing shaft as you come so hard you start to convulse. Stars explode behind your eyelids as your arms tighten around his neck, holding on for dear life as you tumble headfirst into the sweet cavern of euphoria.

“Ahhh shit, goddamn, Y/N…” Jey moans along with you as his dick twitches inside your warm depths. You’re still coming all over him, your pussy squeezing and suckling every inch of him to the point that his body tenses on top of yours, and he grunts out, "Gah, finna come!"

Ripping himself out of you, he scrambles upright and pumps his slippery dick in his hand, releasing himself on your lower belly. Both of you moan at the sight of his warm, milky cum gushing all over your brown skin. His groans of pleasure are music to your ears. He keeps massaging his cock, ensuring he’s all emptied out, while his other hand runs up and down the back of your upturned thigh in a sensual, soothing touch.

“Fuck, I almost nutted in you. This pussy too damn good, babe," he pants, resting the semi-hard length on your pussy lips. Feeling it pulse temptingly between your folds, you close your thighs together before the thought of going another round can creep in. You squirm into a seated position and slowly start to clean yourself up, adjusting your clothes as Jey does the same with himself. When you’re both done, his arms come around you as he sweeps his lips, soft and inviting, over the crook of your neck, your cheek, and finally landing on your lips. Inevitably, you melt into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and affection that you’ve needed from him for months.

“You wanna know the real reason I switched brands?” he speaks up after a few moments, waiting for you to look at him. “It wasn’t just to get away from my family. I did it for you.”

The notion has lingered in your mind ever since you saw him return two nights ago at Payback, but to hear it uttered out loud ignites a reaction neither of you expect. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” you warn, shaking your head.

“Do what?”

Tears inexplicably fill your eyes as you speak. “That. You do it all the time. Say shit that sounds sweet and amazing only for you to do the opposite. I’m over that shit, okay?” 

A look of hurt clouds his handsome face. “Baby, I know I made a lot of mistakes that I regret. I own that shit. I also know I’d be a fool to fuck this up again. Real talk.” His beautiful eyes are sad and hopeful and pierce your soul. “I really miss us, baby girl. Truth is, I don’t feel right with no one else but you. I miss you. Don't you miss me?”

At this juncture, lying is pointless. “I do,” you admit, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. “But I can’t handle you hurting me again, Jey. I won’t let you.”

Jey reaches up to catch the tear with a brush of his thumb, letting his hand linger on your soft cheek. “I know. That’s why I’m here. For you. I’m sorry about everything and I want us to start over. Can we start over?” He gazes intently at you, wanting to say more, but he holds back, shelving it for a more appropriate time. “Take me back. Give me another chance, baby. I’ll be better than I’ve ever been, I swear to you,” he continues softly. 

This man always makes you question how strong you really are. Each time you think you've escaped, he finds you and reels you back in, like steel to a magnet. Your brain wants to reject him, but your heart is desperate for him, craving to fall back into him and his empty promises. He has a hold on you that you probably will never be able to break free from, and maybe it’s time you accept this fate.

“I’ll think about it,” you conclude.

“I can grovel if you want. That's fine with me, baby. I’ma grovel as long as you want me to. I know you like the things I do when I’m on my knees.” He winks cheekily as you gasp, blushing profusely.

“Jey!”

“Matter of fact, you comin’ back to my suite with me. I’ma show you just how good I can grovel,” he adds. His straight white teeth sink into his bottom lip, and the heat that simmers in his eyes leaves you weak-kneed.

“Oh my god. What am I gonna do about you?” you lament.

His chuckle is joyous and relieved as he holds you tighter in his strong arms and repeatedly, playfully kisses your cheek. “Whatever you want, my baby girl. Whatever you want.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you fail at masking your grin as the thrill of reuniting with your man warms you all over. You figure that a couple extra hours in his company won't hurt. One night only.

Just tonight.

That's it.

Yeah.

THE END

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

Thoughts? Should she believe him?

Please leave feedback/comments. I appreciate them as they help me improve my writing.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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[an-idyllic-novelist]

Leonidas with Yoriichi Tsugikuni!fem!reader platonic headcanons

Warning(s): RoR manga spoilers up to ch. 78, historical references, violence, KNY anime spoilers, established relationship, strong language from Leonidas, ooc.

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @enryegotrip and @themoonisrising for their feedback in the drafting phrase!

Before reading this piece, however, I strongly recommend you read this story, as it acts as a part two. The link will be here.

With that being said guys, sit back, relax, and enjoy the chaos that is about to unfold :)

King Leonidas knew the gods existed and he hated them. Apollo, the arrogant little shit who was worshiped in Delphi all those centuries ago, is the god whom he despised the most. His men knew why but they were wise enough to never speak about the patriot of the arts in front of him. He did not, however, know that demons existed in Valhalla too…until that fateful night. 

He and his men were settling in their campsite, bellies full and ready to resume their training or take the first watch and make sure no one tried to sneak past them…but someone did.  It had been an old man, whimpering and cowering with a large lump on his head and wearing tattered clothes. Just when a soldier barked at him to leave or die where he stood, brandishing a spear in his direction…the old man’s body split in half, then half again until four young men began attacking the campsite. All hell broke loose, and Leonidas had no idea what the fuck was going on or how to kill them.

Guns didn’t work on the winged one because he was too fast in the air, the swords and spears of his men snapped in half when making contact with the bodies of the blue-eyed one before he impaled them with a halberd. The one wearing red robes possessed a staff that could create lightning within a seven foot radius, and the green one used a fan to blow away his men with a single swing. He used his shield when the latter and the winged one attacked, but it could only do so much against a sonic wave attack. 

When shit looked like it was about to go sideways in the worst way possible, she showed up seemingly out of nowhere. She zigzagged across the field, dodging the winged one’s attacks and swiftly decapitating the halberd-wielding bastard, his head flying off and landing in the mud with a ‘thud’. That was when King Leonidas noticed something odd about the opponents…no, it wasn’t odd. These sons of bitches knew who exactly you were and they were afraid. 

The horned demon in red raised his staff in the air, preparing for another lightning strike when she appeared in front of him. She inhaled sharply through her mouth and raised her sword above her head, the blade becoming ignited in crimson flames before striking him down, his body splitting in half. It was after taking this monster down that she addressed him. 

“My lord….there is a fifth demon…heading northeast. That is the demon’s main body. If it is destroyed, then the other four will cease to exist. My comrades…they are on their way. They will be here soon, and provide aid.” She then looked him straight in the eye, calm and level-headed as if this wasn’t the first time she had fought against these things. “Normal weapons cannot penetrate a demon’s body…but seeing that you are carrying firearms, use this.” She pulled out three cartridges of ammunition from her  robes and handed them to him. “Aim for the head. I must go…before the main body gets too far away.” 

She then darted away from the campsite, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Leonidas is a proud man, but even he knew not to look at a gift in the horse’s mouth. He unclipped the magazine in his pistol and loaded in the new ammo, opening fire but making sure that these bullets would not be wasted. 

Just as the woman said, reinforcements arrived. All wearing robes and carrying swords, moving across the battlefield as if they were dancing and not fighting against these creatures. 

Spartans are bred for battle and will die for battle. Never give up, never surrender. That is in their blood. However, a smart Spartan realizes the difference between an ally and an enemy, and that the flow of time constantly changes in the mortal realm. From politics to fighting techniques, if it can be used to take down an enemy, King Leonidas doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything else. 

When his second magazine was on the last bullet, all of the demons disintegrated into ash. The soldiers shouted in Grecian, raising their bloodied spears in the air and smiling victoriously. Their mysterious comrades either relished in the moment or simply walked away from the battlefield, sheathing their swords with a grimace. A little while later she returned to the campsite, expressionless and covered in blood that was not her own. 

She  bowed deeply to him. “I apologize…my lord. If I had been sooner…there would not have been so much damage…and you would not have lost so many men.” 

Leonidas just shook his head. His men were prepared to die in battle if it meant glory and victory in the name of Sparta, they trained to go up against even the most powerful of opponents. But what he could not stand is not knowing what he and his army are fighting…so what the hell were those monsters? He wanted information, and he wanted it now. 

To his surprise, she was more than compliant to sit and talk with him. One of her associates, a tall brat with a large sword strapped on his back, barked at her, saying that it's against the rules to share confidential information with an ‘outsider’ but the woman replied that he has a right to know. He is the commander of these men; would it not be better to tell him and prevent this situation from happening again? 

Furthermore, she is an unofficial member of the organization, so the rules do not affect her as much as it does to him or the others. When her associate turned away with a scoff, she asked him what he liked to know. 

“Everything.” He snapped. 

She nodded. “Of course.”

As the men cleared the debris and buried their dead, Leonidas fired question after question at the swordswoman, whose name he learned was [First Name] [Last Name]. Demons were nocturnal in nature, and consumed human flesh to gain strength. Their bodies were extremely durable; normal weapons cannot harm them, and they can only be killed by decapitation. Her sword, a nichirin blade, forged from Scarlet Iron Sand and Scarlet Ore, both of which can be found in high mountains that perpetually bathed in sunlight all year around. 

Sunlight was the only thing that could kill a demon for good. The bullets she gave him were created from the same materials, designed for a Hashira that preferred guns to swords.  A Hashira is a very strong Demon Slayer, and she is one herself: the Sun Hashira, which is why her blade ignited upon attacking the demons. The Breathing Style is…difficult to explain and to learn, but it is effective. 

The Demon Slayer Corps had existed for over a thousand years, and it was revived in Valhalla under Lord Hades’ command. Another human soul, Nostradamus, destroyed the Bifrost and demons have been crawling their way into Valhalla ever since. The one he and his men came in contact with is Hantengu, a powerful demon who once served under Muzan Kibutsuji. 

Muzan was the original creator of the demon race, and she had encountered him once many years ago. 

“I wish I could tell you more my lord,” She bowed her head to him. “The only thing I can offer is to give you the name of the person who can create these bullets, though I must ask that you keep his identity a secret. Muzan might have perished all of those years ago, but seeing one of the Upper Moons here in Valhalla and still possess their powers…the possibility that he might have regenerated in Helheim cannot be ruled out. If he still wishes to destroy the Demon Slayers, he will make another attempt to kill the craftsman who creates the weapons that can destroy him and the other Upper Moons under his command.”

Lenoidas nodded. Makes sense, He thought. Keeping a supplier safe is crucial in war. The less an enemy knows who or how their opponent is getting their weapons, the better. Cut off the supplier and supply route, these people wouldn’t have the swords or bullets needed to destroy the demons. Still…

“Is it possible to meet the guy who made these?” He asked, holding up the empty cartridge. “I know that’s asking a lot from a stranger like myself, trust me, but just having the basic info on an opponent won’t help me or my army be prepared if this situation happens again. You said you’re an unofficial member of this organization.”

“...I am. However, to meet the creator of the bullets…I would need to speak to Lord Ubuyashiki first. He is…very protective of us all, like we are his children. The secret location of the swordsmiths had been exposed once before, when the organization had been on the decline in the Taisho era. You may have to speak and present your case to him as to why you wish to know the suppliers.” 

“How soon can that be?”

“When I return to headquarters, I will go straight to him myself…though I am sure no one will want that. He has…not been well as of late.” [First Name] looked to the side, blinking at the large crow perched on her shoulder. “I will send you a message through this little one, should he allow this meeting. Is that acceptable?”

Momentarily surprised that such a large bird suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Leonidas cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s fine. I look forward to hearing from you…through your bird.” 

The Demon Slayer nodded, bowing to him before she left the campsite as quickly as she had appeared, stunning the war general with her agility. Huh…were women soldiers in the Demon Slayer Corps always so sneaky? He’ll have to ask next time. Right now, he had to direct his mind and think about his next move. For now, it seemed going north would be the best choice; there was a Greecian military base there, so his men could rest until they were called to the next war. He’ll also need to let his wife, Gorgo, know what happened as well. 

Gorgo remained Queen of Sparta when he was away at battle, in life and in death. She had just as much authority and political power as he did, so he knew their home in Valhalla would be well-protected in his absence. If he hadn’t known that these demons existed until now…could he truly say that their home is fortified against every single threat? No. And she deserved to be aware of the situation. 

They were husband and wife for fuck’s sake. 

A week flew by until the army reached the base, and another when the messenger crow flew through the window in his study one sunny afternoon, a scroll tied around its neck. Hoisting himself up from his hammock, Lenoidas marked his spot in the book he’d been reading and set it down on the floor. He walked towards the window and untied the rope around the crow’s neck, unfurling the parchment to scan the contents. 

The meeting will take place in four days. A member of the organization, a kakushi, will personally escort him to the lord of the manor on the morning of the meeting. To ensure everyone’s safety, he must wear a blindfold the entire time until he is given permission to remove it. 

Lenoidas’ brow twitched. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. He thought, annoyed, before he sighed deeply. [First Name] had promised him that she will try to persuade the clan head to speak to him in regards to the suppliers. This would be his first and only chance to negotiate peacefully. 

He couldn’t allow the Sun Hashira’s hard work to go to waste…so he’ll play along. 

Time passed quickly as he made the necessary preparations. Before he knew it, a fellow dressed from head to toe in black with a cloth concealing his face waited at the city’s gates. The kakushi  blindfolded the king of Sparta, and then they departed. 

But it wasn’t just one kakushi that escorted him…there were many of them, each with a different voice and mannerisms, switching him off at a designated post. Some were polite, curt. Others were skittish, can’t really blame them honestly. When he’d been granted permission to remove the blindfold, Leonidas was…surprised to see a young man smiling serenely at him, dressed in white and purple robes. He was flanked by two small children, and a woman sat behind him. 

Safe assumption that these were his heirs and wife, but the Spartan general kept his comments to himself as he observed the lord. His eyes were clouded, unfocused. Blind. Probably caused by the rotten skin that’s spreading on his face. 

The man and his family bowed their heads to him. “Welcome to our humble home, Lord Lenoidas of the Spartan Army.” He said softly. “[First Name] has spoken highly of you since her return. A courageous leader who remained calm in such a dire and unexpected situation…though you wish to meet the ones who have supplied my children with the necessary weapons to protect themselves and others from the demons who prowl at night. May I inquire why you wish to have access to our resources? How can I be sure that you will not spread this information to others?”

This was it. One chance to either get the information he seeked…or to lose it all, and his men would go back into battle unprepared. Leonidas inhaled a deep breath, and spoke. 

He didn’t sugarcoat his intentions, plainly and respectfully to Lord Ubuyashiki. To his surprise, this brat didn’t get pissed off or talked down to him. Instead, the young lord understood where he was coming from. There have been more reports of sporadic ruptures in the Bifrost; try as they might, the Demon Slayer Corps cannot be everywhere and protect everyone. Lenoidas’ armies were the largest within the Grecian district, rivaling only that to Chinese militia, so it would be beneficial to supply the war general with the necessary anti-demon artillery, but only to his armies. 

Right now, he was the only human leader outside of the organization who knew about the demons’ existence. As much as he wanted to help everyone, there were too many cons rather than pros to take another gamble with the supplier’s secret location should anyone else be aware that there were weapons that can kill demons. 

As much as Leonidas wanted to protest…the brat had a point. The less people knew, the better. No good in causing a panic among the public. The gods could go fuck themselves, of course. The war general wasn’t too concerned about them so much as his fellow mortal comrades. 

Then the meeting was settled. He along with the Sun Hashira would be escorted to the swordsmans’ village to meet the bullet crafter, and talk about business as needed. Lenoidas thanked the lord for his time…and politely asked to give his regards to [First Name]. 

That was the last time Leonidas saw Ubuyashiki. Within the following week, he and the Sun Hashira embarked on a journey to the suppliers alongside the secretive kakushi.  He saw how the bullets were created, negotiated the amount needed to a fair price, and things propelled from there. 

He also came to enjoy [First Name]’s company. She wasn’t a talkative person, though she had proven herself to be insightful and open-minded when they spoke on the way back to Sparta. She had agreed to go with him and his men on an expedition  under the condition that she would teach them everything she knew about demon extermination. She warned him she was not good at explaining more complex Breathing Styles, and it might not be suitable for his men. There might also be questions that even she cannot answer fully, though she will do her best. 

Leonidas said he was well aware but at this point, he was willing to take a chance with the Sun Hashira; these men were under his command, so he knew them like the back of his hand. Whatever Breathing Styles or demon exterminating techniques she knew and was willingly to teach would be appreciated. Hell, if there was a way to implement it in his army’s battle formations and even his own fighting style, Leonidas will take it for what it’s worth. 

Leonidas grinned as he watched [First Name] training his men from the rim of his book. She had proven early in their journey that she was not to be underestimated or her lessons to be taken for granted. She’d saved their asses, helped them secure a supplier for a fair fee, and showed them how to combat against lower-level demons if they ever came across them at night. Didn’t even complain about the long hours spent walking or hiding up the mountains. 

The only downside to this arrangement is that when it was time to restock their weapons with anti-demon bullets, spears, or shields, Leonidas had to go get everything himself. 

Pain in the ass, but worth it in the end. 

The war general wondered if he should consult Gorgo about adding women who can fight to the army’s ranks would be more beneficial and boost morale, or would just make things worse, when a scout shouted that a god was approaching the campsite. Lenoidas narrowed his eyes, getting himself out of his hammock again because shit was about to go down. Once he grabbed his spear and shield, he darted towards the enemy with [First Name] following close behind. The men were already in the phalanx formation, acting as a barrier around the campsite to prevent the intruder from taking another step further. 

Lenonidas stared at the god. Tall, muscular, couldn’t be more than seven or seven and a half feet tall. Black tank-top with a weird ass rabbit on the front, orange robes tied around his waist and hands. Sunglasses, long blonde hair, light blue orbs…is that a fucking lollipop in his mouth? 

Who is this punk?

“Buddha?” [First Name] said. 

Lenonidas blinked once, then twice before he swiveled his head over his shoulder to glance at the slightly stunned swordswoman. “You know him?” She gave him a brief nod, then looked straight ahead with a confused frown. The war general followed her gaze and saw the son of a bitch standing right in front of him, his shadow almost towering over his own. The god blinked, munching on the lollipop with his oversized canines. 

“Yo. You’re that war general from Sparta, right? Nice to meet ya. Soo…sorry for the sudden visit, but I’m takin’ the Sun Hashira back with me. Ya dig?”

“And what gives you the right to treat her like an object, shithead?” Leonidas growled. “This is why I can’t fuckin’ stand the likes of you or any others in the pantheons.”

The god stared at him. “Old man…I respect that you wanna protect her, but you should know more than anyone that she’s more than capable of defending herself. You’ve seen her in action, right? That’s how she met ya. And why she decided to go with ya on this trip. However, she’s been away from home for far too long.”

Buddha then walked  past him and gathered up the swordswoman in his arms, with one hand under her legs and the other around her shoulders. “C’mon sunshine, we’re headin’ back to paradise.”

[First Name] blinked. “We are? But the men still need more time to be properly trained - ”

“Six months.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t been home in six months, and ya had the guts to leave your husband all alone in a cold bed.” He puffed up his cheeks in annoyance. “I might enjoy hangin’ around the bodhi tree when you’re not around, but I wanna cuddle with my wife more than once before she suddenly heads off on a mission without sayin’ good-bye! You could’ve woken me up before ya left so I know were you’re goin’, you silly rabbit!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya should be! I almost had to call Kintoki and ask him to track ya down if your crow didn’t drop off a message beforehand! Think things through before you run off into action, darlin’!”

“Okay.”

Lenoidas and the army stared at the pair with slackened jaws at the sight of a god pouting like a child as he scolded the Sun Hashira, who has identified himself as her husband. She was married to a god, and didn’t say anything to them?!? 

[First Name] looked over Buddha’s shoulder, waving her hand at him. “I’ll be going home, Lord Lenonidas. I’m sorry this trip has to be cut short, but feel free to send a message to my residence or Lord Ubuyashiki’s if you have any questions or concerns.” 

The war general felt a headache coming on. “Yeah…sure. Don’t worry about it or the training, we can handle it from here. Just go home to your…husband.” He muttered. “And don’t  be a stranger either, all right? You’re always welcomed in Spartan territory. If any of ‘em give you a hard time, I’ll knock some sense into them.” 

She nodded, offering the barest hint of a smile before she looped her arms around Buddha’s neck. The god looked back at him and inclined his head. In an instant, the pair were gone, returning to wherever it is that they called ‘home’. 

Bonus Content:

Soon as Lenoidas received word that the Sun Hashira had come to pay him and his family a visit as she promised she would, the war general invited her to sit at his table for dinner.

 Gorgo was delighted to finally meet the swordswoman who had earned her husband’s trust and saved the men’s lives. It is rare to meet a skilled warrior who is not a goddess and is humble.

Leonidas received the second shock since meeting [First Name] when she quietly revealed that she is, in fact, a divine being. Well, not exactly. More like a mortal soul who had received the blessing of a god. 

She had met Buddha shortly after ascending to Valhalla. They were good friends for a long time before marrying almost two decades ago, though the enlightened one mentioned he should have done so sooner. 

Something about rivals for her affection? 

When his wife pressed on what [First Name] meant, the swordswoman’s calm face briefly pinched into an uncomfortable expression. Inhaling a deep breath, she answered Gorgo. 

The Grecian representative of the Sun, Apollo, had approached her on the pretense that they were a perfect match because they were affiliated with the same celestial orb: bright, warm, and influential. In his mind, he believed Fate brought them together. [First Name] did not, and politely declined his proposal of a courtship.

Apollo did not give up. He was persistent in the coming days, and Buddha had almost intervened on her behalf. But it had been her own mess. So in the context of Buddha’s “lingo”, she “wiped the floor” with him. 

Leonidas had trouble breathing as he howled in laughter. That fuckin’ shithead had actually gotten his ass beaten by a divine being who used to be a mortal. 

Good. The prick deserved it. 

Taglist:

@themoonisrising

@onecantsimply

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@enryegotrip

@sarah22447

@sarcastic-cookie

@zebralover

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@dance-till-the-death

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@seii-fantasy

@rukia-writes

[alotofpockets]

I've got you | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: “I’m going to fix you up, okay?”

