#being hounded by some human who is convinced she is magical and they are right

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - ACOTAR Chapter 4

Join me on a reread of A Court of Thorns and Roses

Chapter 4

Feyre meets a beast.

“The beast had to be as large as a horse, and while his body was somewhat feline, his head was distinctly wolfish. I didn’t know what to make of the curled, elk-like horns that protruded from his head. But lion or hound or elk, there was no doubting the damage his black, daggerlike claws and yellow fangs could inflict.”

I'll be honest I just kind of pictured a blur of beast-like features for Tamlin's beast form, but now that I'm looking at some fan art I get the idea of what she was going for much better. Do we get better descriptions later?

“But it was another word that echoed through me: Faerie.”

I'm curious why she thinks this when she didn't note anything about Andras? Maybe Tamlin's unleashed his power and she can just feel it? Is there a distinction between faeries and other magical creatures or is Faerie shorthand for all of magical kind?

“I had vague memories of being read the Treaty during my childhood lessons, but could recall nothing about wolves.”

I just think the humans would have this treaty top of mind if they live on the border and are terrified of the fae. Wouldn't it be really important that everyone uphold the treaty, so the fae don't have reason to retaliate?

“He blinked and glanced at my sisters, then back at me, at my thinness—no doubt seeing only frailness instead. “Surely you lie to save them.”

Come on Tim Tam. Of course it's the girl who just tried to stab you and is now bargaining with you. Not one of the three people huddled in the corner crying.

“Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles.”

I think this line gives us another hint that Feyre doesn't see herself as a perfect angel that can do no wrong, even if that's what the narrative is more or less telling us. She believes she has the same capacity for awfulness that her sister does. I would like to see more of that though.

“Most of you mortals have chosen to forget that part of the Treaty,” he said, “which makes punishing you far more enjoyable.”

Why are mortals in this world so dumb?!? You should definitely remember the parts of the treaty that can get you killed.

“You murdered my friend,” the beast snarled. “Murdered him, skinned his corpse, sold it at the market, and then said he deserved it, and yet you have the nerve to question my generosity?” How typically human, he seemed to silently add.”

I don't think kidnapping someone is particularly generous.

“Faeries couldn’t lie, but they could omit information.”

Literally the third time this chapter that we are told faeries can't lie. That definitely means it's true, right?

“But in going with him, I would be breaking the most important promise I’d ever made. Surely it trumped an ancient treaty that I hadn’t even signed.”

Come on Feyre, that's not how political treaties work.

“Whatever you do,” I said quietly, “don’t marry Tomas Mandray. His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it.” Nesta’s eyes widened, but I added, “Bruises are harder to conceal than poverty.”

She really could have told Nesta that sooner.

“You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.” He squeezed my hands. “If you ever escape, ever convince them that you’ve paid the debt, don’t return.”

She's certainly too good for her family, but it's interesting that he says she's too good "for here" when she seems to fit in there best of all of them and likely would not be happy with a high society lifestyle.

“You go somewhere new—and you make a name for yourself.”

And she really fucking does.

[reginarubie]

This part: "they delved into blood-magic, created chimeras by genetically and biologically twisting the flesh of animals and people to make chimeras (Fire and Blood) and were generally used to use dark magic and blood magic as well." is excellent! I think the creatures in Aerea's body in Fire & Blood are Valyrians without their magic. Rhaego with his inhuman features is the result of Targ genes like Maegor's children with various women. Dragons also get weird like Laena's freaky human arm eater.

Hello!

I think the number of clues pointing in this direction are too many to be simply coincidences.

I mean, Maegor's children with various women (also women who had already proved they could bear living children, living sons as well) were born eyeless and with small wings (too similar to the way Rhaego is described to be something not to be accounted for, especially since in her previous chapter Daenerys claims to be the blood of Maegor the Cruel).

Aerea's case is most compelling as well.

Starting from the beginning even historians claim there might have been a swap of identities pertaining Aerea and Rhaella, two twins of different attitude.

Aerea before Jaehaerys coronation in Oldtown was considered to be frightful and cautious (she was afraid of everything, from booming voices, bearded men, horses, hounds and dragons as well), after the coronation she did a complete turnover (to the point maesters and historians speculated she had swapped places with her twin sister Rhaella who was a novice of the faith while in Oldtown) and became a right terror, reckless and unafraid, to the point she even claimed Balerion (who had been rode by Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel, another coincidence? It's possible, but unlikely) and flew away from the 7K, to Valyria (possibly, but maybe even Asshai).

According to Lord Rogar Baratheon she had a "fire" in her. Archmaester Gyldayn likewise described her as a "fiery young girl".

— Fire and Blood

Which is suspiciously similar to Daenerys being resistant to fire and claiming that since Viserys wasn't he was no real dragon. Because fire cannot kill a dragon. Yet...

There she spent a whole year. When she returned she was burning so hot with fever that the maester was convinced she was cooking from within. She was covered in boils and was so monstrous that the king forbid anyone of speaking about it. Whatever she had done, or be exposed to with the ignorance of a girl who had not studied those arts (because let's face it, like when the Roman Empire fell, when the Freehold was destroyed much of its history and knowledge went lost), had been retorted against her and she was dying from it, she had become a chimera. Because how else would you describe a creature of twisted flesh, as if with dark arts and sorceries and blood rituals had Aerea previously impeccable appearance changed so drastically? It looks to me like the consequences of a blood ritual, or dark sorcery gone wrong or getting out of hand of a young girl who had dabbled in something she had little knowledge of (kind of like Daenerys when she did the first sacrifice by sacrificing the stallion and unawarely, to which point unknown by her own words, her son to save Drogo) and was paying the consequences, consequences that, in Daenerys' case latched upon her unborn child.

The creatures that were inside of Aerea' body, and got out of it killing her and causing her immense degree of pain, are described like some sort of mutant worms (maybe the product of some other sorcery went wrong or awry after the doom of Valyria) they were the one causing the immense heat in the body of the princess yet they died because of the ice in which the princess had been immersed (kind like the dragons, which are fire made flesh, who are weaker and almost unusable in the cold). It is way too similar to the description Mirri gives of Rhaego at his birth, with worms feasting on his flesh as if he had been dead for a thousand years, blind and with small wings and the beginning of a small tail.

Also, Laena Velaryon was considered a fiery young girl by the age of eleven.

Another nudge, imo, to Daenerys Targaryen who was reborn in the fire of the pyre.

Should I also add that all the ladies we cited (Daenerys, Aerea/Rhaella, Laena) all loved flying above all else? Because they did. Another similarity.

Another similarity?, Laena was considered, at first, as a suitable prospect to bride for Viserys, who instead married another noblewoman. Daenerys, in her youth, believed she would become her brother's bride before he sold her to Drogo to further his ambition and get the Iron throne, at which point — if he ever managed — he would've had to marry another noblewoman in her place. Instead both Laena and Daenerys ended up marrying a warrior. Daemon Targaryen provoked Laena' betrothed so much that they duelled and killed him; Drogo was unbeaten in every duel he ever fought.

Also, she flew to Pentos, and remained there for a while. The same place we find Daenerys in when the story begins, just saying.

And the last pregnancy Laena has, she births a twisted and malformed son, who died within an hour of his birth. Another striking similarity with Daenerys and Rhaego.

At which point the whole question begs an answer...was it really only genetics or part of it was because of some blood rite they did and continued to do maybe even unawarely? The intermarriages sure helped none. And the fact that the dragons themselves starts to wither, to become twisted in the flesh, malformed and such more the time passes suggests also that maybe whatever source of magic they drew from in Valyria (both dragon riders and dragons themselves) may have been lost long enough to weaken them.

I am acutely aware much of this is speculation, but it is based on the text and I find it very compelling! Thank you anon for your input and suggestions, I had not thought about the similarities with Aerea and Laena!

post being referenced to is this one in which I considered the implication of the fact that Daenerys has used deliberately (like all valyrian before her) blood magic to get her dragons from the eggs, and why this makes her and the dragons the exact opposite to the Starklings and the direwolves. Especially considering the connotations Martin gives magic as something often twisted, dangerous and dark — often taking life and consequences of its own, just look at Hodor — it does not bode well neither for Daenerys nor for the Seven Kingdoms she means to come and conquer for her own. 

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Demeter

Have I been using this series to vicariously punish Belphie for the events of Season 1? I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter

Lucifer

Didn't think too much of the "human" when they popped out of the portal. Sure they had a straw hat and a huge basket full of produce but it wasn’t like they were… Wait… No… Were they…?

Oh no. Oh nonononono, this is not good…!!

Demeter is notoriously doting and protective of her children (see her freakout and breakdown after Hades abducted of Persephone as proof) and they've pretty much done the EXACT. SAME. THING. here!!

It was a mad scramble by him and Diavolo to contact and appease their godly Mother Bear before she came roaring down to Devildom herself to turn them all into barley. Thankfully, Zeus must have intervened at some point because though she was indeed PISSED, she didn't threaten to barge in… yet.

She made one thing very clear. Bend so much as a single hair on her precious child's head and there would be WAR…

The MC received a 24 hour security detail after that. Just Mammon wasn't going to cut it, he needed NO chances. It was a full rotation of Mammon, him and Beel for the entirety of their stay (Asmo and Levi both threw hissy fits at the prospect of babysitting, Satan couldn’t be trusted not to kill them just to irritate him, and Belphie was out for… obvious reasons).

In some ways, it wasn’t so bad. The MC was a very mild sort of person, rather even tempered. He’d dare say they were pleasant, mostly content to just tend to their gardens and be out in the moonlight…

But the problem was, he just could not convince them to stay OUT of nature. Including the forests, which were full of hellish beasts fully intent on gnawing their flesh from their bones… and their specialty was plants, not animals, sooo…

Their habit of sneaking out to wander the woods got so bad that he very nearly considered pulling a Belphie 2 and locking them in the basement for their own good. But Devil knows what damage their mother would do if she found out…

At least they make for pleasant company… And Diavolo seems to like them quite a bit himself so the mortal gets a pass from him. Now if they’d only consider their own safety for a change…

Mammon

They make him a KILLING.

Like, no seriously. Their produce is insane!! He’s never tasted food so good, especially stuff that’s come fresh from the ground! It only took a few berries for Mammon to throw on a straw hat himself and start harvesting! He’s a farmer now, baby!!

Weeellll not quite. He’s still absolutely only in it for the money, but anything he brings to a farmer’s market goes so fast that he can hardly care about the labor! He’s never made this much Grimm in his life!! And it’s totally legit for a change!

He bought himself another car, paid off half of his debt, and even got Levi back that 2 or 3 grand he leant him centuries ago. Really, Mammon’s living his best life and it’s all thanks to MC!

It’s a good thing his blatant grifting doesn’t hurt his relationship with them at all, in fact they seem to enjoy having his help regardless. They bring him drinks on hot days or invite him on picnics and stuff, it’s… it’s really sweet. They’re very nice to him and he appreciates it…

But… COULD YA JUST STAY PUT ALREADY???

It drives him INSANE that they won’t stay out of dangerous places!! After he started caring about them for more than just a meal ticket it only got even worse!!

He’s not usually one for monitoring someone’s every move (that kind of control freak behavior is more a Lucifer thing) but he eventually had to set up familiars around the House just to keep them from sneaking out at night...

What was so interesting out there anyway?? There wasn’t any kind of plant that he could bring them himself! They didn’t have any need to be out there!! 

They’d keep telling him they’d be fine but it’s not like he’s going to actually buy that. They were too… nice to be dangerous or anything so why would he believe them?

No more running off, MC! Please, he’s beggin’ ya!!

Leviathan 

Wait, gardening? Like, being outdoors and stuff? Ew. No thanks, he’ll pass.

That was more or less his first reaction when they showed up and it never really got much better than that…

He admits that they’re friendly and it’s not like he dislikes them or anything, but their thing so far from his thing that they just don’t have a lot in common… you know?

For starters, they get So. Antsy. when they’re inside for too long! He tried to invite them to a marathon once, but they could hardly keep still and kept looking around like they were searching for a window… He said, “to jump out of.” They insisted just for some fresh air, but he didn’t buy it...

They’re nice enough to listen to his rants, but they’re barely ever inside for him to do so and like HELL is he going to leave his room and stand around out there for that long. Ranting is at least a one to two hour engagement! What if he gets hot out there? And have you SEEN Devildom bees?? Hell no!!

He has, however, asked them on multiple occasions to reproduce flowers he’s seen in different anime, especially ones that have a very unique look and they’ve done some real wonders with that!

He can now claim to be the only person to ever own a Ruby-Jade Vine plant, straight from the pages of TSL when it was used to brew tea for the Lord of Lechery during his brief illness and-is anyone even still listening anymore?

The point is, it’s a flower so rare it was imaginary but now HE has it!... or had it for about a week until his utter incompetence of all things plant killed it…

He begged the MC for another but they were out of the plants they needed to make it and would have to go back to the human world to find more… He’s still mourning his loss… Poor Henry 4.0…

Satan

Well… He’s called this MC “salt of the Earth” and he does truly mean it. Take of that what you will.

He doesn’t get much in the way of intellectual conversation out of this mortal UNLESS he’s talking about plants, farming, or botany… Interesting topics and complex in their own right to be sure, but that’s pretty much their wheelhouse and they like it there.

That being said, the feats that they can perform are genuinely mind-blowing! They are the ONLY person he has ever met who can cultivate the Devildom’s own ultra-rare Phantom Orchid, a plant only blooms when it reaches a perfect state of undeath (i.e. both taken care of and neglected just enough so that it's only barely alive. The balance is so tricky to master that one hasn’t bloomed down there for centuries!)

There’s also something just genuinely relaxing about watching them work or helping them in the gardens… More so than he’d ever expected from such a simple activity.

He admits that he’s taken quite a few strolls through the flower-filled courtyard of the Demon Lord’s Castle just to admire its beauty... But anything that they can grow just blows all of that out of the water!

They even taught him several magic botanical techniques so now he can grow some pretty mad plants himself. Lucifer never expected to find that giant Venus Flytrap in his closet, but one was there regardless. 😏

Just… out of curiosity one day, he asked the MC if they could make him a new kind of catnip. Not for any nefarious reason! You know… just for research purposes…

The nip they made was so effective that the House grounds were FILLED with nipped-up cats for a whole month! He was in Heaven!! (and Lucifer practically wiped those plants from existence so he couldn’t get any more… asshole...)

That must have inspired them because they apparently made a demons-only version that they told him about WELL after the fact. Had he known, he probably would have burned the stuff on principle... Do you know how dangerous demon-nip could be to them? Experiment responsibly, MC!

Asmodeus 

Ehhhh, gardening SOUNDS like one of those things that should be super Devilgram-able, but then you realize how sweaty and dirty you get in the process and it’s a huge turn off… Sorry MC.

When they first came down to the Devildom, he thought two things: 1) Such a sweet little flower child, as adorable as they were, would never survive; and 2) even if they could, he would never ever see eye-to-eye with them on the “wonders” of getting all up in the dirt.

Well, he was right about 2, but certainly not 1. Personally, he thinks his brothers worry about them too much, they ARE still a demigod.

At one point he saw a pack of hellhounds almost trample one of their vegetable gardens and they lost it. Word to the wise, never try to take on a child of Demeter in their own garden. Those hounds were wrapped up in rose vines before they could even yelp...

Yeah, the MC would be fine.

That being said, while everybody else clamors over their produce, he thinks that their flowers are really where it’s at!

Taking just five minutes in one of their gardens is something else... He’s never seen blossoms as healthy and immaculate in all the Devildom before! Their beauty could (almost) rivals his own! What they do isn’t just a hobby, it’s an art.

He’s taken multiple pictures with their blossoms and they go viral every time. It’s so rare to actually see gorgeous, petal-filled flowers in the Devildom, most of the native plants are of the man-eating variety.

His only complaint about this MC is that they seem to feel much more at home in work clothes and dirt than they do in any sort of party-look he tries to give them… Cute as they are, they can afford to gussy up sometimes can’t they? Mud and grass stains don’t make for a good look, sorry.

Beelzebub 

Beel gardens and the MC gardens as well. Add on that they seem to be able to grow all manner of fruits and veggies and he likes this one. A lot.

They had just finished apple-picking when the portal nabbed them so they had a massive basket of apples at the time. Naturally, Beel more or less stole the thing on sight, but the apples inside were so juicy and good that he almost shook them down for more on the spot!

Imagine his surprise when they, half pleadingly, explained to him that if he got them some seeds they could just grow more… and it wouldn’t even take that long.

To be clear, the formula he saw was this: Get seeds > bring seeds to mortal > mortal grows seeds > mortal makes endless supply of food….

Congratulations MC, you’ve now earned the sixthborn’s eternal loyalty after a grand total of… two minutes. He didn’t even know their name, but he was willing to take a bullet for them (provided he got more of those apples).

The next several months were spent with Beel attached to them to the hip in some way, but honestly? It was just so wholesome anyway…

If he’s helping in the garden, he never complains. He does most of the heavy lifting and actually likes being out there with them (unlike others...)

Many afternoons were spent sitting under fruit trees and talking. Sometimes, they go to the trouble of preparing a picnic or something but it would always inevitably end with Beel plucking the whole tree clean of whatever ripe (or unripe) fruit he can get his hands on with a smile. 

The MC never minded though. That’s just another excuse to grow more, right?

His only problem was when the MC would sneak out to the forest… especially when they get too antsy and just go alone. 

He HATES it when they do that! How is he supposed to keep them safe if they just wander off?? He knows that they have a special connection to nature and all, but it isn’t safe…

He’s flown in and scooped them back up to the House on numerous occasions and his “talking tos” get sterner after every rescue... Please stay put, MC! He’d have so many reasons to be sad if you were eaten… 😔

Belphegor 

Okay, he was looking for a capable, if not gullible, human. Not a shoeless flower hippy!

He honestly wasn't expecting much out of this one... Damn their little heart because they did genuinely believed his lies, it’s just that they weren't… well… They were really good at gardening.

… And it grew kind of hard to keep hating them whenever they'd show up just to give him fresh berries or a bouquet to see him smile… He may claim that his heart is made of nightmares and orphan tears, but who doesn’t enjoy being given a batch of flowers? 

Damn their sweetness too… Right to here.

When it came time to kill them he had a heavier heart than he thought he would, but kind of saw it like putting down the sacrificial lamb. Gotta be done to reach better goals... Stiff upper lip and all that.

Unfortunately for him, they had taken to carrying packets of demon-nip with them as a self-defense measure…

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when they shouted “Get nipped!” at him mid-attack, but it wasn’t a face full of some smelly herb! Like, really smelly…! Actually, that smelt kind of good… Hold on.

Turns out murderous rage really doesn’t last long after you get what is effectively ultra-strong catnip thrown in your face. They ended up having to go and tell Lucifer what happened themselves because Belphie was way too blissed out on the floor to do anything... They were legitimately worried they might have fried his brain...

He’s told the effects of the demon-nip lasted three days. He doesn’t know, because he hardly remembers any of it... They described him as like he was high on “weed” and “ecstasy” at the same time but he doesn’t know what either of those are either so it wasn’t helpful…

Truthfully, they were so nice to him while he was recovering that he couldn’t even be mad afterwards so all's well that ends well? Either way, he’s sleeping under their orchard trees from now on. It’s peaceful out there...

They burnt all that nip though. It’s some strong stuff...

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {15/15}

Chapter 15: Get Down

Chapter Summary: The search continues for Hades in the mortal realm and on Olympus Thor must face the reality that his council will never be the same. The End. 

Word Count: 3,700ish

A/N: its been about three months since I wrote the last chapter and I’ve lost motivation to write, had depressive episodes, moved cities away from my family and spent countless hours writing and rewriting this chapter not wanting it to end. Thank you to everyone who read and will read this, your support will forever hold a dear place in my heart and I appreciate all of the messages I have received from the beginning of this story more than any of you will know. Here is the finale, I hope I did you all justice <3

“Harley, Peter, you two take to the south down the mountain, Rebecca will take to the skies and I’ll go west,” Natasha handed out the instructions for their search as if it were another battle plan. To her and everyone else there it was just that. Time was of the essence and if they left it too long there was a high chance that Hades was dead. 

From the amount of blood and gold on the snow in front of them, they didn’t have much time at all, and by how weak Harley was already feeling, he knew it was near. 

To the east was a cliff, Rebecca had already peered down and Natasha’s owl had done a closer inspection with no evidence of the queen of the Underworld. 

“Steve, you’ll go north into the woods, you’ll be stronger in the trees.” That was her last instruction before they parted ways. If one were to find Hades a flare would be sent into the sky that lit up the sky like the Star of Bethlehem. If they came into trouble, well, they’d have to figure that out when they came to that obstacle. 

It’s good to know what these gods were going up against, yes they were searching through a mountain range with a forest climbing its sides. But they were also in the middle of nowhere. There was no sign of human life for miles upon miles and that meant one of two things.

The first thing it meant was that this was a hunting ground at the best of times but unsurvivable for humans majority of the time, this was in the favour of the gods, it was the middle of winter, it was slim to none that they would come across a human while searching the land in this area.

The second thing it meant was that with the lack of humans came an abundance of other things. Animals filled the land, from the woods to the cliff faces. Predators like eagles, foxes and wolves hunted the land. Prey like small birds, rabbits and even goats lived as best they could. It was hard for any mortal animal to really thrive in these woods though. With no humans in this land it meant there were no demigods, no half and half’s to protect the preciousness of mortal life, so the supernatural, the monsters that were too rabid for the city roamed the land freely. 

The further Steve stepped into the woods the less connected with the mortal world he felt. Cerberus walked in front of him with his nose to the ground but he hadn’t picked up the scent of Hades yet, there were too many other smells. Smells that Cerberus liked, minotaurs, werewolves, even a griffin but too far away. 

Steve was on high alert, every noise, every rustle of leaves and breeze that blew past him caught his attention. He had to take it slow, a hunt, not a fight. Go too quickly and he could miss something, a sign, blood, a mark she could have made, anything. There was evidence of the beasts all around him, paw prints and scratches on tree trunks, leftover hunted prey left to the other animals in the woods but no sign of Hades. 