Warnings: being stabbed, meantions of blood, wounds and guns

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1070

Natasha walked in front of you, her weapon drawn as the two of you were clearing rooms. Missions with her were your favorite, not only because she was a highly skilled assassin and spy, but also because you’ve developed feelings for the red head over the past couple of years working with her. You had never told her of course, with work and your friendship, it wasn’t a priority, and you didn’t even know if she felt the same way. None of those thoughts were currently on your mind though, you were making sure no one was following you as you moved from room to room. Your mind on the mission. One of the things you pride yourself on is how you can completely focus on the mission at hand, no matter what was going on in your life. You felt Natasha slow down, she reached out her hand to touch your back to get your attention. Looking over your shoulder you see Natasha motions for you to be quiet and with her hand she tells you there’s a person around the corner, and her plan. You nod in understanding and turn around on her signal. Natasha quietly runs up to the guard that is facing away from the both of you and performs her infamous headlock to take him down. You cover her and move her way when he hits the ground. The thud of the grown man hitting the floor alarms two other guards that come charging at you. The two of you expertly fight them off and are about to move on to the next room when out of nowhere a knife lands in your stomach. You’re too shocked to move or call out to Natasha as you’re looking down at the knife. The owner of the knife is in front of you before you even realized he was there. You try to run but he is quick to grab the knife and twist it before pulling it out. That’s when you’re finally able to make a noise, you yell out in pain as you slide down to the floor. Natasha comes running your was as she hears your scream, realizing you’re no longer behind her. She shoots a widow bite at him, to tase him, before shooting him in the leg. She rushes to your side and helps you up, “I’ve got you.” She pulls your arm over her shoulder and supports your weight, moving you away from the guards. “Nat, what about the mission?” You say as you realize she’s not just moving you to another room but you’re heading back to the exit. “You are more important than the mission.”

Arriving back at the little appartement you’ve been staying at for the past couple of days, she carries you up the stairs and only puts you down when you’ve reached the bathroom. “I’m going to fix you up, okay?” She says as she sits you down on the bathroom floor. You only nod you’re in too much pain to speak. She hands you some painkillers and a glass of water, “Here take these.” You gratefully do. She helps you take off your suit jacket and the shirt you were wearing underneath, both soaked with blood. “Okay, y/n, this is going to hurt.” One of your hands covers your mouth, and the other finds Nat’s shoulder for support. Natasha pours some of the disinfectant into the wound and you try not to yell out in pain again. She continues cleaning your wound once she sees your breathing go back to normal. Once she’s got your wound all cleaned up and bandaged, she helps you to your bed. “Thank you Nat.” The sentence was small, but she could see in your eyes how much it meant to you. “I’m going to make us some food, I’ll be right back.” In the time Nat is away to cook, you try to get out of your suit and change into something more comfortable and not bloodstained. You managed to put a shirt on easy enough, but your pants seemed to be a bigger hassle as you weren’t even able to take the bottom half of your suit off.

Natasha walked in on you struggling with two plates in her hands. You noticed she had changed into her sweats and a shirt already. She puts the plates down on the nightstand and moves your way to help you out. Your cheeks turn a dark shade of red as she takes off your pants for you. This was definitely not the way you had imagined her taking off your pants, but it still made you nervous. Natasha noticed your cheeks and smirked to herself. She helped you into your sweatpants before joining you on the bed, where you enjoyed your meal together. “Hey Nat, can you maybe stay with me tonight?” She sends you a reassuring smile. “Of course, let me just put the dishes away really quick and then I’ll help you to the bathroom, is that okay?” You nod with a smile. Being stabbed was not great, but having Natasha be the one taking care of you made it a whole lot better. As Natasha said, she helped you to the bathroom where you each brushed your teeth, and of course she also helped you back into the bed. You fell asleep quickly, feeling safe around Natasha.

You woke up with your head on Natasha’s chest and her arm wrapped around you. You smiled and looked up at her face, only to see her looking back at you with a soft smile. Your heart skipped a beat and the blush rushed back to your cheeks. “Good morning.” You say shyly. “Good morning, detka.” You recognized the word to be Russian, but you didn’t know what it meant, only that it had made Natasha blush. Natasha raises her hand to move a strand of hair out of your face and lets her hand linger on your cheek. You look between her lips and her eyes, your heart beating faster and faster as Natasha slowly leans in. Her soft lips meet yours and for a moment you think that you’re still dreaming. But as you part and look into her eyes, you know this is real. You pull her in for another kiss and spend most of your morning like that. Taking your sweet time with returning to the Compound.

[luimagines]

Honor Among Gods

Ok. This is another purely indulgent thing.

Those who've been here a while would remember that there was once a character named Hesper. She is a demigod, daughter of Nyx.

My good friend @thesoftieanon made her and well... We went wild.

I'm not kidding. This is over 20 pages long. And I'm posting it not only to share one of my favorite short stories I've cowritten with someone since making this blog, but this is here for me because the formatting makes it easier to reread. XD

This is a universe where Hesper got paired with The Fierce Deity. It is naturally written in his point of view. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When he was able to open his eyes again, he was undeterred by the sight of monsters and battle. He got right to work to take care of the problem, knowing that his host was desperate at best to eliminate these pests.

These monsters were stronger than he knew his host could handle. It didn’t take a genius to conclude this was why his help was required. 

The boys around him were familiar forces at this point. He could feel them from a distance but now he had faces to the forces he could only remotely feel. 

Except for one.

A young woman traveled with them at this point. She fought valiantly, growling back at the beast in front of her. She fought like none other he had ever seen before. She wore dark clothing and nearly rivaled his own height without the restrictions of his host. He couldn’t see her face from the cloth that covered every part of her body.

There was an energy about her. Something that called for his respect and devotion. She was nowhere near as overbearing as the Great Ones, but surely, unmistakingly one of them.

He was so distracted by the sight of someone new and different, that the monster, despite bleeding profusely from multiple gashes across its body, proceeded to knock her off her feet and drive its weapon into her shoulder.

The Fierce Deity sprang into action and body-slammed the creature without a second thought, finishing the beast with a solid swipe to the neck. He turned and pulled the weapon out of the girl. In retrospect, he should have been more gentle. He regrets his rash actions immediately. 

She yells in pain but it gets stuck in her throat at the sight of him towering above her. His own breath gets stuck in her throat. She surely belongs among the Great Ones. Her eyes are filled with innumerable stars. There’s a depth and alluring presence to them. He’d dare to stare for longer had another cry of anguish not catch his attention. 

The battle continues to rage on around him and his work is still needed.

The Fierce Deity continues to fight, leaving the young goddess behind. As the fight comes to a close, his host removes him once more and he has returned to the world of darkness around him. As darkness falls on the outside world, his host rests for the day. It is here that the old god decides to ask about the maiden from before.

“Hero.” He calls into the mind of his chosen.

He feels the body wither and groan in response.  Exhaustion plagues his mind and body heavily, but his curiosity runs deeper than the needs of mortals. “Yes?” 

“Tell me about the Great One’s kin.” He says, because he’s not entirely sure if she herself is one of the Great Ones or merely a Lesser One. He is sure, however, about her status among mortals is not one and the same.

“The what?” The once boy replies.

“The young woman.” He feels himself growing impatient. Who else could he be possibly talking about other than one of the most breathtaking individuals he has ever seen among the sixteen realms?

His host groans once more. Vaguely, the cursed one can feel the sluggish mind of his host put the dots together to whom he may be talking about. “Woman…. Hesper? Are you talking about Hesper?”

A soothing balm covers his irritation in an instant. He hums and echoes the name pleasantly. “Hesper. So that is her name… Divine, indeed. Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Boy-”

“No. It’s three in the morning. I am trying to sleep.”

That does not dissuade the old god.

It takes the course of multiple days, but the Fierce Deity eventually gleans information about the girl and her kin. She is from a distant realm beyond their borders of reality. She is in fact a daughter of the Great Ones- but of her own realm. There appear to be many Great Ones where she is from. She is a daughter of a goddess named Nyx- a goddess and personification of night, and mother to many monsters and other Great Ones. 

However, Hesper herself is not a Great One, much to his disappointment and displeasure. She is half-mortal. There are many like her in her realm. Such one travels with the group as well. A young boy no older than seven. The Deity is told that the boy cannot speak with his tongue and rather uses his hands much like another boy he used to know. He is the opposite of his half-sister. She is dark and of the night. The boy is bright and of the day. To his knowledge, the boy was abandoned by his mother for not sticking to the code of her other children.

The Fierce Deity feels an indignant twitch in his eye once he is told but he cannot speak against such ones for his own sake. Hesper, however, does not seem to mind. The boy, named Sol, is very much her kin and responsibility.

When asked about her attire, the Deity was told that Hesper was born with a curse and natural susceptibility to sunlight. She cannot be touched by it or she will suffer.

Knowing all of this only causes the old god to want to know more about her.

Those eyes that he stared into haunt with every waking second. And for an immortal being without any need for rest, he has a lot of time on his hands to think of her. Should it come to it, he would fight by her side. He would devote himself to her. He would be her sword and her shield so she wouldn’t ever have to come near danger ever again. He cannot bear the thought of such a wondrous creature falling in the path of another blade. He still remembers her scream of pain. It is maddening.

Curiously, one day, the young boy Sol finds him among the hidden weapons and masks belonging to his host. The Fierce Deity is vaguely aware of the boy’s spirit. He is energetic and flighty- prone to joking with seemingly never-ending mischievous intentions.

He picks up the mask and studies him. The god doesn’t know of the boy’s intentions with his prison but he wonders how he passes the guard of his host. This is not a normal occurrence.

The boy drops the mask and something falls on top of it- cracking the visage.

The chains rattle around him and the Fierce Deity can feel the power of the prison slipping away as the seconds pass. It takes only a moment for him to find the weakest link and strike through it.

He is free.

His body forms from under the rubble and the boy stares up at him with what can only describe as shock and awe. It appears that while he dropped the mask, many things fell over as well, falling on top of the mask to strike just where it needed to. A lucky strike, so to speak.

His old host stands next to the boy, equally shocked and on edge. Any words he may have intended to say to the youngest die on his tongue once his eyes land on his imposing figure. His old host is no longer the boy he once knew. Pride swells up in him to see the man he has grown into. But neither of them are the one he wishes to see the most right now.

As if summoned by the commotion, Hesper herself comes from the woodwork, instantly b-lining for her young brother.

As soon as she nears, the deity drops to his knee, bowing toward the daughter of night.

She freezes at the sight of him, looking between him and his former host. She takes a step back. Hesper clears her throat and looks away from him. “... Is this normal?”

The Fierce Deity is unfamiliar with the emotions causing his heart to race but he knows that she is worthy of the honor and respect he gives her. “All others shield themselves from the morning sun- yet it is the starlight’s beauty that gains the admiration of mere men. I finally understand where they meet their folly."

Her jaw falls softly. Although it is covered by the cloth to shield her from the afternoon rays, he can see the shock drape over her face. She spins around, trying to find some sort of response to his words but no one is able to help her. She gulps. “I… thank you?”

His former host gains his sense of self first. He walks toward the two of them, putting himself in between. “Hesper, I’d like to apologize on his behalf-”

“Do not apologize for me.” The Deity growls. “I’ve waited for millennia. I refuse to wait any longer.”

"Millennia for what?? You- who are you?" Hesper blinks, completely perplexed. She then squints, recalling a time she'd gotten messed up on the battlefield no less than a week ago. "Wait... it's you. The deit- why are you bowing to me?"

Her recognition of him is exciting. The Fierce Deity straightens in his pose, keeping his knee firmly on the first floor. "Because you are the most exquisite jewel among mortal men."

Hesper gulps again, taking another step back. A hand raises, and a finger points towards her as if to question if he’s truly talking about her. As if he’d say that about anyone else. It’s a soft look. Her eyes widen, and a blush peeks out from under her mask. "W... what?"

"You are a daughter of the night." He says easily. "The jewels of the heavens are your birthright. And I am forever at your beck and call, my queen."

The Fierce Deity is too taken by the young woman in front of him to notice that the camp has gone silent. They are watching the interaction with intense interest. Sol looks around the group, not quite understanding what is transpiring.

Time’s jaw has dropped as well. Something compels him to attempt to regain control over the situation. Before he can act, however, Sol tugs on his sleeve. He signs. ‘Is he bad? Like the gods at home?’

Time sighs and shakes his head. "Yes and no. But I think you and your sister are safe."

‘Okay... why is he saying all that stuff about Hesper?’ Sol lights up suddenly. ‘Does he like her?? Is that what he meant by jewel?’

Time is fighting back the second-hand embarrassment as much as he can. "It appears soooo… He's always been more on the poetic side of prose."

He is not going to tell Sol that FD tried to farm him for information about his sister.

‘Oh, I see! Well, hopefully he doesn't just like her for her power, she hates that.’ Sol turns just in time to make eye contact with FD and waves with a grin.

The Fierce Deity smiles back in kind, making even Time take a step back. He waves and beckons the small child closer.

Sol runs up, no hesitation, and Hesper tenses. ‘Hi, I'm Sol! You like my big sister, huh?’

The old god’s face softens at the sign. The boy looks a lot like Link did when he was little. He reaches out to ruffle the hair of the younger one. "I've been bewitched by her splendor, little one. There is little who can compare. Are you the protector of this maiden?"

‘Yeah! If you wanna date my sister, you can't just use fancy words! You gotta pass my test!’

"Ah, Sol-" Hesper starts, alarmed.

The Fierce Deity grins. "Of course! A maiden of her caliber cannot be won alone by fanciful speech."

He reaches over, picking him up effortlessly and puts him on his shoulders. "Tell me, child, what quest is in need of pursuing?"

Sol grins back. ‘Well, to start, what do you like about her? Is she just a jewel to you?’

Hesper keeps her hand against her heart, watching the interaction with bated breath and a hand on a blade. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

"A jewel is more than its shine and splendor." He says easily, holding his hand out for her to take as he makes his way into the middle of the camp. It wouldn't look well on his part to leave her behind, now would it.

"I was enamored by her wit." He admits. "And her fortitude."

Hesper takes it after he says that, keeping the other readily on her blade.

‘Fortitude? What's that mean? Sounds cool!’ Sol, however, is unbothered by this hulking man, singing the praises of his older sister. He is very quickly gaining his approval.

"It means to take courage despite the pain." The old god whispers, looking at her reaction. There's no mistaking that he's smitten with her. Something that the rest of the group are quick to clue in on.

As well as the young woman. Despite her unwillingness to instantly trust this man, his face speaks of nothing but genuine emotion and intention. Does… he truly mean what he says?

The grip on her blade loosens.

Sol keeps signing. ‘Wow, you know her really well! How long have you been in love with her?’ 

"Sol!" Time cuts him off, mortified on Hesper's behalf. "I think that's a conversation for them to have."

"No way, this is getting good!" Legend waves him off.

Time pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're all horrible."

Sol tilts his head. ‘I'm just saying! He's obviously known her for a while, but she doesn't know him at all!’

"That's... why it should be a conversation between us." Hesper says quietly.

‘Oh? So you're okay with him?’

"... For now." She decides, releasing her blade entirely.

‘Okay! Good job, you passed for now!’

Even more pride swells within the chest of the deity. He finds himself standing straighter and smiles at the young boy on his shoulders. He feels as if he is beaming. “My many thanks.”

Sol clambers off him to go play with Wind, leaving his sister behind and thoroughly embarrassed. The deity watches his interest. He’s admittedly always had a soft spot for little ones. 

Hesper on the other hand has succumbed to her embarrassment, covering her face with one of her hands.  Her voice is quiet and strained. A mere squeak of its usual glory. “Oh my gods…”

The Fierce Deity sees no problem with this. He turns to her once again, bending at his knee with his head down. "My queen."

He awaits her direction.

"Ah- you don't have to bow, standing or sitting or- whatever you want to do is fine!" Hesper puts her hands out in an attempt to stop him from showing the proper respect she deserves. He does not understand why she attempts this. He can only assume that she's not used to this kind of treatment. Although he cannot imagine why.

Something about that level of innocence ignites his wicked streak. He smirks a bit. "And if I want to do this?"

"For crying out loud, don't make it harder on the poor girl." Time groans.

"... That's fine." Hesper barely manages to squeak out. She can't look at him. The deity hadn’t even thought it was possible for her to appear bashful. It’s an endearing look on her.

The Fierce Deity reaches out, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. "Beautiful... What a lovely shade you don, dearest.”

"I-I'm going to patrol-!" Hesper yells, taking a step back into the shadows and disappearing in a blink of an eye.

He blinks as he stares into the space where she once had been. Shadow travel? Exquisite. Is there anything she isn’t capable of? Curse aside, of course.

"Awwww..." Sky pouts. "She left before it got good."

Time is internally screaming. This has already gotten out of hand. He can't do anything to reel him in and he knows it.

Hesper is on her own, he decides. Which is unfortunate for her, but entertaining for everyone else.

Sol somehow has the sense to sign 'Hey mister, I think you overdid it.'

Wind nods along with him. "She's not used to compliments, take it from me. I called her pretty once and she hid her face again!"

The Fierce Deity frowns. "Is there such a thing? How could she not get compliments? She's one of a kind. A daughter of the Great One.... does she not have suitors?"

Sol shakes his head. 'Everyone back home thinks she's scary... at least that's what she said.’

Wind slowly nods along, wincing.

The old god glares in the space beyond the group. "Unacceptable.”

'I mean they're scared of Momma too, but I dunno why.' Sol shrugs. 'They're not scared of me.'

Sol does not understand that many fear such creatures of the night no matter what their size or shape. Their intentions and actions do not matter to the creatures of the day. However, that is of little excuse. The Fierce Deity doesn’t understand it either.

"Cowards."

The old god takes a deep breath. 

Sol shrugs and goes back to playing with Wind.

It isn’t long until Sol returns and all but tackles the deity. ‘I have a question.’

“And what is it you intend to ask, little one?” The Deity turns to look at the young boy. He allows him to crawl over him, digging into his sides and his armor to perch himself over his shoulder.

‘Are you going to marry my sister?’

“If she’ll have me.”

Sol nods sagely. ’You’ll need an apple.’

“An apple?” Another thing the deity does not understand. “Is such a thing required for the hand of maidens where you’re from?”

Sol nods once again, more enthusiastically. ‘You have to throw it to her. If she catches it, she’ll marry you.’

The Fierce Deity remembers this and allows the child to get off of him as he returns to playing around with the other boys. He knows he must win over the young woman first but such knowledge is useful for the future.

Hesper doesn’t return until the break of twilight. The Fierce Deity had been attending and entertaining the younger ones when Sol had all but collapsed against him. Hesper collects the child without missing a beat and prepares his bedroll in a moment.

The old god is panicking on the inside but he's outwardly looking confused. "...I wasn't aware he was that thoroughly exhausted."

"He's not. It's his curse." Hesper picks up her brother's body, which appears limp and lifeless. "He can only be active in the light of day. No light; it's like he's dead. But he's just sleeping."

The Fierce Deity shudders at the thought, but it's quickly replaced by thinly veiled rage. "Who would dare put a curse on a child?"

"The gods of our world." Hesper says it so calmly... and then she looks at him. "They're afraid of what we'd do without them there."

"Well as I recall, they're not here." He growls. "Can this be undone?"

"It took a god to do it, so I'd imagine it'd take a god to undo it." Hesper goes through the routine of putting Sol to bed; arms over his blanket so he'll wake sooner in the morning. "Nothing else I've tried has worked, anyways."

The old god stares after the sleeping child.

"...A god you say..." He whispers, running his hands over Sol's bangs. He takes a knee once more and bows his head toward the young woman. "Is that all there is to it?”

"... It was the king of the gods who did it." The word 'king' is bitter on her tongue. "His word overpowers all others in our world. I know most of you are god slayers, so that might not even matter, but... be careful."

The Fierce Deity hums; already aware such things would come with a price and gently puts the back of his finger on Sol's cheek. The child is cold.

Something is stirred within him. Ancient. Primal.

"I'll find a way."

"I know. I could see you thinking about it as soon as I mentioned gods." Hesper sighs, already cluing in to the fact she can't sway him. Still, she makes him look at her. "I mean it, though. Find your way if you want, but don't be reckless. Please."

The Fierce Deity stills- the storm in his mind clearing as she pulls him from his thoughts. Her hands. They're on him. She's touching him. Willingly.

He backs down to step to her level. 

"Yes... As you wish, Jewel." He whispers, unable to deny the look in her eye. His heart is pounding in his chest. What is this feeling?

"Thank you." She nods, checks on Sol one last time, then makes her way around the camp, checking in on the boys and seeing them off to bed.

... She can't believe she did that.

He can't believe she just did that.

He could have touched her back. He could have held her. He could have held her hand. He could have felt her skin and its warmth, its tone, its smooth silk-like quality.

A rare creature- both alluring and captivating. To humble him. To excite him.

He's never felt like a man until this point.

His eyes follow her as she moves through the camp.

This child means the world to her.

He'll protect them for the night.

Hesper looks back at him after a moment- Time does as well.

"Will you be sleeping?" She asks their shared question. She isn't sure if he needs sleep, but it never hurts to ask.

It takes a moment for the deity to register that she was speaking to him. When it hits he looks ashamed of not answering her sooner.

"No." He says. "You may rest for tonight. I have no plans for slumber."

She nods, then says goodnight to Time, returning to her brother's side. Instead of lying on a bedroll, she leans against the tree by his head, just shy of the deity's reach. If she’s sleeping, she’s in no hurry to do so.

The temptation the deity didn't know he'd have to restrain. He steadies himself to look away from her and the child, looking instead to the rest of the group and beyond.

He could do it. He could give in to everything he desires.

But she ran from mere words.

He would never live down pushing her away.  So he sits still. Like a statue.

And behaves himself.

Even if he allows himself to fantasize in the meantime.

Hesper, for her part, glances at him, out of the corner of her eye.

He's really not that bad, she's decided. He's just... not used to people, she thinks. Yeah... not used to people. That made two of them, really.

She looks back into the forest, letting out a quiet sigh. Part of her is nervous. The last time someone took an interest in her, it was… It went bad, to say the least. She doesn't want that again.