Hades sight was hazed. She couldn’t make out details around her as she reached out across the ground and felt the ground beneath her. Cold stone under her fingertips, sharp rocks up the side of the wall. She was in a cave, deep into it with little light around her, it wasn’t just the injuries that had taken her sight. 

There was no portal near her, she was too weak to make her own way to the underworld but she could feel the magic around her. She could feel the supernatural beings’ powers and strength more than the weakness that the mortal world put her through. But it wasn’t enough to help her move out of the cave herself. 

In the snow, in the middle of the forest, wolves stalked the trees. They kept watch and growled at any noise or critter that came close. It didn’t take much longer for Cerberus to smell the wolves. A scent that Cerberus was familiar with but not for years. 

It was getting cold and dark when they came to the small clearing at the front of the cave. Steve could almost sense the wolves stalking the area around him as they walked out of the tree line to be met with one lone wolf standing at the entrance. 

Cerberus immediately bowed to the wolf who’s fur was a crisp white like the snow beneath his paws. It stood side on but as it turned to bow down to both Steve and Cerberus, Steve caught a glimpse of something that made his skin crawl and his heart drop.

Gold. Soaked into his fur mixed with dark red in the matted fur. 

“Where is she?!” He choked out, trying to be strong even though his body was crippling with fear. The wolf was big, bigger than any he had seen before. It currently towered over both he and Cerberus, who was still bent down to the ground. It stood, looked at Steve and then turned back into the cave. Cerberus sat patiently in the snow now, he knew this wasn’t his place, he knew this pack, he was a part of this pack, he would do what the leader said. 

Steve however, he followed the white wolf into the cave, deeper and deeper until it stopped and stepped aside to show Steve the lost treasure he had been looking for. 

And there she was. 

And there he stood.

She could feel him, that same smell from the first time they met, fresh rain, pollen in the air, it stood out against the damp, the stone and the stench of death she knew was coming from herself. Maybe she wasn’t so much better than Demeter said. Maybe she deserved this. 

It took some time to convince the wolves to let him take Hades. She’d fallen back asleep soon after his arrival, not even acknowledging him, he wasn’t sure she actually knew he was here. The wolves were protective of their fallen angel. But Steve was able to convince them that he was her safety, he told them he would protect her, that he would take her home.

“There must be a doorway here?!” He said into the darkness but only stone walls surrounded him. “How am I meant to get her home?” He come all this way, he’d worked so hard this entire time to help her and the Underworld, and now? All of his work, all of the time he’d spent learning about her world when he could have spent it with her. His priorities were morphed to what he thought was right, putting her on the council. But what was right had nothing to do with her position, nothing to do with anyone else but her, she should have been his priority. 

She was too light in his arms as he picked her from the group. Her skin was cold, lacking of any sort of colour. The wolves stepped aside as he carried her out of the cave where Cerberus waited, now standing tall in his true form. Three heads, obsidian black fur and paws as big as Steve’s chest. 

“Take us home Cerberus?” He asked and the pet growled in response, kneeling as Steve placed Hades on his back and climbed up afterwards. “As fast as possible Spot.”

Cerberus bound towards the edge of the cliff, closer and closer until he jumped. Steve held Hades tight as they fell further and further until the depths below turned black and rimmed with gold.

Behind them, at the entrance to the cave the wolves ventured further into the woods again, their debt owed to the god who saved their youngest. Behind them, as they went out of sight, a birch tree sprout. Taller than any seen before in the mortal realm, leaves full and green in the middle of winter. A normal looking tree apart from its height to many but to those that knew, to Natasha and Rebecca as they saw it grow from the top of the mountain, to Peter and Harley who saw it tower over everything else, they knew what it meant. A new beginning was here and the Queen will be returned home. 

One Week Later

Thor stood overlooking Olympus from his balcony. It was filled with life and freedom, as if the past few months had never happened, as if his sister hadn’t been attacked and left for dead by someone he trusted, as if everyone was safe and things we normal.

“Funny how little they really know isn’t it?” Loki stood by his side, as he always had. The green and teal of his cloak reflecting in the sun overhead and against the snow on the ground. “Bucky has come full force today it seems,” he smiled.

“Its in celebration, she woke up today, she’s doing much better it seems. MJ has been by her side continuously to help the healing. She’ll be back to herself soon enough.” 

“Say her name would you Thor. What could go wrong if you say it here, no one is around.” Loki slithered behind Thor, his hands dropped onto his shoulders, “Hades.” He said into his ear. “Our darling sister, our first protector, the selfless one, the keeper of our secrets. Say her name in Olympus dear brother, shout it from the rooftops!” Loki leaned his back against the railing as Thor whispered her name and they felt the wind settle briefly around them.

“Hades is awake,” he said quietly, “Demeter is locked in her home and Hades will sit on the council. Are you happy?”

“I am, though I do wish you had given me the pleasure of tearing that godforsaken mother from earth apart myself but to each their own.” Loki smiled jokingly at Thor who let out a deep laugh back. Brothers, until the end of time. 

The air began to still in Olympus as the two stood overlooking it, the people in the streets and the market stood still, the bustling sound softened to a murmur that they could no longer hear. 

And when the brothers looked out at the steps of Olympus they saw the reason for the silence. First it was the black petals that floated through the air around her, the blackened path that dragged behind her cloak, turning to a gold pathway as the judges followed her in full adorned armour. Pietro in silver, a hero, Wanda in red, to remember the innocent, and Sam in black, for the monsters, his wings mixed with the colours of the judges and dripping gold for his queen as he walked a step behind the other two. One, two and three, they followed her on the gold plated path. A few steps behind them was the final member of her entourage, his armour held the most colour, blues and reds, pinks and greens and a shield on his back.

The queen walked with purpose, she didn’t look to the sides at the nymphs and olympians, she didn’t take in any of their judgements. Even though they murmured with gossip as they watched the son of Demeter follow his mother’s enemy. They whispered about how Hades had kidnapped Steve, how she had lured him with a flower so beautiful he couldn’t resist, others whispered about how it was Steve that turned his back from Demeter, that he was coerced by the judges to join the Underworld before the debate and they had poisoned his mind. Rumours ran hot in Olympus as the five continued to walk onwards towards the temple. 

Inside the temple was chaos. Thor and Loki moved quickly to the throne room where the rest of the Olympian gods were already waiting, having been summoned by Hades herself to meet. Something the brothers weren’t aware of until a nymph of Thor stopped him in the hallway and exclaimed as such.

The letters had appeared on their desks, their counter tops or bedside tables late last night and had been kept under wraps from all after the heat of the last few weeks.

The doors burst open before the council and Hades stepped into the room. The twelve gods sat in their seats and stood as she moved to stand in the centre, the judges stayed back, as did Steve, awaiting their next order.

One bowed to the queen, Ares, he kneeled as soon as she entered. No one knew what this meeting was about, no one knew why they were called and everyone feared the worst, especially with the absence of Demeter. Ares feared Hades’ wrath the most, he would have no part in this, he’d chosen his side and continued to be loyal to both Olympus as well as Hades. 

“Good morning all,” she smiled sweetly and bowed her head but none replied. 

Then the doors opened and in walked Thor and Loki. They moved to their thrones, side by side the biggest of all and at the forefront of the council, one empty on one side of Thor. Hades knelt, her entourage followed.

“What are you doing out of bed so soon?” Thor questioned as he sat, his voice seeped with disappointed.

“I’m fine brother, no need to worry,” she rolled her eyes lovingly at her brother and stood straight. “I’ve come to present my statement, and return what was taken.” 

Steve tried to protest, he had no idea this was what she was doing, he thought she was taking her rightful seat on the council. Sam glared in his direction, daring him to speak.

“You’ve already come home sister,” Loki said and Hades cocked an eyebrow at him. “May I?” He gestured to Thor who simply nodded his head. All of the olympian gods looked on confused, they all assumed the same, that she was here to give back Steve, they had no idea what was really going on. “Transparency is key it seems and we have learnt that the hard way here haven’t we? Hades I believe I speak for everyone here when I say we are pleased to honour your rightful place on the council beside us, this throne was and will always be yours if you wish to take it.”

“What of-?”

“She’s been banned from any council business.” Thor stood before the council as Loki sat back down, he slowly walked down the few steps to Hades. “Demeter’s views do not match that of the council, she no longer has Olympus or the mortals in her best interests, only herself. She’s been locked in her home, awaiting punishment.” He looked past Hades towards Steve with sorrow in his eyes, “we were to meet later today to discuss her punishment, but I’m glad you’re here, we can begin business. Now sit, judges, you may wait outside as is custom.” 

Hades followed Thor up the steps and so casually that it never felt out of place she sat, on the council of Olympus. 

“God of Spring,” Steve heard as he turned to walk out, “won’t you be sitting to speak for your domain?” Bucky smirked at his friend, inviting him to the seat beside him. 

Steve looked to the big three, to the other gods surrounding him, they were all waiting for his answer, waiting for him to sit where his mother once had. And of course, he would never keep them waiting long. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked him at the rivers’ edge. He looked up to the gates as they glistened and moved, the flowers bloomed, the gold sparkled in the sun, the daffodils were scattered far and wide and he looked back to her. 

“My task isn’t done yet, if I’m to teach Olympians everything they need to know about the Underworld, I need to know everything myself.” He smiled at her, his Queen.

“You don’t have to do this Steve, I can get MJ to reverse the curse,” she was so unsure, with no one around she was always so much more vulnerable with him.

“I don’t want it to be broken, and even if it was it wouldn’t stop me from coming back any chance I could to see you.” A step closer, a whisper under his breath just for her. “The fates brought me to you-“

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

“Would you be quiet,” he laughed and she shied away. “They are not why I want to stay,” a gently hand on her cheek, pushing a boundary they had unspokenly set for themselves. Never to succumb to the fates, to form their own opinions, to have their own conclusions. “I have to have you in my life.”

“And you in mine,” she gleamed and when he beamed back she thought Bucky had brought the sun down to the Underworld with how warm she felt.

“I have to collect some things from Bucky, but I’ll be back later tonight, I promise.” Steve turned to leave before she could even say goodbye but he stopped in his tracks at her voice.

“Take Cerberus! He’ll protect you where I can’t.” The dog shrinking to the Doberman he was familiar with by his side. 

Under the stars of the souls, painted in the skies of the Underworld by artists the God of Spring held the Queen of the Dead. He kissed her in front of the Gates of the Underworld, where their symbols were intertwined for eons before their paths even crossed, before either of them knew of the importance of each other. 

A kiss that was a promise, a see you soon, a please be safe. The two gods were never away from each other for long. When the God of Spring returned in the darkness later that night, when everything was sound asleep he walked into the home of Hades to find her still wide awake, sitting and watching over the gates, waiting for his return. He was welcomed with a small smile, a “you were gone too long” and tugs towards bed. 

The fates dropped him in the Underworld at her feet. They twisted and pulled at their strings together and bound, no knife or scissors could ever break them apart. All the gods knew, all those who were witnesses were well aware now and none feared they were wrong. The protector, had her own protection. 

That is the story of Hades and Persephone. Of love and betrayal. Of chosen family. Of new homes and realising ones worth. I don’t think I’m missing anything, they lived happily ever after and all that good stuff. Why are you still here? They kissed, isn’t that what you wanted?!

Oh 

I know what it is.

What punishment did the council decide on you ask? What consequence did Demeter face? 

It was winter in Olympus, the God of Spring returned to collect his belongings to go to his new home in the Underworld where he would spend each winter for the rest of time. But there was one step he had to make along the way. 

In the dead of the night Demeter sat at the gazebo that was once her son’s. She’d torn through the drawings and belongings she’d found there, they sat amongst the cold wood. Her tears had quietened as she began to accept her defeat and fall from power. As she did so the leaves began to move. 

She heard footsteps in the snow, crunching under the weight of whoever moved towards her. 

“Who goes?! No one is allowed in here show yourself!” She yelled into the darkness with no reply. 

Through the splitting wood of the gazebo behind her, flora began to grow. Vines, roses with thistle sharp as knives, asphodel in the corners. And at its centre Demeter saw the fruition of the prophecy she once thought she controlled. 

In the darkness of her garden, eyes shone through behind her. A man standing tall, his eyes a crisp blue, anger seething from them. Above him were three more sets of eyes, red, glaring at their prey.

No nymph could have this power, no member of Olympus par from the big three were allowed to step foot within this home anymore. She was to be locked away from all that she held so dear. But there were still pathways, there are always pathways even into a locked room. And he had found it. 

Demeter felt her breath shorten as it flowered, the daffodil, through the cracks of her son’s gazebo it flowered bright and tall in the night. And when she turned she saw the moon catch sight of the metal weapon in his hand. No nymph would feel her wrath again, no child would think they were less than loved in her presence ever again, no god would think they had no worth because of the poison that left her tongue. Because she would never be seen again. 

The eyes slipped back into the darkness and disappeared as if they were never there. He left the same way he came, through the cracks in the stone that the caves reached. Ironic that the place she feared most was just a doorway away from her home this entire time he thought as he left her fearing for her life. 

“The scythe will swing low,” he whispered as it closed behind him. The three headed dog by his side, back in the realm of the dead and moving towards the home on top of the hill as if he’d just popped down to the store. Now he was home.

“When the wind is still and the air is cold, the sun will shine in Hades. 

When what belongs is brought home the snow will fall.

It will crunch under the steps of the taken, it will slice through the heart of the fallen.

The harvest will not grow when spring is taken. 

But the daffodil will grow through the cracks of the grave

And the scythe will swing low.” 

The End 

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[vanserraseris]

END OF PART II - Everyone was so nice and supportive and I appreciate it so much!!! Warning, Eris has friends (soldier friends cuz I just think he’s close to his soldiers) and because I don’t like the idea of him being lonely. There’s a time skip from the last part, but we get baby Lucien. Thanks so much, Ruchi :)

im loving this sm and YES give eris friends. love you lots ash <3

Prince of Ashes. Part II.

masterlist.

“Stop that.” The words were no more than a low growl. 

Micah let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back to look up at Eris from where he was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and cheek against Eris’s knee. He’d been leaning on Eris’s leg the whole night, tapping annoyingly on the top of Eris’s foot with pale, scar-flecked fingers. Enya, one of Eris’s hounds, was sitting by Micah, his other hand idly stroking her sleek fur.

“Asshole,” Micah mumbled, running a hand through his now messy, chestnut brown hair. With a groan and one final pat of Enya’s back, he pushed himself up off the floor and sat on the couch right next to Eris, their shoulders touching. Lagos was leaning against the arm of the couch, his legs tucked in close to his chest so as not to touch Eris. He’d been sitting there quietly the whole night, braiding and then rebraiding his long, dark hair.

Grass green eyes on Eris, Micah said, “Just because your little brother’s a walking faelight doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole.” Eris felt the sudden urge to hit Micah upside the head with the flimsy book in his hands, but he knew better than anyone that Micah wouldn’t be too bothered by it. Having known his friend for centuries, Eris was almost positive Micah would just laugh. Eris shut the book, it was useless anyway, and settled for jolting the leg Micah had seen fit to sidle up against.

With a bare foot, Lagos kicked Eris on his thigh. “I’m telling you, this is Day Court magic. You can read a million more ancient books from your little library, and I’d still be right.” 

Eris could have hit him with his book as well. “When I find the fucking bastard, I’ll kill him.” 

“You’d kill your younger brother’s father?” Micah was always trying to convince Eris, and perhaps himself, that Eris wasn’t some horrible monster. Sometimes, Eris grew tired of it.

“I’d kill my own,” Eris said with a shrug, “You really believe I’d be uneasy about killing someone else’s?” 

“I don’t think anyone here believes that,” Lagos mumbled. Eris glared at him, no real hate in the look, but one that might convey the feeling that he regretted having befriended Lagos in the first place. Lagos simply flashed him a dimpled grin, before he turned to look at Lucien. Widge had the little runt sitting on his knee, he looked entirely relaxed.

Lucien was smiling, his red hair a mess, his tiny fists reaching out to grab the harmless little fox that Eris had made out of his flames to bounce around them. Eris had never disliked his mother more as Lucien beamed like some sort of pixie in the dimly lit sitting room of his cottage. Beron would kill them all if he saw this, Eris knew, and had practically stolen Lucien from The Forest House before anyone took notice of his new talent.

Eris scowled as he struggled to think what might have set off the strange magic. Eris had been sitting in front of the fireplace, Lucien caged between his long legs as he crawled in the small space. Eris had, in a moment of weakness, let Lucien curl his chubby fingers around one of his own. Lucien had let out a little shriek, lifting Eris’s finger like some sort of trophy, and much to Eris’s horror, had started to glow. Not even a year old, and Lucien was already causing trouble for Eris.

Widge looked at Eris then, his copper brows raised and his dark eyes wide, “Do you glow like this, too?” 

Eris had to stop himself from snapping an irritated “no.” Widge was always a little stuck in his thoughts and almost never paid attention to what was going on around him. Eris shook his head and Widge simply nodded, eyes going back to Lucien. 

Lucien laughed, red curls bouncing as Eris willed the fox closer to his youngest brother. If it was possible, Lucien became even brighter.

Eris snarled, a sound that came deep from his chest, as he tried to remain calm. The little fox instantly disappeared, the book in his hands burst into flames, the fireplace flared on the other side of the room. So much for keeping calm, Eris thought, as Lagos moved his foot so that it was no longer on him. Beron had finally stopped thinking that Lucien was another male’s son. Eris was just starting to feel like he could let down his guard, that he no longer had to hover over his youngest brother and ensure Beron didn’t get his hands on the tiny thing. Eris didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that there were flames dancing in his eyes, he breathed in through his nose. Eris didn’t want to look in a mirror anyway, he found he looked most like his father in anger.

The gentle hand that squeezed his arm had Eris clenching his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, his lips pressed together as he tried not to sneer. He wanted to tell Micah to move his hand. Almost as if he’d sensed it, Micah’s fingers tightened only briefly before he took his hand off of Eris. 

“Is it just me, or does the runt smell like a fucking heir?” 

Eris might have been losing his mind.

“Your nose has been broken one too many times,” Lagos muttered. That was probably true. 

Eris had never been more glad to have met Micah as he spoke with a confidence that could reassure Eris in the worst of his moods. “We’ll figure this out.” 

While Eris may not always share his carefully crafted plans with his friends, he had no doubt that they’d have his back.

Eris faced Micah, frowning. He was beautiful, the traditional Autumn Court tattoos shining gold against the pale skin of his throat, bringing out the lighter strands of the shoulder-length brown hair that framed his sculpted face. Eris hadn’t loved Micah as anything other than a friend for centuries, but he was always struck by how lovely Micah was. Not only that, but Micah was steady; One of the only dependable and constant things in Eris’s long life.

Micah flashed him a warm smile, clear green eyes on Eris, his head tilting just a bit, “So try not to worry over it. I hear that if pretty males frown and furrow their brows, they get wrinkles.” Eris couldn’t help but scrunch his nose, he couldn’t care less about wrinkles. Lagos spoke again, Eris could hear the smile in his voice, “And if you get all wrinkled, that bewitching female you’ve been trying to bed will lose whatever interest she has in you.”

“What female?” Widge questioned. 

“The one Eris can’t stop talking about,” Lagos replied. Eris didn’t think he talked about her that much. The face Widge made suggested that he had absolutely no idea who they were talking about. Eris felt slightly validated, but coming from Widge, that confusion meant absolutely nothing. Lagos knew that as well. “Come now, Widge, he’s been talking about her for months,” he added, his grin widening.

“Bit offended, mind you, he never talked about me like that,” Micah grumbled, his shoulder knocking into Eris’s. 

Eris scowled when Lagos leaned over him to mouth “he did” at Micah. Eris shoved Lagos with a hand, his friend yelping as he tried not to fall off the couch. Eris could have sworn on the cauldron that he hadn’t talked about him too much either. 

Widge just furrowed his brows, “The last person I remember Eris talking about was that human general.”

“Cauldron, he’s talking about your obsession with Jurian over 200 years ago.” Lagos sounded very pleased by this. 

Eris could feel his ears heating. Not one of his finer moments, and not like he’d call it an obsession, but Lagos liked calling it that. “I got over him quickly,” he defended. 

“Yes,” Micah smiled, “Only to throw yourself at a river nymph.” 

Eris rolled his eyes, still relatively frustrated, but feeling much better than he had before. “I’m out of ideas,” he announced.

“How in the hells can you be out of ideas, we’ve given you so many,” Lagos said, exasperated. 

“None of which were even a little helpful,” Eris raised his brows, looking at Lagos. 

Lagos shrugged. He’d had the most useless one, suggesting that Eris move to Vallahan with Lucien. “Two birds, one stone,” he’d stated. “You leave the throne to Cato like you’ve always wanted, and you keep your vow.” Much easier said than done, but as the night wore on, Eris was finding it the most appealing option.

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, “I should just kill him.” 

Micah stiffened at Eris’s side, Lagos almost snapped his neck to turn and look at Eris with wide eyes. 

Widge tucked Lucien into his chest, almost as though to shield him from the heir of the Autumn Court. “You wouldn’t,” he said disbelievingly, “Eris, you wouldn’t.” 

“Not the child,” Eris snapped, he crossed his arms, feeling very offended that his only friends thought him capable of killing his own little brother.

It was no secret that Eris wasn’t above murder, wasn’t above killing Beron, but killing one of his brothers seemed to be a line he wouldn’t cross. “I was talking about our well-loved High Lord.” 

“Yes, because you were so successful the last time you tried,” Lagos patted Eris on the knee. 

Micah eased back, “If you’d been talking about the child, I would have been very angry with you.” 

“Whatever would I have done,” Eris said under his breath.

Micah and Eris had argued quite a bit when they’d first met. It was definitely Eris’s fault for the most part, but Micah was headstrong and stubborn. Micah had spent 50 years climbing the ranks of the military only for Eris to waltz into the role of commander. He’d been extremely irritated at having to deal with a spoiled prince in his war camp and Eris had taken great joy out of bothering the experienced general. 