But so far he seemed good. ...Overwhelming on the compliments, but good.

Oh gosh, the compliments. How could someone find that much to compliment her on? And not one thing about her power.

Courage.

Of course that's what he liked.

... It was cute, in a way. He's... he's pretty cute.

She'll admit that to herself. She can allow that.

She’s smiling a little when she nods off.

Seeing the faint smile on her face puts the deity a little more at ease. Time explains to the others (as they all tuck themselves in for the night) that they have nothing to fear from the old god and with time, they all turn in for the night as well and sleep peacefully.

Time gives one last glance at the large male before he also puts his head against his bed roll. The deity has seen him grow from boy to man- his old host has done much for him. The main one being his restraint- or rather- his desire to not abuse his power while he was imprisoned. 

He will look after all of them. All of them. These young heroes of courage deserve to worry less about their journeys.

But as for Hesper...

He looks back to the child beside her.

The Fierce Deity vows that he will take care of that one, especially.

Hours pass and Hesper wakes with a start, as usual.

Dawn is coming. She checks to ensure she's properly covered, then gets up to check around the camp. She's so into her usual routine she forgets there's now a deity for a moment until she sees him.

"... Oh. Morning."

The Fierce Deity has already checked the perimeter and has returned from his second round. He bows to her. "Good dawn, Jewel."

She huffs in amusement. "You know, I’m not sure how I'm supposed to address you. Do you have a name or title you want us to use?"

Here, his cool confidence falters.

"I am known as the Fierce Deity. A war god. Protector of Termina......Cursed by the goddess to the form of a mask....and.... I have no other name."

"No other... ?" Hesper's eyes show she's frowning. "That's... horrible. I'm sorry to hear that."

The Deity flushes. "Gods of no honor receive none."

Demise is a name the Hylians gave him but he is known as The Demise. Or The Void. Titles are given when they have either fulfilled or gained their intended purpose. In which they are shortly after disposed of in one way or another.

Demise didn't approve of that and sought vengeance. 

The deity himself fought back and was cursed.

But he was never meant to be loved. So he has no name. He knows this.

"I have accepted this."

"You have more honor than any god I know." She blurts. She's... surprised by how quickly it comes out. But she keeps going. "You... you deserve a name.”

His head snaps up to meet her head-on. "... I wouldn't dare… presume...."

"What name would you want? If... if you had one." It's not fair, Hesper laments in her heart. He should have one. Screw the regulations. He's done so much, for so long. She can see it on his face. He's earned a name. She'll name him herself if no one else will.

The deity looks to the ground. No one had ever asked him that before. He didn't think it would have been worth considering.

He looks at the boys. They all share the same name. It would be strange to take it for himself.

He frowns, feeling frustrated for not being able to give his queen an adequate answer. "I never gave it much thought. It was never of importance. I don't... I don't know..."

"That's okay." She assures him. "I... you don't have to take it if you don't like it, but... what about Thárros? It's... it's in my mother tongue, but... it means Courage."

"Thárros..." The name rolls off his tongue smoothly. 

"Hesper..." He says her name for comparison. Frankly, he finds that her name is much sweeter on his tongue. But the note that the first name was chosen by his queen, in her maiden tongue no less, fills him with an indecipherable warmth. He's never been exposed to this sort of warmth before. He takes ahold of it.

"Thárros." He echoes himself. "You may call me that. If you desire, Jewel."

Her eyes crinkle, glimmering a little, and she nods. "I will. It's a pleasure to meet you, Thárros. And... you can call me Hesper, if you want. But Jewel's fine, too."

Dawn peeks over the horizon, and Hesper steps into the shade. The light makes contact with Sol's arm and a moment later he opens his eyes, once again full of life as he sits up and yawns. 'Morning...'

Wild sits up in another part of camp, going to make breakfast.

Thárros lets it rumble around his brain. It's a nice name. He smiles, smiling wider when Sol awakens. "Good morning, little one."

Time and Warrior both wake up soon after, getting ready for the day as well. They both send him nods of acknowledgement. He returns them with ease.

'Morning, Mister. How'd you sleep?' He yawns again, still not enough sunlight in his system yet. 'Oh! Did Hesper miss the sun today?'

"Yes, Sol, I'm over here." Hesper answers the last part for him.

"Miss the sun?" The Fierce Deity, now known as Thárros, looks over and tilts his head. Strange. But she is of the night.

"I didn't sleep." He responds to the child's earlier question. "I have no need for it."

'Oh, that’s cool. Yeah, Hesper wears so much clothes because she's allergic to the sun. It'll hurt her really bad if it touches her skin, so I always check.' Sol signs his understanding, but it doesn't take too much to decipher Sol processes Hesper's curse as an allergy. 'She’s only not missed it once, though, she's really good about it.'

Something in the old god’s heart breaks. That’s right, they’re both cursed. Forever shunned from either side of the day. How can they remain a family this way?

He nods in understanding, ruffling Sol’s hair in the process. "She must cherish you greatly. It's good that you look after her the way you do."

He'll break her curse too. He swears by this as well.

'Uh huh, we're really close! Even if she can't run around and play tag with Wind and I around camp, she's really good at hide and seek in the forest! She'll find me, sneak under my feet and toss me in the air! It's super fun! ' As the sun keeps rising, he gains more energy and signs faster. 'And we'll sit close during meals and after dinner we'll make up stories if I'm not playing with Wind and she taught me how to use a dagger and sneak and-!'

"Breakfast is ready!"

'Oo, breakfast! I'll be back with a plate for you, sis!' And off he runs.

Hesper laughs. "Ever the energetic one~"

Thárros shakes his head. "Most are at his age."

He then points to his old host, who's too busy trying to give out the food in an organized manner. "He was just as bad, if not worse."

Hesper chuckles. "I believe it. Though I'm willing to bet Sol can be energetic much longer than he ever was."

He hums. "....No. Not quite.  The boy would stay awake for days on end. Never ceasing his quest for justice… I'm afraid Sol could not have done the same. Not with the curse upon him."

"Oh, I almost forgot he was a child hero." Hesper sighs. "I can't stand those... why must they fight so young?"

"Why indeed?" Thárros’ hand flexes over his knee. "I suppose the heroes all have their own curses to bear... It is the same with your Great Ones."

Well, I wouldn’t call them all great. Not when they treat the world as some toy they can toss away when it bores them." The glint in her eyes darkens briefly, then she looks up as her brother starts running back. "... Don’t tell Sol I said that."

The deity nods, even further fascinated by the woman next to him.

"I am not allowed to call The Great Ones anything but." He murmurs. "But it appears we aren't as different as I originally thought."

"Is that so? I suppose I should be nicer to them, but... well, I'm only nice to the gods I respect. Outside my family, that's just you." Hesper smiles as Sol reaches them, offering food. "Oh, I see you have three plates. You got one for Thárros too?"

Sol makes the connection quickly and nods, offering the deity a plate. He does not question the name.

Thárros subtly smiles and eases the weight off of the little one. "Thank you."

The deity begins to eat the strange meal. He's never had someone cook for him before either. He wasn't entirely sure he needed to eat. But the smell was kind and the other took no heed in questioning the methods behind it.

He takes a bite.

'You're welcome!' Sol plops down, separating the best slice of meat from the rest of his meal and eating the rest. Notably, Hesper does the same.

Naturally, the deity notices this, but he doesn't understand. There's many customs he hasn't needed to learn and so he has no reason to believe that it's anything strange to do. Not to mention they grew up with separate Great Ones to dictate the manner of conduct.

He makes no comment on it and simply eats like he's seen his old host do.

They both finish except for that one piece, and Sol turns to get Hesper's plate, sliding her remaining portion onto his. He walks over to the fire and scrapes them both in, signing 'For Mama.'

"... Nyx and Thárros." Hesper murmurs quietly.

Sol goes about collecting plates and helping them get clean while Hesper starts packing up.

That takes him by surprise.

An offering?

For him, no less.

If it was for their mother, he would understand more but for him? He's a lesser god. An ant of a divine being. He's no better than they are. Why would they offer something to him? 

They pack up relatively quickly and make their way through the forest once more. He stays close to the back of the group, keeping quiet to not disturb the others as much as he can avoid. It appears Hesper is of the same train of thought, although she still isn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Hours turn to days turn to weeks turn to months. They are no better off finding the cure to their problem than he is finding the cure to the curses of the divine ones within the group.

The lack of progress is maddening. Thárros, as he is slowly beginning to grow accustomed to being called, has always considered himself a man of action and of results. To have nowhere to begin and no direction to follow is not in his nature.

However, that does not stop him from doting on Hesper whenever he has the time. And should the boys permit it, Sol takes it upon himself to use his body as his personal climbing gym. It warms Thárros’ heart that the boy is so welcoming of his presence. Link as a child was curious and desperate at best, but still wary. 

It is a moment where he finds himself alone on patrol that he feels something shift in the air. He instantly puts his hand on the hilt of his blade. It is the middle of the day and he is in a clearing. Only someone foolish enough to not know who he is would threaten him here.

"... You're Thárros, yes? My sister speaks fondly of you."

The man spins on his heel, coming face to face with a woman he has never seen before but his confidence is shaken. A Great One. Her power is beyond his own. She stands as the dawning sun. Warm and giving, hopeful to a fault but dim. She does not stand in the direct light but she glows in the way a divine being can. He knows not who she is but respect has always been given until taken away.

His battle mask comes on.

He nods to her, bowing for good measure. "I am quite fond of her as well. May I ask of your name, Great One?"

"Yes, I can see it." Her smile is warm towards him, much like Hesper's. “I am called Hemera, goddess of the dawn and giver of days. Your loyalty to my sister is clear... You even wish to break the curse on her, from what I hear. I believe I can help with that."

Thárros' attention snaps to her. He takes a step closer despite his better judgment. "How?"

"I have crafted a bracelet for her... with it, she can walk in whichever light she wishes." She produces the item, offering it to him. "All it needs now is the touch of a deity from this world to be finished. I trust you wouldn't mind?"

He drops to take a knee. "It would be my greatest honor.”

Hemera is pleased. "Yes... you two are indeed a good match, just as I thought. May you live long lives together."

He nods, tenderly biting his lip from the inside. He cannot show weakness. He cannot fail.

It's never been this easy before. Truly there isn't any other catch to this.

Hemera presses the bracelet into his hand with a nod and a smile. It gains a shimmer to it; so quick it almost didn't seem real.

"I'll leave you to it, then." She stands and turns to leave. "... Thank you, Thárros. To you and your boys; for taking care of them when we can't."

He looks down into his palm and tucks the bracelet into his chest. Should he push his luck?

"And the boy?" He asks tentatively. "The child is cursed as well… Is that your domain? Can you help?"

Hemera looks sad at that. "I would help Sol if I could, but... we are both at the mercy of night. I'm afraid I can't help him."

Thárros stands. "...Is there a Great One who could?"

He refuses to only have one solution. He had promised Hesper to help her little brother. He has to push a bit further to make headway on his vows.

Hemera thinks about it. "... My father might. Erebus, the darkness itself. But... he has no love for either of them. He will not give you a solution as freely."

He nods; body rigid with pure determination. "I am willing to pay any price for either of them."

"Careful what you vow, Thárros." Hemera warns. "I have no doubt he'll use it against you if he can. ... Good luck on your quest. I hope you can free him."

His grip on the bracelet tightens. "I'm well aware."

He sees her off and looks back to the token in his hands.

He knows the Great One would rather have him sacrifice himself. But he was already imprisoned once. Worse case scenario he must cease to exist.

For Hesper?

He'd take that plunge.

His world has long grown out of a use for him and the Great Ones above him care not for his fate.

He'd do anything.

Thárros returns to camp quickly. He finds Hesper relatively quickly. She had fallen asleep in the shade of a great oak, a rare break she has given herself. He kneels beside her and regrettably shakes her shoulder gently. She rests so few and far between… but this, he feels, is beyond a moment of reprieve. 

Hesper's eyes open and she stretches, grunting.

Not her most comfortable sleep, but better than none at all.

"Good dawn, Thárros." She’s started keying in when he's around, but she still blinks twice when she realizes he's closer than she thought. "... Did something happen?"

He bows toward her again. "I've had a visitor, Jewel."

He keeps his head low, waiting for her reaction. "A Great One by the name of Hemera."

"Hemera was here?" There’s a lightness to her tone; delight at hearing about her sister. "I didn't think she could get here. How is she? Just checking in?"

He smiles at her tone. There's trust there. He visibly relaxes. "Yes. She brought a gift."

"A gift?" Hesper chuckles. "For you or Sol?"

"For you." He whispers, bringing the bracelet into the light.

She pauses, not expecting that. 

"... For me?" She reaches out, fingers just grazing the bracelet before she draws them back with a gasp. "What- what kind of magic is that? It's so warm."

"A protection." He urges her to take it. "From the light, Jewel."

He gulps, beginning to second-guess himself. The feelings he's never experienced until he met this woman scare him. "It cures your curse."

She looks at him. In disbelief. In shock. But then the stars in her eyes start to shimmer with hope.

Carefully, she takes the bracelet and puts it on. As it clicks around her wrist, it shimmers again, and she can feel the warmth spread through her whole body.

"... I can't believe it." She says softly. "After all this time... I can really..." She looks up from the bracelet, pulling down her mask just as the tears fall. "Thank you."

He panics and reaches to wipe her tears as gently as he can. "Why? Why thank me so? I have yet to help the little one."

Not to mention he can't really take credit for this. If anything, it means they would have gotten help sooner but no one cared enough to offer it. Even those that could.

But she seems overjoyed, so he won't ruin it for her.

"Yes, but you brought my hope back. I was certain-" She decides not to finish that, reaching forward and hugging him tight without a care in the world. "Thank you, Thárros. For caring."

Thárros shivers when she says his name. It's a power she has over him. It's exciting yet humbling. 

He gulps, wrapping his arms around her as well. "I will help the child. Thank me not, yet. My work isn't finished."

But he tucks his nose into her hair. "However, I'm glad that you are taken care of."

"One thing down." Hesper exhales in agreement, relaxing against him. He's so warm... She feels safe like this.

Wild coughs, and it gets Hesper's attention. "Uh... good morning? Have a nice nap?"

Hesper goes pink and attempts to slowly pull out of the hug, despite a part of her screaming to just shadow away. "... Good afternoon, Wild."

Thárros doesn't let her go. If anything, he holds on tighter. He calls the young hero his affection-given name. "Good afternoon, Cub."

He turns his head to look at the young man. "Has the meal been prepared?"

"Working on it." The young man replies.

... Hesper is fine. This is comfortable. She's not-

Oh, who is she kidding, her growing appreciation and attraction are so obvious right now! Still, she doesn't move. In fact, she indulges herself and tucks her head in the crook of his neck. If he insists on keeping her here, she'll just get more comfortable.

Thárros nods towards Wild, turning his attention back to the woman in his arms. He holds her close, tucking her against him. He dare not ask for more from her.

He tenderly trails his fingers through her hair. But words fail him.

She tilts her head into his touch, trying to encourage him to continue.

This is nice. She likes this, earlier embarrassment aside. Sol sits up now that the rain clouds have passed, yawning with eyes half open. 'No... wanna go back to sleep...'

Hesper chuckles. "Afternoon, Sol. Did you enjoy your nap as well?"

'Hello. Sleep was ok...' He turns, blinking blearily. '... Your hood is off... Hair pretty. You like it short?'

"Easy to manage, I suppose."

Sol nods slowly, the gears in his brain turning slowly. '... Wait... hood off... no sunburn?'

Hesper shows him her bracelet. "Magic sunblock."

'Magic... sunblock? So you can...' It hits and he perks up. 'You can play tag?'

"Yes." Hesper snorts as Sol stumbles out of bed, running to tackle Wind and get a game started.

The deity chuckles, brushing Hesper's hair away from her face. "How do you feel, Jewel?"

"... Warm." She smiles. "The kind of warmth night can't replicate... it's nice."

"Ack- Sol, what- ... WHAT?!" Wind's shout catches the attention of several other Links, most of them confused and unimpressed. "Guys, Hesper can be in the sun!"

Wild looks up from his pot, blinking, then it clicks that Hesper and Thárros are in the sun and he mouths 'oh'.

The fierce deity smiles, grinning even. But instead of letting the others see it, he hides his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm glad."

He pulls away, teasing a kiss to her cheek. "You shouldn't need to hide from now on."

She giggles, even as her cheeks turn pink. "Aw, but sneaking around is fun!"

The rest of the camp is thrown for a loop; especially Time.

"It's only fun when it's voluntary." He whispers. "I feel as if I'm finally seeing you for the first time."

He pulls back, looking her over now that she can have her face out without any concern. He hums quietly, ignoring the other boys. "Typically the sun would overpower the light of the stars… but dare I say you appear even more bedazzled than usual, Darling."

She flusters more, attempting to pull her mask up. "How? I haven't done anything-"

He stops her, poking her nose with his. "Don't. I'm not done admiring you yet, Jewel."

"F... fine." She accepts her fate, embarrassing as it is. "If you insist..."

Warrior coughs from the sidelines. "I didn't think he had moves."

Time pales. "Honestly.... neither did I."

'Her stars are pretty, so it makes sense he wants to watch them.' Sol grins.

"Stars?" Wind blinks.

'Yeah, Hesper has stars in her eyes!'

"Oh, like how you have the sun-shaped birthmark."

'I think so? Yeah!'

Thárros takes the moment to study her. He finds it fascinating. Her eyes are full and deep and beautiful. His are flat, plain, off-putting.

He kisses her again, on her forehead, unable to hold himself back. Then he moves to her other cheek and her temple. Then onto the other side.

He kisses the tip of her nose and seemingly moves to her lips but pauses. 

"Dearest... I would travel through hells for you..." He whispers. "I merely wish for you to be honored as you deserve. Whether it be with me... or another..."

But he's not too fond of the latter idea.

"... You act as if I'd choose someone else." The idea that he even considers that... annoys her. "I've let you this close, haven't I? Isn't it obvious by now, Thárros?"

His grip on her tightens as he goes completely rigid. His jaw clenches and he gulps. "...I'm afraid I am unworthy. For you... your name... your legacy...your family..."

He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against hers, taking her presence in. "I... am a selfish man. But I cannot fault you, should you choose another."

Hesper huffs, warm breath fanning over his face. "Seriously?"

She kisses him, right there, in front of the whole camp.

A choked noise comes out of him, clearly taken off guard.

His hands fly upwards, caging her in and holding her closer. One hand on her cheek, the other entangled in her hair.

He gives in to his desires at last.

Hesper makes a point to kiss him for a long moment, both to prove something and because it felt good to kiss him. When she finally draws back, however, it's softly, and she's cradling his face like he's as precious as he likes to say she is. "... I... choose you. Understand? No one else, Thárros. I love you." 

He keeps her close though- not allowing her to be too far away from possibly being kissed again. Thárros gulps and nods. "I have already chosen you… My Love."

The frustration mixed with her look of adoration slips away, and she huffs in amusement. "Good. Glad we're on the same page."

"... Lunch is ready." Wild hesitantly breaks the moment, the first to find his voice in the shocked silence of... everyone.

The one… previously known as The Fierce Deity was overjoyed for the longest time. He was no longer bothered by their lack of progress. To see the Jewel of the Sixteen Realms laugh and play in the sun as she’s always yearned warmed his heart. It seemed as if there was a hole that was filled from that point on, both in Hesper and in Sol.

And to finally kiss her.

It only solidified his determination to help where he was needed. Surely, there would still be battles to fight and a war to win, but this purpose had a higher meaning now.

If he had to lay his existence on the line for the sake of one little boy, he would do so without a second thought. While he would miss his Jewel, and he knew now, that it would pain her for him to leave. If it was called for, he would give. And give and give. She deserved to live happily. She was robbed of the light and of the pleasures of day. And as a consequence, she was robbed of her brother and his childhood. 

And her brother deserved to have his big sister by his side to protect him- not to watch him from a distance where she cannot go. Sol should know the wonders of the night and beauty of the stars. It is the realm of his mother and his sister. The darkened skies are a peace to mankind. He should know those as well.

A family must be whole.

He says none of this to Hesper, for fear she should convince him otherwise. But he has never broken a vow before, nor does he plan to begin to do so.

It is once again, when he is alone on patrol that another Great One from the other realm visits him. This time, however, the world shifts around him and Thárros is enveloped in darkness. He sees no body either in front of him or around him.

He need not introduce himself. The darkness speaks to cut to the chase. "Hemera says you wish to break a curse. That requires a test, does it not? Sure you can wield the sword and ‘protect’... but I know your kind. Savage. Rough. Beastly. Prove yourself capable of restraint and maybe I'll help the child." 

“Erebus.” The Fierce Deity bows in the darkness. A Great One of the highest regard should be treated as such, no matter how savage he considers them to be. The Great One gives him no such respect in return.

"Do not move from where you stand, boy. What you are going to see has already transpired. Try to help her-" The omnipresent form before Thárros grins wickedly, a smile that promises pain.  "And I will send you back to where you came from in failure."

Thárros growls, hate and wrath already burning in his stomach.

The Great One laughs. "This would be interesting to watch. Begin."

The darkness shifts, forming a room. A man stands before him, holding a wailing baby. It's- her arm has been touched by sunlight, smoke curling into the air from the contact. Hesper turns into the man's shadow, melting away and into a darkened corner of the house, still crying. The man gasps.

"What the- what kind of demon are you?!" The man grabs a knife, face twisted in disgust as he starts towards her. "Nevermind that! Go back to wherever you came from, you little devil!"

The man swings towards Hesper and-

The scene changes.

The once Fierce Deity tenses considerably, but makes no move.

She's older now. A man sits with her, a weaker demigod, holding the arm burnt in her childhood and examining the scars it left behind.

"It never healed?"

"Not really." She says softly, pulling her arm back. "That's why I wear the cloak... to protect me from the sun. Until I find something else, at least."

The man nods, something glinting in his eyes. Something dark. "So... it really can kill you."

She doesn't see it, standing from the table. "Yes. That's why I visit at night... I really should go, Lityerses. Hemera is coming soon."

Something crashes to the floor. A mirror, sending shards everywhere.

"Lit?! Are you alri-"

"Hemera." 'Lit' grasps the edge of a curtain. "Is already here."

He rips the curtain down, sunlight flooding the room and reflecting off of all the shards. Hesper screams in pain, retreating to a corner and hiding behind her cloak. "Lit, what are you doing?!"

"I'm sick of you leaving." He pulls down another curtain and another, ignoring her cries for him to stop. "I'm starting to wonder if you even love me."

"I do! Lit, please-!"

"That's not good enough." He pulls down the last curtain, looking at the cloak wrapped so tight he can only see the shape of her. "I don't want you to leave ever again. You're mine, Hesper. Only mine."

Then he took the curtains and left.

Leaving her to sob.

Thárros can feel the need to conjure his sword bubble under the surface of his skin. He studies the face of the man intently, but makes no move from his spot.

The memories with Lit continue. There’s days worth. Months worth. Years worth. Every time he appears through the door, Thárros has to remind himself there's an end to this. Somewhere, eventually, this ends. He stops screaming at her. He stops abusing her. He stops demanding things he has no right to demand. She stops crying.

It takes another year’s worth of memories before he hears a second man. Not Lit. The small form in the corner shifts.

"... Don't." She hisses to the second man. "Don't eat, don't drink. It's a trick."

She flinches as Lit kicks the door, but she keeps going. "He intends to slow you so you can't beat him."

"Beat him in what?" The man replies.

"A harvesting contest!"

"SHUT UP!" A harsher kick, and she goes quiet again. But the man stands.

"Who is she?"

"A foolish woman who can't keep her mouth shut!" Lit throws open the door, intent on getting her, but the second man pulls him back outside.

"You can deal with her after you beat me."

Lit laughs. "Alright, fine! I've never been beat before, I won't start now!"

Thárros felt great satisfaction when Hercules took his head off.

He watched on as the scenes went by faster; near hits, near kills, threats, all while she gained more scars and better equipment to deal with the sun.

Then she was at a camp. A camp full of demigods. She watched them at night, through the shadows of the woods. She protected them, kept the monsters in line.

And she was utterly alone.

They were frightened of her, of her power. They didn't even know her name. They gave her no thanks. No offering.

Did they even know what she did for them?

Even the children of her brother, Hypnos, avoided her.

... And she protected them anyway.

Tharros was glad that he had picked up from the mortals on how to control their emotions. Something he didn't think he had the discipline to learn.

He had gleaned bits and pieces of her past from their conversations, and from what the others would say and from what Sol would say but he never imagined it so vividly.

It was maddening. Blood boiling.

The only thing he could focus on was how he would have changed it all. How he would have made them worship her, how he would have protected her- treated her like the goddess she is. She would have never wanted for anything or would have worked a day in her life.

FD bit his tongue on multiple occasions. The slight metallic tang in his mouth wasn't enough to deter him from calming down. But it did keep him in place. It kept him from moving. It kept him from going to and destroying them all.

He had clenched his fists so hard that he was sure that his nails had pierced his skin.

Hesper would no doubt question him about it later.

But this is for her brother. Her kin. The one she loved so dearly.

The only other to love her as completely as he did.

It was due.

He would not compromise himself or the child.

He would. Not. Move.

"... Hmph." The Great One huffed, breath ruffling his hair. "I commend you, boy. All that pain to your beloved, and still you refuse to move."

Erebus pauses, watching as a black blood throws Hesper to the ground, driving its weapon through her shoulder. The day Thárros first saw her.

Erebus laughs.

"I fail to see what you do in that pitiful wretch, but I will admit, your loyalty is quite amusing."

Instead of feeling more rage at the scene before him, he calms. He is reminded of what he saw in her, why he fell so hard for her.

He’s reminded why he's here.

He ignores the Great One's sting to her. He takes a breath. "It is I who sees it. You need not concern yourself with it. All I endure is so that you keep your end of the bargain."

"... Enough." Erebus scoffs, and it all ends. "You know the rest of it, so I won't bother making you relive it. Your point is made, and your trial passed. As agreed, I will undo what has been done to the boy."

The Fierce Deity only tenses up more, afraid of ruining this. He nods and bows once more (despite his distaste for the Great One in front of him) for good measure. "My thanks."

"Yes yes, be on your way." Erebus grunts, waving him off into the familiar shadows of Hylian forest. It appears that hours have passed since he has left the group. Night has recently fallen. The last simmers of the sunlight are barely holding onto the horizon. As Thárros walks, the Great One speaks one last time. "... I'm impressed, boy. No god here would do as you have this day. Tell me, who is it that has passed my trial?"

... He's asking for his name?

"I am the Protector of Termina." He settles for a neutral title. "But I am called... Thárros by the daughter night."

"Thárros..." A laugh bubbles out of the primordial being. "Yes, courage indeed... So you will be known by me, Thárros the Protector."

Something alights within him with that. A new purpose. A god with a name.

A god worth honoring.

He bows once more in respect. 

Then he turns to leave.

Erebus' presence leaves him and back towards camp Hesper releases a startled yelp.

"Ah! Oh my gods- Sol, you're awake! I- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, yes I know it's late-"

Thárros starts running to the camp.

He stops by the edge, watching Sol sign as quickly as he can, both in confusion and fascination. The young child keeps poking and checking his skin- as if he's expecting to start burning like his sister does.

Relief? Love? Acceptance? He doesn’t know what emotion explodes within him. Whatever it is causes tears to roll down his cheeks and he drops to his knees. 

He did it.

He actually did it.

Both siblings turn to him at the sound of his collapse and run to him.

"Thárros? What happened? Are you alright?" Hesper asks as Sol reaches up and wipes his tears away with warm, tiny hands.

Words fail him.

He leans down for Sol to reach better and kisses the boy on the forehead. "Enjoy your blessings, child."

He runs his hand over his hair before turning and picks Hesper up, spinning her around in circles. He peppers her face in all the kisses he can before he dips her, kissing her soundly.

When he pulls back, leaving her dizzy and breathless, he finally finds it in himself to speak coherently. "I told you I'd do it."

"... Oh my gods." Her eyes widen, sparkling as she looks from Sol to him again. "You- oh my gods!"

She laughs and pulls him in for another kiss. Sol has no idea what's happening but he runs around grinning.

He kisses her back happily.

No one else knows what's happening. They're still wondering why Sol hasn't fallen asleep yet, or rather, why he woke up.

Thárros pulls away first, hooking Hesper's legs around his waist. "Be my woman… Please..."

Hesper laughs again as she holds his shoulders to steady herself. "I thought I already was."

"Officially..." He whispers. "I believe Sol mentioned an apple is typically involved."

Hesper went pink, words lost as her lips parted. Slowly though, she smiles, stars warm with light. "... Yes. I'd love to, Thárros."

He smiles back and rests his forehead against hers. "Then it's decided then."

He steals a kiss, running his hands through her hair. "You will want for nothing, I swear by it."

Hesper giggles, brushing white locks from his face. "Of course not. I already have all I could need."

"I would believe a roof is in order, first." Thárros teases, feeling overjoyed and boyish and whole.

"Stay with me." He whispers. "You and the boy."

They could all be together. He would protect them all. His woman, the child-....

Could they start a family? He doesn't want to get his hopes up. But the thought of little ones running around, excites him now that there's little for him to fear.

'Yeah!' Sol somehow wiggles his way between them both. 'I wanna stay with Thárros!'

"Well, if we're all in agreement." Hesper laughs, ruffling Sol's hair along with Thárros'.

Sol chuckles, letting her do as she pleases.

This is it. He's going to do everything in his power. If anything would touch a single hair on their heads... He would have to be personally brought into hell itself for him to cease the rains of fire.

The name placed upon him is Thárros. His old title means nothing now. He is no longer the honorless Fierce Deity but rather Thárros the Protector. He is alight with a new purpose and will remain with his name until his purpose is completed.

He will always have his purpose, for now and forever.

"No one is going anywhere then. You're safe."

[birrdies]

wpuld u consider “I can keep you safe, they’re all afraid of me.” For shadowrot? or really any Cleo ship. because she’s so scary…

Win Secret Life.

There's a certain peace that should come with knowing you'll lose. Etho's not fool enough to believe it's feasible to win; for him, anyway. But that does nothing to dampen the panic, burning bright through him and setting every nerve-ending alight. It's a familiar panic that slips back into his bloodstream, almost like it'd never left. The fear that comes with dwindling numbers, rolling thunder claps, and each audible heartbeat pounding in Etho's ears.

A wild animal that knows it's about to die won't just take it lying down, even if it knows fighting is futile. It'll still gnash its teeth and swipe its claws at anything that moves in its periphery, anything that gets too close or backs it into a corner. And Etho can't help but shake like one, pacing in the same stretch of grass until it flattens to dirt, churning every possible move in his head. A chessboard only Etho's been dropped in halfway through the game and he doesn't know where half the pieces are.

The task book weighs a million pounds, strapped to his waist, where the words taunt him again and again.

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

"Hey—"

Their base had been overrun, what little defenses they'd managed to build ripped to pieces. It's not safe there, really, but it's not safe anywhere. Least of all out here in the open, the night sky an oppressive, suffocating weight draped over him, rivaled only by the silent stone statue at his back, hands outstretched, non-existent eyes cold and empty. This place is crawling with red names, it'd only take a second for them to come raining down upon him like hellfire.

"Etho."

Grian's gone, too. Not gone gone, but somewhere Etho can't see him, which is almost just as bad. That panic is an unfamiliar one that sinks its teeth into him, like the cornered animal is trapped somewhere inside of him instead, desperately trying to chew its way out. It's always been just him, by the end. He's had allies, sure— beneficial things to have, like weapons or gunpowder or redstone— but if he'd end up alone that would've been fine.

Would have been.

Where the hell is Grian?

"Etho!"

He stumbles, ripping from his mindless pacing by a pair of wide, heavy hands gripping him by the shoulders. Pale, green fingers twist into the fur lining Etho's collar. He stares at those hands, taking longer than it should have to remember that they belong to someone. He lifts his head, eyes suddenly heavy and tired as he faces Cleo whilst simultaneously avoiding her gaze.

With nowhere to go, his legs stagnant, the anxiety festers. A burst of kinetic energy bubbling underneath his skin like a boiling pot with the lid left over it. He tries not to shake. He doesn't know if it works.

"Cleo," he says, swallowing a gasp his body tries to force out. "We've gotta— We need to find somewhere to set up, fortify. Maybe team up with Bdubs and the others— we're outnumbered. They're stacked, they've got Gem, Joel, Scott—"

"Etho, stop." Cleo jostles him by the shoulders, pulling him in close enough that he couldn't squirrel away even if he tried. Her eyes are red. Nauseatingly red, so deep Etho can't believe he hadn't noticed them before now. "Stop, you need to calm down."

"If we don't act now it will be too late," Etho says, reaching for Cleo's wrists, though he's not confident whether it's to push her off or steady himself. Either way once his fingers have found her pulse point, he can't bring himself to let them go.

Cleo's face, usually stone carved sharper than any sword's edge, softens. Her eyes dim, her mouth tilts up at the corner, and she loosens her grip on his collar. The only thing keeping her hands there at his neck are Etho's. Now he's shaking.

"It's already too late," she says, and its the kind of news that should be delivered with a somber, hung head and the unspoken apology too dense to ignore, let alone breathe through. But Cleo's not sorry. She's smiling at him and he's never seen her more relaxed.

It terrifies him.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, it's not. We're still here. We can— We can do something, we just gotta find Grian."

"And do what?" Cleo says, raising an eyebrow at him. Her heartbeat is steady. Calm. Everything a red name at the end of their rope shouldn't be. "Aren't you tired of dying scared and alone and desperate?"

I'm tired of dying, Etho can't bring himself to say. I'm tired of trying and it never being good enough.

Instead, all he can do is nod.

"Then let's go out our way." Cleo grins at him, and it's the first thing to loosen that iron-like grip his ribs have on his heart. "Y'know, causing mayhem, being nasty."

It's tempting. There's few others (if any) Etho'd rather spend his final hours with. Because these are the final ones, if they even have that long, and no amount of panicking or planning or trap-setting will undo the scales that've been tilted against them from the beginning. But the thing about scared animals is that they're stubborn. And no matter how much he wants to give in and let go, he'll never be able to rid himself of that instinct. Not to win, but to survive.

"But the others— They'll be on our tail the whole time." What if they don't have the time to do anything? To live their final moments how they want; just because you don't want to fight doesn't mean everyone else will spare you the same courtesy.

"I'm not scared of some bumbling red names," Cleo says, her words as vicious as they are confident as she finally lets him go, forcing him to drop his hands down by his sides. But she doesn't leave him. She stays right there, within arm's reach, as she tugs free a flint-and-steel from her pocket. "I can keep you safe. For now, anyway. They're all afraid of me."

The laugh that bubbles out of Etho is a quiet, private one that hurts coming up. But he wouldn't have it any other way. "You are pretty scary, Cleo," he says. "What do you wanna do?"

"I think burning Scar's house is a good start," she says, flipping the flint-and-steel in her hand before activating it, watching the small flame dance.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter One

Leon was alone.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Body Horror, Suicidal Thoughts

Notes: This fic came to me in a fugue state after pulling an all-nighter. I was just really thinking about the potential for Plaga!Leon angst and what it would be like for him to live as one of the monsters he used to put down. I also think it's dismal how little Leon/Chubby!Reader content there is right now, so I made it myself. I'm not sure if I want to leave this as a one-shot or make it a short chapter fic, so let me know what you guys think!

Masterlist | Next

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Leon succumbed to the parasite.

He managed to defeat Saddler and his monstrous puppets, being able to somewhat retain his mental state without a master to control him.

He got Ashley to safety, but he told her he was staying behind, knowing what might happen if the government got its hands on him. He figured it could go a few different ways: they’d either kill him immediately because he would be deemed a threat, they’d experiment on him, or they’d use him as a bioweapon—the thing he’d been fighting against this whole time.

Ashley tried to convince him that she and her father would do what they could to prevent those outcomes after all he’d done to save and protect her, believing (as a young girl would) that he could be fixed and live a normal life.

Leon knew better than that. And so he asked her to tell the world he died when she made it out. Despite her protests and her tears, she did just that.

He then met with the merchant after saying his goodbye to Ashley. The strange man let Leon trade his weapons and equipment—things he’d never need to use again—for basic supplies to ease his transition into living in the wilderness.

Leon had always preferred civilization to the great outdoors. The irony that he'd spend the rest of his life in the middle of nowhere after lamenting this fact was not lost on him.

With a cheerful adieu, the merchant packed up his things and left, never to return.

Leon was alone.

At first, it was almost peaceful.

He lived off hunting the animals in the woods and spearing the fish in the lake with his new scorpion-like tail. He even maintained a friendship with the dog he helped (that helped him in return), aptly naming him “Wolfie” because Leon had never been the creative type.

Even with his animal companion, though, Leon felt… lonely. He had lost everything; his friends thought he was dead, he no longer had a purpose to fulfill beyond survival, and his humanity had been ripped away from him—one of the few things left he ever really held onto while fighting monsters for so long.

He craved human connection more than anything but knew he had to settle for what he had.

And so, when the occasional curious hiker appeared nearby, he did what he could to scare them off. He rarely had to do much to ensure that they wouldn’t come back, using the decomposing bodies of the Ganados and the carcasses of his prey as “decorations” around the entrance of the village.

Of course, there was the occasional brave soul who ventured into his new home. Leon had to take matters into his own hands by either darting between trees and buildings to feed their paranoia or simply showing himself from a distance, standing to his full height and glaring them down.

They always ran screaming after that.

The longer he lived alone, the less human he felt he was, giving in to baser instincts to survive and provide for himself and Wolfie.

But he tried to maintain the human side of him that somehow still persisted, in any way he could. 

He’d talk out loud to himself and his furry friend. He holed up in the village chief’s house and took care of it to the best of his ability. He would set traps for rabbits and birds. He even used the old motorboat to go fishing in the lake, though it eventually ran out of fuel, forcing him to rely on the four appendages that sprouted from his spine as makeshift paddles.

He did his best.

The years slipped by and his loneliness only grew.

Wolfie was old now and Leon worried what would happen to the little sanity he had left when his only companion died. He did what he could to keep the wolf-dog comfortable, ruffling his clawed hands through his fur as he’d done a million times. But now gray tinged the animal’s coat, and Leon wondered how he never noticed it before.

What about Leon, then? Was he aging, too?

In a fit of rage, during the early days of his transformation, he had broken all the mirrors in the house, not wanting to look at himself and what he’d become.

So now he traveled to the well outside, staring at his rippling reflection in the dark water.

The skin of his face was still smooth—or what was left of it after his mouth ripped apart to make room for the rows of deadly sharp teeth that burst from his gums.

His once blue eyes were now a vibrant, glowing red, his vision having been improved vastly by becoming the ultimate apex predator. Just another step further from his humanity, he thought.

He kept his hair the way he always liked it, though learning to use the rusty scissors he found while out rummaging in the village had been a challenge with his new needle-like fingers.

His body had been slowly… growing… over the years. Elongating. His arms and legs, once thick and corded with muscle, were thinning into gangling limbs.

God, it was like a second puberty. But infinitely worse.

He barely fit into any of the clothes he’d collected, the articles simultaneously too loose on his form but far too short to cover his lower abdomen and calves. He didn’t bother with shoes anymore, none able to be pulled onto his taloned feet.

It was fine, however, as the ground wasn’t painful to traverse now (even on the roughest of terrain), and he no longer experienced the cold or the heat in a way that could affect him. That was one of the few “improvements” he welcomed over time, after facing the sweltering summers and winters blanketed in snow.

Despite these changes, though, Leon realized while studying his mirror image that there wasn’t a single indication of aging to be seen. Not a gray hair or wrinkle in sight.

Internally, he began to panic.

If he didn’t age, would that mean he’d be stuck living like this forever? That once Wolfie passed, he’d be alone for eternity?

He wished he had just gone with Ashley and hoped whoever greeted them would have gunned him down on the spot. At least then he wouldn’t have had to live this half-life, practically a ghost already haunting these woods.

He wondered if even the cruelty of experimentation or being used as a weapon would be worth no longer facing this suffocating isolation.

He chided his younger self for his optimism that being left behind was the best option.

It was set, then. After he buried his dog, he would finally pluck up the courage to kill himself. It wouldn’t be easy for him. Leon had always been a fighter, never wanting to give up. But he was tired, and there was nothing besides his animal companion that was keeping him tethered to the world. He was listless.

And yet, there was still a part of him that hoped something might change. He of all people—if he even had the right to call himself a person anymore—knew better than to let hope lead him.

It had been a decade of the same, hadn’t it?

The monotony of his days was almost too much to bear. He thought years ago, before he was infected, that he would enjoy a life like this. It was peaceful in a way, wasn’t it? He realized now he missed the chaos.

A far-off noise suddenly jarred him from his thoughts.

Another “improvement” had been his enhanced hearing. He could pick something up nearly a mile away.

He tilted his head to better decipher the sound.

Footsteps.

Well, that wasn’t unusual, given the area. It was full of wildlife, after all.

But then he heard something else, something that made his whole body freeze up.

Something so distinctly human, there was nothing else it could possibly be.

He heard singing.

+++

Your family and friends had called you ridiculous when you told them you wanted to hunt the supernatural for a living.

Perhaps they were right, but it was a passion of yours to seek out the weird and wild. Maybe that was why you were so compelled by what went bump in the night.

You weren’t sure you truly believed in ghosts and cryptids and the like, but you had an open mind and the ambition to seek out answers. Given the state of the world and the B.O.W.s that terrorized it, you supposed the supernatural might not be far removed from reality, anyway.

You had always been deemed “strange” by others. Had always been on the outside looking in, wondering why being normal never came easy to you.

It didn’t help that your body type—short and plump—made you feel further removed from everyone else. You never thought you were ugly or unattractive, but that didn’t stop others from deciding you were, based solely on something so trivial.

But you weren’t completely alone. Your family loved you, you made good friends, and you even had your fair share of relationships over the years.

You learned that normalcy was bullshit, and so you embraced your strangeness.

And that’s what led you to this abandoned village, hidden deep in the Spanish woodlands.

The locals of a nearby town had told you of the horrors that occurred here. Stories of missing hikers and a cult seeking to take over the world through a parasitic bioweapon; of the daughter of the former United States president being rescued by a young agent who died tragically while saving her life.

You knew all of this already, of course. You had done your research on this place and what had happened to it.

You knew that Ashley Graham made it home safe—traumatized but mostly unharmed. You knew the cult and its monsters had been completely wiped out. You knew the place was practically a ghost town, the forest beginning to reclaim the ruins.

None of that, though interesting, was what brought you to this village, however.

What caught your attention was what came after.

Many were curious about the place when the news broke, but only a rare few dared to visit it. Fewer still ever made it past the gate.

But those who did spoke of a creature who lurked in the shadows. They claimed it was tall—nearly seven feet—and its eyes glowed red. No one had managed to snap a photo of it in their state of panic, but the descriptions were all consistent.

El Escorpion, they called it.

It seemed like a solid lead, and even if you never found this recently discovered cryptid, the tragic and insane history—not to mention the creepiness factor—of the location would be enough material to write a compelling post for your paranormal blog.

Despite your family and friends’ initial concerns about your career of choice, you were doing well for yourself.

You still had to work on the side to pay for your rent and all the expenses that came with your investigations, often cranking out clickbait articles for a quick buck. But your blog had only recently popped off, your posts receiving a ton of new followers after an emotional visit to the ruins of Raccoon City (and likely a dangerous one, considering the radiation).

People liked your methods. They liked that you explained the story behind every location you visited with great detail and respect, but managed to keep it fun while still building up a spooky atmosphere.

If you were honest, the popularity of your blog wasn’t something you really cared about. Although it was nice to see the numbers rise and people engage with your hard work, the content was controversial and you were often belittled for your passion. The only thing you wanted was to get as many followers as it would take to receive sponsorships in hopes of making enough money to take your investigations to new heights.

It definitely wasn’t easy trying to live your dream, but so far it had been rewarding. You hoped this trip would be, too.