Micah smiled, “Probably sit and brood.”

“You could always just tell the High Lord he’s been cursed by a witch,” Widge offered. He was a bit behind on the conversation, but at least he was thinking about something other than his formulas. 

“Smartest male in all our armies and he comes up with that,” Micah muttered. 

Eris frowned. It wasn’t like anyone else had come up with something better. Perhaps he should just tell his mother, let her deal with it.

Lagos suddenly launched off the couch, nearly tripping on the edge of the carpet as he fell to his knees in front of Widge. “You brilliant, brilliant oaf,” both hands cupping Widge’s freckled cheeks as he shook him slightly. 

“Care to share, Lagos,” Micah asked as Lagos placed an exaggerated kiss on Widge’s forehead. Widge’s eyes were wide, both his eyebrows raised, as he moved Lucien away from Lagos. Eris was glad to see that everyone else looked just as confused as he felt.

“We can put a spell on him.” - The whole room seemed to freeze, even Lucien had stopped blathering. 

“You’re not going to curse my brother,” Eris thought that would have been rather obvious. 

Lagos grinned, “No, definitely not. I don’t want your ire directed at me, ever.”

Eris scowled, reaching for Lucien. “Then I’d advise you—” Eris took Lucien into his arms, the fireplace flaring. He pointedly glared at Lagos, “Not to curse the child I’m sworn to protect.”

Lagos only smiled, wiggling his fingers at Eris as a warm glow radiated from his brown skin. “My mother is from the Day Court, dumb ass.” Eris was still glaring at him, not like he’d forgotten. “She specialized in protection spells at one of the academies,” he dipped his chin, “Not curses.” 

It couldn’t hurt to casually ask Lady Morai some questions about the whole thing. Eris frowned as he looked at Lucien, speaking to Lagos as he gazed fixedly at Lucien’s glowing little nose.

“And this is normal?” Eris tried to keep the concern from his voice. 

“He is a bit young,” Lagos didn’t look too worried about it, “I started doing that at about half a decade.” He smiled, “Scared the shit out of my father.” 

Eris looked at Lagos again, “Can you honestly fix it, then?” 

“Not sure it’s something that needs to be fixed,” Widge countered. 

Before Eris could bark an irritated “no one asked you,” Lagos raised his hands, taking a step closer to Eris.

“We take him to my mother, she can suppress his magic, she did the same with mine.” Of course she had, Eris thought, knowing very well that being different in the Autumn Court was oftentimes a death sentence. “Just until he grows old enough to break the spell, no fixing is needed and nothing is permanent.” It sounded so very simple. Eris had always been wary of things that seemed too easy.

Eris bit his lip, thinking on this new proposal. He’d met Lady Morai, had been to her home on more than one occasion, but he didn’t necessarily want to trust the female with something like this despite the liking he’d taken to her. Telling his friends was one thing, telling anyone else … 

“But no harm will come to the child, correct?” Micah sounded like the general he was in that moment. Eris was glad Micah had asked the question he’d been thinking. 

“Precisely.”

“And your mother won’t tell anyone?” Eris didn’t want to have to kill the parent of one of his only friends. He hated himself for even thinking it. 

“She thinks you’re the Autumn Court’s fucking saviour, the Mother only knows why.” Lagos raised his brows, “She’d take this to the grave, I swear it.”

No one spoke as Eris considered this option - it was the best one he had. “And you’re sure she can do this -”

“Sure enough,” Lagos replied. 

Eris snarled. 

“She knows what she’s doing,” he reassured.

Eris hoped that was true. 

Lagos held out his hand, golden tattoos on each finger of spell-cleaving characters, “I’ll winnow us.”

“And we’ll be here when you return,” Micah glanced at Widge. “Maybe we’ll feed the hounds.”

Lagos flashed Eris a smile, hand still outstretched, “Come on, you can trust me.”

Eris did. Lagos had been the first person Eris had ever truly befriended, having arrived at the war camps in the same year Eris had been sent there. They’d grown as close as brothers.

With one last look at Lucien in his arms, Eris tentatively reached out to Lagos, holding his hand. Lagos closed his eyes as the magic in the room swelled, warm and gentle and nothing like the crackling flames of the Autumn Court. Eris turned away from the bright light when he could no longer look at it, and for the first time in over two centuries, Eris prayed to the Mother.

[jaskiersvalley]

I discovered you today and i just sat and read literally your entire blog, and your stuff is AMAZING!!! ❤❤❤❤❤It also definitely made me motivated to want to write again, so thanks for that!💕💕💕💕

You are far too sweet and wonderful, thank you! And please do start writing again if you’ve got the motivation. Nobody can tell the story you imagine better than you can. So, if you can, get settled in comfortably and get writing! I’ll be here in the background, pompoms in hand and cheering you on.

While you do that, here’s a little something as thanks for your kind words and general wonderfulness:

Blaviken. Geralt cursed the place every single say, hated it and everything that had happened there. He was fairly certain his fellow witchers hated it (and him) just as much. The only places Geralt could safely exist were at the edges of the continent, even there his white hair and general witcher-y looks didn’t afford him much anonymity. At least people only stared and whispered rather than approach him.

To give a bit of an explanation as to why he was trying his best to ignore the chatty bard sat opposite him, the facts of Blaviken had to be revisited. It had been a while ago, decades but Geralt could still remember it and still regretted his actions to that day. It had gone something like this:

He met Renfri, got along just fine with her. Maybe Geralt had been a bit cocky back then but he had been young. Well, young by witcher standards. So he’d appreciated her. A lot. Then he’d met Stregebor. Every time Geralt thought of the man, he felt the urge to spit. That bastard did more harm than he ever could have dreamed of.

Really, it was simple. Something about prophecies, blah blah black moons and women who Stregebor (*spit*) saw as less than human. It didn’t even rhyme. But that was beside the point. Evil - lesser, greater, middling. Fuck, Geralt regretted ever getting involved. If only he’d had a couple more decades where he’d matured and was less cocky. But no, he was young and convinced he knew what was right. It was obvious that Stregebor thought Geralt was less than human, a tool and nothing more to smite the women he’d targeted in his regime of hate and intolerance. That was when Geralt got caught up in his own brand of logic. If a witcher was less than human, a monster because of his mutagens then, by the same logic, a sorcerer was less than human because of his magic. And asking a witcher to kill a human, kill someone who was unfortunate enough to be born on a particular day and then hound her for her whole life? That was pretty evil. And Geralt was created for the slaying of evil. It was a bit of a no brainer to him at the time and, with great simplicity, he killed Stregebor, reasoning that it was one monster taking out another.

That was the start of it all. Slayer of Sorcerers. It was Geralt’s newest moniker, one that was whispered reverently. Turned out, Stregebor had been more than just a little bit evil. He was an oppressive prick, belittling Aretuza, ruling like a tyrant over humans in his vicinity, spreading lies, disputes and anger like rotten tendril of a vine, creeping into cracks and making them into large chasms of despair that were easy to manipulate in his favour.

The issue was, people were over the moon, they looked at Geralt like he was some hero. Then Renfri had to go and reclaim her life on her own terms and she touted Geralt as her champion. Things only got worse from there because Aretuza had decided that there was something to be gained from a partnership with witchers. Because of his role in it all, Geralt was the ultimate goal. And once Aretuza’s finest began courting him, everybody else followed. There was no escaping, royals and courts summoned him and other witchers, hoping for a favourable match. They were relentless and witchers were turning to desperate measures to protect themselves from unwanted advances.

While Lambert had settled with a public declaration of his love for Aiden and they wore each other’s insignia over their chests, others were less lucky. Poor Eskel was bemoaning that yet another contract had ended up being a dud, mostly because the court had said if he didn’t marry a princess, they’d turn her into a striga. Even when Eskel explained that that wasn’t how things worked, they were adamant. So Eskel had walked out, without pay and a very disappointed court.

“I wish I had a reputation like you,” he’d grumbled to Lambert who was happily perched on Aiden’s lap while Geralt was hiding in the darkest corner.

“That can be arranged,” Lambert grinned. “You still got Lil’ Bleater?”

As if Eskel would ever be without his beloved goats. That was good enough for Lambert who got up and cleared his throat. Immediately, the tavern fell quiet.

“Good evening everyone, I just wanted to tell you that my brother Eskel’s heart is filled with love for Lil’ Bleater. He has no room or need for anyone else in his life.”

That was how Eskel The Goat Fucker rumour was born. Whether it was good or not that people no longer threw their children at him was up for debate. Mostly because now Eskel got offered more goats than he knew what to do with.

But that was beside the point. Witchers were sought after commodity and revered by the population at large. With Geralt the most desirable trophy, he found he could no longer exist among humans easily and so, he sought solace at the fringes of the world. Which was where the bard had found him.

“I’m sure I can sing a few devastating songs to take you down a peg or two,” Jaskier had offered.

For the first time in his life, Geralt felt hope. “Please do.”

[oscar-lime]

Evil Oz / Salem reincarnates AU?

I'm not super sure what to call it yet... info under the cut because I've been planning this one for awhile now.

Feel free to ask me any questions about it!

• The rules for immortality are different. Salem maybe ends up in a soul different from hers that is meant to help her learn and grow. Maybe Ozpin has to live forever to learn a certain lesson as well (trust? Honesty? Just based on something he is known for doing wrong... I'm not sure on this one yet.)

• Instead of a merge, the more dominant soul in the body will eventually gain most of the control. The other will start to struggle to be in control at all until they are just a voice in the back of the other's mind.

• Salem took control of most of her lives by force... she hated not being in control. Oscar was her youngest host, and she ended up thinking back on her children... so she is now trying to make sure he is himself, and trying to make sure he ends up the body's main soul for a change. Even a heartless monster sometimes feels bad when she realizes her next life is a child.

• Oscar can control grimm, but it takes time and practice. Salem's magic is also extremely powerful, so he struggles to hold it in now since he does not know how to control it at all. (She just really wants him to hit the point where he can control the hound.)

• When using Salem's power to control grimm, Oscar's veins temporarily turn red/black (it's a gradient of both colors)

• "Hello Oscar, I'm Salem. Now leave this sad little farm and go to my castle." "*loud screaming*"

• Hazel is the one to realize Oscar is the next Salem. He has her inner circle. She gained them in slightly different ways in her past lives.

Hazel: Ozma sent his sister into another kingdom, then staged her death and made it appear to be a murder to cause conflict between the kingdoms.

Tyrian: Salem wanted someone ready to kill and cause destruction when she needed it. So she offered him the opportunity to kill whenever he wanted (as long as he followed her orders and didn't kill any of her allies.. she always provides him with grimm or prisoners to harm) and for her to hide him away from the law.

Watts: He could make whatever he wanted and she would provide the materials, but in return he had to help her with technology anytime she requested.

Cinder: She was offered revenge. Salem explained what huntsman and huntresses truly are to her, and offered to help her become strong enough to take revenge on the ones who ignored her when she needed help the most.

Emerald, Mercury, and Neo all still followed Cinder.

Roman was actually hired by Ozma for that whole thing with the trains, along with Adam and the White Fang. Ozma chose to destroy his school like that KNOWING it would cause conflict.

• Ozma is immortal. His inner circle is not actually aware of what he is planning. He wants to watch humanity tear itself apart.

• Of course even if they learn of Salem's existence and unite, it still benefits him since they would be fighting against her, and he could use the tension to draw in more grimm and doubt between the nations

• Oz is ALWAYS subtly feeding Ironwood's paranoia. He hopes James will cause a war for him amongst humanity.

• STRQ originally, like every other huntsman and huntress, believed they were doing good. They had no idea Ozpin had been manipulating all of humanity and the academies just to do his bidding. Some "criminals" are truly innocent. They just stood against Oz in someway so they were wanted dead or alive. If he gets them alive he makes sure to make them regret even daring to stand against him... and of course he doesn't want word spreading.

• Raven left when she found out Ozma's true intentions.

• Tai just settled down with his family and is staying out of it. He figures he has time before the world ends, Ozma can't work that fast right? His kids would totally have time to grow up. (He was heartbroken hearing them say they want to go to Beacon)

• Summer actually discovered Ozma's plans, and was killed for trying to fight against him. She wasn't aware of Salem, so she stood up to him on her own.

• Qrow couldn't believe Oz was bad, not after everything he'd done for them. So he stayed around. Ozma has his inner circle tricked into believing he is saving the world.

• Oz still gave out his magic. Two watchbirds are very helpful after all. The maidens are human, the potential they have to cause chaos and destruction is amazing! Plus then the relics are hidden, so Salem CAN'T summon the gods.

• Jaune died. Pyrrha found out something was fishy when she was supposed to be getting the maiden powers, so she got out of the transfer machine with her semblance when she and Jaune realized. She started out fighting Ozpin, but Jaune ended up taking her place because he had the big shield and told her to go warn the others about what was going on.

• So after the fall the group still travels on, just now they want to get the relics AWAY from Oz and to a safe place. They join up with Oscar + Salem's crew eventually

The lamp is the reason Qrow turns against Oz. When they ask what he is hiding the backstory reveals how he began to hate humanity with time, and the joy he took in watching them fight and destroy each other. Qrow is shattered by the truth since he was supposed to be the one hunting the kids down, but he then decides he has to protect them... and apologizes for not believing them.

Oz still has the upper hand though. Salem only has the fall maiden (the one with the hardest to find relic anyway), some henchmen, and a bunch of children. Oz has humanity already starting to argue and nations not trusting one another, plus the academies at his command. Atlas is going nuts because Ironwood is much more paranoid since Oz has been feeding into that.

• Leo did actually still have connections to Salem. His family was sent to live in her castle for their protection, and in return he snuck her team into Beacon. She gave the orders in her old vessel from her castle. But she made her way there around the fall because she wanted her team out safely. It's not always easy for her to find new minions after all, and she didn't want to lose the fall maiden.

• She had a team in the school to try and figure out what Oz is planning, exactly how he tricks the students, and where the relic might be hidden.

• Leo ends up killed by Qrow (poor bird man), as he is one of Ozma's most loyal followers before he turns and considers what Leo did a horrible betrayal.

The Atlas arc goes EXTREMELY different. Penny is sent to actually hunt down RWBY and co at first, but when she sees it's them she doesn't fight them very hard. She doesn't want to take them... they get away, and encounter her again when they head to Pietro for Maria's eyes. She prepares to fight them, but Maria and Pietro quickly stop both sides. After a long explanation of everything, Pietro and Penny are on their side (since Pietro already could see something was fishy just from his work on the inside)

The happy huntresses recongnize the main cast as fugitives right away and absolutely love them. They weren't sure what these kids did, but placed more blame for the main groups criminal status on authority instead of the kids. The group was happy to have allies to stay with and work with behind Ironwoods back.

Monstra pulls up (Atlas was raised, unfortunately) and RWBY, NOPR, and Qrow are like "Yeah that... that is our ride."

There was definitely still some bloodshed in Atlas. Qrow almost convinced Clover of the truth... buuuut then Tyrian happened and Qrow had the same reaction...

Now the group can't leave Atlas because Mantle is struggling and Qrow and Robyn got arrested.

Oscar is kidnapped by Ozma. He is trying to learn what Salem is planning, where she is hiding the relic of knowledge, and where she is keeping now her two maidens. Out of Oz's inner circle, he chooses to trust Glynda to do the right thing since for obvious reasons, Hazel is not torturing him this time around.

Oscar's outfit is different this time. Orange is his main color, so he keeps the orange. Maybe he gets some sort of cape, but with long sleeves for the cold he tosses over his farmer outfit. He could be influenced by Salem since she is a part of him without realizing and maybe change the gloves to red, and have some red (or red and orange) on his cape. I'm not sure the exact colors yet. Basically though his little cape thing is a jacket that just... doesn't really go past the sleeves. It was the only thing I could think of that wasn't just another hood, and the cape seemed fitting because of Salem's subtle influence. (Oscar does not want to kill people, Salem has no problem killing people. She will forcibly take control of him if she feels he is in danger.)

Silver eyes work a bit differently here. They are basically angels, and their power works best on grimm. However, if they begin to truly believe a human is just as bad as a monster or see them in the same light (even without realizing) they can do a bit of damage to them as well (Maybe turn a bit of them to stone, blast off part of them, badly burn them, etc.).

[myghostmonument]

13xReader: Inhibitions

Notes: I’ve been writing a lot more “canon” pieces recently (non-readers, posted on my ao3), but it feels nice to go back to my fandom roots, so to speak, and finish off some requests like this one! Each style has its own challenges to work through, and it’s fun to move between them and keep things interesting. I plan to keep writing for both, so no worries to anyone who prefers one over the other. This is, as always, gender-neutral for the reader, and is also border-line a disaster!reader fic, a loose characterization style created by the incredible @lilaccoats​ that I stole bc she loves me 

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to a trendy bar, promising a night of relaxation and fun. Shenanigans ensue when you maybe-not-so-accidentally get a little too inebriated. 

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, mentions of vomit, and attempted assault. It’s more an uncomfortable conversation than anything, and nothing graphic happens, but please be warned!

WC: 7500 please don’t look at me like that I just picked at it to unwind as I worked on my zine piece and it got entirely out of hand honk honk goes the clown mobile 

The decision to go to a bar had been Ryan’s. That alone, that the destination had been picked during his turn, ought to have been enough forewarning; it seemed that whenever a trip went sideways, it almost always fell on Ryan’s turn (or the Doctor’s, but you and the others excluded that data — her choices were always catastrophes and not worth including in the risk analysis amongst yourselves).

But faced with the usual question of “where and when to next?”, Ryan had requested a bar, and the Doctor had delivered. You had landed on an asteroid, which according to the Doctor was the location of a top-notch bar, situated along a very popular intergalactic trading route. It was certainly busy, as you all left the TARDIS in an alley and approached the sleek, shiny building; there was a short queue to get in, but people — aliens and humans both — congregated in clumps around it and as you moved through the line and entered the bar, you even looked up and noticed people on the roof.

“So,” Yaz said, propping a hip against the bar counter and taking in the sights. “This is where the great Ryan Sinclair works his magic.” She let her eyes rove around the noisy crowd, and grinned over at Ryan. “You feeling right at home then?”

Ryan shot her a scowl, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. “Ha ha,” he said. “This is not what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, looking around at him. “Really? I thought I did all right.” She put her hands on her hips, surveying the crowded, noisy bar.

“Well I think it’s great Doc,” Graham said, already perusing a menu with interest. She beamed at him.

“Thank you, I try my best,” she said. She had her hands in her coat pockets, something that usually indicated she was being (or feeling) cautious. In this case, you thought she was merely trying to avoid knocking into anyone, or any drinks; the bar (if that’s what it was, it did seem more like a sort of club) was packed with people, and it would be all too easy to hook an elbow or bump a precarious drink.

Yaz and Ryan were still bickering, and although you generally enjoyed wading into those sorts of things, a menu caught your eye and you pulled it closer. You could read it, thanks to the TARDIS’ help, but translation could only go so far.

“Are these all alcoholic?” you wondered aloud, frowning at something listed as a Greyhound.

“Are they even all drinks?” Graham added, and you glanced up with a smile, knowing he was hoping for food.

“I think so,” the Doctor answered, moving over to you. She reached over to pull your menu towards her, and her sleeve brushed against your shoulder. “Hmm,” she said, still standing very close. “Sorry Graham, all liquid.” She didn’t actually sound all that sorry, you noted. Graham obviously noticed it as well, because he gave a theatrical sigh.

“Every drink has an inebriation agent of some sort,” the Doctor continued, scrunching her nose. “Different sorts for different races and species, this is a very diverse bar.”

“Are they all safe for us?” Yaz asked, also crowding your shoulder to look at the menu.

“Y-e-s,” the Doctor said slowly, followed by an “actually no,” and an eye-roll from Yaz. “Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean by safe. Humans are common enough here, but some drinks will still have a stronger or weaker effect than they would for their intended consumer. They’re coded, see?” She flattened her (your) drink menu on the counter and pointed. “This is the symbol for human, with standard colour rankings. Green means intended for you, yellow means it will have less effect, and red more.”

“Get in,” Ryan said, and you knew without having to look that he was perusing the red-coded drinks.

“You don’t want to try a Red,” the Doctor said sternly. “It could have any number of effects.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Ryan muttered, and then it was Graham’s turn to bicker with him while you and Yaz  scanned the menu.

“How do you think we order?” you wondered, after deciding to try the Greyhound, which was coded green. Yaz had decided on yellow-coded drink, which cited a lack of alcohol. Its kick came from the flavor combination and carbonation, apparently. Yaz’s particular choice sounded disgusting, and you were very much looking forward to watching her try it.

“Yeah, I don’t see a barkeep,” Graham added, craning over the counter and apparently done with trying to persuade Ryan to make good choices. “Though I suppose you might not be able to pick one out from this mess.” It was true; though you were congregated around a counter, there was no discernible life-form keeping tabs or otherwise running it, and the crushing ebb and flow of the crowd was a confusing riot of clashing voices and species. Over it all thrummed the heavy beat of music, alien but still somehow recognizable as upbeat and catchy. You had the distinct sense that this was a trendy bar, and wondered how the Doctor even knew about it.

“It’s simple,” the Doctor said, and she bent over you to again point at the menu, her arm resting against yours. “You see this bit here? You press it with your finger, then press the box next to the item you want.”

“How’s that work then?” Ryan asked dubiously.

“It’s DNA activated,” the Doctor said calmly, as if that were in any way a normal thing for a drinks menu to be. “We were all scanned when we walked through the doors, didn’t you notice?”

“Did we notice the DNA scanners in an alien bar filled with aliens?” Graham asked. “No, must have slipped my mind Doc, no idea how I missed them. ”

“Well,” the Doctor said loftily, “you were scanned. So order your drink like I said, and it’ll be brought to you.” She bent over her menu, some of her hair brushing against your face. You sat very still, swallowed, then reached for a menu and dragged it towards you (seeing as how your own had been commandeered.)