You had just exited the vehicle of the friendly (and very, very chatty) local who was kind enough to offer you a ride to your destination. They were a fan of your blog, they told you, and warned you to be careful.

Once they drove off, nothing could have prepared you for the horrifying sight that greeted you when you began your journey.

Bones and rot littered the ground—were even strung up on the surrounding trees like party streamers. Several of the carcasses seemed awfully fresh, and you weren’t sure, but some of the older remains looked… almost human?

No, you had to be imagining it.

But if the visuals didn’t make your stomach turn, the smell definitely did.

Ignoring your watering eyes and the gag reflex threatening to trigger, you pulled the collar of your shirt over your nose and snapped a few promising pictures before moving forward.

It was a bit of a walk, having to travel through an old hunting lodge that had seen better days in order to finally reach the village gate.

You balked at the human skulls that lined the top, a chill lurching up your spine at the realization. Instead of allowing the sinking feeling in your gut to control you, you took some more photos instead, determined to see this through.

You drew in a deep, calming breath and opened the gate, having to use most of your strength to push through the rust that coated its hinges.

You practically vibrated with a mix of excitement and anxiety as you looked at the village before you.

It was terrifying to do this alone, but you had grown used to the solitude during your investigations. You reminded yourself that the most you had dealt with in the past were other people pulling pranks on you and wild animals going about their business.

So, you continued on, not wanting to feed the needling fear that someone or something could have been left behind by the cult.

You spent some time in the village, singing to yourself to help settle your nerves, before leaving out of another gate. You didn’t have a map of the area, no one having been much further than the village in the ten years since its abandonment, so you simply had to explore on your own and hope you didn’t get lost.

You were walking down a wooded path, taking in every detail as you meandered forward, when you heard a rustle in the trees beside you. 

Whatever it was, it must have been huge. You prayed it was a deer.

Gathering your courage, you faced the direction of the noise and drifted closer to the edge of the forest, your movements careful and deliberate in hopes of not scaring whatever it was off or goading it to attack you.

It was broad daylight, but you were struggling to see into the shade cast by the densely packed foliage.

“I won’t hurt you,” you whispered gently as another movement from whatever it was jostled the bush in front of you.

It was stupid, but you felt inclined to reach out your hand, hoping it wouldn’t get bitten.

That’s when you saw the pair of glowing eyes staring at you through the leaves, roughly waist-height to you.

You felt some sense of relief at that, believing it to be a woodland animal.

That is, until the eyes started to move up. 

You froze in place, hand still outstretched, as a massive creature stood upright before you, their features obscured by shadow. 

Your mind screamed at you to run but your legs remained locked in place.

This is it, you thought. I’m going to die.

Well, at least it was a good run.

The creature stepped forward into the light and you were met with possibly the most horrifying beast you had ever seen.

It was over a foot taller than you, its form similar to that of a human, if not for the four long, spidery appendages that unfolded from its back, a scorpion tail whipping behind it.

It had talons on its feet and long claws instead of fingers, the tips of them dangerously sharp, its worn clothes hanging off of it awkwardly. 

Your eyes eventually climbed back up to its face, its mouth split nearly to its ears as it bared its fangs at you, glinting wickedly in the midday sun.

Your gaze met those glowing red orbs once more, the creature’s expression akin to a glare.

Something about its face seemed so familiar to you for some reason, the mix of confusion and terror only further cementing you to the ground. 

You still didn’t move when it took another step closer, its leg nearly brushing your still outstretched hand.

“You should’ve been running by now.”

You were startled by its voice, the sound deep and masculine. And pleasantly human despite the obvious threat.

You knew you had heard it before.

He leaned forward, his head level with yours as he searched your face, looking clearly befuddled by your refusal to escape.

“You’re practically begging me to eat you, little rabbit. But I prefer a chase.” He sounded serious, but he made no move to touch you.

Your hand finally fell to your side and you swallowed, hard.

“You’re lying.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, barely visible behind a curtain of choppy blond hair, before replying, “Excuse me?”

You took a shaky breath. “You’re lying. You’re not going to eat me. You’re not going to hurt me at all. There hasn’t been a disappearance in the area for ten years and everyone who’s come here since has lived to tell the tale.”

He laughed in surprise, running a claw through his hair. It was so uncanny how human it was. And how familiar. “Maybe I’m just a bad hunter.”

“Well, if those animal remains at the front of the village path are anything to go by, I highly doubt it.”

“Not all of them were animals, you know.” 

“The ones that weren’t are too old, though, aren’t they?”

“You’re observant, I’ll give you that.” He folded his long arms over his chest, red eyes looking out across your surroundings, sounding almost sheepish as he added, “You know, this might be the most I’ve talked to someone I should be eating instead.”

He shook his head and chuckled to himself before meeting your gaze.

And then it clicked.

“You’re… You’re Leon Kennedy, aren’t you?” you breathed.

He stiffened at the name. “How do you know who I am? Did someone tell you? Did someone send you here?”

He took another step during his inquisition, your noses nearly touching, his hot breath fanning across your face as you glanced at his sharp, sharp teeth.

“I’ve seen pictures of you. Interviews, too. You were all over the news when you survived Raccoon City. And again when President Graham claimed you died in action.” You paused for a moment in thought before you asked, “Did Ashley Graham know you survived?”

He scoffed, pulling back and stepping around you to add some distance. “I asked her to tell the world I was dead so I could live the rest of my days in peace as this… monster.”

“Ah, and all these curious visitors are like annoying kids in your front lawn?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Something like that. Why are you here, anyway? You seem kinda far from home.”

“Well…” It was your turn to look sheepish as you tried to explain, “I’m a paranormal investigator, and I came here because there were cryptid sightings in the area. Guess you’re the cryptid. Mystery solved.” 

He rushed back over to you, grabbing your arm. The movement jostled you and made you flinch, but it didn't hurt. He winced at your reaction, though, and loosened his grip. “Listen, please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I don’t need this place becoming a tourist hotspot. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet..? What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, just… Please just promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “The problem is that I spent a lot of money on this trip, and if I don’t have something to show for it, my career could flop.”

He sighed deeply, releasing his hold. “Look, I can make it up to you, okay? If you’re strapped for cash, I have a bunch of gemstones, jewelry, and expensive little knick-knacks. Take what you can carry, got it?”

You thought on it for a moment, considering your options. You wanted to respect his privacy, but it was difficult to let something this big go. However, if he was willing to pay for your silence, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Maybe you could even buy better equipment when this was all said and done.

“Okay. Deal.”

He moved to shake your hand in his clawed one but pulled back when he noticed you eyeing it nervously. “Great. We’ll get you your stuff and send you on your way before it gets dark.”

“About that… My ride isn’t coming to get me until tomorrow morning. I was planning to camp out here tonight,” you revealed.

He gave you an incredulous look. “You’re telling me you heard rumors about a monster living in the area and you decide you’re going to spend the night here? No backup plan?”

“What can I say, I like to live on the edge. Besides, I didn’t really believe there was a monster out here, anyway. Egg on my face, I guess.” 

He rubbed his eyes with his palms as he let out an exasperated breath. “Right, well I guess you could spend the night, then. There aren’t any B.O.W.s left in the area except me, obviously. But some of the wildlife isn’t exactly friendly. Would be safer for you to stick with me.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his generosity before you offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I appreciate it.”

“Please, just… Just call me Leon.”

“Well, thank you, Leon,” you said, proceeding to give him your own name. 

His lips peeled up in what could almost be described as a bashful smile before he pointed further down the path. “C’mon, then. I can make us dinner.” 

You shocked him by hooking an arm through his, beaming up at him.

“We better get to it, then.”

+++

We.

Leon hadn’t heard someone say that in a long time.

Maybe things could be different.

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

Masterlist | Next

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fan Fiction: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Not only did Chuck write books about your lives, but a damn musical theater is putting a play on about your goddamn lives. You try to let them handle this one on their own but they're not letting you go, and it's time to bring insurance to make sure you never leave them.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean sits outside the motel room working on his car. The hood is up, he's elbow-deep in the engine, and Sam is nowhere to be found. You're standing off to the side with your gun trained in front of you. Your target is a tree that's fifty yards from you, something stationary. You wish you had a moving target but you don't think Dean and Sam would appreciate being put in the line of fire.

You pull the trigger three times, hitting the exact same spot on the tree, scaring some squirrels into fleeing their home.

"Would you quit it?" You look at Dean who pops his head from over the hood. He's a bit sweaty, has a grease smear on his forehead, and his arms look extra thick in his thin t-shirt. You don't have romantic feelings for him anymore, but damn he'd be a good fuck. "We're not the only people out here."

"I'm bored without a real target. Unless you'd like to be mine."

You smirk when he flips you off. The motel door opens and Sam walks out in search of you and his brother. You put your gun away and approach the brothers because Sam has his professional face on.

"Hey, how long have you two been up?"

"I never slept," you say.

"Long enough to find us a case," Dean replies right after you.

"I take it that means you're feeling back to normal?"

"Yeah, whatever normal is in our world. Right here." Dean takes a break from working on his car to hand Sam the newspaper. "A teacher in an all-girls school went missing in Flint, Michigan. She was heading to her car, disappeared, and nobody's seen her since."

"Dean, there's nothing here that even remotely suggests there is a case."

"There is nothing that even remotely suggests there isn't a case."

"Come on, man," Sam sighs.

"Sam! Being out there and hunting is the only normal I know." He closes the hood of the car and moves to the open trunk. He messes around with his weapons before shutting the trunk. "We got work to do."

"I'll tag along. It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Like you had a choice," Dean mutters to himself, but you hear.

It's a seven-hour drive from where you are, and those hours go by quickly. Sam gets the police department on the phone as soon as you enter the state of Michigan to ask about the details of the case. By the time Dean pulls into the school's parking lot, Sam is just about done with his conversation.

"I certainly appreciate it. ... You got it. Thanks, officer." He hangs up just as you three get out of the car. "So, the last place Ms. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out she's the drama teacher."

"Theater kids. Great," Dean scoffs.

"What? I was a theater kid."

"Barely. You did Our Town, which was cool, but then you did that shitty musical."

"Oklahoma? Hugh Jackman got cast off of Oklahoma."

"You ran tech, Wolverine."

"Shut up," Sam, grumbles.

The principal already knows you're coming but she has a bunch of meetings to go to, so she allows you to find the auditorium on your own. There are young kids hanging a banner in front of the building for the musical they are about to do. You hate fucking musicals. You hope there isn't a case here ad you can go back to the Bunker and waste your life away on tanning and reading shitty magazines.

You walk into the auditorium to see students already working on their production of whatever musical they are doing. Before you have a chance to think, you hear a word you never thought you'd hear again.

"You idjits!" You snap your head to the right to see a young girl dressed exactly like your dad, beard and all. "You, idjits. You three are idjits."

"Hey, ass-butt!" You look to the left and see another young woman dressed just like Cas with angel wings on her back. "Hey! Ass-butt!"

Suddenly, someone plays a few notes on the piano on stage and a bunch of young girls begin their musical number. The song is about Sam and Dean's life. How John and Mary had two sons when a demon came into their room and killed Mary, and how the demon took a liking to Sam. The song transitions into your life with your mom starting at the age when she died. They sing about how the demon chased you through the house and killed your mom down the stairs. Sam and Dean are horrified to hear this but you're grinning from ear to ear.

"Cut!"

A young woman sitting in the audience and her friend run up the stage stairs to address the woman who is singing. You slap both brothers' shoulders with the same grin on your face.

"This is the best day ever."

"What in the h-holy..."

"If there is a case, it probably has something to do with all of this," Sam cuts his brother off.

"You think?"

The younger of the two girls grabs the arm of the director and points to you three at the back of the auditorium. Both girls immediately run off stage and over to you as if she knows who you three are.

"Hi! Oh, my gosh, are you guys from the publisher? I'm Marie, writer/director. This is Maeve, my stage manager. I was just--"

She stops talking when she sees Sam's FBI badge. He looks to the stage and sees the women playing Sam and Dean with their own FBI badges. He quickly puts his away and slaps Dean's hand which is holding his own badge. Dean can't even get his out fast enough because he is so shocked.

"I'm Special Agent Smith. These are my partners, Special Agents--"

"Smith," you answer.

"Yeah, no relation." Marie narrows her eyes in suspicion but Sam quickly changes topic. "We're here to look into the disappearance--"

"There is no singing in Supernatural!" Dean blurts out.

You snicker at his outburst to which he glares at you.

"What? Come on, this is funny!" you giggle.

"Well, this is Marie's interpretation," Maeve says.

"I mean, if there was singing, you know... and that's a big if! If there was singing, it would be classic rock. Not this Andrew Floyd Webber shit--"

"Andrew Lloyd Webber," Sam whispers to his brother.

"What?"

"You know, we do sing a cover of Carry On Wayward Son, in the second act," Marie says proudly.

"Really?" Sam asks in judgment.

"It's a classic!" Dean and Marie speak at the same time.

You roll your eyes, already bored of this.

"Right. Anyways. We're here to talk about the disappearance of Ms. Chandler. Any chance you two saw her before she vanished?"

"Yeah. She left around nine-thirty."

"Any idea where she would be headed at that time of night?"

"A bar? A liquor store? Both?" Maeve answers.

"She had a nasty divorce, last year. Most of the time, she's sipping on her 'grown-up juice', or passed out. Usually, in that order."

"Yeah, I don't blame her. I'm gonna need fifty jello shots and a hose-down to get this stink off of me," Dean scoffs.

"Maeve, right?" Sam jumps in. "You're the stage manager?"

"I understudy Jody Mills, too."

"What?" Dean asks in shock.

"That's great! Jody Mills, that's great," Sam says to his brother before turning to her. "So, how about you give me a behind-the-scenes tour, while your director shows my partners Ms. Chandler's office? Deal?" Both girls nod. "Great. Give us a moment, please."

Marie and Maeve leave you three alone, and you let out a loud cackle that causes Maeve to turn around and glare.

"I'm gonna throw up," Dean shudders.

"This is either going to go horribly wrong or horrible right, and I'm here for it," you giggle. Dean gives you a bitch-face look, and you slap his chest as you pass by him. "Lighten up, buddy."

You and Dean follow Marie backstage while Maeve goes off with Sam in the opposite direction. There is a table of props used for the musical, all labeled and in place. You grab one of the guns and inspect it, not impressed that it's all fake.

"Where did you get all this stuff?"

"Some parts are homemade and some parts are repurposed. All of it, awesome--" She looks over at you to see you touching one of the guns and grabs it from you. "Please don't touch them."

"These aren't even real. How are you going to hurt someone with these?"

"Don't mind her," Dean chuckles nervously. "She's having a bad day." Dean looks across the stage where the imposter Impala sits. Leaning against it are the two women who play Sam and Dean. They're standing a bit too close for Dean's liking. "What are they doing?"

"They're rehearsing the B.M. scene."

"The Bowel Movement scene?" you ask.

"What? No! The Boy Melodrama scene! You know, the scene where the boys get together, and they're driving, leaning against Baby, and drinking a beer, sharing their feelings. The two of them. Alone but together. Bonded. United. The power of the brotherly--"

"Why are they standing so close together?"

"Reasons," Marie shrugs.

Dean understands what Marie is hinting at, and you snicker at the thought of Sam and Dean getting together sexually.

"You know they're brothers, right?"

"Duh! It's subtext."

"You know he and Y/N are married and have kids, right?"

"What? No. I mean, I know she got pregnant but she had Cas get rid of the baby. Man, Dean was so pissed at her for doing that."

"Best decision I ever made," you grin and lock eyes with Dean. "I should have gotten rid of the other two."

Hurt flashes across his eyes but he'd rather not get into that right now. Marie looks at you two in confusion but moves on. She takes you away from the auditorium into a long white hallway where Ms. Chandler's office is. She walks ahead of you to open the door, and you look at Dean.

"She's right. You and Sam would make such a cute couple."

"I'm gonna smack you."

"Don't tease a good time," you smirk.

You three enter the office where there are empty bottles upon empty bottles of alcohol everywhere. Dean takes a sweep of the room with his eyes before settling them on a robot head near the bookshelf.

"Is that hers?"

"No, that's a prop from act two! I've been looking for that, actually."

"There's no space in Supernatural."

"Not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction."

"You mean fanfiction?"

"Call it whatever you like, but it's inspired by Carver Edlund's books with a few embellishments. As you know, Chuck stopped writing after Swan Song--"

"Yeah, that douche," you scoff and Dean slaps your arm to get you to stop talking.

"I couldn't leave it the way that it was! I mean, with Dean leaving Y/N and living with Lisa? Her being on her own after the breakup? Sam in Hell? I wrote my own ending."

"You want to know what happened after that?" you step closer to her. "Y/N fucks Sam over and over again to get over her sad excuse of an ex."

"Okay, stop talking," Dean pulls you back.

"Try this one on for size. How about Dean and Y/N have a baby while he's still fucking Lisa?"

"Go wait outside!"

"No, she needs to know these things! What about them going to purgatory where she ends up pregnant because Dean can't keep it in his pants?" Dean is already shoving you to the door. "Bobby dies, Sam undergoes angel trials, and Dean becomes a demon!"

Dean shoves you out of the office and slams the door in your face. You roll your eyes and make your way back to the prop table where you mess the props up like a fucking child. You see Sam and Maeve in the sound booth chatting, so you make your way over to them to bother them. Sam looks up from the control board when you enter.

"Special Agent Smith kicked me out so I'm hanging out with you," you grin and sit in between them.

You reach over and touch the control board to see what different buttons do, but Maeve slaps your hand away. You stare at her and Sam waits with held breath to see what you're going to do. Luckily for her, you let it go and lean back in your chair.

"Now, have you noticed anything strange during the production? I mean, any odd noises or--"

"You mean something like this?" Maeve pushes a button on the control panel and a scream sounds. "Or perhaps, this?" She presses another button and a ghostly moan sounds. "Maybe this?"

"Okay, I get it. You know, back when I did tech in school, we had two CD decks--"

"Someone speaks to Maeve over the headset, and she cuts Sam off mid-sentence.

"She's not interested in your nerd talk," you say to Sam.

"I'm sorry, I have to go sign the delivery. Please, don't touch anything."

Maeve scurries off leaving you and Sam alone. Sam doesn't like to be alone with you because he's the butt of your very harsh jokes, so he makes a half-hearted excuse and leaves you alone in the sound booth. Dean and Meave come back from Ms. Chandler's office and meet up with Sam. Marie joins her friend's side as they both sign for the delivery. You reach up and begin playing with the controls, messing with the lights and sounds. Everyone on stage looks at you like you're the outsider in a group of best friends. Sam and Dean look like they're ready to kill you, so you press a button and speak into the mic.

"I'm bored. Can we go? I'd rather pull my own hair out than be stuck in here with a bunch of bratty kids."

Dean glares holes through the glass at you and motions with one finger to come to the stage. 

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[goodolddumbbanana]

Sun's Wedding [2]

Cringe: hahaa... I have no idea what I am Writing...

Part 1

“--And then she dared to drag Sun along with her, like he was just some toys!!”

The dark blue animatronic’s heels crunched on Monty’s million-dollar tile floor. The crocodile was already sleepy, but they still couldn’t go back to cuddle with Earth in their bedroom because someone was still shamelessly refusing to leave.

The elegant yellow-green wedding invitation was torn to shreds on the glass table, but still managed to form some fancy letters, Sun x Miku.

‘Oh my god, it’s really late, Moon! Give me a damn break.’ 

Monty’s eyes twitched, almost closing under their sunglasses. The thought of throwing Moon in the trash was getting more and more appealing with every minute the damn moon-model kept them from sleeping. The vision ahead was getting more and more blurry, and Moon’s face was starting to resemble a mutated eggplant.

“Monty. Are you listening to me!”

Damn, Monty almost fell. They adjusted their glasses, snapped two fingers at Moon, their voices a little groggy. 

“Sure, bud. Crystal clear.”

The silence was filled with gravel and the judgmental look from those red eyes. Moon looked like he wanted to snap their necks, which was impossible but kinda cute because that twink thought he could with these two rotten noodles the blue animatronic called hands.

“Monty, if you doze off again, I’ll blow up every vault you’ve hidden under the Pacific Ocean.”

A chill ran through Monty’s body, just like the day they’d discovered the money they’d invested all went bankrupt in a Soviet project. Using the German scientists was not a good move.

Their mouths dropped open, they clutched their metaphorical hearts. Their hands shook as they removed their glasses and stared at Moon’s eyes.

“Moon… Moon… Please…! Come on, buddy!? You don’t mean it, do you?” Monty stammered. “Those are my babies!!”

“Oh well Monty, guess your babies are about to go shit.” Moon sneered. “241 gold vaults and 462 weapon vaults. One wrong move and–.” Moon made the sound of an explosion, the activation button hovering teasingly in Moon’s hand.

A withered sigh of resignation came from Monty. They leaned back, both hands rubbing their foreheads.

“Geez! I don’t remember you being this scary…” They muttered under their breath, completely nonchalantly admitting their crimes. “Alright! I admit, I slept through half of your monologue.”

Not even looking at Moon’s finger that was so close to the button, Monty picked at their ear. “But what do you want me to do with that information?!! Find a sniper and deal with Miku myself??? Throw that crazy girl into the East Sea?”

“I don’t know!” Moon waved his hand, shouting. “I’m desperate, okay!! And you’re the one who does all the weird stuff all the time!!”

“So what?” Monty laughed, their voices almost mingling together. “You think I can pull something out of my ass magically, Moon? Do you really think I can do that without preparing anything? It is Art, Moon! I need time to think! And some minors are in labor!! If they’re orphans then even better, I don’t have to pay them anymore.” They waved their hands ridiculously, their handsome reflections in the glasses making them stop their movements and admire the mirror.

Oh yes, who has such beautiful muscles… It’s you~~~

“Monty! Focus!!” Moon snapped his fingers. He felt his own patience level going out the window, and just thinking about his poor little brother trapped in Miku’s evil embrace made Moon’s blood boil.

He wanted to find Solar, but somehow that orange animatronic had disappeared along with Lunar or Earth to nowhere.

“Fine! My God! You need to relax, Moon. This fussing isn’t going to solve anything.” Monty sighed, rubbing their shoulders. They took a sip of their gin, too sober to continue this conversation.

“Well, I don’t think Miku’s that bad. She’s pretty, and she has money, a lot of money. Heh…” Monty’s eyes might have turned into $$ shapes as their hands made the same counting motion before coughing and adjusting their glasses.

“What I am trying to say is that… I think you’re overreacting. Didn’t Sun look happy looking forward to this wedding?”

“Well Monty. The truth is… I don’t care!!! As long as the person Sun gets married is not Miku!! Besides, if you like her so much, why don’t you just marry her yourself.” 

Moon glared, trying to slap Monty. Of course, if Monty was hurt by this, it wouldn’t be Monty. “I’d love to, but I have Earth.” The crocodile waved their hand. “Not worth the effort and the insurance. Besides, you’d definitely kill me if I planned to do it.”

“Good, you’re right.” Moon sighed, picking up his glass of water. “I’ll make a mess out of you if you make Earth sad.”

“But honestly Moon, my hands are tied.” Monty sighed, scratching their head. “I promised Earth I’d ​​be ‘a good boy’ when I attend Sun’s wedding. Which means—” Monty held up their fingers to show. “—I can’t do anything illegal for you.” 

The crocodile looked sleepy when they said it, which made Moon feel a little pity before he thought of all the scams Monty had put them through and that pity turned into hatred.

The two sat in silence for about a minute and twenty seconds before another voice suddenly rang out from the darkness.

“Well hello gentlemen, I see you're in trouble!"

Lunar's 4x4 body lurched behind Monty, causing the crocodile that was nodding off on the sofa to fall to the ground, lunging at the bottle.

"Cheese of Christ, Lunar!!! You scared the crap out of me!!" Monty yelled. Moon was startled too, but for a different reason, and he was too cool to act pathetically like Monty so he just opened his mouth before silently closing it.

"Lunar." Moon said slowly, sliding the orange silhouette of someone tied up pathetically, placed on top of Lunar's head. "What's that sitting on your head?"

There was a faint groan from someone Moon didn't expect. A candy corn. Or rather, Solar - The candy corn.

The poor orange animatronic was transformed into a candy corn, and was wrapped (?), tied up in a baby carrier and placed on top of Lunar's head.

There was a ribbon wrapped around his head(?), the triangular tip of the candy, and the words ‘I am the twink’ are really colorful.

“Please Moon… You have to help me.”

His friend’s voice was sad. Desperate. 

Moon knew he should remember all the life-and-death moments with Solar, remember what Solar had done for them, both Sun and Moon. Moon also needs to remember he should rescue his best friend, his partner, his close brother for some holy reason that Sun would have made him do if he were here.

But for some reason, as if possessed by a devil, Moon’s hand made the sound of a camera snapping.

‘Clack! Clack! Clack!’

“OH, FUCK YOU TOO, MOON!!!”

That night, in Monty’s mansion, Solar’s ​​curses resounded.

***

“Okay, it’s good that everyone’s settled down.” Lunar cleared his throat. Solar the candy corn had been freed, and was now soaking in a bowl of water with a tiny float. There was a gurgling sound underwater, as if there was still a lot of unique vocabulary that Solar had yet to exploit, bursting out in a place where no one could possibly hear.

Underwater.

Why doesn’t Solar dissolve in water? Moon's scientific side was eager to find out the answer.

But not now.

“First let me ask—” Moon raised his hand to signal Lunar. “Can you tell me why Solar… turned out like this?”

“That’s right, I also want to know why Moon’s weird boyfriend turned out like this.” Monty smacked their lips, and blurted out the most disgusting line of the year.

“Ew, gross. Solar’s ​​my best friend. He’s like a brother to me.” Moon stuck out his tongue, looking like he was about to throw up. Struggling in the bowl of water, Solar gasped and clung to the edge of the bowl, also speaking up.

“Yeah… technically, I am his distant relative. Besides, Moon is an aroace. And… also no offense, but I don't see you that way, Moon.”

“None taken.” Moon nodded. “And since we've ended this awkward conversation here, can you tell me how Solar got turned into a candy?”

“Oh?” Lunar glanced back at Solar, who looked like he'd seen death and returned, with the melancholy of an old man who'd lived past 100 or a beggar who'd been swept away by a river.

“My dearest brother, the story started when the portal's malfunctioning again, and as revenge for making Jack follow me,” Lunar's tone was indifferent, but his brother's starry eyes were as cold as death that it made Moon shiver, “--I decided to take Solar for a walk before returning him to his home. It was actually quite easy, since he was small, and pickable.”

Solar, now almost resigned to the currents of life, still tried to draw a middle finger on the rim of the bowl with her tiny pieces of candy.

“So.” Lunar clapped his hands. “Do you have any plans to ruin the wedding?”

“Hey, wait.” Moon shaked his head. “We haven’t talked about that yet.”

“Really?” Lunar narrowed his eyes, “-because I heard all this time about how you two were planning on hiring an assassin to deal with Miku before you both become losers and stunted out.”

“Look, it’s not my fault.” Monty defended themselves, now that they had transformed into their female selves. “The promise to Earth is a sacred ritual between girlfriend and girlfriend. Or Boyfriend. Partner.”

“And Moon is the cowardly little shit who screams a lot right now, not me.”

“Look, it may not be to your ears, but not wanting to kill people isn’t a bad thing.” Moon gritted his teeth. “Besides, Sun hates it.”

“So we just need to find a way for Monty to freely help us do it… That should be easy.” Lunar muttered to himself. A metaphorical light bulb lit up above Lunar’s head. He took a deep breath, slamming his fist on the table.

“Don’t worry, my dear brother. I have a solution...” Lunar’s voice was stern, the darkness falling on his face creating a mysterious look.

The words were full of conspiracy mixed with the eyes that flashed with a cruel light like the way a crocodile stalks its victim, making Moon unable to think that he might have been trapped.

Throat dry, Moon swallowed, listening to Lunar’s golden words.

“But first, we need to break into the wedding and steal Sun.”

***

“Look, I don’t care what stupid thing Sun does,” Solar lifted his head from the water, his mouth slightly foaming. He said dejectedly.“--but instead of thinking of some stupid plans, why don’t you… I don’t know… talk to each other like normal people. And… ask someone you know to buy Sun?

Because we have money, and connections?”

“BOOOOO!!! How boring, Solar.” Lunar lowered his finger, pushing Solar into the water, causing the candy corn to squeal in confusion. “Don’t worry, Moon, we’ll take care of it from behind.”

“You just need to relax, and watch the show…”

‘That’s right, Solar. You deserve to be drawn for that stupid speech.’ Moon thought to himself, continuing to gulp down his fifth glass of orange juice at this damn ceremony.

The altar was filled with blooming yellow roses, white silk drapes were decorated everywhere very delicately.

The sound of glasses clinking against each other. The laughter of strangers that Moon didn’t know rang out. He stood in a corner hidden from everyone, praying that a meteorite would hit this place and turn everything into a pile of dust.

“No thanks.” Every five minutes, someone would come to buy him a drink. Every ten minutes after that, some bastard would flirt with him. Moon wondered if it would count as manslaughter if he just accidentally threw those people into the sea.

After all, they wouldn't die anyway.

At least half of them would be eaten by sharks.

"Moon! You're here!!" His sister's voice rang out from afar. She looked fresher than usual today, with a pink dress and black gloves. She threw herself into his arms and gave him a fierce hug.

"Can't breathe, Earth!!" Moon coughed, trying to struggle but failing.

"It's good you're here Moon, I thought you'd be too angry to come."

Earth smiled, lightly poking Moon's nightcap.

"Haha... no way." Moon laughed so hard his mouth twisted, constantly wondering where the hell Lunar was.

"You came alone?"

“That’s right. I haven’t seen Solar and Lunar since yesterday. Neither has Monty.” Earth shook her head. “They said they had to go on some secret mission and would be coming later.”

“Hmm, that’s strange.” Moon smiled wryly. An expression that completely showed he didn’t know anything.

The silver bell rang suddenly. A certain handsome guy, who looked exactly like Miku with short green hair, spoke in a sour and annoyed voice.

“Ah, well, everyone gather, let’s start the ceremony.”

Moon didn’t even have time to react, he was pulled into his seat by Earth.

The procedures were so cumbersome, he almost fell asleep. It felt like he was stuck with a python, with a long ceremony that seemed to hypnotize people into falling asleep.

Suddenly, there was a light nudge to his side.

“Look Moon! It’s Sun.”

His brain had drifted out to sea, and suddenly got dragged back.

The music started, sacred and painfully annoying. Purple flowers were thrown everywhere by Gregory, followed by FC and Dazzle. Sun looked awkward and worried as usual, but on a not so bright side, his brother wore a proud white wedding dress and looked really better on it.

Moon would have been more moved if his brother's husband wasn't MIKU!!!

The purple bouquet was held in his arms, dotted with yellow roses. The smile on Sun's lips was still very forced, but it seemed much softer when holding the hands, or tassel(?) of their father, Creator.

The brain, inexplicably, had a bow attached to his cerebellum(?), looking extremely moved. There was a stuffy nose sound when Creator led Sun down the aisle, or vice versa because every few steps Sun had to stop to calm Creator down.

"Oh my, looking at Sun like this, I also want to get married soon. Let our father walk me down the aisle like this.” His sister cooed, something he didn’t understand why his sister wanted so much, when Creator was such a bastard—

“Oh my dear wife. You ate. Guess today guys I’m taking the big W.” Miku stood next to the priest, looking utterly smug. Beside her was Dark Sun, who looked like he didn’t want to be here at all, wearing a saffron bridesmaid dress. Their red eyes looked up at the sky as if they were waiting for this whole thing to end.

Honestly, and surprisingly, if this situation got any worse, Moon shared their sentiments.

“The Ring bearer is coming!”

On the pure white carpet with yellow petals, Ruin wore their damn purple dress, walking shakily like a British, with two bracelet-sized rings, glistening in the sunlight, placed on a soft velvet pillow.

“Oh dear! I hope I’m not too late.”

‘And I want you to cease to exist.’ Moon thought bitterly. Compared to someone who had destroyed over 4 million worlds, the treatment Ruin had received was too light. Moon wanted to do more than push them against the wall and break that arm—

Strange… Has he ever done that before?

The priest spoke up.

“Miku, do you agree to take this person as your husband?”

“Period, Father. This is lit.” Miku snapped her fingers. “Please hurry so I can bring my baby girl home.”

“And Sun, do you agree to take this person as your wife?”

The light shone on the veil, penetrating Sun’s pearl-colored pupils. His brother seemed scared. He blinked his eyelashes looking back at Moon as if seeking help, looking so heartbreaking.

Moon was about to stand up when a voice suddenly rang out in his ear.

'--No!! No!!! Lunar!!!.'

There was a loud explosion. Half the guests were blown up everywhere. The door flew open, smoke poured in and figures stood in the backlight, making Moon squint.

"Lunar!!! You little shit!!! How dare you throw me like that!!??"

"I have no choice, Monty!!! Only you have enough weight to break the door."

"You can use Bomb, Lunar!!! You don't need your bullshit magic to throw me inside!!!"

"It's star power, Monty!!!"

"I'll call it that when it does more than shoot lightning out of your ass! And turn me into barbecue!"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP THE FUCKING FUCK!!! I RATHER DEAD THEN KEEP HEARING YOU GUYS MOANING EVER SINCE WHEN WE CAME HERE!!!"

"Oh look, Lunar! Solar is talking!! Why don't we listen to that craftsman, huh? Sure, let's hear the one who didn’t contribute a single bit!!!” Monty roared. Rushing forward to bite the candy corn before being stopped by Molten who was lifting them up like that hundred pound alligator only just weighed as Solar.

“Come on you bastard!!! Even if I’m small I’ll still make you shit!!!”

“How, with your short legs? And your invisible hands??”

The air melted to reveal four people standing and arguing. Technically it was one, or two. Only Lunar was human. Or animatronic. There was a roaring alligator on the ground, and Molten(???) appeared from nowhere holding Solar on his shoulder.

They were all black with soot, and still arguing.

“What the hell is going on here?” Miku yelled, her voice rising to an octave.

No one said anything, and there was an awkward silence, before Molten cleared his throat. Molten’s muffled, innocent voice dropped a few bombs on the seemingly ruined ceremony.

“Uh… We’re here to rescue Sun. Can you please let Sun go?”

“And for what?” Miku scoffed, tossing her green hair. “Just because you said please?”

“Um, yes?”

“Oh, my sweet summer child. The answer is no. Go home and play with your toy. Adults are married here.” Miku’s voice was sweet as venom. She gave the priest a commanding tone. “Let’s start quick before I fire you.”

“Urm… Wait… Sun can’t marry you.” Molten said in a soft, timid voice. Their icy blue eyes fixed on Sun with a look that Moon could only dare to call cherish.

“Why?” Miku narrowed her eyes in confusion. She looked as if she was about to call security to escort them all out.

A voice whispered into Moon’s ear.

‘Don’t interfere, big brother. Things start getting interesting.’

“Lunar, what are you on about!???” Moon screamed softly at lunar.“Because Sun married me.”

The bomb Molten drops, even makes Moon drop his phone.

[casdeans-pie]

Falling (In Love)

Destiel Fanfiction 2,065 words Rated G

Tags: Aftermath Of A Case (we don't see the case, but we see what Situation Dean and Cas have ended up in because of it), Castiel Is A Fallen Angel, Dean Sees Cas's Wings, Near Death Experience, First Kiss.

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures even if those measures are jumping out of the window on the seventieth floor with nothing but hope and mangled fallen angel wings to keep you in the air. Probably not the best time for a kiss... or is it?

------Read on AO3------

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In terms of ‘situations where escape seems impossible’ Dean would probably rank this at a solid two. He’s not entirely sure what keeps it from being number one, since there are currently a group of eight witches blocking the only doored exit to the room, and the only other way out would be through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him – seventy stories up from the ground. Dean lost his gun a few floors back, and Cas’s angel blade was stolen by the witches, so they’re also weapon-less. But he figures that while the spell book that he and Cas just stole is still in his hands the witches won’t risk damaging it, so at least they can stall for time while he thinks of some way to get them both out with the book. He’s escaped with impossible odds against him all the time.

It just feels a little more impossible than usual.

Dean glances over at Cas, hoping to see some kind of glint in his eyes that means he’s got a plan. But he’s not looking at Dean. His eyebrows are drawn together in indecision and worry and he’s staring straight ahead with a vacant expression that means he’s deep in his thoughts.

Hope flares in Dean’s chest.

He’s learned enough from Cas’s expressions over the years to know that he’s got something up his sleeve. Something risky, but hell, Dean’s not picky about that right now.

The witches all take a pace forwards as a unit and Cas tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve to pull him back further towards the window, to keep their distance. Nothing but a desk separates them now.

The huge glass window is pressing cold and solid against their backs in a cruel reminder that freedom is a pane of glass away, but they’d never survive the fall.

“Just give us the book Winchester,” one of the witches snaps.

“Give us the book and we’ll let you both live,” another adds in a low, persuasive tone.

“Like hell you will,” Dean retorts with a snort, “you think I’m gonna trust a single damn thing that comes out of a witch’s mouth?”

A witch taller than the others takes another step closer to them both, her chin held high, and she examines her long, blood red nails as if bored by the whole situation. “Boys, boys, boys,” she says, with a shake of her head, “I grow tired of this. You’ve stolen my book, and I want it back. There is clearly nowhere for you to go, so I suggest that you hand it over, or I will regretfully have to kill you both and hope that my book survives.”

“This book contains angelic spells, and it belonged to the angels before it belonged to you. You’re the ones who stole it in the first place. You have no more claim to it than we do,” Cas says suddenly, his voice firm and full of defiance.

“Yeah, except Cas is an angel, so really, yknow, if it belongs to anyone it belongs to him,” Dean adds, tapping the front cover of the old book with his knuckles and scoping out the room again while he stalls for time, hoping to find any way out of this. Preferably without him and Cas becoming spell-practice for witches or bloody smears on the sidewalk below them.

The bold witch at the front laughs in a throaty cackle.

Dean smiles. “Wow, nice laugh you got there, Wicked Witch of the West, you about to tell me you’re gonna get me and my little dog too?”

“Mm, you are pretty I’ll give you that. But no, I’m just amused that you can call that an angel. I’ve been using those spells a long time, so I can see something of this… abomination’s true form, and trust me, Winchester, if you could see what I see you wouldn’t call it an angel.”

------Read the rest on AO3------

[hood-ex]

Finished JJK S2. Many thoughts below.

I'm kinda "hmm" over the parallels in personalities between the Yuji/Megumi/Nobara team and the Satoru/Suguru/Shoko team. Yuji and Gojo as the powerhouses with loud mouths. Megumi and Suguru as the quieter members. Nobara and Shoko as the boisterous don't take shit ones. Like idk I guess I'm just worried about Megumi in this equation and hoping he doesn't pull a Sasuke (or duh Suguru lmao) at some point.

Speaking of Megumi, he was only really involved in about 3 fights total. I missed him in the bigger showdowns with the others. On the other hand, I'm really glad Nobara got to step in and deal some actual damage to Mahito. Like I said before, fuck Mahito, all my homies hate Mahito. I mean, seriously, it felt like Yuji was getting nowhere with Mahito, so when Nobara got that hit in, I was cheering, I was hooting. I was painting "Nobara" on the back of my shirt. What an awesome moment for her.

Sorry I watched basically the entire series today so my brain is burning, my memories feel like soup rn, I'm going out of order when talking about events. Uhhh... oh I'm glad Jogo and Hanami died. I was sick of them. The difference in the fight between Jogo and Sukuna vs. Sukuna and Megumi's thingy. His... what was it called again? Eh whatever you know what I'm talking about. The pact (?) monster Megumi called forth before he went unconscious. The difference in those fights was super interesting. With Jogo, Sukuna was just having fun and not worried at all. With Megumi's thingy, Sukuna actually had to strategize a bit and such. No wonder he has a fascination with Megumi.

Too bad Sukuna killed those sisters but honestly not surprised. I did like how those sisters revived Yuji/Sukuna.

Oh?? And Choso dude?? The sibling reveal?? You have nooo idea how much I didn't want Choso to get killed off at the very end. I was hoping, I was praying, I was like absolutely not, now that I know he's Yuji's older brother, he cannot die. Ever. Everrr. Bc you know me and my thing about siblings. Love em. I was laughing when Choso was telling Yuji to call him older brother, and Yuji was like dude whaaat lmao. Like shhh, Yuji, shhh. Just accept it. You have two brothers now. Aoi and Choso. Lolol.

Speaking of Aoi, I had a moment where I was like, okay, I can get over Nanami's death because he had accepted his death, he was tired, he was ready to go, but I CANNOT accept Aoi's death. Even the thought of him dying made me start to tear up. He's definitely one of my favorite characters now, which is funny, bc I thought he was just annoying in his first appearance. But the fact that he has Yuji and Takada in his locket?? LMAOOO THIS MAN IS SO UNSERIOUS PLS. Sucks he lost a hand, but I'd rather him lose a limb than lose a life. (Fuck me, he's gonna die at some point isn't he? I will literally sob. I'm not kidding, I will sob when/if that happens.)

Oh yeah and Nanami fucks forever and always. He was so hot for wrapping his tie around his hand like that. Ugh. Love him. Gonna miss him. Hope someone reclaims his weapon. I actually didn't cry over him bc, like I said, he was just... ready to go. He was too tired to go on. I could accept that.

Bro did Maki die?? I mean surely if Nanami survived then maybe she did as well...? I hope she didn't die. I liked her.

Owww my brain hurts, I need to get my thoughts out faster. Uhh... ohhh. Oh. When Yuji witnessed Nanami's death on top of Nobara's death (not convinced she's 100% dead though bc of the medic boy being like idk she was dead but maybe she won't be bc of my healing) and on top of seeing what Sukuna had done to Shibuya... holy fuck... talk about a lot of trauma in a short time. Dude when he just gave up after Nobara's death... and he curled up and cried when Aoi appeared... that hurt me. That made me feel like I was in the stadium of the first Pokemon movie watching all the Pokemon cry over Ash's stone body. It felt like that moment. That sadness and grief just overwhelming. Damn. What a good moment though.

I haven't even talked about Satoru yet. Woooow... the way he demolished all those curses at the train station in such a short time... crazy. Sucks he's trapped in a box. Like idk what else to say lmao. Free my man Satoru.

Omg omg omg can I talk about how two of my favorite moments of the whole series ended up in this season?? So the scene where Nobara talked to that girl from Yuji's high school who had a crush on him, and she called Megumi to come meet them, and then Yuji appeared later. Ahhh!! Squee!!! Megumi was sooo cute! And he was super cute in my other fav flashback scene where Nobara spilled coffee or whatever on Satoru's shirt, and Megumi stuffed the shirt under his own shirt to hide it from Satoru. Like lmao he gave himself boobies. PLS HE'S SO CUTE. MY LIL BEANIE BABY. See, this is why I can't have this man go all Sasuke. I need him to stay on the team for cute moments like that.

And speaking of cute Megumi things, I thought it was so cute when he was planning to die, and he replayed the last words he and Yuji said to each other. Something about them like staying safe/meeting up later or whatever. And he was like sorry I broke my word, Yuji. Something akin to that. :3

Holy moly some of the dialogue goes on for way too long during fight scenes and such. Like I know they have to explain all the techniques and details of curses and such, but it makes the fight scenes seem so much longer, and I'm like goddd please just shut up and fight (I'm literally not retaining any of the info they're saying anyway asldkja)!! Also, some of the fight scenes, even without a ton of dialogue, were just ridiculously long. Like did we really need 3-4 episodes of one fight between Yuji and Mahito?? I was like somebody new please come in and kill Mahito ASAP.

LOL the way that I was like "FINALLY, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME?" when Yuta finally arrived at the end, only to be like boooooo when he said he was gonna kill Yuji. Like nooo you two are supposed to be friends, okay. Be friends. Amigos. Pals. Fight side-by-side. Nah but surely Yuta will come around and fight alongside Yuji, right... right...

Wow yeah lots and lots of deaths this season. And now Megumi's sister is awake so okaaay...