After some consideration you ordered your Greyhound, and it arrived in an interesting, fluted sort of glass, delivered by a waiter. The drink was a pleasing sanguine colour, complete with a wedge of fruit on the glass rim. The whole effect was quite good, too, which was more than Yaz could say for her yellow-coded drink, which she almost choked on. You didn’t deign to try it after that, but Ryan and the Doctor both made a big show of tasting it and being subsequently horrified. Graham, equable as ever, took the abandoned yellow in hand and sipped it serenely, something the rest of you took in with an impressed sort of horror. The Doctor drifted away shortly after with no drink of her own, which wasn’t too surprising; you rarely saw her ingest anything more than a taste of food or drink before flitting away, like some sort of overgrown and absent-minded hummingbird. Ryan and Graham wandered off too. You lingered at the counter with Yaz for a while, as she ordered a new (and improved) yellow-coded drink. You found your own glass empty, and after some hesitation, shrugged and ordered another Greyhound. It hadn’t been too strong; you simply felt warm, and bright. It was nice. Second drinks in hand, you and Yaz decided to do a circuit, it was dark and loud and you were quickly separated in the swirling crowd. No matter, you thought cheerfully, as you took another sip. You’d catch Yaz up eventually, no doubt. The music was blasting, and you unconsciously matched your footfalls to the beat, feeling it warm and sizzling in your blood along with the drink. You tipped the glass in your mouth at the end of the song, and were surprised to find it empty. “Well that’s rude,” you told the empty glass, which flashed  in your hand in a thoroughly unimpressed manner. You pivoted in the press of bodies around you, trying to find a free table and a menu. You needed replacement drink, seeing as how your current one was clearly faulty. “Must’ve shorted me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Typical. Think I can’t handle my glasses - I mean, hounds. Dogs. Drinks.” You stumbled as you pushed through a group of people, but regained your stride easily enough. You even spotted Ryan in a shadowy corner, chatting with a very lovely alien indeed. She seemed to be trying to entice Ryan to dance; you wished her the best of luck. Ryan was a hilarious dancer. Not bad, but definitely hilarious, and he took some convincing. You reached a table on the edge of the dance floor, and pulled a menu towards yourself. It took you a couple of jabs to correctly order your Greyhound — your finger kept slipping. Or maybe it was the menu, actually. “Faulty drinks, faulty menus,” you complained to the room at large, leaning back against a pillar as you waited. The people swirling around you were difficult to focus on, and you wondered suddenly if the room was tilting — surely the room itself wasn’t faulty! “Have to get the foundations checked,” you informed the alien server who appeared with your drinks. They gave you an odd look and vanished. You reached for your drink, but paused, hand outstretched as you considered the not one but three glasses set before you. Two Greyhounds, and one that was something else, a smaller, opaque glass. The liquid shimmered in a very interesting way indeed, and it was difficult to look away. Well, perhaps they had brought you the extra drinks on the house, in order to make up for all the faults you’d been uncovering left and right. You stumbled as you pondered this, which as far as you were concerned was proof enough of the foundational flaws; you were, after all, standing still, so what other reason would you have to stumble? Unbelievable. You reached for the Greyhound, but your hand paused, then changed course halfway through and grasped the smaller, shimmering cup instead. It was very light in your grip. You tasted it and stumbled again; it had hit your tongue with a wallop, your entire body was fizzing with a bolt of what must be pure electricity, there was no other possible explanation. Everything around you was abruptly brighter, louder, richer. You blinked, fascinated. “Not too many humans can handle their reds,” a voice said next to you, and you set the cup down with a thud, squinting as the alien next to you came slowly into focus. “You usually so squiggly?” you asked him, and he titled his head, dark eyes moving from you to the half-drunk cup, and back again. His smile flashed in the low light, and for a moment it was all you could see, becoming somehow the brightest, sharpest thing in the room. “It’s a curse,” he said, and you nodded sagely, taking another sip. His eyes followed the cup, and his smile sharpened. “Could cut myself on that,” you observed. “Teeth,” you added, when he looked confused. Perhaps he was drunk; it was ridiculous how many people couldn’t hold their liquor! “Want to try?” he asked, and his hand was on your arm. You weren’t sure when it got there. “Excuse me?” you said, loftily, aiming for a bit of the Doctor in your speech. You thought you did quite well, but the alien didn’t look as annoyed as anyone on the receiving end of one of the Doctor’s questions usually did. Rude. “Do I want to try what?” you asked belatedly, and realized that you were being towed towards the dance floor. When had you made that decision? Time seemed to be leaping ahead and then stalling out in great lurches, and everything was fuzzy and dull. You felt the glass taken from your hand, and were vaguely surprised to find that it was empty again. Another faulty glass? Really? You might have to register a complaint. “Not a lot of humans here,” the alien said, and his hands were on your sides, moving you to the music. People pressed all around you, bumping your shoulders and making it difficult to get your bearings. Your shoes squelched on the slightly sticky floor as they moved. You wanted to stop and see if you could get the room to stop spinning so much, but the hands on you kept you in motion. The alien was speaking again, close to your ear so you could hear him over the din. “You come here alone?” he asked, his fingers warm against your side, and tight. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him but he kept you where you were.“No,” you said, blinking as you tried to orient yourself. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. “Came with m’friends.” “And they left you all alone, to drink a red?” he murmured, and his grip tightened. He was pulling you across the dance floor; the light was fading, and you realized all at once, as you moved into a more shadowed section of the room with only the gleaming crescent of his smile visible, that you were actually quite drunk, and didn’t know where any of the others were. “Should - should get back to them,” you tried to articulate, and he laughed, one of his hands sliding lower. “You’re right where you want to be.”  You stiffened, and tried to pull away. “No, I want to find my friends,” you slurred, jerking back. He held your arm, and pulled you into him in a great twirl, and suddenly your back was against a dark, slightly sticky wall. He loomed over you, one hand still vise-like on your arm, the other pressed against the wall by your head. He smiled down at you, except it didn’t really look so much like a smile anymore, but just a lot of very sharp, gleaming teeth. Your face was very cold, and you wished the room would stop spinning enough that you could push him off and find the others. “I could be your friend,” the alien said, his breath fanning across your face, his hand sliding lower again. The hand on the wall touched your hair, curled a lock of it musingly through his fingers. “I just love red-drunk humans, all alone and lost and looking for a friend to help them.” You struggled again in his grip, and this time he let you go. You lurched sideways along the wall, falling against the corner in a heap. You thought you should feel sick, but you only felt annoyed, and cold, and something else, something like confusion that was tipping towards fear. The alien lifted you back up, hands on your arms, then pressed you back against the corner, his weight against you. Annoyance flared and you tried to push him away. “Let go,” you ordered, but he only laughed, touched your face. “You don’t want to be alone right now do you little Red?” he asked. “I’m sure that’s true,” a new voice interrupted. It had a familiar, lilting cadence, but you didn’t recognize the sharpness to it, or the way danger simmered beneath the surface. The alien didn’t glance away from you. “We’re busy,” he said, touching your face again. “Find your own —” but then he was ripped away from you in swirl of grey fabric and flashing eyes. You swayed, then jerked back as hands touched you again, but — “It’s okay,” that voice said, “it’s alright, it’s me,” and you recognized it this time. The Doctor tucked you against her side and you inhaled that familiar scent of tea and vanilla, and it cleared your head a little, enough to let out a shaky breath. “He’s being - rude,” you told the Doctor, your voice muffled as you glared at the alien. “Yes, he is,” she answered. Her voice was still light, and soothing, and you weren’t able to see the way she was looking at him.  He scowled, gaze darting from you to the Doctor and back before making a dismissive sort of hand gesture and melting into the crowd. The Doctor stood very still for a moment, and you all you could hear was the thunder of her hearts. She let out a breath, then turned you. Again you found your back against that wall, only the hands on you were gentle, and cool. The Doctor touched your face as she looked at you, and that was better too. “Are you okay?” she asked, and you wondered at the appearance of that crease in her brow. She looked dangerous, in the half-light, but her hands were still so light. You nodded, and suddenly her grip on you was tight as she kept you from toppling over. “Wouldn’t - leave me alone,” you told her. “Rude.” “You already said that,” she observed, removing one of her hands to fish in a pocket for her sonic. You blinked at her, swaying on your feet as she ran it over you. She read the output and exhaled. “Tell me you didn’t drink a red.” “I didn’t drink a red,” you repeated dutifully, and watched as her entire face scrunched up in exasperation. It was nice.“You’re so pretty,” you informed her. It was important that she knew in that moment how pretty she was, with her face all scrunchy and the flashing lights making a halo of her head. “So pretty. Too pretty.” You stumbled, and again she caught you. “Okay, I think it’s back to the TARDIS with you.” “Says who,” you slurred, even as she steered you away from the wall and towards the exit. “You’re not — you’re not the boss of me.” “I certainly am,” she muttered. “Especially when you’ve gone and had a red, and I explicitly told you it was a bad idea.” Her grip on your arm was firm and cool, and infinitely preferable to the alien’s. The other alien, that was, because obviously she was alien too. So many aliens! “You’re the best alien though,” you mused aloud, and she darted a quick look at you, tongue poking briefly out of her lips. You liked that quite a lot. You wanted her to do it again, in fact, but she had drawn her lips back into a thin line as she watched you. She steered you towards the exit, but the crowd seemed to have doubled in size, and she was forced to shove her way bodily through the dancing, yelling patrons. A much larger person staggered into her and she grunted as she took the blow. “I think I hate bars,” she said, her voice all but inaudible over the din. “That’’s new. Maybe.” Someone else knocked into her, and the force was heavy enough to jar your arms from her grip. She receded from you in a blurry tunnel of light and sound, and then it was just you, pressed between strange bodies on the dance floor while the music thundered through your bones. Huh. Almost everyone was taller than you, and you had no idea which way the exit was, or the Doctor. You didn’t care much about the exit, but it’d be good to find the Doctor; you had felt less…. fuzzy, when her hands had been on your arms, and more like yourself again. And also she was just so pretty. Wandering in a blurry haze of music and voices, you began to wonder if maybe you might locate another drinks menu. You weren’t so sure about another red, but it also didn’t seem like quite as bad of an idea as it had an hour ago. That was interesting. Weaving and stumbling, you tried to push through the press of bodies, and had made a little bit of progress when — — hands, there were hands on you again — You lurched sideways as you tried to bat those hands away, but there was nowhere to go, the wall of people bounced you back, and the lights were flashing and people were shouting and there were hands on you again — “ - alright? Hey?” The hands succeeded at spinning you around, and a person loomed out of the crowd. Two things followed in short order: you recognized Yaz, and you threw out a defensive fist. They didn't happen in the optimal order, however. “Oi!” Yaz cried, dodging your fist and catching it in her own. “It’s me, what the hell?” She was still sliding in and out of focus, but you were aware of the fact that she was quite pretty too. "’M sorry,” you told her, wondering why she was pulling away from you. You hadn’t actually hit her, after all. Had you? “Sorry,” you repeated, swaying.She was peering at you, her hands firm on your arm. Her eyes were very dark, but they reflected the dancing lights all around you and you blinked, fascinated. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. “Absolutely corking,” you slurred, proud to remember the phrase you had heard Graham use (and Ryan mock) earlier. You weren’t sure why it made Yaz look so alarmed. “Yaz — oh, good —” The Doctor popped into your view as she squeezed between two dancing aliens who took no notice of her, which was probably good because her expression was quite stormy indeed. She still looked quite pretty. How’d she manage that? It wasn’t fair. “Doctor,” Yaz said, turning, “I think something’s wrong —” “Someone decided that they should have a red,” the Doctor said, grim. “I also had two - three - I had - greens!” you told them both, proud. Yaz’s look of alarm deepened, and it was so comical that you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. When that did nothing except make her and the Doctor’s brows both snap into synchronized, angry little v shapes, you only giggled harder. “Right, TARDIS,” the Doctor said ominously. “Yaz, can you find Ryan and Graham and let them know?” Yaz nodded and between one blink and another, she had vanished again. “Just like magic,” you told the Doctor, wondering why your lips were numb. She gave you a swift, searching look, her eyebrows still angry little vs and her tongue still poking between her lips. “Come on,” she said, wrapping a cool hand around your wrist. The contact was steadying, and very nice. She kept you close, clearly not wishing to be separated again as she towed you towards the exit. “Don’t want to go,” you told her abruptly, and you couldn’t hear your voice over the crowd and the music. You didn’t even know why you said it; it wasn’t true, strictly. You still felt like you could fit in another drink or two worth of fun, but you didn’t really care where you went, not if the Doctor was with you. Even if she looked so angry as she glanced back over her shoulder. She had heard you, evidently. She had very good hearing; you and Ryan and Yaz had been working on an experiment to test the limits of it, but hadn’t put it in action yet. Someone bumped into the Doctor hard and she grunted, but her grip on you remained iron-clad and she pulled you closer, actually folding you into her arms to protect you from the jostling crowd.“This is not what I had in mind,” she muttered, her lips very close to your ears as she spoke. It was nice, and extraordinarily distracting. “Do people actually enjoy these places?” “Ryan does apparently,” you said, remembering him chatting up that pretty alien. “This was his idea wasn’t it?” the Doctor mused, moving again and pulling you with her. You were still very close. “I don’t suppose we’ll be letting him choose the next adventure. Ah. That’s better,” she added as she stepped out of the bar and into the night, towing you with her.  A blast of cool, humid air hit you, wrapping around your body and cooling your cheeks. Even though the bar itself had been fairly dark, your eyes still relaxed as the flashing lights fell away.The Doctor let go, and the sobering effect of the night seemed to pull back, a little, as if you’d lost your anchor. The world tilted around you, the stars overhead wheeling and dancing. It made you feel a little bit sick, but it was also beautiful. The Doctor was talking, and you struggled to focus.“Think we parked just over there, yeah, must’ve. Let’s go — where are you going?” The last was delivered with an air of extreme exasperation as she turned in time to witness you bolting away. “I want to be colder,” you told her as you stumbled through the night. You were on pavement (alien pavement, anyways) but in the distance you could see the shadow of what had to be trees (alien trees) and maybe some grass (alien grass). You wanted nothing so much as to lay down on that grass. The Doctor’s protests followed you as you reached the tree and hurled yourself down at the cool earth. Well, not earth. Whatever passed for earth here. What was dirt on an asteroid called? A shadow fell over you, blocking the stars, and you turned your cheek in the grass to look up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hands on her hips, stray hairs blowing in the wind.“You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said. “You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” you replied cheerfully, and even though you couldn’t see her expression very well in the darkness and swirling stars, you could feel the scrunched-up scowl she leveled at you. “Come on,” she said, and her voice was exasperated but her hands were gentle as they lifted you off the ground. Gentle again, as they caught you when you stumbled sideways. “Careful, now. Come on.” “Don’t feel - so good -” you told her, and it was true; the fuzzy, warm glow was fading and the whirling of the stars wasn’t so much aesthetically pleasing as it was now sickening. “I expect not,” the Doctor muttered. “What could have possibly possessed you to drink so much? To drink a red?” “I didn’t mean t’ order it,” you defended yourself. “It was just - just there.” “And you drank it? Something you hadn’t ordered?” the Doctor demanded. “Surely you know not to do that!” “Just trying to have fun,” you mumbled, guilt rising up in you alongside the nausea. “Just wanted —  didn’t mean to — I wasn’t —” “Okay, it’s okay, I know,” the Doctor said, her voice softening. She shifted you against her as she spoke, and you realized she was fumbling for the TARDIS key. The blue box was humming at an almost inaudible frequency, but you could feel it moving through you bones, cooling your blood, steadying you. “Thanks,” you said weakly, patting a hand on the wood as the Doctor steered you through. The interior slights dimmed as you came in,  and it was a soothing balm on your eyes and raw nerves. “She’s spoiling you lot,” the Doctor muttered, but you could hear the fondness threading through her voice. “She likes us,” you thought, or maybe said. The Doctor made a soft sound, not quite a word, and you weren’t sure if she’d heard you. Weren’t sure if you’d spoken. “Okay, try and eat this,” the Doctor said a few moments later. Or maybe hours, you still weren’t entirely sure how time was progressing. Her fingers brushed your lips as she placed a fizzing sort of tablet on your tongue, and you realized all at once that your lips weren’t numb anymore, but blazing with sensation. “Swallow it, it’ll help,” she added. You blinked, looking into her face, so close to yours. There was still that furrow by her eyebrow but she didn’t seem angry, anymore. Not like she had with she’d stared down that rude alien. Her eyes were bright, glittering like the star field outside of the bar. “Too pretty,” you complained, then promptly choked on the tablet you had forgotten on your tongue. “Swallow,” she repeated, placing two fingers on your mouth. Your breath hitched, which did not help the choking one bit. You did, at least, in the midst of the resulting coughing fit, manage to swallow the tablet,  but it burned and your eyes streamed as you blinked at the Doctor. “Good,” she said, placing fingers under your chin. Her touch was somehow both cooling and blazing, comforting and so very distracting. You made an indeterminate sound, and her eyes flicked to yours, a brief touch, before flicking over your face. “That should kick in soon,” she said, dropping her hand. “Is it — gonna cure me,” you asked, and the breathless quality to your voice was due to the lingering affects of drunkenness, surely, and not the Doctor’s touch. She snorted, pushing hair out of her eyes.“It’ll speed up the process, burn the chemicals out of your system faster,” she said. “And it’ll make for a quicker hangover.” She fixed you with an amused look. “Quicker, but not easier. You’re in for a fun night, I think.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on the couch. You regretted it at once, as your head spun and your stomach roiled, but the drama of the moment had dictated.“I didn’t mean to,” you complained, shutting your eyes as the lights spun around you. The spinning didn’t stop, in the darkness behind your eyelids, but it was a little bit better. Maybe. A cool hand brushed your forehead, and that definitely was better. “I know,” she said, and you could hear the gentleness in her voice. “Am I going to die?” you asked, not because you thought that you were — you’d been sick before, though admittedly not from alien alcohol — but it had the right flair of drama to it. It also made the Doctor snort again, and regrettably, her hand slid from your brow. “You’re drunk, not dying,” she said, and her voice was receding as she moved around the room.  “Humans and their substances, honestly.” Something was placed on your brow, cool and damp and soothing. The Doctor tucked the cloth against your head with deft, gentle fingers even as she continued to explain her thoughts on humans and all of their myriad of flaws. “You’ve never been drink — you don’t drunk —” You stumbled over the words, and felt her fingers still, then fall away from the cloth. You opened your eyes and with the room spinning and the dim light and the serious, difficult to read expression on her face, she looked as remote and otherworldly as she actually was for all that she was your friend. “Time Lords are an advanced race, we certainly don’t have the same genetic predispositions towards inebriation or the desire to attempt so,” she said finally, still looking down at you. You grunted, considering her words as they slid in and out of your head.“Didn’t answer the question,” you observed, and were rewarded with a scowl. “Hm,” was all she said, but she was smiling slightly. “Try to rest now, and if you need to be sick —” she kicked something on the floor that gave a hollow thud. “Try to aim in here, yeah?” “I am not going to be sick,” you said firmly, and the Doctor’s smile flashed in the dim light. “I hope not, the pill’s supposed to help with that but,” she shrugged expansively, and even through the spinning room you were able to focus in shocking clarity on the pull of her shirt across her frame she did so, “I don’t really know what combination of ingredients you drank, and how they’ll react to the other things you drank or your own biology. So. Bin.” She nudged it with a boot again. “I’m going to check on the others, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be right back.” You didn’t want her to go, but you were feeling worse by the moment as the alcohol was burned out of your system and, as far as you could tell, migrated to your head. You could feel each heartbeat rattling in your skull like knives, and your roiling stomach kept speed with it. You moaned something that the Doctor took for agreement. Time passed, although you weren’t in any way able to keep track of it. You suspected it had been a century based on the pounding in your head, but it could have only been a few heartbeats. Either way, you were still alone when you realized that what you really needed was some water. Nobody was around to hear you, but you still complained and groaned and generally made a spectacle as you swung your legs off the couch, sitting upright. Your stomach made a solid pass at leaping out of your throat, but you steadied yourself with a snarl; you were not going to need the bin, you were not going to be sick. And you were right; all thoughts of nausea fled as you pushed yourself to your feet, because your skull might as well have shattered. Your headache pounded so violently that you thought it might be slamming you through the floor; it felt too heavy, too thick, too white-hot with blinding pain. Death was infinitely preferable to this miserable thing called life. “Never — drinking — again —” you vowed, swaying, hoping the floor might just swallow you whole and end your suffering. “A noble sentiment,” the Doctor said from behind you. “But one rarely adhered to, I suspect. What are you doing off the sofa?” She appeared at your side, a steadying hand on your elbow. “You didn’t sick up somewhere did you,” she added with sudden trepidation, looking around your feet apprehensively. “I just wanted something to drink,” you told her, wretched. Your head was still pounding, and even the dimmed lights were still too bright. They stabbed your eyes with sharp, splintering shards of pain. You groaned, and leaned your head instinctively against the Doctor’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” she said, with a touch of asperity, but her hand was gentle as ever as she smoothed hair back from your forehead. “Water,” you clarified, your voice muffled from the folds of her coat. It was soft, and cool, and smelled like home. “Ah,” the Doctor said, steering you back to the couch. She eased you down again. “Stay, I’ll get you some water and a new cloth.” “Where are the others? Are they coming?” you asked miserably as she reappeared, setting a glass of water in your hands. It had a truly spectacular bendy, swirly straw that was almost as long as the glass itself, a vibrant purple and orange that hurt your eyes to look at, but you appreciated the gesture as you lifted it to your mouth with weak hands. “They’ll be here soon, they’re trying to find Ryan,” the Doctor said. The cushions dipped as she settled on the other end of the sofa. “They might have to expand the search,” you said, thinking of that alien he had been speaking with. You groaned as your head gave another spike of pain, and slid down the couch as sitting became too much effort. “Just rest,” the Doctor said. “It’ll pass.” “Promise?” “I promise,” she said, and your eyes were closed, but you could hear the slight smile in her voice. “I am the best alien, after all.” You could definitely hear the smile, now, and something niggled at your memory; you suspected that the Doctor was poking fun at something you had said while in the bar, but the memory was sliding in and out with tremendous spikes of pain and you let it go. You suspected that you had said many unfortunate things, and you could only hope that the Doctor hadn’t heard or remembered most of them. You drifted for a time, after that, surfacing to occasional bursts of pain or nausea or, more welcome, cool hands on your brow as they took your temperature or readjusted the the damp cloth. Clarity — and more importantly, an absence of that all-encompassing pain — arrived abruptly. You sat up gingerly, feeling weak and shaky and not even remotely good, but it was a normal not-good, not I’m going to die and if not I wish it would hurry up about it not-good. “Ah, here we are,” the Doctor said, and you looked over to see her curled up at her end of the couch, a book in her hand.  She closed it and tucked it in the cushion. “Feeling better?” “Yeah,” you said, peeling off the now warm and dry cloth from your head. You looked down at it, then the mercifully empty bin at your feet. Something else rolled in your stomach, almost worse than the earlier nausea: shame, with a side of guilt. “Ah. Sorry, about all that,” you mumbled, darting another look at the Doctor. She was watching you, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over you, still assessing. “Accepted,” she said, scooting over to you and fishing her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Deep breath,” she said, resting it against your chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for anyways,” she added.  “It’s not your fault you got served a red, or that someone tried to take advantage of you for it.” You had forgotten about that, had forgotten about that other alien and his heavy, unwelcome hands, and his sharp, hungry smile. You shuddered, and the Doctor’s eyes touched your own, a welcome distraction. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste time on me,” you muttered, but she was pushing a fresh glass of water into your hand. “Drink. And yes I do, or do you not remember bolting up and trying to climb the  TARDIS console?” You goggled at her. “Apparently not,” she said with a wicked grin. “No, don’t apologize again, it’s okay. You got me out of that bar anyways, I really wasn’t vibing with it. ”You had been awash in horror at your actions, but the Doctor’s last words snapped you out of it. “Vibing with it?” you repeated, incredulous.   She shot you a look, tongue poking slightly between her lips.“Yeah, am I using that right? Ryan taught me.”  You were still goggling at her, but the sound of a door opening and a rush of voices distracted you both. “Ah, finally,” the Doctor said, brushing off her legs and standing up. “I wonder what kept them. We’re in here,” she added, pitching her voice to carry to the others and making no effort to define where “here” was; it was obvious to her, and that apparently was to be enough for everyone else. It was very her. Everything she did was very her, you mused. Not just because it was her doing them, but because she did everything with such one-hundred percent commitment, energy, and enthusiasm. You smiled slightly, watching her as she stood with her hands on her hips. She’d taken off her coat at some point, and she looked smaller without it, more wild and fleeting, something ephemeral. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled when she met your eyes. That smile was also wild, fleeting and ephemeral, but it grounded her, a little bit, in the here and now. And you, too. “Hello,” Yaz said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, her hair coming out of its braids, her jacket mussed, but it was a happy sort of tired. “Have fun?” The Doctor asked as Yaz threw herself down on the couch next to you. “Yes,” Yaz said, leaning her head back on the cushions. “Not as much fun as some other people, though,” she added, and turned her head to fix you with her dark, glittering eyes. “How are you doing?” “I feel like death,” you told her, and stuck out your tongue when she grinned. “That’s what you two get for going off-book,” she said smugly, wiggling her shoulders deeper into the couch and kicking off her shoes before lifting her legs and curling them up on the couch. “Oi, I didn’t drink a red,” the Doctor said, indignantly. “Not that I would have been affected, if I had. You humans are so — ” “She been going on like this the whole time?” Yaz asked you, and the Doctor gave her a dark look. You giggled, and it only made your head split down the middle a little bit. It was worth it, for the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Definitely,” you confirmed, wincing as you lifted a hand to rub your temples. “This is the thanks I get, for spending my night chasing after red-drunk humans? Mockery and false accusations?” “Not you,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “I was talking about — “ “Hellooooooo TARDIS!” “That,” Yaz finished, turning to watch as Ryan crashed into the room, with an aggrieved Graham in his wake. The Doctor groaned, throwing her hands up. “Ryan! Not you too!” “Guilty your honor,” Ryan crooned, spinning a wild circle and narrowly avoiding the couch with his flailing feet. You hastily copied Yaz, drawing your feet up onto the cushions and settling in to watch the show. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love! Congratulate me.” “You’re not in love, son, you’re drunk,” Graham said wearily, trying to grab Ryan, but he spun out of reach. And fell over. The room shuddered. You gasped, Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth, Graham cursed. The Doctor closed her eyes. “Ow,” Ryan said, but he was smiling beatifically up at the ceiling. “What happened?” The Doctor asked resignedly, crouching by Ryan and taking his pulse, then pulling out her sonic. He ignored her, still smiling happily up at the ceiling, his toes clicking together as he hummed. He was still firmly in the “fun” stage of the Red inebriation, it seemed. “What do you think, Doc?” Graham answered tiredly, moving to stand by them. “He wanted to impress a pretty girl.” “Did he?” you asked, interestedly. The situation was a lot funnier when it wasn’t happening to you, it turned out. “Well, he chugged a red and challenged some bloke to a dance contest,” Yaz said. She was grinning, and it was the grin of a sober woman witnessing the carnage wreaked by foolish friends. “We almost didn’t get him out of there.” The Doctor stood up, pinching her nose. She came to a decision.“Right. I’ll get him a pill, but I’ve done my babysitting duty for the night. He’s your problem after that.” She stode from the room, and you heard her mutter something about never going to a bar again. Yaz heard her too, and you shared a grin. Ryan, it turned out, had very little interest in taking the hangover-speed-up pill from the Doctor. It also turned out that red-inebriation or no, he could still move very quickly, and it took the combined efforts of Yaz, Graham and the Doctor to get the pill in his mouth. You filmed most of on your phone you'd fumbled quickly out of a pocket, which as far as you were concerned did just as much to help the situation as any of them. The Doctor threw herself down on the sofa next to you with an explosive sigh. “I am never,” she said, tipping back her head, “taking humans to a bar. Ever again.” Ryan moaned from the floor, punctuating the statement with eloquence. Yaz sat down on the Doctor’s other side, then scooted over to make room for Graham who was looking silent and shell-shocked. You found your shoulders rubbing the Doctor’s, and you curled your feet up under you to make more room while leaning your head against her shoulder. You could hear her twin heartbeats, and after a moment she rolled her head so that her chin was resting in your hair.“You’re all on probation,” she said, firmly. You hummed skeptically, and Yaz snorted. Graham was still grimly silent, but you knew he’d come around. Silence, for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan’s increasingly pathetic moans.“Shall I pop in a movie?” Yaz asked finally. “Go on then,” the Doctor said, resigned, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be here for a while.” “‘’m never drinking again,” Ryan groaned from the floor.  He clapped his hands over his ears as you all began to laugh, which did exactly nothing to help. “Humans,” the Doctor said to the TARDIS ceiling, but she was still smiling. “You love us,” Yaz said, standing up and moving to put on a movie. “Yeah,” the Doctor said after a moment, so softly that you thought you might be the only one who heard it. “I do.”