Also, that Megumi dad dude was awesome as hell. He was freaking insaaane. I didn't care that he was kicking everyone's ass, I was just like let's goooo!

So anyway if any of y'all are reading the manga, please lemme know if Yuji and Choso retain a stronger bond of sorts or if that doesn't happen at all. Or if Choso straight up dies and they never get the chance for any kind of "hey that scar brain dude helped birth us so we're brothers" talk.

!!! I almost forgot!!! Why was Megumi holding Yuji's hood like this lmao. It was cute. And just. the big pile of bunnies.

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Grief/Mourning

Find the fic on Ao3!

Inspired by @16woodsequ's wonderful The Alternate End

Part I: Nebula

He’s put this off as long as he can.

Tony knows he should have done this much sooner. God knows how much pain Nebula’s been in while he’s been skulking in his hospital room, refusing to talk to anyone except Pepper. They’re probably all too occupied with their own pain to care. They probably think he’s angry over the Accords, the betrayal that still lingers there. He's still angry. He hadn’t realized until he was face-to-face with Steve Rogers in the home he’d decided wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

But that’s not why he’s avoiding everyone. He knows it makes no sense—after a long month in the cosmos, wondering who had lived and who hadn’t, he should just be relieved that they’re still here. Relief isn’t the word he’d use, though. It’s resentment.

He doesn’t care that he wasn’t strong enough to go after Thanos. He doesn’t care that the Mad Titan is dead. He doesn’t even care that the remaining Avengers hadn’t been able to win, not in the way that mattered. Tony had known it was hopeless long before they left the Compound. He knows because he’s been fighting this war longer than any of them. He’d known since he’d flown through the wormhole that this day would come if they didn’t pull out every weapon in their arsenal. Ultron, the Accords, scoping the planet for new talent like P—

Tony swallows back images of a dying planet and Mr Stark I don’t feel so good to focus on the project at hand. Nebula is already nervous enough without Tony’s mind being on a past he can't fix. There was never going to be a ‘fix’, this war always had to be won before it was fought, and no one had listened to him.

“We can wait another day,” Nebula bursts out. She’s been quiet since getting on Tony’s operating table, lying still and rigid as Tony tries to get a hold of himself enough to do this. She pushes herself up, swinging her legs over the side. “There is no urgency.”

Tony catches the flippant comment that comes to his lips. He’d gotten Nebula’s entire depressing backstory during their time slowly starving to death in space. He can’t imagine she associates body part replacement with fun and laughter. He nods at her damaged hand. “You can’t do anything with those fried wires. It has to be done sometime.”

“Some time does not have to be today.”

Tony pushes the rotating slideshow of Titan to the back of his mind, moving into her path as she attempts to leave. “Hey. You saved my life in space. I would have died of infection or, if I somehow survived, gone completely insane up there without our invigorating paper football tournament. Let me repay the favor.”

He forces himself to be patient as Nebula stares at her damaged hand. “You want to make us equal.”

That’s not Tony’s MO, but if it’s what gets this done, he’ll take it. “Yeah, sure. Equals” When she still looks nervous, he adds, “Besides, we don’t have to do the actual replacement today. I’m just mapping to get an extent of the damage before we take anything out or put anything in.”

It’s a straight-out lie as he’d been hoping to get this done all in one session, but Nebula’s shoulders finally relax. “Okay,” she allows. “We can do that. And you’ve done this before?”

Tony exhales, reaching for a holodisplay and moving it around so Nebula can see. He’d hoped to put this off until it was absolutely necessary. He doesn’t want to be reminded. He wants to take Pepper and find a cabin in the middle of nowhere and shut out the world forever. He shouldn’t have to fix things anymore. That’s what he’s been doing, for years, and he’s done it alone.

But Nebula shifts on the table, and Tony reminds himself that she wasn’t part of any of those fights, and it wouldn’t help to win the trust of a friend who comes without baggage. Bracing himself, he brings up the schematics for Vision.

Nebula’s breath catches as she takes in the holographic blueprints. “How much did you replace?”

“Replace?” Tony catches on and hurries to explain. “No, no, he was made like this from the start. He’s not a human we… Jesus, we don’t do that here.” He forces back images of a silver metal arm.

Nebula processes that. “He is all mechanics?”

“Was,” Tony murmurs. “Thanos…” He can’t bring himself to end the sentence. The death of half the universe chokes the Compound like a smog cloud, but the overwhelming nature of it has stayed in the abstract. Even now, weeks later, Tony cannot fathom just how huge a loss god knows how many planets have suffered. He can barely wrap his head around the death of four billion human beings.

But the knowledge that one of their own had been murdered in battle… That he can picture. That he can comprehend. Because one of his first ports of call when he could get out of bed without collapsing was Wakanda to retrieve Vision’s body.

He doesn’t know what to do with it. Vision had been very clear that in the case of his death, his parts were to be dismantled beyond repair. Tony knows he’s the best person left in the world for that job. It doesn’t mean he’s been able to bring himself to do it. He’s still not sure if the idea of keeping the corpse of a team member in the basement indefinitely is worse than the empty coffins they had buried on the Compound grounds.

“My father was a monster,” Nebula murmurs, staring at her toes. “I was never going to please him. And yet I tried to anyway. I would have done anything for him.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Tony scrubs at his eyes, zooming in on the blueprints for Vision’s arm that will become the basis for Nebula’s new one. “Here, you can follow along with everything I’m doing…”

He trails off when he hears a sob come from the operating table.

He freezes. Their entire time in space, he had not once seen Nebula cry. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him cry, either. It hadn’t mattered up there, not in any way that counted. They didn’t know who was gone. All they knew was that they would be gone themselves in barely the space of a few weeks, and then their grief wouldn’t exist.

But they didn’t die. Their grief didn’t pass into oblivion. They returned here, to Earth, and learned exactly what Thanos had taken.

Tony still replays that moment of seeing Steve sprinting toward the spaceship. Of Pepper following close behind. Seeing Rhodey, calling Happy. Realizing that, by some impossible odds, all the original six members of his team had survived the Snap.

Nebula hadn’t had that. Her team had crumbled in front of her. More than her team.

Tony moves over to her bedside to take her undamaged hand. “Thanos wasn’t your family,” he assures her. “You found a much better one. One who actually loved you. I know the feeling.”

"My sister..." Nebula angrily wipes away a tear. "She should not have shown him the Soul Stone to save me. I was not worth that sacrifice."

Tony squeezes her hand. "I doubt she saw it that way."

He sits and lets her cry into his shoulder as long as she needs to. He could have it worse. He could have lost so much more. He could still lose so much more if he stays in this mindset. He can’t change the past but he can stop it from changing him into a shape he doesn’t want to be anymore. Resentment is corrosive. He can’t afford it to spread when the rest of his life will revolve around construction.

Tony mentally puts aside Nebula’s repairs for another day. He has other building to do, anyway.

Part II: Thor

Clint’s gone and even Natasha can’t find him. Bruce is on the other side of the world, helping rebuild where he can, making vague promises about return dates. Tony’s not ready to face Steve. That leaves one.

The Asgardian refugees have taken over the Compound grounds. They’ve provided what they can for them but Tony still feels ill when he can see how few of them are left. Thanos had slaughtered half of those he'd found on the Statesman and then killed another half in the Snap. Asgard was gone, torn to pieces by an apocalypse they were never going to escape. Living on Earth feels the same way. They’d always known it would end here. Or at least, Tony had known.

He wonders if that is why his grief feels a little more tempered than the others’. This wasn’t a sudden loss for him. It’s the result of slowly losing a war, piece by piece, over the span of years. He always knew that they would only get one shot at victory. He’ll never know the future Strange saw where they scraped a win. He just gets this one and he has to do what he can with it.

He doesn’t find Thor with the rest of the Asgardians. A few conversations are enough to guide him to a tent in the far, far back, stationed away from all the others. Already a bad sign. So is the fact that the tent is dark as he approaches. Tony awkwardly paws at the tent cover to announce his presence in lieu of knocking, then calls out for good measure. “Thor. It’s Tony.”

He doesn’t get an invitation to come inside. He doesn’t get a refusal either. Good enough.

Thor doesn’t move from his prone position as Tony unzips the tent and steps inside. There’s no blanket over him or mattress underneath him, with barely the base of the tent to protect him. “You have a room at this Compound, you know. I built one for you. Just in case.”

Thor doesn’t look at him. He just keeps staring at the roof of the tent. “I will be with my people. Least their king could do after my brother sacrificed half of them for me." He spits the name of king out like venom. "After I could have killed Thanos when it mattered." 

Tony still hasn't been able to wrap his mind around the image of Loki dying in a heroic attempt to kill Thanos. Whenever he thinks of the trickster god, the memory that tends to come to mind is Loki throwing him from a window or the mass of black clothing at Phil Coulson's funeral. If Bruce hadn't been the one who had told him the story, including Loki handing over the Space Stone to spare Thor's life, Tony wouldn't have been able to believe a word of it.

"I don't have siblings," he says. "And I know things between you and your brother were... complicated. But there were a lot of steps a lot of other people could have taken and didn't. It's not all on you." He's suddenly back on the spaceship again, listening to Strange lecture him about how he wouldn't give up the Time Stone even if Peter's life was on the line. Tony doesn't want to know what choice he would have made if it was up to him. "Guess it's easier to say you'll give everything up to save the world than to actually do it. You gave up more than most already."

Finding the Asgardians a more permanent new home is on Tony’s to-do list, but losing half a population apparently wreaks havoc on a planet’s infrastructure. There’s been so much to do, from getting hospitals up and running, to restarting supply chains for food, to getting entire cities’ electrical grids functioning again. After months of work, the world is somewhat physically functional again. Tony doesn’t know how many decades will pass before the human race emotionally recovers. He knows it will be a long, long time after his lifetime.

“Well. It won’t be tents forever. I can promise you that.”

“Promises,” Thor scoffs. Tony fights the sudden urge to bolt in the other direction. It isn’t right, seeing one of the strongest Avengers and one of the last to lay down in a fight so utterly void of spirit. Then again, none of them are themselves these days. “Wouldn’t make any promises. They just end up broken.”

“A lot of things have ended up broken.” Tony sits cross-legged in the tent, plucking at a stray thread in his jeans. “Luckily, I’m pretty good at fixing things.”

Thor’s next words are a whisper. “There’s no fixing this. It’s gone. It’s all gone, and it’s not coming back, and we’re all just going to have to live with that.”

Tony closes his eyes. He knows that’s true. He knows that they will never, ever get back to where they were. But they can take baby steps in the right direction. He reaches into his pocket. “I know you’ve lost a lot,” he says, the words so unbelievably inadequate that he almost quits then and there. He stays, though. He doesn’t get to quit. That’s not a luxury he’s had since Afghanistan. “More than most of us.”

Thor shifts slightly. “It does not help to compare losses.”

The guilt Tony’s been feeling since he returned to Earth swells, but now is not the time to voice it. “I can’t bring Asgard back,” he says. Even now, with half of Earth’s life lost, he can’t comprehend the magnitude of losing his entire planet. “Or anyone you’ve lost. But I’ve been thinking…” His mind trails to Nebula’s newly equipped arm, which he had put the final touches on that morning. “We have to focus now on what we can get back. Or find replacements for, at least.”

Thor finally looks at him. “Do not suggest that there is any replacement for…” He trails off, anger abating when he sees what Tony is holding. “Is… is that for me?”

“The talking raccoon told me the one you’re using… well, actually, you don’t want to know where it came from.” Tony holds out the mechanical eye he’s spent the past week perfecting. “Besides, I don’t think you’re really pulling off the whole heterochromia look. Thought you looked better in your classic blue.”

Thor gently takes the eye, marveling at it. “Thank you, Stark. And for letting us all stay here.”

“I’m not letting you do anything. I built this place for the Avengers. That includes you. Use this place as you see fit—hm, I could have used some warning there.” Tony barely has time to look away before Thor casually pops his fake eye out, tossing the brown iris aside. Tony waits until the squelching sounds have stopped before he risks looking back.

“How does it look?” Thor asks.

Tony takes in the two symmetrical eyes. To his trained gaze, the mechanical one is ever so slightly glassier. It’ll never live up to the original. But it’s a start. “You look great.”

“I doubt that is true.”

Tony hovers awkwardly, not sure what else to say. “Can I do anything else?” he tries.

Thor is quiet for a long moment before he speaks. “Perhaps…” He suddenly reaches out, grasping for Tony’s hand. Tony lets him take it. “Stay, for a while?”

A part of Tony rebels against the idea. He’s got so many things he’s supposed to be doing, to be building, to be fixing. Then he looks at his friend, sprawled and miserable on the ground, and realizes that fixing doesn’t always have to require tools and a workshop. “Sure. I’ll stay.”

Part III: Steve

Things don’t get better, but they do get easier.

The number of global catastrophes has reduced. Supply isn’t where it used to be, but at least most people have access to food, power and clean water. The daily body count of new Blip-related deaths reduces. Tony had provided whatever resources he could, but even his wealth couldn’t keep up with locating and identifying the bodies. There were those who had died on the roads after drivers had Blipped or had been on suddenly pilot-less planes that had tumbled from the air. There had been those who died in hospitals with drastically reduced numbers of doctors and nurses. And then, worst of all, the orphaned infants and small children who had perished from neglect.

A grateful universe, Thanos had called this. The Mad Titan title has never felt so fitting.

Tony finds Steve by Bucky’s grave.

They’d given each Dusted Avenger a tombstone: a place for the living to mourn the dead. Tony deliberately does not look at Peter’s as he approaches.

Steve must hear him coming but he doesn’t raise his head. He’s bent over a compass, holding it so tightly that Tony fears it might break. He figures that’s as good a place as any to start the conversation. “Careful. You remember you have super-soldier strength, right?”

Steve’s hold doesn’t loosen. “It hasn’t broken yet.”

Tony takes his place by Steve’s side. He wishes the pain of what happened in Siberia would dwarf in the magnitude of the Blip. It hasn’t. It’s just been buried, pushed aside until Tony’s heart has room to feel it again. “Rhodey says you spend all day out here.”

“There’s nowhere else to be. There’s nothing else I can do.”

Tony knows the feeling. “Still. It’s freezing out here.” It’s not, really. It’s just something to say to fill the silence.

Steve pulls the compass close to his chest. “Bucky gave this to me. Two weeks before he died. He was different after Azzano. Like he knew. And he followed me onto that train anyway. ”

Tony casts about for something to say to that. “Weren’t they already… doing stuff to him in Azzano? Winter Soldier stuff? That might be what he had been feeling. Not some kind of death premonition.”

Steve doesn’t react mollified by the words. He doesn’t react at all. “You know he had the offer to go home after Azzano? He could have. He didn’t. Because he chose to follow me. Then, in Wakanda, he was at peace. And I brought a war right to his doorstep.”

“I don’t think the narrative is that simple.”

“If I had—”

“What?” Tony interrupts him, a little harsher than he means to. “If you had made Wanda kill Vision earlier? It wouldn’t have mattered, Steve. We lost the second Thanos got his hands on the Time Stone.” He ghosts a hand over the scar disfiguring his abdomen. Why? he wants to scream at Strange. Why would you do it? I wasn’t worth it.

“Wanda could have killed Vision the second we knew Thanos was coming to Earth. It wouldn’t have mattered,” he continues. “And as for going to Wakanda—that wasn’t just your choice, Steve. All the Avengers with you chose to do that. T’Challa chose to open his borders to you. Everyone in that battle chose to fight. You didn’t pressgang them. In fact, I don’t think pressganging the Dora Milaje is humanly possible. Wakanda was the most prepared place on Earth to tackle an alien invasion of that magnitude and their technology probably prevented the pre-Snap damage from being even worse. Those aliens would have torn apart the Earth for Thanos.”

Steve is quiet as he absorbs all of that. “You’ve thought a lot about this.”

“Yeah. For six years.” One future where they win. Tony’s been ripping himself apart trying to imagine what it would have been, what step they didn’t take. Maybe there were more futures, earlier in the timeline. Roads not traveled that didn’t end with a line of empty graves.

“I know you tried to prevent this,” Steve says softly. “I have been thinking… Ultron, the Accords, if those had played out differently--”

“Don’t,” Tony cuts him off. He’s done dwelling on this. He can rage and storm and shout I told you so all he wants. It won’t fix anything. “It’s done. We’re here. We need to make what we can of it.”

Steve is still staring at Bucky’s tombstone in a way that’s becoming increasingly unnerving. “This is the second time I’ve buried an empty casket for him."

Tony swallows, all too aware that he nearly made that a full casket in 2016. If Bucky was still here, Tony would have apologized with an arm, like the one he had built for Nebula. But unlike with Nebula and Thor, there is nothing Tony can physically build here to offer comfort. At least, not anything he’s thought of yet. "I know I ruined things that day in Siberia," he manages. "That I made you choose between the two of us. That wasn't fair. That isn't who you are."

"Tony—"

"No, just let me say this. And fine, maybe, we could have made a few more sacrifice plays along the way and not ended up here." If Gamora had given up Nebula, it Loki havd given up Thor, if Strange had given up him. If Steve had given up Bucky, all those years ago, instead of fighting entire governments for his freedom. "None of us had the strength to do it. The only person who did was Wanda and then that didn't even matter. And maybe if we had... well, maybe we stop being the good guys the moment we start trading lives."

He's not sure how much of his own argument he believes. But, for the first time since he can remember, he has more goals than trying to prove that he's right. “I was relieved,” he finds himself saying. “When I stepped off the Benetar, and found out Pepper and Rhodey and Happy had all lived.” He doesn’t mention Peter. He hasn’t been able to put into words what exactly a teenager from Queens had meant to him. “I still feel relieved. And that feels awful. And it also feels awful that it doesn’t feel more awful.”

“I’m glad,” Steve murmurs. “I’m glad you got to keep them.”

Tony keeps an ear out for any bitterness in those words. He doesn’t hear it. Steve is being honest. Tony swallows past the stubborn lump in his throat. “I was relieved as well… when I saw you. When I got my feet back on land and saw you were there. I was relieved.” More than just relieved. In those first few minutes, none of their fighting had mattered. Tony had been grateful to tumble into the arms of a friend—someone else to hold him upright for a few moments.

Steve nods slowly. “I was too. I didn’t want to hope too much, not after weeks of not knowing, not after we’d lost so many. But I couldn’t kill the hope entirely. And then you were there, alive and…” There’s a small hitch in his voice. “God, Tony, if it had been Bucky and Sam and you, I don’t think I would have…”

Without letting himself think about it too much, Tony reaches out to grip Steve’s shoulder. “We’re still here. Still fighting. That’s something. That has to be something.”

Steve nods again. “We’ll make it something.” It’s the first time he’s sounded like himself in months.

“That we will.”

"Maybe..." Steve shifts his gaze, past Bucky's grave to Sam's. "Maybe fighting looks different now. Like... like what Sam did. At the VA." He straightens at little at the promise of a mission. "Maybe it would help."

"I have no doubt it would. God knows how many people out there need someone to talk to." Tony looks from the grave to Steve. “You know, I had the wild idea I might cook tonight. Want to make sure I don’t set the kitchen on fire?”

For a terrifying moment, he’s sure Steve is going to say no. Then, the man seems to pull some of his shattered pieces back together. “Well, we can’t have a fire, I guess. Been putting out enough of those already.”

It’s not a miracle cure. No one is magically better. But Tony gathers whoever is left and makes something hot and homemade with minimal kitchen damage, and for once the conversation is more than about the work they’ll have to do tomorrow.

He can’t fix the world. But he will fix what he can.

[i-am-trying-my-best-okay]

Back On My Next Generation Shenanigans

Angeline "Andi" Jocelyn Herondale: The first Clary and Jace child. She has curly blond hair, freckles, and green eyes. She's very charming, but she's also been going through this life long crisis that the Shadowhunter's are in a never ending battle with the demons that will never end through the generations, only ending when the demons win; she's a bit of a natural pessimist. She thinks a lot about society and such, looking into the mundane forms of government, hoping it would be better then the Shadowhunter ones and was just like these all kind of suck, society sucks, I should make up my own form of government. She fights demons with knives, like a strange amount of knives; she'll hold like seven at once and slice away, she'll throw them and then pull some more out of nowhere. Thanks to this existential dread for her and the future generations thing, she ends up coming up with theories on how to just kill all demons forever, doing all kinds of research and experiments. With this, things get kind of messy. She also is kind of thinking about starting a coup, to overthrow the Shadowhunter form of government and implant a better one, which also gets kind of messy. Like I said, she's very charming, so she forms a whole group of people. Honestly, since she's so ambitious and willing to do many things to fulfil those ambitions, I think she might end up as a sort of antagonist, which should give an interesting dynamic with her family and friends. I can also see Shadowhunter's being like 'is it really surprising considering her grandfather' even tho she has a completely different set of ideals.

Jasper Robert Herondale: The second clace child. He has curly red hair, freckles, and black eyes. Much to surely everyone's surprise, he's a very quiet person, and to nobody's surprise, he would rather die then share even a hint of his true feelings. He gives big gentle giant vibes; man's just over here looming in the corner freaking people out, but the people who know him are just like 'nah, he's fine, he's just happy to be here'. He's the only one that got the tall genes, standing tall over all his other short siblings. He fights demons with a sledgehammer. When he was little he got kidnapped, but instead of pulling a Mina, he actually got traumatized. It was a mundane that kidnapped him, which is why it took a while to find him because nobody thought it was just some random mundane that took him. The mundane was going to sell him and some other kids to some rich buyer, but when the Shadowhunter's stormed the area to get Jasper they freaked out and started killing the kids as some sort of last minute cover up, not wanting to be caught with ties to the market cause then they'll just be assassinated in prison. But his parents got to Jasper before they could kill him, now the last survivor. This resulted in Jasper having a bit of a savior complex, feeling like he needs to save everyone since he feels like all those kids died because of him and he couldn't do anything about it, him, a Shadowhunter in training. It didn't help that he was naturally protective to begin with, now it was just twice as intense. This complex should lead to interesting thing when Andi goes all rouge.

Samuel Lucian Herondale: The third clace child. He has curly blond hair, freckles, and green eyes. He's the artist of his siblings, often drawing made up, disturbing looking creatures, along with other strange looking things. He's got this ever growing, hard to understand imagination, and it makes him come across as a bit strange and awkward, but he does have a lot of cool comics he's drawn but never published, though he wants to. The way he ends up fighting demons is sort of unusual; turns out, some of those creepy looking creatures he draws he can make come to life to fight alongside him, his parents angel blood coming through. Though he does have a weapon as well, that being a seraph blade. Despite it being angel power, and despite everyone literally knowing his parents whole Angel deal, Shadowhunter's are still side eyeing him for how demonic his creatures look. They're literally pulling out his family tree like 'oh wow Tessa the warlock is your great great great great grandma I bet that's those demon powers' or whatever. He's basically gaslit into thinking he's a demon, despite his parents being like 'it's probably just our angel powers but even if it's demon powers that's okay too'. But Samuel was already insecure, and this just fed into it. But ironically enough, he can't hate this power, making friends with the little creatures he makes; he just hates himself. I think out of all the Herondale kids he understands the most of why Andi went rouge.

Marigold "Mae" Celina Herondale: The youngest clace child. She has curly red hair, freckles, and gold eyes; kinda looks fox like now that I think about it. She's very quick witted, can talk on and on for hours and never run out of quips. Super competitive as well; whatever she gets into she will work herself to the bone to be the best. Although when she gets competitive, it just feels fun to her really, something to get passionate about, but then most people end up taking it wrong and get all heated about it or feel overwhelmed or something of that like, and she doesn't know how to correct it, especially in the moment. She fights demons with dual machete's. Mae often struggles with that connecting to people thing, but then there was the time when she actually connected with a demon more than a person. It was some random demon that could talk, and they were fighting but they both got sort of competitive about it and one thing led to another and now she and this demon are sort of besties. This led to her having a bit of a crisis of her befriending this demon so easily when she can't do the same with people, wondering what that makes her and if she's even worthy of being a Shadowhunter. Then there's the whole sneaking around to see her demon friend and worrying about when it came down to it what side would she be on. Honestly, she's more worried about what Andi will do to her and her demon friend then the Clave.

Noelle Rebecca Lightwood: Simon and Isabelle's first child. She has black hair and brown eyes. She's very much a poised, calm person. She's an introvert to the point where people think she's rude, but really she just can't handle socializing for very long, making her words seem clipped in dismissive, which she always ends up feeling guilty about. But she has a bunch of random, niche interests, that if you get her going on one of those she'll talk your ear off. She fights demons with a bow and arrow; Alec taught her. She's a bit of a glass child really, as her two siblings prove to be a bit of a handful, and she's seen as the 'easy to handle one'. Simon and Isabelle of course don't do this on purpose, they just have their hands full with the other two, and Noelle ends up festering in this. This leads to her physically unable to ask for help, not knowing how or if it's even allowed. She has all these insecurities and feelings she desperately needs help sorting out, and other people are always like 'wow your so put together and independent', making her feel this expectation and driving her into further isolation so people don't know she's not put together or think she's too needy.

George Maxwell Lightwood: The middle sizzy child, who definitely thought his name was inspired by 'George Lucas' before they told him about George Lovelace. He has brown hair and blue eyes; Will's eyes live on once again. He tends to feel things very deeply, doesn't know how to take things causally. Everything makes him feel these intense emotions, and people tell him he needs to 'calm down', or even think he's faking it, but that's just how he feels. He's also big into movies; he remembers every detail of every movie he's ever seen, researching the background of the movies as well. He has a multitude of screenplays he has written that he thinks aren't good enough to go on to become an actual movie. But his ability to feel things deeply assist him in writing these screenplays, able to insert such feeling in his characters and the presentation of situations. He fights demons with a seraph blade. George secretly doesn't really want to be a Shadowhunter; he wants to go off and make movies and such. But he feels guilty about it, what with feeling like if he takes irf he's betraying all of humanity. And there's also the stigma of his dad, Simon, being originally a mundane. People would say things like it was in his 'blood' to be a mundane, and that attitude would also go to his siblings, so he keeps quiet.

Lorelei Maryse Lightwood: The last sizzy child. She has brown hair and dark brown gold eyes. She's very much a free spirit, always running off and getting into shit, always disappearing and coming back after some strange misadventure. She just could never find it in herself to stay in one place. Girl will literally be missing for like a week and show up with jar of blood or whatever and is like 'I can explain'. She's a drummer, a very good one, hoping from band to band because she always seems to get involved in the shittiest bands who she insists 'have potential' but then they always end up falling through. That's how she gets into a lot of her misadventures really; she gives people the benefit of the doubt way too much, she looks for and finds people's best selves, which while sweet, can get her involved with bad people. She fights demons with this spiky baseball bat. Like I said, this trusting nature of hers gets her into trouble, but the biggest trouble she's gotten in is when she accidently got involved with some small that worships the demons and think they should take over the world. Now she knows way too much about this strange, ridiculously over funded cult, and is trying very hard to stop them while not telling anyone she has ties to such a treason. Worse yet, she ends up falling in love with someone in this organization, which makes things all the more complicated.

Eleanor Jia Penhallow: Helen and Aline's first child. She has black hair, freckles, and blue eyes. This was a planned adoption, a Shadowhunter orphan whose parents died fighting demons, now in need of a home. She's a bit of an actress, being able to disguise as different people as well as characters of her own creation. She really throws herself into these roles, using it to find out information and such, a bit of a spy in her own right really, pulling information for the Clave and for her allies. She's quick and able to read situations and people quickly, adding to her ability to act in difficult situations. This also leads her to know more then she probably wants to know, even of her friends, which can make her feel like she's being intrusive even when she's just looking at them. She fights demons with a double edged blade. A lot of the time she has trouble pulling herself out of said roles, sometimes feeling like she doesn't have a true personality and that even when she's not in a role and she supposedly 'herself' that it's not really her, that she's still acting. This leads to a bit of an identity complex, not really sure who she really is at a 'default', if the way she is is just another role or if it's natural, because she doesn't know.

Edmund Liam Penhallow: Heline's next child. He has curly black hair and brown eyes. This was more of an accidental adoption, a Shadowhunter abused by his parents that ran away to the Los Angeles institute at the age of only 9, of whom Helen and Aline get very attached to. He's very cautious and observant. He likes research; he knows every bit of Shadowhunter history and Mundane history, he knows how to fight with weapons he doesn't even wield, he learns about random things that one would think would never come up in a situation but when it does he's ready to info dump much to everyone's bafflement; guy's just a bundle of knowledge about basically everything. He fights demons with this hammer and nail thing, both using the hammer to hit the demons and for hitting the nails at a long distance at the demons. His parents were very much not careful with him. They put runes on him too young, they threw him in front of demons too young saying that was his training, and so on. The final straw that caused him to run away was when they had somehow got it in their head that he had the potential to talk to ghosts. His parents had heard of the Herondale's connection to ghosts, and one time they saw Edmund muttering to himself so they were like 'clearly he has the potential to talk to ghosts as well'. Edmund tried to correct this, as he very much could not talk to ghosts, but they just threw him into some sort of morgue for 'training', refusing to let him out until he made some sort of connection to a ghost. He tried to lie, say he did, but his parents saw through the lie every time. Two weeks passed before he gave into hunger and began eating the only thing edible in that room; the dead bodies. Another week passed, and at that point he thought his parents weren't ever going to let him out, but then they did. It was then that he ran away, the taste of dead people never truly leaving his mouth. Honestly, the way he saw it, his parents jumped the gun a lot on him, doing things to him without properly understanding, being so reckless with him. So this sort of fed into his obsessive 'I must know every detail before doing anything' thing he does, as he doesn't want to be like them, and he thinks this will prevent people from being hurt. I also think the whole eating dead people thing definitely led to an eating disorder of some kind, unable to eat a lot of foods without tasting dead people.

Andrew "Andres" Blackthorn Rosales: Eldest kiearktina child, born from Cristina and Mark. He has curly black hair and golden eyes. He adores the forest life, wants to explore every part of it. Though, the forest didn't naturally like him back at first, as he didn't have that natural connection to it like the Fae. But he learned the ways of the forest, able to navigate it like no one else, and now the forest likes him back. He wants to travel the world and explore all sorts of different terrains, map them out, understand them all. The guy has crazy survivalist skills he's both learned about and discovered through trial and error, and he can and will go on rants about them at any given moment. He fights demons with this mysterious sword the forest gave him as a gift that definitely won't lead to any sort of plot line don't worry about it. The Fae disapprove of his entire existence, looking at him in a sort of 'what is he even doing here'. He's only partially Fae, and they don't consider that to be enough, even though Andres feels more connected to the Fae then he does with Shadowhunter's. They don't even really consider him to be Kieran's son, despite the many, many times Kieran has made it very clear he is. They pick on him and do cruel tricks on him a lot, nothing to permanently damage him physically, since he does have that amount of protection from Kieran's name, but it does take it's toll on him mentally. His parents know what's going on, but he never tells him who did it.

Juniper "Junie" Kingson Rosales: Youngest kiearktina child, born from Cristina and Kieran. She has curly blue hair and silver eyes. She's very much attracted to the city life, lowkey hating the forest life, not vibing in their cottage core lifestyle; very much the opposite of her brother. Girl is super into architecture, learns about the different styles from all over the world, she's obsessed. She has doodles of her own architecture, and she wants to make them a reality someday. She fights demons with a three balled flail. She isn't considered to be a true heir, as Cristina is considered a consort. But that's good for her because she didn't want to be the heir anyway; life in the fOrESt? Forever? No thank you. Give her that industrialization. But there does need to be an heir, and Kieran very much does not want to have a child with some other Fae woman just to have one, so as time wears on it's looking like an illegitimate heir is looking better than no heir. That would skip over her brother and to her, because even though Kieran of course sees them both equally as his children, she has Kieran's blood in her, so the Fae would consider her first. Of course, Kieran has siblings it would go to first, but even the slight possibility of it ever going to her puts her on edge. She feels it in the other Fae's eyes, that they hate her, but they'll take her as a last resort. She feels it in the way they talk to her, like they want to hurt her so bad, but don't just in case she does end up ruling over them. As such, being around most Fae make her uncomfortable, and would rather be with the Shadowhunter's.

Benjamin "Benji" Livia Blackthorn: The only blackstairs child; I'd imagine after raising all of his siblings, Julian might opt to spend all his energy into one kid rather then several. He has curly brown hair, freckles, and blue green eyes. He has a love for making weapons, not just weapons that already exist, but ones he thinks up himself. He'll experiment with new ideas and even fashion to better suit the individual person. He's very passionate about it, leading him to come off as very intense. He'll go out and actively seek out demons to test his prototype weapons on alone. It's a very dangerous thing that Emma and Julian have desperately tried to stop, but Benji is incredibly stubborn and tenacious, a consequence of having Emma and Julian's genes. But when he's fighting with other people, he's less likely to just test something he hasn't before, as he doesn't want to put other people at risk, so when he fights demons with other people he switches between a multitude of weapons he's tested before that were successful. People are very wary of Benji's weapons because they're breaking tradition; he's mixing metals that have never been mixed. People call it a disgrace to the Angel's gifts, saying he's basically spitting in the Angel's face; so as you can imagine, Benji isn't very popular. There was this one time when he was younger that he was told some kids were going to meet up, so he met up with them without telling his parents because he didn't think it would take that long, only for to be locked in a closet in their house for like a day before Emma and Julian found him. The kid wasn't trying to kill him, the kid was planning to let him out after a few days, but he didn't tell Benji that. It was a very traumatizing event, and he became rather claustrophobic and suspicious of people who are nice to him after that.

[humankarkat]

@zebsfloppyears asked for more details on Kallus' arc in the MOTW au, and I'm more than happy to oblige.

Kallus starts off as your run-of-the-mill FBI agent sent off to the butt crack of nowhere for a wild goose chase of an assignment, but pretty quickly gets tied up in the whole "monsters are real and the government is collecting mediums for unethical experiments" deal. His arc progresses fairly straightforward for the first bit of the AU, but then we reach the problem of, well. The US government is bad, but it's not "obliterate whole planets just because they looked at us funny" bad.

So when he ends up stranded on the side of a mountain outside a Utah ski resort called Behryn along with a handsome man who also happens to be bigfoot in disguise, that breaks some ice (haha) but it isn't quite enough to fully radicalize him.

But it does mean that, when he wakes up several weeks later handcuffed to the same radiator as Kanan Fucking Jarrus, he's a bit more equitable to working together to get out. Sure, it's a bitch off, how could it not be with those two, but they don't kill each other, and Kallus lets Kanan go once they've dealt with their captors.

So when Hera makes eye contact with him at a party they're both under cover at the next month, she remembers how he spared Kanan. It's not like she could say anything, anyways, since confronting him would break her cover, and if Kallus confronted her it would break his cover, so instead they silently agree to a truce, and unfortunately have a great time together.

And see, now he's fallen into the trap. Now he's actually a bit fond of these people. Now he's willing to give them grace when before he was only doing his duty. Unfortunately, he does still have a duty to perform, so he begrudgingly works with the CIA agent he's been paired with to finally track down and corner Ezra Bridger. Except, then the CIA agent pulls his gun, and Kallus reminds him that Ezra is 16, still a minor, and that they're to take him in alive, because why on earth would they kill a child? But then the CIA agent tells him that his orders were to eliminate their target, and Kallus sighs and pulls his own weapon, but it isn't Ezra he points it at. And Ezra makes it home safe, and he tells them what happened, and oh, maybe that FBI bitch isn't as bad as we thought?

Which is Sabine's first thought when she comes home one day to see a familiar car parked next to the Ghost, the one Ketsu had been driving last year when they'd reconnected, but Sabine really isn't ready for that conversation yet so she turns around and goes back into town to clear her head. And when she sees a familiar mutton-chopped fed sitting on a nearby park bench she remembers how he'd treated Ezra, and she really needs someone to talk to besides the spectres (she's sure they wouldn't understand, since they were the ones who were probably eating dinner with her sorta-ex girlfriend right now), so she plops down next to him. He's confused, yeah, and he asks her if she wants to be arrested, but when she shrugs and says might as well, it's better than going home right now anyways, well, Kallus has sisters of his own, and she's so small sitting next to him, and god dammit if he doesn't ask if she's hungry, tells her there's a pretty good diner around the corner. And Sabine grins at him and says as long as it's on your dime, fed, and all of a sudden they're eating together and talking about their exes and, well. It's all over from there. The spectres have caught him, hook line and sinker.

None of them are surprised, later, when Kallus helps Sabine break those poor cadets out of the Air Force testing facility, or when he tells Kanan and Ezra in the weapons factory that he's been the one supplying their most recent leaks. He may be a fed, but he's their fed.

[exoticalmonde]

Arknights Chapter XIII - The Whirlpool That Is Passion (Part V)

ALSO, a reminder that I am currently waiting for the new event, so perhaps I am going to move through the story of that before finishing Chapter 13 here. I already got through all the levels, so I need to just read the story. HOWEVER, since this is also a Leithanien event and that means I AM A WINNER (together with Dr. Lundi who is cuffing Arturia to herself to make sure she doesn't run amock), there will be an update about the pulls later.

WARNING: This post is going to contain a lot of yapping from me about Hoederer and how much I love him and will also have a LOT of spoilers.

As I was saying... Health-ism.

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LIKE WE DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO YOU SUDDENLY START EXPLODING US ARE YOU NOT HAPPY WITH ALREADY BEING A TORN-DOWN COUNTRY LEAVE THEM ALONE GOOD GOD.

Yeah? They're trying to attack out of nowhere, desperate and mostly just ravaged by the war? Crawled out of the trenches like 3km away? I wonder what could be the reason for Victorians to do that.

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Absolute utter control of the situation, I REALLY regret not paying attention to Guard. One day... One day I will reread everything and perhaps finally start noticing things that are important in the story.

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I'm so mad. He's the problem. That's the problem. Victoria obviously is not adept at keeping them, just like all the other countries we have seen so far. They never learn.

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For context, the Angry NCO was asking whether despicable people get infected, or if Infected people are just despicable; and suddenly Guard shoots a:

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They didn't even get inhibitors. As chaos breaks, people who have never had to hold a weapon suddenly have to face a foe and pull the trigger. Nothing to help them, nothing to make it easier. Simply cannon fodder to buy time until the big pieces come to a conclusion on what they have to do...

But this is how it works.

But what about their backs?

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First of all - he's a gonner.

Second of all... OH GOD, HE'S A GONNER!!!

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I was not here for the R6 Siege event where they explained the entire problem with corpses of Infected, and those who did not really notice what was happening with Frostnova at the time couldn't have possibly known either.

The horrifying part about this conversation is the realization that they were lied to: The troops heard explosions, and crackling, the same as the one they are hearing here, but they were told that it was just artillery.

In reality, this is the sound that the bodies begin making when they are ready to erupt. Well... Erupt is not a good word. Explode is an option, but that's too gruesome to imagine. Basically, the bodies of the infected proceed to deteriorate and the sickness spreads so quickly that it becomes unstable, and the way that Oripathy spreads further is by disintegrating the victim into a cloud of originium particles.

This makes it impossible for this body to stay so close to camp being a health hazard for those that have survived and are recuperating. Unfortunately, I feel like they will have to be sent away.

But it's fascinating to see it MENTIONED finally, after so many years of hints.

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For this level, this is what I have used, but technically speaking all you need is a Mountain, a good sniper, a Mudrock, a good caster and a medic defender. I made Ebenholz hold the bottom line, but then the enemy there slipped and I almost failed at holding him down with Hoederer (who wasn't max level at the time). I also took Heidi (but any bard will do) for the passive healing on Mudrock because she was not enjoying her time back under the cannon.

This is the video I used as a guide.

A reminder that the Environmental Conditions are: Touches of the Sanguinarch have significantly increased HP.

Bring additional blockers with high enough damage to put in front of the bottom blue box so Heidi can kind of heal them while they deal with the problematic ones.

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13-2 After: The Injury At Hand

But accidents happen...

Ah... canon-typical loss.

[themonotonysyndrome]

oh great Lady mono tone,

i ask for castin headcannons (sorry for any mistakes english isnt my first language)

Since Des confirmed that the baroness is gonna be prego in the next part, how do you think castin would react to the baroness on her monthly cycle (sudden increase on consuming all of her chocolates, her mood swings being snappy or grouchy at one time but then being all calm and slightly more clingy towards him, having to pull herself together in public with painful smile pretend everything is fine while castins beside her panicking at the iron grip she has on his arm). sorry if this seems very OC like. You can Change it how ever you like to fit Celica ❤️❤️❤️❤️

SKFMKDLSMF Good afternoon, sweet Anon! Aww, you don't have to flatter me, ok? I love getting Asks about Celica!

Aite. One set of Castin headcanons with a mercurial Baroness/Celica on her bloody month coming up!

Period headcanons with Castin and Celica:

See, all throughout her life, it's metaphorically (only sometimes, though) beaten into Celica that she must remain composed in public at all times. Or not? Well, watch as the tables are gonna flip over her head, and now she's at the mercy of others.

So that means absolutely no acting out even when you're on your period.

It's cool. It's fine. It's whatever. Like hell would an Imperial Noblewoman ever slip up because of a period? Insane cramps? Fucking walk it off, that's what Celica has been doing all her life. Hell, even her governess would slap her hands with a ruler if she so much as wince! So she got it locked down, baby!

.....And then Castin Hammer happened. And look at that! Slowly but surely, Celica is becoming softer around another human being who isn't one of her guardians. Love wins again!

Sure, marriage life is rocky, and don't get me started on their first meeting, but hey, they're in that spot now where she can tease him in public! But what about her bloodied time of the month?

Well, Castin IMMEDIATELY notices that something is off when the Head Butler suddenly shoves a bunch of candies and sweets into the pockets of his pants without even a single word. And these candies aren't poison! Castin is a smart cookie; he knows this has something to do with his darling wife. His warrior senses are sharpened today!

Oh boy, did it pay off: Celica was snappy when he found her in the office. Her usual decorum is nowhere to be seen as she chucks every report that upsets her and hardly spares Castin a glance until -

"Babe? You, uh, you good?" Castin knew that that was the wrong thing to say when Celica slowly lifted her head to stare at him. OH SHIT -

"Why Castin, whatever could you mean? Did you mean to say that I don't look 'good' in terms of looks, hmm? Do I look particularly like a goblin to you today?"

"Goblin!? N-NO! Nononononono! Celica, honey, light of my life. Mother of my future child - "

"Oh? Am I just a convenient, walking womb to you, Hammer?"

She's bringing out his surname. This is officially an emergency. Luckily for Castin, he remembers the weapons in his pocket and immediately dumps them on his wife's table and prays to the Divine Couple for the best.

Celica freezes. She stares at the pile of candies. And then, like a spooked horse, she slowly unwraps one and starts chewing the treat. Castin could've collapsed onto his knees in relief at that moment dsnfjkndkfndkjngf

"First day of your period, babe?"

"...Yes."

"Can I help you with anything? Anything other than candies?"

Here, Castin is delighted to see his wife squirming in his seat in embarrassment for some reason. He's giddy when she, uncharacteristically in shyness, requested, "Can you... please accompany me today? I could use some of your strength."

"Hell yeah, Celica! Here, maybe it'll help if you do those reports on my lap?" Castin suggests, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. He fully expects his wife to roll her eyes but much to his surprise, Celica grabs her pen and paper and makes herself comfortable on Castin.

So that's how the rest of their day went by, Celica being adorably clingy in her own way; asking him to sit closer to her during meal times, letting him play with her hair and at point, even squeezing his bicep when Captain Dolion rudely stares at her. Castin took it all with grace, and very much like a besotted husband.

When it comes to her cramps, Castin is ready with a cool cloth to wipe her face whenever she's left breathless. He grimances when Celica insist that she clear most of her work for the day before retiring to the Leisure Room.

After dinner, Castin directs her there so the two can be cosy together. Watching a rom-com and there's a hot waterpack for her stomach while Celica is wearing as little clothing as possible.

All in all, since Castin has been with many women and had a good and firm mother raising him, he won't leave a woman to deal with her period pain alone!