[variousarts1234]

The Origins of SCP 049

Exactly what it says on the tin. I hope you all enjoy.

He was my first assignment- SCP 049, the deranged, non-human witch doctor who had slaughtered three of my coworkers. I didn’t know whether to be terrified or grateful. As frightening a beast as he was, this was, after all, just an interview- that had to be better than being assigned care of the more animalistic creatures that our facility held. Once I saw the several inches of bullet-proof glass we’d be separated by and the radios we’d be communicating through, I relaxed more completely.

It was a few minutes before he was brought in- a sentient plague doctor getup housing a lifeless skeleton with no soft tissues of which to speak. It sat in the chair provided for him in the padded room, and its gloved hand poked at the microphone.

“Hello?”

I read off my prepared speech. “Hello. SCP 049, it’s time for the games to end. You’re an intelligent person, and we can all tell that, and yet you continue to provide us with only the vaguest of answers. Simply put, give us clear, coherent answers to our questions, and we will grant you a live human to study for each hour of useful information you give us.” Whether this was true or not was classified, and honestly, given the number of people slaughtered for the foundation’s experiments as-was, it would hardly surprise me if it were. I would probably never know myself.

The creature cocked its head. “How do I know that this isn’t a pack of lies?”

“You don’t,” I answered, “but you have nothing to lose. And if we can’t win you over with favours, we’ll have to begin with punishments.”

The doctor leaned back in his chair, apparently relaxed as he pondered this.

“Fine. I’ll answer all the tedious questions you’ve always asked. And we shall begin with my beginnings.”

---

“A Pacific Island is where my story begins- although I’ll warn you that it jumps around quite a bit at first. I was born from the wife of a great medicine man, who was raising me to replace him when he died. Then one day, European travellers came and shipped me off in a crate.

“Thankfully, I escaped them once they unloaded my crate on the mainland. They chased after me, yes, but I ran to a forest and lost them by running through thick trees. They were too big to chase after me, you see. And I came upon a coven of witches. I was with them for six years, learning magic under them, before they kicked me out for atrocities against God.”

“What were you banished for?” I asked.

The creature appeared to ponder that. “I don’t know. I was doing all sorts of things that sat outside their rules, see? I don’t know what they found, but it probably wasn’t a third of what I’d been hiding. Anyhow, they allowed me to pack up my things, and soon I, at the age of fifteen, was wandering through the nearby town, possessing nothing but what I could carry on my back. I took a job under a priest in exchange for food and a place to sleep. Part of the priest’s job was to heal, and so I learned a few things under him. That’s the only good I have to say about him. I knew more than him, and he was set in his ways. People died because he wouldn’t let me use my witchcraft and Islander techniques. So, I studied at a seminary, and became a priest myself. The same night I came home, he named me his successor, and that very same night, I drove a knife through his heart. It had had to be done.

“My church became well-known for its healing prowess. Peasants came with their demonic possessions, and I could cure them without trephination but with only a bath in lavender water. Knights came with their infected wounds, and I could purge the poisons with potions made of metallic salts ground fine and mixed into milk. And I went on like that for several years.

“Then, one day, the king of Astbury- the kingdom of which I inhabited- came to me with his teenage son- a prodigal squire who would have one day made a fine knight- who had been stabbed in the leg. The flesh around the wound was going necrotic, and so many other healers had told him that it required amputation if the boy were to live. These healers were right, of course, but I told them otherwise. I knew that it was my chance to move up in the world, and I planned on seizing it. I took their son into a private room, let him sleep, and poisoned him- just badly enough that he would be out dead for the night. Then, I measured him, and killed a beggar of the same length of leg. By morning, the body was burned, the prince had a new leg in place of the old, and I had the king’s eternal gratitude. They believed that I had healed his leg, and being that they were offering me to stay at the palace, I saw no need to correct them.

“The king had only intended to thank me with a feast, but I convinced him to allow me one other opportunity to show my healing prowess. You see, his wife’s moon blood had stopped flowing a few years ago, and the king would have welcomed more children. I promised him that I would have her overflowing with fertility within the month, and if I didn’t, they could leave me with nothing but the clothes on my back. At first the cures I administered to her were nothing but placebos- my only plan was to live the high life for a while, have the king finance my research, and then go back to the humble life of a healer priest. What I wasn’t expecting was to actually find the cure. The queen’s moon blood retuned, and the king thanked me with a permanent position in his castle, a massive room in the basement for study, and a cut of the money I made from my healing abilities.

“What followed was the greatest period in my life! By day, there were people from all over the kingdom and from lands beyond, coming to me for cures for everything from leprosy to demonic possession to the effects of age- all new challenges to be met, conquered, and rewarded with tearful gratitude, newfound knowledge, and ample coin. By night, I ate the finest of food, drank the finest of wine, and slept on the finest silk. And I studied. My dungeon room gradually became full of experimental devices, potion reagents, and my test subjects. Yes, the king gave me whatever I wanted- including plenty of animals and the odd prisoner to experiment on. Life... was good.

“It went on like that for several decades before I reached the inevitable problem of age. Yes, up until then, there was only so much that even I could do to keep it at bay. But I had a plan, see- and one day, when I could feel the rain in my bones and was struggling to walk, even with my cane, I decided: it was time to put my greatest invention to the test.

“I had begun planning for this day years ago, including the training up of a successor. Her name was Eva. No last name- she had been a slave brought over from another realm, and had I not seen promise in her, she would have been a test subject in one of my experiments. I had treated her well, and had promised her that once I became immortal, she’d be next, and that once she was transformed, we’d both be seen as Gods and no one would see her as a slave anymore. How I wanted that. She was not yet grown, and I cared for her like a daughter.

“The process itself- well, you’ve seen a part of it, my fellow researcher, though I had constructed a machine to turn one’s innards out in just the right pattern, and now I have to do it by hand. Eva’s job was merely to start up the machine, and care for me while I was in my frail, in-between, mindless state. It’s a ten-year process, as I’m sure you’ve deducted by now.

“Wait, stop!” I called. There were several seconds of silence as I attempted to absorb what he’d said. “Those researchers you- you cured- you were-”

“Oh no, they’re dead, now. Those creatures needed proper care to become immortal, and you locked them up separate from me. Unless... the researchers of this foundation have been treating them.”

“Yes, we are,” I answered nervously. It would probably be easier to extract information from the doctor if he thought highly of our competence.

“Marvelous! On with the story, then.”

“After the machine had cleaved open my skull and rib cage, and my organs had been hung in the right places of my body, I was completely braindead for quite some time. I knew this would happen, as I’d done it to several animals in the past, and it had worked on both hound and hog. Eva kept me fed, kept my organs clean and properly positioned, polished my bones, and set me to bleed out at the proper time. I remember a period- perhaps of a few days- where I could recognize her again. She looked so much bigger and more womanly than I remembered. And then, the second stage began. A chitin that resembled a cape, immune to canons, poison, acid, age, and anything else one could name, began to grow over my organs, changing their shape and structure. I remembered nothing for several years. And then I emerged.

“My dungeon was not being kept. The herbs were dead. The animals- those who were not immortal, were mere bones in their cages. I was so angry... so angry at Eva for letting it happen... I stormed out of the basement, looking for her. I found one of the king’s advisors and demanded her location. He... he hugged me, and told me that she was dead, and so was the king. That nearly a fifth of the kingdom was dead of a horrific necrotic disease...

“I couldn’t believe it... I went for a walk around the village square, and felt how empty it was when it was once so full of life... People did not come to me in hope and awe, but in desperation. And there was nothing I could do against the disease that they called the Black Plague.

“I had caused it. My cure, the one that I had applied to myself, also causes the skin to blister and blacken before it sloughs off, leaving only the organs to be packed into chitin. Clearly, I had offended God, and this was my punishment.

“I went to a church to help the plague victims- it was all that I could think to do. The high life in the palace- the life that I’d done this to prolong- no longer appealed to me.”

“Wait,” I interjected, “the black plague wasn’t your fault. We know now that it was carried by the fleas on rats from trading ships. It had nothing to do with you.”

The abomination shook its head. “You’re wrong. People will always find explanations for what they cannot explain. I know more forms of black magic... and their unintended consequences... when I see them.”

“Very well. Carry on.”

“As I was saying. I spent a few months experimenting on the dying. I even found a cure eventually. It made no difference- people died faster than I could cure them. I remember curing a mother of five once, only to see her catch it again and collapse dead while waiting in line to receive a second treatment.

“I confessed to the priest my suspicions that I might have caused the plague, and he told me that he appreciated me, but something had to be done to appease God and stop this disease.

“He, and several other villagers, nailed me to a tree at dawn. The priest gave a speech that he condemned my actions, and wished to cleanse the world of them. That he hoped that God would receive the message, and cease their punishment. And then he set the tree on fire.

“Flames licked me, but I did not burn. I pretended to merely be an empty shell, and eventually, once the tree was burned and I was laying on the ash-covered ground with nails still in my hands, they left me. I wandered the woods for days, knowing that I was no longer welcome in the village. I grew hungry but could not starve. Wolves gnawed on me at night, but could not pierce my skin. Eventually I made my way to a pier, and snuck onto a ship. I landed in the New World.

“I have lived almost everywhere in the world in my centuries, and everywhere I go, a pestilence is sure to follow. Smallpox, Spanish Flu, Malaria, Zika Virus... in making myself immortal, I have opened a Pandora’s Box... but it was worth it, for it made me realize the ultimate truth. Pestilence is inherent to man. The cure is in leaving behind human form. And so, I stopped feeling guilty, and I began to make it my life’s purpose to convince others to take the cure. Without it... the pestilence will rot you from the inside out. Every one of you. It is inevitable.

“My time at the foundation, though, has shaken that belief somewhat. You have so little of the pestilence here. I wonder what your secret is. I see some people around here with no pestilence at all! Though, you seem to be sporting an average amount of it.”

It was at this point of the interview that I took off my sweater. The doctor stared at my arms as though they were obscene. “What?” I asked.

“Pestilence,” he said. “It has just multiplied upon your body.”

That’s when it hit me. The people who had handled him had been exclusively wearing haz-mat suits or other heavy protective equipment. The researcher he’d transformed was the first one we’d allowed, due to the abomination’s seeming civility, to enter without protective equipment. And that had been what had set him off. The mere idea was insane, but then, so was he.

“You take away our flesh to make us immortal. And so to you, our flesh is the pestilence that will be the death of us all.”

[flufflebones]

some more fun hcs about delphine [mc 1.... closest 2 my heart since ive used her in various settings for a While]! it’s a little long so im slapping it under a cut but its all sfw and all very much in good fun.

you know, mostly. i only really got two headcanons down and one is brief/about michael and the other is about pets in the devildom

- can and will fight michael do you think they saw the angel/anni event and were ok with it? yeah? no! just going to kick him hard enough in the shin to....... probably bust their own foot but its FINE 

- has an approximate accumulated f*ckton of devildom native and possibly (definitely) magical pets

[The list:

Sosig / Sausage - Hellhound - Gift from Beelzebub!:

A beast of considerable size and [reportedly] god awful temperament, bearing charcoal fur and the lingering [faint] scent of sulphur. More vulpine than canine, their frames are typically gaunt, with the flames that fuel their bodies licking out from the ends of their tails, their ankles and wrists [on their normal quadrupedal legs], the inner portions of their ears [leaving them at a disadvantage when it comes to hearing], their somewhat visible / open ribcage, and the corners of their mouth. 

Despite this general introduction, hellhounds are wildly varied and have a number of breeds and variations in recent history, typically intended for one of three purposes.

Companionship - These hellhounds are typically smaller in stature and less sturdy, with a tendency to bond strongly to one or two masters [with some consideration/leeway for those close to their master: See- Cerberus]. Arguably the most docile of any class of hellhound, they are still dangerous if not raised correctly, and have a nasty bite. Though not a true classification and with no formal means of training a hound to do so naturally, some companion hellhounds serve as a psuedo service dog, heavily attuned to the needs and potential problems unique to their primary master. This isn’t to say that they are an alternative to service animals, or anywhere near as well trained, *of course*, but the devildom is hardly the safest place for a regular human realm animal; And sometimes, you’ve just got to work with what you’ve got.

Sport / Show - Typically very much breed standard. While raised to tolerate handling and grooming, these traditionally built hellhounds are temperamental at best and borderline terrifying when their willful nature comes in direct conflict with a demonic handler who bit off more than they can chew. Heavily regulated, and typically owned by the elite.

Protection - The devildom is dangerous, and nobody is questioning that. Demons with a knack for animal handling [or demons who can afford to hire someone skilled with animals, of course!] breed and train these creatures to guard many things; People, places, objects, etc. They’re typically territorial and hard to train as a rule, as one cannot allow for a beast such as this to be tempted by treats or good petting from *anyone*, yfm?

Sausage is a bit of a mixed bag. Born from protective stock and bought by Beelzebub after overhearing Mammon trying to convince Lucifer to get Delphine/my mc a pet [who lays eggs, we’ll get there, that he can sell for a massive profit]. Being the youngest present brother at the time, anything capturing his interest other than food is both welcomed and encouraged in an attempt to positively reinforce him to not put the devildom at risk of a famine.

Delphine unintentionally raised this brick house of a hellhound puppy into a sort of in-between of companion and protector, with him being very social, very sweet, and *fairly* defensive and willful if things aren’t going his way. He’s typically the one to step in most successfully to motivate her to move around [yes, moreso than the brothers!] and do her day to day tasks, and is probably the best way to find out if something’s wrong with her-- Past being able to just kind of drag her off due to their size differential, his general wit and ability to communicate his needs and wants have led to unexpected food deliveries, blankets spread over her shoulders, and human world medicines arriving a few days before she shows any real signs of illness that she can see.

He’s also spoiled as all get out. If you’re sharing a bed/couch/blanket/etc with her, you can bet Sausage is soon to follow. Sorry, Mammon! He loooves table scraps and is almost as bad as Beel when it comes to eating things he shouldn’t [and looking too cute to be scolded about it too heavily].

Rocky - ... That’s just a rock, dude. - Gift from Belphegor:

It’s really hard to tell if Belphegor is messing around when he presents Delphine with a rough hewn black rock bearing two googly eyes, a pair of hilariously out of place crystalized horns, and a pair of similarly out of place crystal wings, but I swear on all things unholy, he’s doing it for a reason.

Though not... Really sentient, initially, Rocky just needs a good, possibly year long charging. Soulstones are sort of... Weird, in that they are inert and lifeless for as long as they remain with the boulders from which they are harvested. but typically-- After being exposed to a single party’s magical runoff and signature for a year or so-- absorb enough energy to come to life, their coloration and mineral makeup adjusting to fit the nature of the being they owe their life to. Delphine’s takes the form of a celestine and blue goldstone peryton; A winged stag. With crystalized wings and antlers, Rocky would almost look majestic; If it weren’t for the fact that the googly eyes have remained a feature that she has never been able to figure out how to remove. Soulstones are typically quiet observers, not requiring active care to thrive but delighting in contact [especially immediately post spell casting or magic use]. They are attuned to the needs of their magic bound masters, and typically exude an air of-- if not positive-- reassurance.

In Delphines Little Canon Divergence Corner, it’s likely that rocky coming into her care is one of the first of many attempts at reconciliation that Belphegor makes with her post chapter 16; And it honestly really, really sets him back, like, even when she returns to the human realm. Forgotten but included in her luggage, it’s a few weeks into her settling down on Earth that she finds the dinky little stone, and an overload of magic-- Possibly emotionally sourced, possibly due to unresolved tension/a discussion that never got to happen because he was being a little jerk about it-- sets off the transformation, which occurs overnight.

She recognizes the little stone figure when it approaches her in the morning, and one of her first texts about it is a simple, succinct “WTF” + an image attachment sent to Belphegor, specifically in the dead of night with the intention to wake him.

Henry “Pogchampion” 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, A.K.A: “Pip! Minette! Beans!” - Infernal rats - Gift from Leviathan:

A note: If you don’t care for rats or you’re more familiar with their popular association with illness or disease/classification as vermin, and are only capable of thinking of them in that context, I don’t care. I am specifically talking about rats in the context of them being pets-- And good pets, at that. If you want to talk about how much you wish they were dead/didn’t exist, thats not my problem. Just don’t do it on a post discussing them as a pet, or I will block you!

Anyway!

Leviathan is probably the most appropriate person for them to get pet recommendations from, but her asking never winds up a necessity; When he finds out that he’s got another pet enthusiast in the house, he’s *all* about it, and when he finally [very unsubtly] weasels his way into the information he needs, he gets them to come along with him to what’s supposed to be a routine supply trip for Henry that just *CAN’T* be accomplished online. It’s a trip to *a* shop, but not what she’s expecting, especially when she gets to meet a handful of very curious, very playful, larger than a medium sized dog mice and rats. These guys are very much pests turned pets, with a small niche of hobbyists raising them and breeding them for temperament and overall health and disease resistance. Very social and very intelligent, they tend to thrive best in groups if one is not devoting all of their time to them as an individual. The type Leviathan recommends are on the smaller side, with cloudy, soft fur and sweet temperaments. And massive teeth, nubby horns, spade tipped tails, and very large, typically bony or leathery wings.

Levi is... Probably the one who wanted them, really. They get a little big, and tend to like to roughhouse, and they chew like nobody’s business-- And while he can’t risk his figures or merch or other Otaku Trappings or wires for everything in his room, he *CAN* risk Delphine’s. Plus, Sausage needs a friend, right? Or three?

They pick up three, all of whom are sisters, and all of whom on paper are named Henry “Pogchamp”, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, since he *is* technically the one paying for them and at least gets to do that much. Even when they start being named Pip, Minette, and Beans, in casual conversation, he can still hold on to the fact that they’ll always be Henries in his heart of hearts.

Sausage loves them to bits, for the record, but their interactions tend to be supervised/very brief even without the worry of him being able to harm any of them due to the general (and very appropriate) ill advisement of large predators interacting with smaller prey animals. It’s cute, sure, but it can be dangerous, and Delphine (and Levi, to a lesser extent, because he’s using the excuse of them being friends to keep Lucifer off of his ass for adding another animal to her menagerie) isn’t about to risk it.

Sweets - .... A black cat? That glitters? - Gift from Satan and Asmodeus:

Small, sleek, and independent, Sweets is probably the pet people see the least of all of Delphine’s little collection-- Though that doesn’t mean she’s not well loved. A pet project between Satan and Asmodeus, Sweets isn’t *technically* a cat; They’re a being comprised of shadow, somewhat similar in nature to a familiar without the connotation of them technically being a demon slash demonic. Who just so happens to have been enchanted to appear like and generally function in their day to day life as a cat. That sparkles, the only concession Satan was willing to grant Asmodeus in return for his help obtaining the materials necessary to create  the little beast (and in return for him taking the heat when Lucifer inevitably got pissy about it). Given its unique nature, very little is actually known about the little being of shadow past basic care and assumptions based on its generally feline behavioral patterns. The rats scare the hell out of it, however, and it tends to be out of sight except when called, hiding in shadows and only occasionally emerging on its own.

... Oh, and be careful. Satan hasn’t told Del yet, but it seems that the belly rubs this shadowy kitty offers tend  to bite off more than they can chew if they’re not careful. Asmodeus thinks its horrible. Who wants a pet with a massive maw of teeth in their stomach? Satan desperately wants to use this quirk in Sweets’ nature for a prank. Delphine already knows, but is playing dumb for the sake of faking surprise when its formally revealed.

Elysia - Gilded Crow - Gift from Lucifer and Mammon:

SO, i”M going to keep this short because i’ve been writing this for several hours at this point on and off and i really really want to be ready for my dinner when its ready, but!

Elysia is a sort of... Special circumstance. Literally. Devotees to Mammon-- And yes, there *are* people who think he’s a legitimate demon lord, the only people really allowed to treat him like garbage are his brothers and a few choice officials too strong to be eradicated as any lesser demon might have been-- with a background in magical augmentation specifically enchanted this line of crows to reflect that which is most valued by their Lord; Riches. They’re technically not legal due to their status as something of an organic money generator, but a select few in a small flockare kept under the watchful eyes of the Demon Lord and his immediate family, and those who have been trusted by his family members. This is where Lucifer comes in.

Understandably, Mammon is not allowed to have care of his flock, though he certainly wouldn’t be the worst at caring for them. He’d just also be selling their products illegally, and you can’t have that!

Elysia wears a small enchanted band comprised of dull, unimpressive iron-- The kind of thing Mammon would neither notice nor have interest in. This band is enchanted, and serves as a sort of storage space for any of Ely’s dropped organic components. Talons, feathers, eggs-- Everything is automatically absorbed into the band, rendering the bird borderline useless outside of being a gorgeous pet, and a gigantic nuisance. 

Lucifer hates to admit it, but he really is a fan of the large, intelligent, gorgeous creature; And Mammon thinks it’s really funny to teach her to take shiny things (like grimm, loose jewelry, gum wrappers, etc), even past the sentimental value of the bird itself and what her kind represents to him. 

Delphine adores her, too, and is about as good an influence on her as Mammon is-- Teaching her to speak, in some capacity, simply by repeating certain words or phrases to herself as she does things in the day to day, especially during feeding time. It’s all fun and games, until this pretty golden bird calls Lucifer a ‘motherf*cker’ while she thinks he’s out of the room while visiting with Diavolo for an update on her health.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

The cursed statue- Luktober Day 2

I know the stories are supposed Luka centered and I hope this is centered around him but I’m a little worried it’s not. Let me know. This prompt came from @write-it-motherfuckers, whoes prompts I’ve been using for a few ML stories I’ve written. I can’t help it, they’re good. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.” Curse

It wasn’t often that Adrien got drunk, but it had been quite some time since he and his friends managed to get some time together like this. The group of them had gotten rather pleasantly tipsy when they came down to see him and were now enjoying dancing around and giggling hysterically in the rain, most of the dreary little town, already shut for the day. He would probably wouldn’t be hearing the end of it when it came to him and his friends loud obnoxious singing, not for some time at least. There weren’t many people under fifty in this town and complaining was practically an Olympic sport around here.

As Adrien passed through the old park, one of them noticed the large old statue, partially hidden, just a little way off the beaten track. No one in town quite knew its origin, but it had been there as long as the town had been, and it was doing no harm where it was. Most chose to ignore the bizarre nameless statue.

One of his friends whistled appreciatively at the figure and they all laughed, dancing and stumbling their way into the tiny clearing. Adrien’s friends started joking around, eventually convincing him to climb up onto the statues base and give it a kiss. Drunk and enjoying being silly and carefree for once, he gave a dramatic bow and clumsily climbed up the slippery base, his friends hooting and whistling at him the whole way. 

Reaching the statue, his friends cheered and teased him over their height differences, laughing as he only flipped them off. Wrapping his arms around the statue’s neck, he paused briefly, finally noticing how sad the statue looked up close, its face partially concealed from any other position. Something about it made his heart twinge painfully. Shaking the surprisingly sober thought off, he used his grip around its neck to stand on the tips of his toes, kissing the slightly bent over figure directly on their cold unyielding lips.

Instantaneously, lighting struck somewhere else in the park, disturbingly close by, the following boom of thunder loud enough to make his ears hurt. His friends shouted and screeched in alarm, before running back onto the path, laughing loudly, headed the short distance back to his place. Unfortunately, they were all too drunk and giggly to notice that he hadn’t followed.

Having been startled by the thunder as well, he lost his footing on the slippery base of the statue. He barely managed to fall an inch before a powerful arm was locking around him, lifting him just enough to keep his feet off of the slick ground. 

Wide eyed, he snapped his gaze back up, shocked to find himself meeting the wonder filled aqua blue gaze of what had previously been a statue. Now they were flesh and bone, their skin and hair soft against his hold, his arms still locked around their neck. They seemed in awe of him, and in full honesty, the feeling went both ways. There was no question that their beauty was beyond human, their now living form radiating with power and grace and their eyes tugging at something deep inside him.

“Thank you.” a calming voice said, escaping the person in front of him. The rain was starting to weigh down his dark hair, the blue tones in it shining in the moonlight. He gently pulled one hand away from his neck, his warm lips pressing a kiss onto Adrien’s hand. Adrien’s eyes just caught a snake tattoo wrapped around his wrist, the head just resting on the bottom of his hand.

Adrien was sure he had a million questions, but the alcohol in his brain and the sudden appearance of the man, cause that what he was, had made his brain mush. He then heard voices, familiar ones. It sounded like his friends finally noticed he wasn’t with them and he had the only key to his apartment.

He felt his other hand being taken off of the guy in front of him and was gently pushed back. Not to knock him off, but to encourage him to step down safely. He did so, his eyes not really leaving the aqua blue eyes that had his locked. He watched the guy come down as well, his white shirt flat against his body mildly distracting him.

“Goodbye.” He said before he turned and walked away.

Adrien stood there staring at the figure as it disappeared in the rain when he felt a firm hand on his back.

“Woah, dude. Did the lightening fry the statue?” Nino asked, dazedly looking at where the statue had once stood.

“No. I’m cold, let’s go.”

                                              _______________

Adrien was right about the town’s residents not letting the singing at early hours ago. He’d taken his friends to eat at his favourite café, one that wasn’t hounded by those living there and he happened the bump into one of the more influential members. If it wasn’t for his life with his father before he moved here, he wouldn’t have found a way to end the conversation quickly and move on.

“My head is pounding.” Marinette groaned, as she tried to become one with the table top. Kagami didn’t look any better, a change in her usual quiet and calm demeanour. Nino was surprisingly ok, but Adrien played that off to his usual late nights as a DJ.

“Tell me they have coffee.” Alya begged, flipping through the menu.

“It’s before 12 pm, so it’s bottomless.” Adrien said, watching them perk up. He’d be happy too, but his mind was still on what happened last night. He kissed that statue and then it came to life. Had he just imagined it? It would be his luck that a guy who looked as perfect as that guy did, enchanting blue eyes, dark hair and a practically perfect face, would be a figment of his imagination.

“M. Agreste?” Adrien looked to see another influential member of the community standing next to his chair, practically glaring at the whole table. “When you came to this town, we welcomed you after hearing about your life with your father. You told us you wouldn’t cause any trouble. The minute your friends arrived, we have loud, raucous laughter and singing at early hours of the morning and now a beloved statue is missing. M. Agreste, I truly hope you have nothing to do with that.”

Missing statue? “The one off the hidden path?”

“Yes.”

Had he not been dreaming? “I don’t think even drunk me has the power to pull an old statue. Neither could my friends.”

The woman narrowed her eyes before letting out a huff. “I had better not hear anything about you getting into trouble.”

“Rude.” Alya said, watching the woman walk away. “What statue is she talking about?”

“The one you guys drunkenly dared me to kiss last night? I didn’t say anything cause I was pretty sure I was so far gone it couldn’t be real, but I think it had to be now.” His friends all leaned in to listen to what he had to say. “Remember when I kissed it and that lightning and thunder suddenly flashed?”

“We kinda turned tail and headed back to your place.” Nino said.

“I know.  When you guys did, I almost fell but I didn’t cause something grabbed me. That statue, I think it came to life. Like actual flesh and bone. He thanked me, helped me down and then left.”

They all looked disbelieving – understandable – but Nino remembered what he said.

“I asked if the lighting had messed it up.”

“It was kinda like in a movie, when something magical happens and thunder and lightning crash?”

“So, what do you know about the statue?” Kagami asked.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know anything about it. I was just told it’s been there as long as the town’s been standing and this is one of the older towns in France.”

“Could we look it up? Is there anyone who might know anything?” Alya asked, getting ready to pull her trusty phone out.

“Actually…there might be someone.”

He felt a bit bad making them all take their coffees to go, but he wanted to get to the massage shop before it got to full. He easily found Master Fu, as everyone called him, behind the front desk, his eyes trained on a paper map. Adrien noticed where the statue once stood was marked, lines leading to a few different places within the town.

“Master Fu?”

“Very busy, we’ll be open soon.” He said, not looking up.

“It’s about the statue.”

That got his attention. “Ah, Adrien. The statue? I hear you and your friends were very loud last night.”

“Ok, I get it. I was really loud and drunk. Which is why I thought that when I kissed that statue and it actually stopped me from falling, I was losing it. But that isn’t what happened, was it?”

“My dear,” Master Fu asked Marinette, “Would you flip the open sign for me?” once it was marked as close, Fu pulled a book out from under the desk and opened it, pushing it forward. “Our town was known for magic once. We used it for good and were a safe haven for those running from the witch trails. One of our well-known ones was him.”

In the book was a drawing of a man playing a lyre. It was the tattoo on his wrist that made him realise who it was.

“His name was Luka. Could understand the truest feelings of a person. He found the truest feelings of the wrong person. A girl who lied her way out of the trails and away from any danger. She warned him to keep out of her attempts to gain power. He wouldn’t listen, not wanting anyone to suffer under her. She saw his truest feelings, letting the things he loved slip away just to keep a person happy, including a person he loved. Right when he got her to reveal her true colours, she cursed him into stone, becoming a statue that was overlooked, to stay that way until someone with a similar heart could break his curse.”

“Letting things go to make someone else happy. That sounds familiar.” Nino said, looking at Adrien.

“Nino. Where would he go? He just left after, well, when it broke.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. All the places he’d know would be gone; he has no relations in this time. His sister had married a woman and they never had children.”

Adrien looked at the picture. It seemed so detailed, like the person who made it truly took the time to really look at him.

“Where was this picture drawn in?” his favourite picture of himself was him at the grand that was at his childhood home. He might not like the home, but people knew they could find him at the piano if he was ever stuck at home.

“Well, it used to be the land behind his home. Now though,” Fu consulted his map before pointing to a place. “Here. It’s now the library.”

“Which has a garden. Thanks.” Adrien said, ready to head out the door.

“Adrien? The fact that you managed to break his curse means you two understand each other. I’d keep an eye on him. That girl, she wasn’t known for not tying up loose ends.”

                                                 ______________

Everything he knew was gone. It was clear much time had passed. What was once open areas was now paved roads and tight corners. It still felt the same, felt like home, but it sounded different, down to its main core. He couldn’t hear the ever-present sounds of his family. They were also gone. How long had he been stuck in stone, the cruel words of that, for lack of better words, witch had been shouting reverberating in his head.

‘You’ll never be free, until someone with the same heart as yours breaks you out!’

But who would have his heart, would give up all they wanted to make another happy? He knew it would never be possible, that he couldn’t protect the people he cared about, felt it in his heart as he became stiff and unable to move. Then he felt lips press against his and it was like everything shifted back into place. He felt him stumble and grabbed onto his waist as quickly as possible. He stared down at slightly glazed green eyes, framed with wet blonde hair and the sweetest song he’d ever heard. He wished he could have stayed but he had to go. Now, he sat in a place that held the faint song of his home, wishing he’d stayed.

Feeling someone staring at him, he looked over. Standing, with this scarily familiar smirk, was a girl. Her auburn hair flowed down her back, waving in the non-existent wind. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and he saw the faint marking of a tattoo, a fox with its fangs showing. The tattoos marked a person who used magic, their familiars. He’d only ever seen 2 people with a fox familiar. The last one was the one who scared him the most.

“Luka!” a voice he didn’t know called. He looked to see the person, the one who broke his curse running towards him. How could someone with such a kind song have a heart like his, be willing to make himself unhappy to help others? He looked at the girl to see him glaring and for a moment, he felt the urge to use his magic to protect the blonde one, the one who set him free of the horrible words and feeling of stone. But she turned away and left, disappearing into the building. His attention was drawn back to the one who called his name.

“I don’t believe I introduced myself.”

“No. you didn’t, but you disappearing cause a bit of a stir. I heard from someone what happened to you.”

“And you broke my curse. How?”

The blonde man sat down next to him, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “My life before I came here wasn’t the happiest. I had my friends but life at home was…hard. It was just easier to make everyone else happy. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to do things for myself. Last night, I decided I wanted to get drunk and I did. We were on the way back to my house when we found you and they dared me to kiss you. I remember thinking you looked so sad and it hurt me. Then you saved me from hurting myself and you were so, I don’t know, normal, I thought I just imagined it all. When I found out, you were kinda like me, how you risked everything to make sure people knew who that person was, I wanted to help.”

He meant every word. Luka didn’t have to hear the sound of his heart to know that was true.

“What is your name?”

“Adrien. Adrien Agreste. It’s nice to meet you.”

“My name is Luka. I’m in your care.” Over Adrien’s shoulder, he saw a fox with the same fur as was that girl’s hair. It seemed Adrien was more in his, if that omen meant anything.

[gccdnews]

Did you see JESSICA DREW from MARVEL walking around Limbo? The CISFEMALE looks like ALICIA VIKANDER, and is NINETY SEVEN years old. I’ve heard she can be VIRTUOUS & WITTY but also COCKSURE & REACTIVE. When I think of them I think of HELPING THE INNOCENT BY HOSPITALIZING THE GUILTY, RAISING SPIDER-BABY, THE GREATEST QUIPS OF ALL TIME BITCHCAKES. They’ve been here WITHOUT their memories as an PI & FIGHTER at BAKER STREET INVESTIGATIONS & UNDERGROUND FIGHT CLUB for SIX MONTHS. I heard they’re seeking a sanctum.

// whew. jess has a history™. it's long af and spans nearly a century so im not gonna go into crazy detail, but it's still lengthy. and i'm also gonna modify just a bit to fit in with the mcu for plotting reasons and stuff. if you don’t really care about her full history then there’s some bullet points toward the bottom.

she was born in england in 1924 and brought as a small child to the transia (it's a small, fictional slavic country) where her father was conducting research. unfortunately due to her being a small child, she contracted uranium poisoning from her father's work and had to be placed in a cryogenic chamber and treated with radiation and a highly experimental serum derived from the blood/genes of various species of spider.

she spent decades in stasis, educated subliminally with special tapes. when she was finally awakened she had only aged into her early teens, but she'd developed superhuman abilities.

grew up, moved away, met a dude, fell in love, then accidentally killed him with her powers. so yeah that kinda torments her still to this day. well, when she still remembered it anyway.

got recruited into hydra who she was led to believe were the good guys, had her memories suppressed, was told the high evolutionary basically a "god" figure, idek evolved her from a spider into a human woman, had an agent pretend to fall in love with her, etc etc. basically got gaslit and brainwashed into becoming a high ranking member until she was put out on a field assignment and told to assassinate nick fury. during the mission he told her what hydra really was and she dropped their asses.

got her memories back from mordred the mystic, then lived in a shitty apartment in london for a while. ended up breaking into a convenience store across the street at one point to get some food, but got noticed by shield agent jerry hunt who pretty much hounded her until she dyed her hair and created a secret identity to hide from him

did the hero thing for a while, moved to l.a., dated jerry, became a bounty hunter, moved to san francisco, became a p.i., superhero'd some more, met carol danvers 😍

went on a mission to finally take down longtime archenemy morgan le fay, and did so, but not before some morgan did some magic shit and separated her soul from her body ?? so she goes to the sorcerer magnus and has him cast a spell to make everyone who ever met her forget she existed.

not long later she was found and revived by two hero pals, breaking the spell, but she was left comatose. dr strange gets involved, abra cadabra, jess ain't a cadava'. but she is however, powerless.

continued working as a p.i. until an encounter with the new spider-woman mattie franklin somehow restored her powers, which came back slowly and were very unstable. meets jessica jones, accidentally zaps tf out of her, then works with her to save the new spider-woman.

eventually struck a deal with hydra to spy within shield so she could get her powers back but the skrull queen veranke was behind it and manipulating her so she could learn to perfectly impersonate jessica. jess ended up held captive for two years aboard a skrull spaceship while veranke took her place.

she and the rest of the captives got saved but because of the havoc veranke wreaked, she didn't exactly receive a warm welcome back.

spent some time rebuilding her reputation until she was invited to join the avengers (for avengers 1 in the mcu, let's say). they did some good work and she eventually fell for clint/hawkeye. they dated a while but things went sideways when he cheated on her (but obvs that's subject to change depending on who picks him up, just leaving that in for now bc it seems kinda noteworthy).

skipping comic spider-verse stuff bc how does that work with the rp, idek.

left the avengers after that and mostly stayed out of their business so she wasn't around for ultron or civil war and instead got back to her roots with some good ol fashioned p.i. work. may have crossed paths with the defenders and other street level heroes during this period.  

then of course, came the snap. jess was one of the ones that vanished. using this instead of her death during secret wars in the comics. when everyone came back she joined all the others to fight thanos and damn right she was part of that moment with all the female heroes like she should have fucking been irl.

when things settled down after y'know, dying, she realized that she wanted to be a mother and raise a child, and almost never got that chance. instead of waiting, she got herself artificially inseminated. which was good too tbh because like, look at her luck with men and imagine getting stuck in one of those relationships she'd been in so far. way better off doing it on her own smh

got invited to an alpha flight maternity ward by her captain marvel but when she went there it ended up getting overrun by skrulls and being super fucking pregnant she called carol for help, but the maternity ward was apparently in a black hole?? bc ofc it was lol. so jess protected all the women there, had an emergency c-section to give birth to her son gerry, then popped right off the table to finish kicking skrull ass. carol got there just in time for jess to collapse into her arms after the fight. headcanon — there was always a crush there but this was the moment jess fell hard.

had a liiittle teensy falling out with carol tho so she ended up kissing roger gocking/porcupine right in front of her during a battle that ended up repairing their friendship. then she went on to have a party announcing she and roger were dating but lbr she did most of this sub/consciously hoping to get a rise out of carol. but her spider-baby ended up crawling out a window and roger was the one to find and save him and there were some actual feelings there too, so. complicated. she kind of distanced herself from everything else to focus on p.i. work and raising her son.

not much later, jess realized her radiation immunity was gone and her powers were killing her, so she had roger take gerry to an upstate farm in case her condition could potentially harm her son, then set out on the search for a cure. that search of course, leading her to limbo city, nevada.

upon her arrival however, her memories quickly started to fade and by the time she woke up the next morning she had no specific recollection of memories. just innate and instinctive knowledge like her emotions toward people she was familiar with, emotional trauma that manifests mostly in her dreams, maternal instincts/yearning, her abilities both physical and learned, her interests and likes/dislikes, etc. things that come naturally to her, for the most part.

interestingly though, the town’s magic seems to have cured her??

gonna say she speaks english, romanian, german, hungarian, symkarian, russian, bulgarian, polish and spanish fluently, and knows a bit about a number of other languages.

incredibly intelligent, she is after all the daughter of a genius, raised among scientists conducting research, and her knowledge/intelligence was only maximized by her stasis education tapes.

exudes a high concentration of pheromones that can attract or repulse people, to put it simply. and ignore the original heteronormative connotations bc women aren't typically the ones she wants to repulse, and men arent always the ones she wants to attract. it's difficult to control but she learned over the years. even now without her memories she has innate control over it, but if she manages to work up a sweat (which isn't all that easy for her tbh) or misses a shower or two, well… it's gonna kick in.

she probably can't do it anymore in limbo because she can't remember how, but with her pheromones she learned to control them so well she was able to elicit fear, anxiety, attraction, hatred, pleasure, etc. and even used them to convince the hulk to make her a sandwich once.

fucking loves butter. she's been known to eat the stuff straight up. and a lot of it. lucky thing she has a spider-metabolism.

hc: she loves making puns, especially spider related ones. she also likes to annoy her spider-friends by spider-throwing the word spider in front of everything though it's obviously a joke, unlike in her cartoon where im pretty sure she was dead serious lol

hates rats. so much. she will tear down a whole skrull army but if one shapeshifts into a rat it's over okay, she already lost.

allergic to flerkens. which is great for visiting her bestie/crush, and her pet flerken chewie.

still has her suit but hasn’t worn it yet in limbo. she found it under her bed a couple days after “waking up” in limbo but put it right back because she figured it was probably some weird sex thing and maybe wasn’t even hers so, gross, yknow?

[space-blue]

The Hound of Arnas

My ports disengage, returning me to consciousness. I stay on my back for a while, gaze turned inward, browsing through the nets. While my body warms I review the datafeeds I requested before going to sleep. Soon there is nothing for me to do but roll out of my dingy alcove, one in many in this shabby plug-a-night for cyborgs and droids. No one pays me any mind as I amble through what passes as a lobby and step into the already busy street.

"Please, parts!" A hand grabs my coat. "Any parts you can spare, I beg you, for my child, all his ports are outdated, he can't link, ple–"

The beggar clamps her mouth shut the moment she realises what she is talking to, her dull eyes already hunting for more pliable targets. Smart woman. She will sooner convince an AI to donate parts off its droid body than the likes of me, and she knows it. Shells don't have parts to give. We're bio-engineered integral cyborgs. Expensive models like mine are even grown with full DNA print. Parts tailored for me in a body as perfect as one can dream. If I chopped my right hand and gave it away, no one else could use it.

However, getting this close to godhood comes with a sixty years binding contract, which is why I'm walking the trash ridden streets of an off-grids slum doing a bloodhound's job. Looking for a human here like a needle in a smelly haystack.

The first two days I spent along the dark sea and the beach–the rocky expense that once held sand, that we still call beach–where workers on long rafts poled their way through the mass of seaweeds they turn into fuel. I could have been done in half a day, talking to supervisors, or the AIs that regulate our dead ocean's shallows. But unlike its simulations, the sea has a smell and a taste, almost a presence. It fascinated me, so I took my time.

Today I walk away from the shore. I've decided to talk to locals or else I'll be here until I catch the carbon plague.

My legs take me past triage factories, down streets smelling of rancid grease, where mechanics bend over patrons' cybernetic limbs, bartering their services, weaving through cables like jungle creepers, children running past yelling the names of parts they sell; ports, encrypted 9G cards, 5D sticks, or accessory mods. Soon the street dissolves in a wider field. I scramble partway up a metal gangway that wraps around a building to the roofs. From there I can see, sprawled at my feet, the buzzing activity of the Mud-Market. Cyborg modders with four arms selling flatbreads faster than they can turn them. People sitting on crates half sunk in the eponymous mud, tearing at steamed bug-buns, furiously betting on some game only them can see. Others haggling over second-hand garments and scraps of food. Even a few ADroids weave through the crowds, projecting bright holos and loud slogans.

I sigh and sit heavily, my legs dangling over the tin roof of a partmonger. This wreathing mass of bodies discourages me, somehow. Resting my back to the wall, I turn inwards to log into official networks. I find a few agents in the area, and summon the closest, Agt. Edenton, an ID officer.

Before long, three kids come running out of the market, out of breath with laugher. I look down. One of them, a little blond fellow, doesn't register to my eyes. Unchipped. Or, more likely, never chipped: someone's illegal brood. Another has a cybernetic arm made of scraps. Both wave at the third, a black haired runt not possibly past seven, who leaves them to enter the street. The gangway quivers under me, heralding the kid's approach. He sits not far, flashes his credentials–this is indeed Edenton– and opens a private channel for us to discuss away from prying eyes or ears, for all the world just two strangers enjoying the view before them.

'What's a pricey Shell like you doin' here?'

I stifle a laugh. The voice that popped in my head is a deep man's bass, completely out of place coming from the scrawny boy. Edenton gives me a withering look, and I sober up as I realise what an ID officer's job would be, shelled as a kid. Hunt unchipped children like the one I'd seen, gain their trust, follow them home, have it tagged, maybe chip them himself. The kind of job you got because someone thought you deserved it...

I poke his arm, surprised to find him made out of regular flesh.

'Is this a BioShell? Aren't those pretty rare and pricey as well? Incubation is hard to do.'

Edenton's frail shoulders shrug. 'They make kids like me easily, they don't try for perfection. The body decays after a year, so we swap regularly. It's just a pain to be in a tube for two months while a new body grows around you.'

I'd shiver, if my body could.

To answer Edenton's own question, I display my working seals and credentials, and watch his eyes widen. A military Shell in the direct employ of Arnas CEO, wielding seals that give her unlimited power is a scary sight, I'm sure.

'This is Halena Tesselandottir,' I say, flashing pictures of a young woman. 'Used to live in the grids, legal as you please and pretty bigwigged. Took her chip off, came to those slums.' I wave my hand, letting Edenton imagine the sort of drama that could push someone to such extremes. 'Back then she was a modder.' Lists of parts and softwares join the pictures. 'Augmentations, but no cybernetic replacements. I'm pretty sure she downgraded, since many mods are trackable. She was spotted in this slum, so I was sent to find her. I'd like some help.'

An order dressed as a request that Edenton accepts with good graces. In no time he comes up with a cunning plan that won't damage his cover, and I mentally pat myself on the back for involving him.

We weave our way through narrow streets, continuing our secret dialogue. I learn that Edenton has been undercover in this slum for four years, and soon guess that he got there by asking too many questions. He's fourty-two, single, grumpy. We spend some time polishing our plot in a back alley. We'll need our public feeds to display some action to look credible.

Finally ready, I step into a wider street, Edenton's weightless body cradled in my arms, and stumble towards an older woman, busy smoking in front of a brothel. Edenton's notion being that such Madams know everything, and everyone.

"Seima," I call, picking her name from her public feed, "this kid just crashed into me. He banged his head hard..."

Seima rushes up to us with a face like Edenton is her own grandchild. She looks at me with narrowed eyes. Can't blame her for mistrusting a Shell in a muddy coat, but my public feed has a record of the entire "incident" we orchestrated, and Edenton moans, the voice passing his lips a mewling so pitiful that I stare as well. His feed flashes with one of the pictures of Halena I gave him.

"He's been showing that image the whole time, could it be his mother? If you know her, maybe I could leave him to you..."

It's the magical words. Trying to shirk my responsibilities, am I? She'll find the boy's mom in no time, she swears, and furiously propagates Halena's picture through her personal network. Finding where Halena (or Hena, as she now goes by) works is a matter of minutes. The hardest part of the job is to pry Madam Seima off Edenton.

Out of sight I put him back on his legs, and we hurry to intercept Halena before someone warns her that we've been asking after her.

It's almost too easy. She's exactly where we were told. Unchipped, so nearly impossible to track, she was betrayed by the simplest of human drives, everyone's inherent need to network and socialise.

Edenton's bass vibrates in my skull. 'What are you gonna do?'

He follows me over crumbled walls and up stairwells that lead us to a rooftop. Lying down, we can spy on Halena and her companions, sorting garbage, probably paid by the amount of recyclable they can sift.

I scan her face, still young, but scarred by the mods she took off her temples and neck, as I'd guessed. I extend my arm, fingers splayed, lock, breathe out, and fire. My shoulder joint shifts, swallows the recoil. People scream, run to cover. Edenton jumps, grabs me with his little hands. In the street her blood flows, joining the streams of dark fluids down the gutter. Half her head is gone.

"Why," Edenton cries. "What did she do to deserve that?!"

"I never asked," I reply, "and neither should you."

~~ April 2016 – Theme : Dystopia  – Don't want to toot my own horn, but this story marks one year and one month of writing, and the progress is rather evident. It is my favourite of my older pieces.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Are You Lepre-Kidding Me || Morgan & Mina

Making friends is hard. #cursed

@drowningisinevitable

Morgan was relieved to have another shot at a normal work friend with a normal work lunch. The whole dishonesty about magic and beautiful weirdness thing wasn’t a fun time, but it was a bargain she was familiar with. Familiar could be comforting. And Mina seemed so nice. Morgan was happy to venture to the maths and engineering quad where a thai fusion truck liked to park and catch the hungry students coming out of their four hour labs. Morgan rocked on her heels as she stood in line, trying to figure out if Mina was already there. She fidgeted with a new pendant she’d crafted for herself, amethyst wrapped in gold, and checked her phone again, sending Mina a quick message: In line! Trying to will the sun back with floral prints.

Mina had been in the quad for about five minutes (five and a half, but who was counting?) and had already ordered a bowl of shrimp and fried rice when she got Morgan’s message. She sent back quickly that she’d snagged a table in the back right corner of the quad and settled in to wait for a few more minutes. She was excited; Mina’d always had a bit of trouble making friends. She and her dad never really settled anywhere for too long, and, if they did, never for longer than a year and a half. She’d thought she’d make more friends as she settled in to White Crest, but she was always feeling that niggling in the back of her head about her promise to her father, and, yeah, there was a small (very small, so small) piece of her that didn’t want to have to fulfill it anytime soon. It made her wary and awkward around people, never knowing what to expect from them. It was time for a change, though. It was time to connect with people.

Morgan stiffened with nervousness. Mina was already here. Morgan searched the tables as the line shifted up and ordered the noodle special. She paid for her food and wandered around until she saw her. Something about the way she almost vibrated in her seat reminded Morgan of her messages. She stopped, smiling hopefully. “Are you Mina…?” She asked. “It’s Morgan. Me. I’m Morgan, hi!” She gave another cursory look around the tables, just in case she had it wrong. There was a weird sound in the bushes, she thought, but perhaps it was her own anxiety manifesting its own soundtrack. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to her lately.

Jiggling her foot, Mina’s head whipped up as the other woman walked up to her. She smiled brightly. “Hey! Hi! Hey, Morgan! Yes, I’m Mina. It’s really nice to meet you. In person. Nice to meet you in person.” Okay, stop talking, she told herself. Something rustling in the bushes caused her to pause, just for a second, before she turned her attention back to Morgan. Birds, probably, she thought, though she felt a bit… off. The off feeling wasn’t coming from Morgan, though, and Mina really couldn’t be more grateful. She’d have cried if Morgan had been Fae. She really would have. “Have you had food from the thai truck, yet? I know you’re probably usually on the other side of campus, but they’re actually really good!”

Morgan beamed with relief and took a seat across from Mina. “Oh, good! It would’ve been really awkward if I’d put all that energy out at a random person. Not that I haven’t done it a few times before, but, you know.” She smiled brightly and looked the girl over, trying to get a better sense of her. She seemed even more anxious than Morgan, even more eager. Morgan wondered what she had to be nervous about, if it was her brain working overtime or if something had happened to make her expect something to go wrong. She knew both impulses well, and it made her feel a little endeared to her. “I haven’t, actually. I’m usually at the soup place on the arts quad, but this looks so yummy! Highly recommended by my freshmen, but they eat just about anything, I think, so I’m not sure how much that’s worth.” She sniggered into her noodles and took a bite. “It’s a shame we haven’t run into each other before now. It’s so stuffy in the office space, and it’s just medievalist and modernist bros making themselves feel superior. Well, less so, now that some of them are uh, missing with this eternal night thing.” And less so since she’d threatened one with murder. Morgan hadn’t thought she’d been very convincing, but the novelty factor must have worked in her favor. This, however, didn’t seem like making-friends material. “But what about you! I don’t picture it being very different in the math department, but, you know, it’d be nice if it was.”

“I understand the feeling,” Mina said with a smile. She was constantly putting out too much energy and hoping it went out the right way, and she often ended up screwing up. One time, she’d brought her father someone that she thought was a vampire but clearly wasn’t a vampire, and he’d only barely managed to catch her mistake in time. After that, they’d stuck to having her identify Fae. Speaking off, she was feeling something strange, but… no. She was imagining things. “Oh, I know all about freshmen appetites.” She wrinkled up her nose a bit. “One of the frat boys I tutor said the other day that a friend dared him to eat spray cheese on a marshmallow, which he did, of course, and he liked it. However, the Thai truck is no joke really good! I almost always grab a bite from here unless I pack lunch.” She frowned as Morgan talked about some of her coworkers. “Yeah, the, uh, the math masters program is, I’m sure you can guess, quite small. Quite. Most of my colleagues are… very nice gentlemen at times.” Most of them really weren’t bad, but there were two or three that she really wouldn’t mind just taking home to Dark Score and not drowning them. Not completely, at least. Mina gave Morgan a big smile. “But it’s certainly nice to meet someone outside of the department and outside of tutoring! I’m all about differential equations, but… it’s nice to not think about numbers!” 

Morgan had no problem believing Mina had problems with awkward first impressions. But whatever the cause, there was something kind under it all. Morgan smirked about the frat boy, and her colleagues. It seemed pretty clear there was a whole other word besides ‘gentlemen’ that she wanted to use. She smiled warmly at her as she gathered another scoop of noodles. “That’s fair. Although I do know something about those too. And, much as I can and will talk about books all day, it’s good to just, you know, be normal sometimes.” Or normal-ish. Normal-ish for humans, anyway. “I don’t really have any gal-pals up here. And I’m not really sure the TA bros would even get some of of--” Morgan never finished her thought. With a strangled yelp, her head snapped back, and just before she hit the ground, she saw a strange, wormy-gray looking critter leap on top of her forehead and reach for her neck.

This was nice, Mina thought as she ate a bite of shrimp. Nice company, nice food, a nice day (well, night). She could do this. Really, she could. “Right, you also teach some chemistry classes, yes? That’s really cool! But, I agree, it’s very nice to be normal.” Mina felt something kindred with Morgan, especially when she mentioned not having any gal-pals around. Mina didn’t have any pals at all, really. She agreed, and she would have told Morgan as much as soon as the other woman stopped speaking, except for one (or, rather, several) small problem: leprechauns. Brave ones, too, as one immediately took to Morgan, leaping on her. “No, no, no!” Mina yelped. She looked around the courtyard and, wow, just them and the leprechauns. Lunch must be over for most. There were too far in the back for the food truck guy cleaning up to see them, not in the dark, and-- Leprechauns. Mina needed to focus on the leprechauns. “Hey! Back off!” They wouldn’t bother her, not with her Fae blood, but Morgan was another story. Mina attempted to grab the one that was on Morgan as she told the other woman, “Iron! Need iron!”

Many, many strange things were happening at once. For starters, Morgan was on the ground, staring at a new upside-down world peopled with more strange gray faces, like something out of a scary children’s movie. They were toddling towards her, making strange noises that set her teeth on edge. Then Mina was there, throwing one off her and calling for...iron? Wasn’t that just a supernatural know-how thing? But Morgan didn’t have time to think. She was too busy scrambling onto her knees and looking for something, anything, to transmute. Her catch-all bag was too far and now there was one pulling on her ankle. Morgan screamed and tore out her hair clip and slammed it on her cuff, making--one tiny rod with a pointy end, not even the full length of her hand. Morgan held onto it tight as she was dragged back by too many tiny hands. She hooked one arm around the leg of the picnic table and thrust the other out to Mina. She seemed to know what she was doing. The why part could come later. 

Mina’d already tore a section of the bottom of her sweater off and wrapped it around her hand as she watched the leprechauns bearing down on them Of course, of course, the one time she actually begins to enjoy lunch on campus, and leprechauns decided to come along and ruin it. The one that she threw off of Morgan was looking at her in complete confusion, unable to comprehend that she’d chosen the other woman over a fellow Fae. Mina snatched the rod of iron from Morgan, grateful that the other woman was a magic user as she watched the hair clip transmutate, and it felt hot even through the cloth around her hand, but it was a familiar burn, and she should be somewhat protected. And, then, she went for one of the leprechauns around Morgan’s feet, lashing out with the rod. Many of them panicked at the approaching metal but seemed resolute in hounding their quarry. In their focus, they weren’t quite as fast as normal, and Mina took her chance, grabbing one and shoving the iron rod under its jaw and through its skull. Then she went at another one. To Morgan, she said, “I don’t suppose you can find a way to do that again?”

Morgan scrambled up and onto the table as soon as she was free, pulling her bag up with her. She wasn’t sure what the plan was besides ‘don’t get maimed,’ But seeing the pointy end of her rod go through one of the little gray head made her yelp and spill everything from her catch-all bag. Less rummaging. More doing. “Uhh, sort of?” She found the rod she’d been gifted and held it up like a bat. Only-- right. They were all at her ankles, and the second Morgan jumped down from the table, they were at it again. She swung down hard, batting one away. The sound the iron made sent cringe down her arms. Cold iron really was no joke. “What are these things?” She asked, swatting away another. “What do they want?”

“They’re leprechauns,” Mina said. “And not the kind of the cereal box, unfortunately.” She grabbed one by its abnormally large head and twisted. If Morgan wasn’t around, she’d decapitate the thing with her claws. However, she just snapped its neck, knowing it probably wasn’t dead. “They like stealing things, rare things, expensive things. They’ll kill to get it, too. And they travel in packs. Iron and decapitation are the two ways to dispose of them.” She recited what she’d been taught years ago, and she’d actually put this knowledge into practice. Leprechauns were not what her father considered humanoid Fae, the kind that she should be targeting in White Crest, but they were definitely the kind that she’d gone after with him when she was younger. “They’re also quite heavy so-- oof!” Apparently, Mina was no longer Fae enough to protect as one of the leprechauns threw itself at her. She grunted under the weight and kicked it off. “So watch out!”

“Rare things?” Morgan asked, taking another swing. “But I don’t--” Shit. Morgan hopped back on the table and pulled on Mina to come with her. She took off her necklace (oh earth, and it was some of her best work, too) and dangled it on the end of her rod. “Is this what you want? Seriously?” She tossed it down to the ground and braced herself while the leprechauns inspected the newfound ‘treasure.’ Morgan waited, tense, and reached for Mina’s arm so they could make a break for together if they had to. “Will that make them go away?” She asked in a whisper.

Mina tensed as Morgan grabbed her arm, but she kept her gaze steadily on the leprechauns. Four. Eight. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fourteen of the foul creatures, all surrounding Morgan’s necklace. “I don’t know,” she said lowly. “They usually kill when they get caught.” The clicking sounds they made caused a shiver to run up Mina’s spine. Though they couldn’t speak any sort of human language, she knew that leprechauns weren’t to be underestimated. They were smart, quick, and nimble, and they had a nasty habit of making and using their own tools. Plus, there were so many of them, and though she was impressed with how Morgan had handled herself so far, Mina didn’t know how the other woman would be able to take on fourteen of the bloody creatures. 

The leprechaun critters were plotting, negotiating, maybe even laying claims on who got to eat which toe for their lunch break. Carefully, Morgan stuffed only her essentials into her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. “We should run?” She mouthed to Mina, clumsily pantomiming their great escape with one hand. She eased onto her knees and inched back, balancing the cold iron in her grip all the while. It might have even worked if it hadn’t scraped on the edge of the table. The leprechauns turned their heads her way, their grim, tiny faces unreadable. Well, so much for being sneaky about it. “Yep! We’re running!” She leapt off her perch and sprinted away, leg throbbing with each step.

Though she would have loved to stick around and tear into the rest of the leprechauns, Mina followed jerkily after Morgan. She turned around and bared sharp teeth at the wretched little creatures, hoping that would deter them. If they figured out that Morgan was under her, another Fae’s protection, they might leave her alone. Whatever the case, Mina planned to come back at a later date with one of her father’s swords and slaughter the remaining leprechauns to ensure they didn’t do this to anyone else. She followed after Morgan, and, when she felt they were far enough away, she stopped the other woman. “We’re-- I think we’re good. Are you alright? Did they hurt you at all?”

Morgan slowed, staggering, to a stop. “Uhh...not too badly, I think?” She patted herself down carefully. There were some tender spots on her back from where she’d fallen, and a nasty scrape where she’d been dragged along the ground, but given what else had happened to her lately, Morgan felt like she couldn’t really complain. “At least I don’t need another hospital visit. I can’t stand Nurse Denise judging me again. What about you? Are you--” For the first time since they’d been disrupted, Morgan actually took a good look at Mina. There was something else in her, something firm and stringently capable, something like the iron, which she held with a hand wrapped in fabric. Morgan stared, trying to make sense of the last few minutes. “Mina, are you okay after all that?”

Mina ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I’m glad you’re alright. They really tried to--” She stopped herself. What they tried to do was kill Morgan. All for a necklace. She really hated leprechauns. “I’m glad you’re alright.” She was concerned about the need for a hospital trip, though she didn’t say anything, it probably showed. Another implied that there had at least been one, in not multiple. “I’m fine,” she said. The leprechauns had barely touched her due to what she was, and the few scrapes and bruises she had would easily be taken care of when she got home. She looked at the iron rod, covered in bits of leprechaun and still in her wrapped hand. She wiped it off on her shirt. “I’m quite used to things like this. I grew up taking care of monsters like them.”

“T-tried to--?” Morgan prompted, eyes wide. She already had a decent idea from all the other times she’d almost-died recently, but there was something so strange about the prospect of getting her head dashed on the pavement over a bit of gold and amethyst. She’d heard by now of a few kinds of fae critters that subsisted on humans or thought nothing of hurting them, but it was different, feeling the ghosts of tiny leprechaun hands on her. Morgan shivered and tucked her rod back into her catch-all bag and took the one she’d transmuted from Mina. She touched it to her wrist to bring back her hair clip and distracted herself by fussing with her hair, wincing only a little in pain at the way it irritated the scrapes on her back. “Right. So, I don’t think there’s any point in pretending we’re normal by human standards,” she said, a little unsteadily. “Me, alchemist. You--? I mean how do you grow up uh…’taking care’ of leprechauns?”

“They don’t usually let people live when they get found out,” Mina said quietly. She felt uncomfortable saying the words out loud, making them real. As long as she had her way, though, those leprechauns wouldn’t be touching another person. She unwrapped her hand and flexed it. Thankfully, the iron handed touched her flesh at all, so while she’d felt a bit of discomfort, she was still fine and human, if in appearance only. She did laugh a bit as Morgan stated that they weren’t normal. “And here I thought all adjuncts had the chemical know-how to transmute a hair clip into an iron rod.” Mina played with the strip of cloth in her hand. “My father, he hunts creatures, creatures that hurt human beings. He raised me to do the same. I try to protect humans from the evils in this world, like those wretched things.” She jutted her chin in the direction that they came. “They would have killed you, Morgan. Without a thought and without a care.”

Morgan nodded. This was all kinds of not good. First leprechauns, and now--a Warden? Morgan lost her grip on her hair and had to start over. The last thing she needed was another complicated not-friendship with a kind of hunter. And yet here Mina was, young and nice and sweet in her own peculiar way. Everything had been fine until a short while ago. But who knew what she would do in front of a fae that was less critter, more person. “I um, I get that,” Morgan said at last. “And I’m grateful that we both made it out okay. Thank you, Mina,” she said. “Really.”

Mina ran a hand through her hair and sighed. From Morgan’s reaction, she had an awful feeling that she’d done or said something wrong. She couldn’t really understand it, couldn’t figure out what she’d said wrong. “Of course. There’s no need to thank me, really,” she murmured. “Just, ah, doing my job.” She gave a soft smile. “Lunch was nice, you know, before the leprechauns showed up. If you’d-- I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. But, if you’d like, we could do it again sometime?” Whether Morgan said no or not, Mina made a vow to herself that she’d watch out for the other woman, especially around campus. If she’d ended up in the hospital multiple times, she was either accident prone or a target for supernatural shenanigans, and Mina wanted to make sure she was okay. She was so kind, after all.

Morgan smiled back at Mina, if only because she didn’t know what to do. She had turned sheepish and anxious again. She knew something was wrong, maybe she knew that Morgan understood exactly what and who she was looking at. Maybe she was starting to guess Morgan knew fae, maybe other supernaturals who could end up on her menu. And she was being so earnest about it, so gentle. Morgan felt for her even as she felt the impulse to bolt cord through her body and she inched away. “Um, maybe sometime, yeah,” she said with a noncommittal shrug. She couldn’t find it in her to be harsh about leaving, no matter how rattled she was inside. “After I have a chance to uh, live all this down. A little. And somewhere probably inside. Maybe without shiny things.”

“Right, of course,” Mina said quietly. It wasn’t a no, but it was close enough. She was resigned to making sure Morgan stayed safe from afar. Whatever she’d done wrong, it was enough that the other woman likely wouldn’t want to see her again. Perhaps it was stabbing the leprechaun the way she had. She should have been less violent with it. Or maybe… Was it possible that Morgan figured out she was Fae from the way she’d had to hold the iron rod? Mina truly hoped not. She just wanted someone, anyone, to see her as human. “Do be safe, please? I think you’re right. Ah, stay inside, stay safe, avoid the maths and engineering quad. I would… it wouldn’t do, like you said, for you to end up in the hospital again.” She pretended to check her phone. “Goodness! I need-- I’ve got to-- Class! Tutoring! I should just-- It was very nice to meet you, Morgan, truly. I really do hope I see you around!” Before the other woman could say another word, Mina darted off. She could study a bit, or, she could go home and prep for the night. She was going hunting.

[kayoticworld]

A Vastaya on the Run

Here is the first Chapter of my new little Fanfiction based on the Zed Comic. I try to continue it with every Issue.

Pls don't be too hard on me, it's a test (more or less)

Words: 1500

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

A Vastaya

"We are going to spend the night here.", Zed explained stepping in to the tavern.

They were on their way to kill the Golden Demon, but even the strongest men needed some rest. Zed and his group had been wandering for three days now. Most of them were tired, trying not to show it towards their master, but still... They weren't paying the attention Zed needed them to.

What would Jhin do to them when he caught them off guard?

Right, he already did. He already killed four of Zeds Students.

Yet, that was just another reason he had be stopped. A reason why he had to die.

That golden demon.

Inside the Tavern everything was enlightened by a fireplace across the room. Golden the fire dipped the wooden tables and chairs in its light, while also playing with shadows, fighting them, freeing them.

Only a few man were visiting the establishment. Some bandits probably.

They were drinking and laughing loudly, even when they had entered.

Zed let his glance wander around the room, noticing the figure near the fire place in the left corner, the farthest away from them.

Suspicious, he thought to himself.

A brown cloak, that had seen better times before, was keeping the face of the stranger concealed.

Yet, the figure was too small. Too small to be the golden demon. No, it would have been to obvious.

Or would it?

Jhin could have set another trap.

Twelve. Zed counted twelve people in the room, including the figure.

I should keep an eye on it, he told himself as he took a seat close to the kitchen, only to have Kayn pull him out of his thoughts.

"Master, are you alright? What is it?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking.", he answered, trying to convince himself that it was the truth.

His student believed it, but still Kayn looked around the room. Maybe his master saw something?

Nothing. Nothing but noisy bandits or whatever they were.

An older woman slowly approached the group of Assassins.

Thirteen.

"What can I bring you?"

"Food. A lot of it. And something to drink."

"Good. Are you going to spend the night here?"

"We'll see about that.", Zed responded in a strong, husky voice, before anyone else could.

Now they all knew that something was bothering them. Even the woman did. But she was nice, nice as a proper host should have been.

So she just nooded in a friendly manner, before going to the kitchen.

His students were talking, but Zed was still worried. Jhin could be watching them right now. It could only be moments until his trap goes of. Or maybe, again, he was just playing with him.

Demons never rest, but this demon is human.

Loud laughter pulled Zed out of his thoughts again. These other guests really had nerves...

"Master? Should we make them shut their mouths?", Kayn asked, his hand already wandering to his weapon.

"Leave them. They will go soon."

Kayn had probably followed his glare.

Some minutes passed, then the old woman came out of the kitchen, struggling to hold all the plates or even placing them on the table.

"Hey! Old hag! We want more beer! Now!", the now drunk bandits shouted.

"Give me a moment, please."

A jug flew above one of the heads of Zeds Students, scattering on the wall loudly.

"I said: Now!"

As the old woman quickly grabbed a bottle to fill up the remaining glasses, the impatient guests began drumming on the table.

Zed couldn't hide the fact that he was annoyed, that indeed he wanted to kill one of them, but something still stopped his hands.

What if that was exactly what Jhin wanted him to do?

Again on the other side of the room, the old woman was taking the plates from the table of the masked figure.

"Did you enjoy your meal?"

"Yes, it was delicious.", a feminine voice responded.

That person, Zed worried about, was a woman after all. He couldn't help but listen to their conversation, after all it gave him the little feeling of relief.

"I'm sorry for what they did."

"Why? It wasn't your fault, child."

"Here."

Zed watched the girl with the cloak place some golden coins in the womans hand.

"Replace it."

"I will. Thank you. Are you planning to stay the night?"

"I shouldn't. I need to go."

"Alright. Be careful on your way. There are monsters in every corner."

With her advice the old lady glanced over to the noisy group of men.

A woman, alone on the way? Dangerous. If she doesn't have any kind of powers or weapons on her, this journey will probably be short.

But that wasn't one of Zeds concerns.

Kayn couldn't help but notice how the cloaked person stood up. His eyes unbelievingly darting at a small but important detail.

"What is it Kayn, wondering how she looks underneath?", someone of Zed's group laughed.

It seemed like not only the master had been starring at her for a moment.

"No. She's a Vastaya."

He didn't say these words out too loud, but still they had been loud enough for the bandits to hear. Not that it would have mattered or changed anything, as, what seemed to be the leader of the bandits, had already layed eyes on her and was willing to get in her way.

"Where do you think you are going?", he stood infront of her.

The Vastayan kept the hood over her face. She didn't seem like she wanted any trouble but also she couldn't just pass him.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"I'm going to leave. Now."

"Don't think you'll be doing that."

Another Bandit got up, right behind her.

"The guy over there said you're one of those Vastaya. Let's see if he is right."

She instantly pushed the guy infront of her to rush out. Clever. But the one behind her quickly grabbed the hood of her cloak, revealing a beautiful face, light blue eyes, black hair and most noticeably a pair of two animal ears as it slid back.

"Oh, looks like she is one of those inbreed hounds!"

One of the men held her from behind, whereas the one who fell over slowly got up.

"Little bitch. Not so tough when you're being held, huh?"

"Let me go!", she struggled.

"Oh, are you getting a little beasty, ay? Looks like we need to teach you a lesson. Will, Ain, make some space for our little bitch here."

There was bitter regret in Kayns expression. He worried about the Vastaya, although it was none of his business. Even his Master had an expression of pure disgust on his face.

Yet nobody stepped in.

Surprisingly enough that the Vastaya didn't scream or shout for help. She was only fighting, struggling by herself.

One of the bandits moved all the dishes off the table in one solid motion. Cracking noise loudly filled the air as shards of glass were now decorating the floor like a mosaic.

It had something in it. The beauty of something that had been broken, the same thing that will happen to the girl.

The men forced her on the table, at least they tried. She was fighting hard. Suddenly one of them screamed, pulling his hand back in pain.

"She bit me!"

"Yeah, now your hand is going to fall off!"

Five man struggling to get hold of a vastayan Girl they want to rape.

Pathetic, Zed thought.

He had no intention of helping, but still something of in that situation was... odd. Like his eyes were locked on the happenings. He still wondered if she had magic powers and if so, would she use them?

"I must ask you to pay and leave now.", the old woman told them, with a sad look on her face.

A little glance over her shoulder told Zed that this wasn't the first time these men forced themselves onto a woman. That many had suffered under them like the Vastaya just did now.

Demons can sometimes be human. Like Khada Jhin.

Jhin.

As he took out some coins of his pocket, the Vastaya let out a small whine. She couldn't fight back any longer. She didn't need to.

"Leaver her alone.", Zed finally spoke.

"Eh? What do you want?"

"I said leave her alone. Are you deaf or just dumb?"

"Don't you dare, saying that to-"

The man had stood way too close to the feet of the girl and apparently his man weren't holding her right.

She kicked him right where it would hurt the most.

"Keep your head down.", Zed advised her, before literally sliceing the bandits into pieces.

They fell apart, easily, perfectly cut like slices of wood. But the Vastaya was pale. The color of her face had just faded.in schock.

"No, need to thank me.", Zed said, unexpecting of any Form of gratefulness. He turned to his group.

"We're leaving."

And quickly the Assassins left the little tavern.

[bettsfic]

nobody asked but here’s how i would have ended it

i’ve been thinking about this for the past 12 hours, how one of the many major failings of the finale was that everything happened out of order, and the stakes were distorted. the entire point of the series is that the night king is the biggest threat, and the politics of the throne seem petty by comparison. to defeat the night king and then battle for the throne is completely illogical. so here’s my attempt to put the events in order and pare down the conflict so that it’s manageable to accomplish in 6 episodes.

first i have to retcon a few things:

euron greyjoy either doesn’t exist or isn’t involved

jaime doesn’t leave for winterfell at the end of s7 (but he is strongly conflicted about it)

cersei isn’t pregnant

jon isn’t aegon targaryen (because, again, the entire point of his arc is that a bastard is valid)

bran’s greensight has some value that is an actual threat to the night king, other than being like a dumb hub of all human knowledge 

EPISODE 1

the season starts in king’s landing. the march north has yet to begin (fixing the continuity errors of the back and forth on the kingsroad this season).

dany gears up to take the iron throne from cersei. jon pleads with her to march north instead, but she refuses, so he leaves for winterfell with brienne, sansa, et al to begin gearing up for battle with the wildlings and anyone else who can pick up a sword, even though it is a lost cause.

cersei uses the commonfolk as bait for dany, knowing her weakness is mercy. jaime, believing dany is capable of going mad queen, tells her all the people will die, etc. how could she do this, and it’s the last straw. brienne’s “fuck loyalty” finally lands. his allegiance to cersei is broken, though he makes no indication of it (i believe in nikolaj to be able to convey this without needing any major declaration of it).

melisandre shows up and does some mysterious magic stuff and tells dany a creepy riddle that basically goes, if one of your dragons falls, it will call upon something something, and dany is just ?? lol k.

EPISODE 2

jaime seeks out tyrion to tell him the major deets of cersei’s plan. he gets caught and held prisoner. tyrion finds him, lets him go, and urges him to convince cersei to surrender. 

missandei gives her two cents -- you only need to defeat the queen, not the people. dany gives her “they don’t love me, they fear me” speech and missandei says like, but they will love you. they’ll love you because you’re good. and then there’s some exchange about like, dany realizing no one can be good if they hold all the power. power corrupts, and the idea of the throne has corrupted her. missandei says that dany doesn’t need a throne to lead. she’s already a queen, and always will be.

meanwhile in winterfell, jon is rallying forces to defeat the night king, and working with his siblings (sans arya, who has gone south to king’s landing with the hound) to make a plan.

tyrion then begs dany not to kill everyone if they surrender, bell ringing, etc. the battle happens as it did in canon, except jon isn’t there. without the iron fleet it’s less of a big deal. cersei still believes her armies will prevail. the civilians are still running around trying to find safety, which makes everything chaotic. cersei’s armies (which have elephants!!) are making good headway. things look pretty bleak.

jaime finds cersei and urges her to surrender, believing that dany will kill all the people. cersei refuses, because she’s winning. they have pre-victory sex, but to jaime, it’s sad goodbye sex.

rhaegal gets speared and falls. more battle stuff happens, well into the night and reaching morning (but we can SEE shit because the lighting is GOOD). dany is stricken with grief. then! an ARMY of DRAGONS flies in from the west. they circle king’s landing. everyone is going totally batshit with fear and awe. the bells ring. empowered and angry, dany really wants to murder everyone. cliffhanger.

EPISODE 3

dany makes her choice not to kill everyone. she flies to the red keep and has a confrontation with cersei in the throne room. dany gives cersei the opportunity to bend the knee and join forces so that together, their armies can march north and defeat the night king. cersei refuses. dany threatens to take down the entire red keep. jaime is at his queen’s side, knowing what he has to do, not sure if he’s truly willing to do it.

the hound and arya make it to the red keep. arya agrees to separate and borrow some faces to make her way past the guards, and let the hound in from there. 

in winterfell, bran offers himself as bait to the night king. it’s a shitty plan, but the only chance they’ve got.

the mountain moves to attack dany. drogon, perched outside, screeches a warning. the hound intervenes and attacks the mountain. arya attacks cersei, but jaime intervenes and fights arya. dany hops on drogon and starts burning down the red keep. we hear many dragon war cries of support, lots of screaming, the bells. everything is collapsing and on fire. while fighting, jaime tells cersei to retreat and find safety. cersei is finally afraid, but still somehow believes she’ll win. 

the hound isn’t doing so well with the mountain. arya, seeing that cersei has had basically all her power stripped away, gives up her fight with jaime reluctantly and helps the hound.

jaime, alone now with cersei, offers his final plea -- if they leave now, they can escape, and go make a new life together. cersei, for the last time, says she will not leave the throne. jaime kisses her and stabs her (like the scene with jon and dany, but not that), a mirror of killing the mad king.

the hound is holding the mountain at bay. arya sets him on fire. the hound cuts off his head. together, they make it out of the red keep just in time to watch it fall. they help the civilians to safety. 

dany, seeing cersei dead and jaime huddled over her dead body on the throne (the same position he was in after he killed the mad king), ceases fire, and rescues jaime from the falling keep.

the next morning, dany, tyrion, jorah, varys, missandei, and grey worm approach the iron throne. the remaining unsullied and dothraki are lined up behind her. the remaining lannister army soldiers are being held prisoner. 

dany gives a speech about marching north. she offers the lannister army an opportunity to redeem themselves by marching with her. they agree. 

she approaches the throne, says her little speech about not being able to count to twenty, makes a comment about how it’s not as grand as she thought it would be. we truly believe she has ascended beyond the plight of a petty throne. dozens of dragons are whirling overhead. finally she says something about the throne being a symbol of tyranny, and how she’ll break the wheel. then she commands drogon to destroy it.

drogon melts the throne.

EPISODE 4

jaime marches alone to winterfell ahead of the armies. he arrives and sees bran waiting for him. he feels unworthy to still be alive. he should have died with cersei.

he approaches sansa to tell her what happened. sansa questions his loyalty, if he was willing to kill his sister, why should he be able to fight for them? brienne steps up and defends him, but she’s obviously very worried -- he looks half-dead.

while waiting for the armies, there is lots of braime time. brienne tells him he did the right thing. jaime asks to fight under her, and she agrees. he heals very slowly by the comfort of brienne, though it is apparent he is still planning to die in battle.

theon and yara arrive with the iron fleet and offer to fight for sansa. 

the wildlings find the carnage the wights have wrought and arrive in winterfell to say they have only a few days before the battle comes to them.

dany arrives in winterfell with all of the armies. jon is relieved that dany didn’t go mad queen. sansa is still skeptical, and doesn’t want the north under dany’s reign. 

the rest of the ep is spent preparing for battle. the hound and arya arrive in winterfell. arya makes a teasing comment to the hound about how she’s grown tired of his company, and seeks out jon to have their reunion. then she looks for gendry and asks for a special blade. 

that night, jaime knights brienne. arya fucks gendry. sansa and theon get caught up. jon and dany bang it out. 

we see the wights marching closer. 

EPISODE 5

the battle arrives, and happens pretty much as it does in canon, except BRIGHTER. the dragons cause a lot of damage. 

at one point, jaime is outnumbered, and it looks very much like he might die. we see him give up and drop his sword, but brienne throws them all off and tells him he doesn’t get to die today.

everything is the same, except jon leaves to face the night king. he arrives alone, theon already dead. there’s a big battle and he’s totally outnumbered. then arya sneaks up while the night king is distracted by jon and kills the night king the same way she did in canon.

the wights fall. victory!!

EPISODE 6

nearly everything that happened in episode 4, re: pyres and celebration, except when dany offers gendry lordship, he declines it, knowing arya would never want that life

braime goes canon but like, better. jaime says he should have died, brienne should have let him die. brienne says she’s glad he didn’t. it’s as close as she can get to a confession of feelings.

dany, realizing how loved jon is, offers jon a partnership, to lead the seven kingdoms together. jon declines, and explains that he’s never been able to choose his own destiny, but now he can, and he has a lot of thinking to do. dany respects his decision.

sansa wants the north to secede from the seven kingdoms. dany is enraged by this, and threatens to tear down winterfell. jon says that if dany does that, he will die with winterfell.

dany reluctantly accepts the secession, but threatens to one day return to winterfell and claim it. it is acknowledged that there may be a future war between the six kingdoms and the north.

sansa allows jaime to stay in winterfell. dany punishes tyrion for treason by forcing him to remain hand of the queen. 

sansa is crowned queen of the north. bran is given hand of the queen. arya, gendry, jon, the hound, and ghost lead the wildlings back through the wall.

dany is crowned queen of the six kingdoms, and vows, with the help of her new council, to listen to her people and come up with a better system of rule.

i know it’s not perfect! dany being crowned queen still offers a kind of “the ends always justify the means” theme that i don’t really like, as well as the idea of royal lineage, and if i had the entire series to myself, i would have made it so that her aspirations for “liberation” were more true, and that, once she got into power, she immediately disseminated it. but also there are a lot of foundational problems with the entire premise that i can’t really fix in one season. also there are really too many characters to manage, and i may have still had dany kill more people to show her ruthlessness, but this is loosely how i would have approached a tighter ending.